#for gods sake you can’t possibly have that many applicants with more experience than me

[superiorsturgeon]

Minor ranting moment, here:

Employers of the world, when I take over you will be able to ask for a resume, a cover letter, or ask a bunch of questions about what would otherwise be on a resume, but ONLY one!

You are allowed ONE method of getting an applicant’s qualifications, and if you demand all three and then proceed to play sick games like withholding interviews unless every detail is perfectly in-sync, then you will be required by law to hire everyone who jumps through your sadistic hoops, no questions asked!

And before you complain, count your blessings, because my advisors talked me down from instituting the death penalty!

[scarfdyedshadow]

On the Decline of Mage Characterization in Ancillary Type-Moon Works (or On Magi Getting Flanderized Into One-Dimensional Evil Arrogant Sods) Part 1: The Matter of Magi Themselves

Yes, I am dumb enough and obsessed enough to basically write an entire essay on this. Yes, the title is pretentious as all hell.

A disclaimer before we start though, this is not directed at or meant to condemn or call out or mock or invalidate the many a Tumblr shitpost on evil arrogant magi getting owned by Guda or various other characters. It may not be humor personally up my alley, but I understand the appeal, and it’s not like there isn’t some grain of truth to them. Likewise this isn’t meant to in any way condone anything Nasuverse magi. A fair amount of them are evil regardless of mitigating circumstances, a lot of the ones that aren’t outright evil have capacity to be evil because of ethos and mindset, and the acts they commit are certainly evil. I am not condoning them, or dismissing them as not evil. I simply urge a more nuanced rather than simplistic analysis of that evil. This also unfortunately omits Mahoyo, which probably has quite a bit of insight, because I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, thus rendering me a fake fan you should not listen to. Thank you for your consideration. Also, spoilers.

This first part is primarily concerned with the inhumanity of magi and misconceptions about magi and their ethos as a whole, while the next part will actually go into the history of magus villains in Type-Moon works and what I feel is their decline, and build upon and further points of this part. There may be a potential third part on the Crypters, Gordolf, and Olga, the modern faces of Nasuverse magi and the greatest illustration that magi are far more nuanced, complex, pitiful and yet admirable, than they aren’t, and Nasu’s thesis statement on the power of love and life.

(Note: Okay my theme is actually pretty eyesearing to the point I recommend you read this on dash, I’ll go get it fixed)

"Do you know what it is that magi are aiming for?"

After a moment of blankness, Gray replied with a difficult expression.

"Umm...I heard about it in class. What was it...the Spiral of Origin?"

"Right. The Spiral of Origin, or more simply the Root. Sometimes it's referred to as「 」, the thing for which there can be no reference. It is the source of everything, the 'zero' from which all matter and phenomena flow. Ah, but now that I'm trying to put it into words, I'm realizing that's not a good idea. After all, even the idea of 'zero' has baggage that makes it unsuitable as a comparison."

"Regardless, the goal of magi is to eventually reach that place. Of course, there are also those who simply derive pleasure from touching the supernatural, or from being superhuman. Because we are weak, we fall to that diversion. But in the end, that's not our ultimate goal."

For modern magi, most understood that reaching the root was something that just wasn't possible for them. After all, even though magecraft itself had been in a state of continuing decline since the Age of Gods, there were no reports of anyone facing that past and trying to return to it. Likely, the appearance in the Far East of the fifth - and often called the last - Magician was the same as the gate to the Root being all but closed to everyone else.

Even so, we didn't give up.

Anyone who would give up in a situation like this would never have become a magus to begin with.

Ironically enough, despite opening up with a quote from Lord El-Melloi II Case Files, which I’ll have some critique for, the crux of my thesis is this. As originally presented in Kara no Kyoukai, and generally only kept up to a meaningful degree in other Nasu written works like Stay Night, Clock Tower 2015, and Grand Order, magi were the piteous, tragic, inhuman not as in inhumane but as in a broken machine product of an impossible ideal and a broken system. They were the villains, yes, unambiguously so, but at the same time they were sympathetic and nuanced to an extent that would decline down the road.

You see, Araya. A mage always lives hurriedly. What for? If it was for themselves alone they wouldn't bother with the outside world. So why do they intrude upon the rest of the world? Why do they rely upon it? What will they achieve with that power? What will they save with the Ars Magna (Ars Magna: Meaning 'great secret technique', it stands not for a technique that is not learnt through study but for a mystery that is secretly passed down)? If that was the case it would have been better for them to become a king instead of a mage.

You think people live foully, but you yourself would not be able to live like that. You would not be able to live while accepting the fact that you know that everything is worthless and base. You would not be able to live without the pride of knowing that you alone are special, and that you alone can save this crumbling world. Of course, I was like that too. But that sort of thing has no meaning. --- Accept it, Araya. We chose the path of transcendence called magecraft because we are weaker than everybody else.

Magi were presented as absurd, as farcical, as maddeningly helpless and hopeless compared to those living normal lives. This will come up in Part 2, especially as pertains to Touko and Gordolf and the like, but normal everyday life, not superior thematic superpowers or an army of Servants, is what is truly far more powerful than any magi.

"... I'll just ask one thing. What do you mean when you say that secrets are kept even within that Association?"

Unexpectedly, I hear something from the sofa.

Over there is Shiki, who has been sitting there since before without a word. She's the type of person who doesn't get involved in a conversation that she's not interested in, so until now she had been staring at the scenery outside the window.

"--- There is that. A mage won't reveal the results of his experiments even within the Association. What the person next to them is researching, what their goals are, and what they have obtained are all a mystery. The only time a mage will reveal the results of their work is when they are passing it on to their descendants just before they die."

"Studying for their benefit alone, yet not using that power for their own sake? What purpose is there in a life like that, Touko? Is it that the goal is to learn, and the process is to learn too? If the only things you have are the beginning and the end, that's the same as having a zero."

Their pursuit for the truth is maddening. It is greedy yet at once devoid of greed. It is selfish yet at once devoid of selfishness. Their ethos and methodology are not fundamentally inhumane, but inhuman. Magi are an odd sort of creature indeed, and it isn’t the case that they’re all evil in their absurd quest. Indeed, virtually all early Nasuverse ancillary material, and this is still said today despite the opposite being true in practice, is that the vast majority of magi are shut ins who stay inside researching as opposed to eating babies.

The everyday life of a magus is mostly spent conducting research. Magi who use magic outside of a research capacity, such as those who use magi to work and profit for themselves, are few in number. People who treat magic as a tool, such as assassins, are called “spellcasters”, and are looked down upon with disdain by the magical establishment.

Furthermore, it is precisely because they are magi that few magi use magic in their daily lives.

Practically speaking, for every mage you see committing mass murder or fighting the mass murdering mage with superpowers, there are ten who we certainly can’t call conventionally moral, who we certainly can’t call normal humans, obsessively striving towards a seemingly impossible goal inhumanly but not inhumanely. Because Type-Moon does action series this has never been tenable to properly depict besides the minority, but it is the truth regardless. This is from a later work I actually have some measure of criticism for, but Strange Fake actually illustrates that point perfectly.

"A mage's mage," he muttered disgustedly to himself, eyes narrowed, "is no different from a hard-working corrupt politician." What about me? He wondered as soon as the words were out of his mouth. As long as corruption stayed hidden, it was difficult for the public to tell the difference between a corrupt politician and an honest one. In which case, mages, who never entered the public eye to begin with, probably ought to be lumped in with them. There were exceptions, but from the standpoint of the general public, mages were generally evil.

Other Nasu written works like Stay Night and Clock Tower 2015 also touch upon it.

Magic is just what it sounds like… magic. I don't care if you get ideas like abracadabra or whatever. You can just think of us as people who do strange things by casting spells. Oh, though it's not like we fly around on brooms or make stars appear with a wave of a wand. …Well, we could do that, but we don't bother as it's kind of meaningless. We're basically heretics who hide ourselves from the world. We're prohibited from standing out and even if we weren't, we would rather be at home studying magic.

Clock Tower 2015 especially hits it up by depicting what might be called the ideal magus, the point of being a magus that is often distorted by human concerns but that all of them are to some extent, not an inhumane monster but an inhuman man who has dedicated his life to magecraft.

"Ahhh, the life of a magus is so brief. It would have been great if I were born with just the brain and nothing else." Like what you just saw, Leiv was a pure academic magus. All his efforts were poured solely into his theory and magecraft. He cared naught of any other responsibilities, the application of his magecraft, his lineage, or building his faction. From Leiv's perspective, those magi were the same as the plebians that were "normal people". If one were to decipher the mystical, then he must sacrifice his humanity. A magus was a creature with nothing but magecraft on his mind. There was no room for burdens such as "life".

So to begin with, what we call magi are far from all arrogant murderous sods, and if anything arrogant murderous sods are the minority. They come in all manner of varieties, united simply by the pursuit of the impossible, by the desire to reach the truth, by the desire to transcend. Even more so than just that, they do have their values and ethics. They are often cruelly distorted, to the extent “magi parents” is a phrase that might as well be an oxymoron, but I would opine that as a product more of recent years than anything.

"Keep those for me. They are some awful cigarettes from Taiwan but I only have those now. Of course there isn't any company that made them, it's a famous item that some eccentric master made only one box of. Yeah, out of all my possessions that is the second most valuable thing I have." Leaving behind some strange words, she turned around and walked out. ... Perhaps her most valuable possession is herself, that kind of thought popped into my mind so I asked her, but she only turned back her head and answered. "That's rather rude. I know it's me but even I don't treat people like possessions." Like herself when she has her glasses on, she pouts as if she's sulking. And then, returning to her usual cool expression Touko-san continued talking. "Kokuto. Those people called mages, with an apprentice or other people they are close to they feel like parents. Since they are something like their offspring, they often fight desperately to protect them as well. ... Well, it's like that so relax and wait here. I'll bring Shiki back tonight." Thock thock, the sound of her walking away. Unable to say anything to her back, I let the brown-coated magician go.

That magi value their children, their apprentices, their legacies, even if only as a next step on the path to the Root, is also a truth echoed at the same time that it’s often contradicted. But then, magi are in of themselves contradictory creatures. After all, despite pursuing an inhuman ideal, despite throwing away their humanity, they themselves are still human. That contradiction between reality and ideals, best exemplified by Fate/Stay Night, is one of the themes at the heart of Nasu’s work.

So, to repeat it once more, magi as a whole, magi society as a whole, is not fundamentally inhumane but inhuman. That inhumanity often lends itself to the inhumane, but not necessarily, and indeed I opine that should be considered on a deeper level. That inhuman society is by no means a good thing, but to simply call it evil and magi evil and call it a day is to do a disservice to its nuance. There are arrogant murderous magi as well, sure, but they too are products of a tenacious ideal, they are the long shadow cast by lineages stretching for thousands of years.

In reality, what really forged the magus of the modern day was not a supernatural power or transcendent conscience, but a tenacity built and reinforced over generations. Clinging to a shadowed, intense ideology for hundreds, or in some cases even thousands of years, developed its own sort of extreme power. Even if science were to exceed magecraft in all other respects, as long as that ideal survived, magecraft itself would be ineradicable.

But what then of Souren Araya? What of that bastard Zouken and worst dad of the year Tokiomi and that arrogant asshole Kayneth? Rest well assured that I will cover them in exacting detail in the next part of whatever the hell this is, and everything I say about them will build upon this. That may seem contradictory, since this part is mostly devoted to showing that magi are far more than just evil sods, but believe it or not Kayneth is going to be mightily relevant to how pitifully weak magi in truth are, and Tokiomi is going to be relevant to how magi value their children in ways that don’t have to be inhumane, but can be inhuman. Until next time, all I can ask is to consider that while magi are indeed monsters, monsters really can be quite interesting creatures.

Things in this world were all like that.

It wasn’t limited to magecraft. It wasn’t limited to those beyond humans (monsters). In a world of common sense (the obvious), it was something everyone understood.

If you said that misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, and false understandings are what connected them, then...

“We are misrecognition. Our world itself is misunderstanding. We can experience a multitude of truths, not just one single reality. No matter how wise you are, or how much time you are given, you will never reach something like a single truth. Magi may just be those who continually reject that fact.”

Speaking as if in self-deprecation, my master had pursed his lips at that.

He had finally realized that his words and the objective that all Magi pursued, known as the “Spiral of Origin,” were in contradiction.

Sources: Lord El-Melloi Case Files (TL by TwilightsCall), Kara no Kyoukai (TL on baka-tsuki), Fate/Stay Night (TL Mirror Moon), Clock Tower 2015 (TL by food), Fate/Strange Fake (TL by OtherSideOfSky)

[overheardatthecontinental]

Part of the Endlessly collection that describes the endless possible meetings of Helen and John Wick. Can be read as a standalone.

When Helen realizes she'll have to drop out of med school after spending all her life's savings on her sick mother, she reaches a new level of desperate. With the help of her roommate, Helen creates an online account to get set up with a sugar daddy. Enter John Wick.

AKA the sugar baby! Helen / sugar daddy! John au that absolutely nobody asked for

Helen Kingston stared into the mirror. She was wearing enough makeup to hide the fact she hadn’t slept the night before and a little black dress she hadn’t touched since college. She had to admit, she didn’t look terrible. Even fifteen years later, the dress still clung to her curves and made her feel attractive.

But there were laugh lines around her eyes when she smiled and her skin didn’t look as tight as it had once been.

“Don’t men want younger women? Clear-skinned undergraduates or twenty-somethings with huge tits?”

“You’d be surprised .” Mac, her best friend had said after suggesting it. “It’s not about sex.”

Helen had snorted at that. It was always about sex.

“I’m serious! Some of these guys are just lonely. Some of them are gay and looking for a beard. And some just want to make it look like they have their lives together without actually having to have a relationship. ”

Helen wondered, not for the first time if this was not still a form of prostitution. Selling herself, her time and, for appearances' sake, her body.

But she was going to lose her apartment if she couldn’t pay rent. She would have to drop out of med school and go back to working full-time in a pharmacy. It had taken her years to save enough money to go to graduate school and all of it had been lost in the space of six months.

MacKenzie had interfered, as she so often did, insisting that she couldn’t handle three more years of med school without her friend.

Then Mac had said, “I know about this service. It pairs women with rich men and it pays ridiculously well. It’s how I managed to pay for undergrad.”

“I’m not going to fuck someone to stay in school. It isn’t worth it to me.”

Mac had rolled her eyes, “The fucking is optional. Most of the time, it’s not even on the table.”

She had continued to insist that she wasn’t interested until Mac pulled up the site and showed Helen the listings. “You get a grand for a single date, Hel.”

“Fuck me.” Helen had sat down at the computer, “ You’re kidding me?”

“Nope. And that’s just the initial meeting. Technically, you only get $900. The site gets a 10% commission off of whatever you make. And there’s no contract at the first meeting. If you don’t like the guy, you still get 9-hundos for two hours of your time.”

And for a woman who hadn’t had a full meal in weeks… that was ridiculously appealing.

So she let Mac set her up a profile and was shocked at the requests for meetings that came in.

“If I just took five initial meetings, I could make $4,500.”

“Possibly more, depending on the guy. I’m telling you, I had this regular guy in college who paid me extra for exclusive rights. I got two grand a week on top of money for individual dates.”

Helen exhales in the mirror. She looks as good as she is going to, she thinks, before grabbing her purse and slipping on her high heels shoes. Grabbing the keys to her POS car, she heads out.

It’s an hour drive into the city and to the restaurant he had picked.

His name was John.

There was no picture posted but his age was listed as early-forties.

If his description were honest, which she doubted, he had black medium length hair, brown eyes, and a beard. He selected ‘average’ for build and his height was listed at 6’1. His employment is listed as ‘contractor’, whatever the hell that meant.

He had sent her a polite request for a meeting.

Unlike so many of the other requests she had received, he did not wax poetic about her looks nor did he include any torrid ideas about what he wanted to do to her.

It was simple, respectful, and to the point. He proposed a time and a place and offered to send a car, which she declined. She still wasn’t sure that she trusted the service and, despite the cost of gas, she had just enough to get her there. And, once at the restaurant, $900 would be wired to her account.

She arrived early enough to park in a lot that stopped charging after six pm and Helen walked the rest of the way to the restaurant.

Maybe, she thinks as her anxiety builds with every step, that this was a bad idea.

Mac knew where she was so, hopefully, she wouldn't be murdered but...

Oh god… she could get murdered.

Well, at least that would take care of her debt.

She took her phone as she walked and shot off a text to Mac. "If I die, I'm haunting you."

She started to slip it back in her purse but it began ringing.

It's Mac.

"What?"

"You're not going to die."

"It's a possibility." The restaurant was in sight. "I'm strangely not that concerned. Either I die or I don't."

"That's the spirit."

"That said, if I end the night in someone's trunk, I blame you for getting me into this."

"Are you alive when you're put in this dude's trunk?"

"That's an interesting game you pose. Schroedinger's' Helen. Dead and alive in the trunk."

She heard a snort and glanced up. A man stood by the front of the restaurant with a smirk on his face.

He was tall and handsome and that smirk should be illegal. In a three-piece black suit, he looked like he just stepped off the cover of GQ.

"I don't get it."

"Well, I'm sorry it went over your head, but I assure you, I'm very funny."

The man's smirk transformed into a full grin and… fuck.

Helen looked away so as not to flush under his gaze. She reminded herself that she is there to meet someone who is paying very well for her time.

"You're really not." Mac told her but she barely listening.

Mister Tall-dark-and-handsome was making his way over.

"Helen Kingston?" He asked.

And...fuck.

"John?" She replied, hoping she was wrong. Hoping that the attractive man she just talked about being murdered and thrown into someone's trunk in front of is not the man she is going on a date with.

But he nodded and Helen decided she is, indeed, fucked.

"Ohmigod is that him?"

"If it would bring you and your friend comfort, I can assure you that you won't end up in my trunk."

Her goal to not flush in front of the attractive man was lost. Her face was red as she murmured a quick goodbye to Mac and stuffed her phone away.

"Hi," She said, lost and unsure of how to proceed.

He looked younger than his forties but it appeared as though he was mostly honest.

He had shoulder-length black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were brown and soft. In fact, the only argument she could think of was that he was anything but average. Even under layers, she could make out a trim and toned body.

This wasn't an ugly rich man who struggled to meet women.

Her first thought goes to beard. Is he hiding the fact he's gay and looking to keep his secret covered?

She can't think of another reason that he couldn't get a date. Unless he was a tremendous ass but her gut said that wasn't the case.

"Hello." He greeted back.

“Any chance you’d be willing to start over?” Helen asked hopefully.

“We could, but I think it would be a shame to not speak about Shrodinger’s Helen.”

Helen ran a hand through her hair. It was a fair blow but she still finds herself turning pink yet again.

John offered his arm, “Let me get you a drink.”

Helen takes it, “Yes. Please.”

They walk inside and John gives his name. Immediately, they are brought to a private corner of the dining room, far away from prying ears.

John held out the chair for her and Helen wondered if she wasn't in over her head with the kind of lifestyle that includes candlelit dinners and wine lists.

The waiter recited the specials and John ordered a bottle of wine which could not come fast enough.

Helen could still feel the burn in her cheeks as she glanced through the menu. She had never been to a restaurant before that didn’t include their prices next to the item in question. That, along with thorough descriptions of each item, made her think that the restaurant was far bougie-r than she had initially thought.

It was a good thing John was paying.

The waiter came back and poured them each a glass and she itched to down in a single gulp. But she didn’t, allowing the waiter to take their orders and leave before reaching for the glass.

Helen took a large sip and was aware that she was under the scrutiny of her date. He gazed at her with something akin to wonder or curiosity. It was far more intimidating than she had imagined, sitting at her computer.

“Relax.” John said, picking up his own wine glass, “You have the control here.”

Helen exhaled. Damn right.

“I think it’s obvious I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s okay. Neither have I.”

That surprised her. “Really?”

He nodded his head, once. “This is a first for me.”

“Can I ask… why now?”

“You can ask whatever you like. And to be honest, I don’t date. It’s never been a priority for me, but my work often requires attending social and formal events. I usually don’t mind attending alone but I’m getting tired of colleagues trying to set me up.”

And… it’s excessive to be sure, but practical. Helen knew she wasn’t in any place to judge but she had still been expecting someone… older, unattractive, and unpleasant.  

“So you’re looking for someone to attend events with?”

“More or less. Were you interested, I would want to spend some time and get to know you beforehand.”  

Again, practical.

What she did not understand was why he had reached out to her . There were plenty of other women on the site, Mac for instance, who had experience in that world. Mac knew how to waltz and curtsy and be proper. A practiced set of niceties that came from growing up with money.

Helen did not have those skills. Or any skills that seemed applicable to the world of wealthy men.

“I admit that I don’t have much experience with formalities.”

“I saw on your profile.” He said, appearing largely unaffected.

“Then why me? There are plenty of other women who specialize in that kind of world.”

“Anyone can figure out which fork to use. But not everyone has read Camus and Kierkegaard and Sartre. Not everyone can make jokes about being locked in a trunk and compare it to Shrodinger.”

Helen blinked, her lips twitching in a small grin, “You picked me because I like existentialism?”

“Because I thought that anyone who lists Camus as their favorite author would be able to hold a decent conversation.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a guarantee.” Helen fired back. “Perhaps I’m just a narcissist. I am in med school, after all.”

John grinned widely, “Well, then, at least this will be interesting. What year are you in?”

“My second. Two and a half more to go before residency.”

“And what did you do before?”

“I was, and am, a pharmacy tech. It paid well and it gave me some medical experience while I saved for med school. Unfortunately, I ran into some financial issues and I really don’t have another ten years to save before I start over.”

John nodded, “May I ask about what happened?”

There was no reason, she decided, to not put everything out on the table. “My mother got sick just after I started med school. Cancer. I supported her the best I could but after paying for treatments out of pocket, I had blown through my savings within a couple months. Between that and school payments, I quickly ended up in over my head.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been very frightening to have your life altered so drastically, so quickly.”

“It was.” Helen agreed, “I’ve always known that anything can happen at any time but it was the first time I really felt my entire life slip from my control.”

“Is that how you ended up here?”

On the site. At the restaurant. Not a judgment, just an assessment.

“Yes. I’m a bit short on school payments and Mac, my roommate, suggested this as a solution.”

He nodded and Helen reached for her wine again.

Thankfully, John turned the subject to simpler things and she exhaled in relief. “Have you always wanted to be a doctor?”

“Yes. Ever since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a doctor.”

“Area of specialty?”

“Honestly, I’d like to work in a trauma ward or an emergency room.”

And for whatever reason, that made him smile. “Fast-paced.”

“I’ve waited a long time to make it to med school. I don’t want to waste any more time.” She offered a small smile in return, “What do you do?”

“I’m an independent contractor,” John told her.

“Doing what?”

“Whatever needs to be done.”

Helen inclined her head, “Are you always so elusive or is this just a first meeting kind of thing?”

“My work is… complicated,” John said, thoughtfully.

“Is that a polite way of saying illegal?”

His lips twitched and his eyes seemed to shine.

Helen flushed, "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate. Sometimes, when I'm sleep deprived, I don't think before I speak."

"That was delightful," John argued, "please don't feel like you need to hold back, however, you said you're sleep deprived?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "usually. Work, school, and homework tend to take more hours than there is time in the day. But don't think I haven't noticed that you still have not answered my question."

John continued to stare at her, assessing. And then, just when she thought he would elude her again, he answered with a simple, "Yes."

Helen gave him a nod but remained silent as the waiter returned with their salads.

"How do you feel about that?" John asked as the waiter left them in their private corner again.

"It requires less effort to condemn than to think.

And John grinned a full, true smile that made her heart skip a beat.

"Emma Goldman."

"I think I butchered her words, but I believe it just the same."

"Tell me, sweet Helen, are you an anarchist?"

It was unfair, she decided, the way he could make her cheeks burn.

"I am not sure I fully align with any political thought. I'll admit that anarchy has its merits, but laws have their place."

"Laws can be confining."

"They can but, since we have yet to find a system that works, majority rule is the best we have."

"Unless you take into account the collective stupidity of mankind, in which case, majority rule can be just as harmful as anything."

"But what would you have to replace it? Rules are necessary, a contract is required."

"Rules or consequences?" He seemed genuinely interested in her opinion and it completely threw her from the small talk she had anticipated.

By the time their dinner had arrived, Helen had forgotten that it wasn't a real date. That their meeting was not chance but an arrangement.

She was more than full after her meal, feeling as though she would burst. She ordered dessert only for the sake of lengthening their conversation, which stemmed from politics to philosophy to art.

John was… brilliant. Utterly brilliant and completely captivating and… not what she had planned for.

He walked her to her car, even though she warned him it was blocks away. He carried her leftovers in one hand while the other rested at her lower back.

Anyone who saw them might think they were an actual couple.

It made her heartstrings ache because… they weren't a couple. This wasn't a real date.

As if she had time for such luxuries.

All too soon, they reached her car and Helen put the leftovers in the front seat before turning back to John.

"I had a wonderful time with you tonight."

Helen swallowed, noting his proximity. "I had a great time too."

"And I would like to see you again. My only concern," John said after a moment, "is timing. You already have work, school, and obligations that come from your studies. I worry that time spent with me would be subtracted from your sleep."

Helen flushed and tried to not let the disappointment show on her face.

He was wonderful. Smart and funny and a perfect gentleman. Perhaps the most handsome man she had ever gone out with.

But she understood.

She came with too much baggage.

He needed someone with fewer commitments, someone better suited to his needs.

"I understand." She said, looking down. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

"I think you misunderstand," and John stepped closer and caught her chin in his hand and angled her face upward, his dark eyes staring into hers. "I have a proposal for you and I hope, in offering such, that I do not come across as if I'm trying to manipulate you or your life. You still hold all the cards and still have the opportunity to walk away if you desire."

It was hard to breathe with him so close. He smelled like whiskey and cologne and it made her salivate.

"What's your proposal?"

God, he stood so close to her now.

“I know that my situation is less than ideal. What I do,” which he still had not told her, “is highly illegal. Many of my associates are criminals, even if they are widely respected. Between the time constraints and the subpar company, I know I ask a lot. In return, I would like you to consider allowing me to play for the rest of your schooling.”

Her lips parted in shock.

“And expenses. So you don’t have to work instead of sleep.”

Her head felt light because… this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

She feels his cool hand touch jaw before cupping her cheek.

“I know it’s a lot to consider.” John says softly, “And I don’t want you to answer now. I want you to think about it. If possible, sleep on it.”

Her lips twitch in a smile.

“I would like to kiss you.”

Fuck. Me. She thinks and then nods, “Then you should kiss me.”

John bends down, obliging her, and presses his lips to hers.

And she can’t describe it. It’s not fireworks because that would be too distracting. Music doesn’t start playing somewhere in the background but it doesn’t need to.

His mouth is warm and soft and… claiming. God, it feels like she is being branded by his lips.

And her heart is racing as if it suddenly understands why kissing other people had never felt right. Because this was right. Kissing John was right.

All too soon, it’s over. And when her eyes open, they are staring into his.

She thinks although she isn’t sure, that he doesn’t want to leave it at this either. But he moves back slightly.

“You know how to reach me,” John says, pressing a final kiss to her forehead. “Drive safe, sweet Helen.”

And he walks away, heading back down the street towards the restaurant.

Her hand rises and she brushes her lips with her fingers.

She is in far over her head.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 17: From Protector to Pathetic

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16

Word count: 1580

A/N: 👀😗 I hope you all like angsty cliches as much as I dooooo!

It seemed to Jonathan that Elianna had learned from her first experience with the fear toxin. While she still fell unconscious once it began to wear off, the effects didn't last as long, and in lieu of frightened screaming, she had managed to restrict herself to quieter sounds of terror.

Upon seeing his friend's distress diminish as her eyelids grew heavy, Jonathan unfastened the restraints and took the belt from her mouth. When he turned his attention back to her, he found that El had already curled in on her side; she would twitch every few seconds, each one accompanied by a soft whimper, whether from perceived pain or from fear he couldn't tell.

Even so, he once again felt pride well up in him as her body relaxed more and more. He was surprised to find that she was still barely lucid when he laid down and pulled the blankets over them. Magnet-like, she was suddenly tucked against him, seeking warmth. Once the shock by the speed of her movement wore off, he allowed himself a tiny smile and secured his arms around her as Scarecrow piped up with his usual assortment of vulgar persuasion; easily ignored at this point.

Elianna finally relaxed into a deep, exhausted sleep, the material of Jonathan's shirt bunched up in her hand.  He was very quickly growing reaccustomed to her unconscious insistence for closeness in her sleep. He found his fingertips skimming up and down her arm lightly as his thoughts returned to the execution of the attack on Gotham.

Admittedly, Elianna's insistent reminder of all that he had accomplished in the process took away much of the stress and replaced it with a sense of premature victory, which was very welcome in comparison. Jonathan found himself slipping into sleep more quickly than he had in a long time.

.xXx.

That didn't last for very long, however, as he was tugged back into semi-consciousness after a few short hours by El shifting uncomfortably in her sleep while muttering to herself. Jonathan blinked in the darkness (he had forgotten to turn on the bathroom light, damn), trying to bring her face into focus. He had only barely made out her furrowed brow and defiant frown when her voice began to raise, along with her poorly coordinated movements.

Jonathan had long been accustomed to soothing her back into sleep without waking her up when she had nightmares (which was concerningly often), but this one was clearly escalating faster than he could wake himself up.

That was, until whatever she was experiencing reached a crescendo, and she bolted upright, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, followed by a short cry of torment. In an instant, Jonathan found himself next to her, his hand on her back. Instinctively, she leaned into the touch, pressing sideways into his chest with another anguished sob as her friend tried desperately to unscramble his tired brain.

This was troubling, to say the least. Generally speaking, El didn't really cry. Not like that, anyway. She hated to cry; she considered it a 'waste of energy,' in her own words. Even when she had occasion to, it was usually just a quiet tear or two and didn't hinder whatever else she may be doing.

But sitting there, listening to his friend actually sob in earnest, Jonathan found himself getting worried. Quietly shushing her (what the hell is that going to do, idiot?), he put a hand on the back of her head to hold her in place as she sucked in another shuddering breath.

"Breathe, El, breathe." She didn't respond, but she did make a second, slightly more successful attempt to take in a normal breath. "That's it; everything is fine." Jonathan cursed the brusqueness of his voice, still barely awake enough to even speak, let alone police his tone. "It's okay," he tried again—better.

Gradually, El's breathing evened out, but she continued to cling to Jonathan like a lifeline, trembling. Once again, he found himself disturbed by the extreme reaction; this was not normal.

Eventually, she sat back up, still shivering and with tear tracks just beginning to dry on her face, which bore no expression as she stared blankly forward at the opposite wall. Jonathan waited patiently for her to speak first; his hand had returned to her back, still uneasy.

However, he was comforted when she finally let out a frustrated sigh, disgusted by her own lack of control. "Round two nightmares are a bitch," she offered flimsily. Caught off guard, he couldn't help an amused scoff.

"Clearly."

"I can't remember the last time I cried like that, ugh," she wiped at her face, all fear replaced with frustration. "That was so annoying. I'm sorry." The apology was punctuated with an awkward half-laugh as she feigned confidence. It wasn't convincing, however, as she wouldn't look at him as she spoke. "Go back to sleep; I'm just going to get some water."

Jonathan considered joining El in the kitchen as she shambled in the direction of the kitchen, but he was just...so tired... Surely a moment to herself would do her some good anyway.

Once in the kitchen, Elianna flicked on the light and took a moment to brace herself against the counter as she scrambled to compose herself. What a stupid situation. She was no stranger to nightmares, having often been plagued by them for her entire life. So why was this one so different?

She knew why. Being in such proximity to Jonathan again had not only stirred up old worries but had given them new form as well. When he had first confessed to her his situation with Granny, many of her dreams had depicted her finding him dead somewhere, pecked to death by crows, or starved to death, or any other horrible possibility.

But their dynamic had shifted so much since they were teenagers. Whereas back then, she had been the protector, their roles had been reversed drastically, and as such, her Jonathan-fueled nightmare had borne a very different image.

Doing her best not to think about it, El finally filled a glass of water and drank it slowly.

In the meantime, Jonathan was facing a dawning realization of guilt. In all of the times that she had been woken by a nightmare when he was around, Elianna had never...snapped like that before. She had blamed it on the toxin, and maybe that was true to an extent, but he was sure that the impending attack on Gotham had played a larger part.

And the only reason she was even in the city was that he had selfishly orchestrated for her to be there. If he had just ignored the application on Warden Sharpe's desk, she was sure to still be in California, bored but safe. As such, he felt a sense of responsibility for her continued wellbeing, and to his mind, this episode made clear what a dismal job he was doing. She was even smoking again, for God's sake.

When she ambled back into the bedroom a few minutes later, Jonathan had resumed a horizontal position, one elbow covering his eyes. Thinking he had fallen back asleep and not wanting to wake him again, El crept back onto her side of the bed carefully.

It was just another nightmare. Just go back to sleep, she commanded herself, shaking off the remaining worry. Just another really intense, very real feeling, vivid, horrible nightmare, she thought grimly as she remembered flashes of what she had seen.

The city in chaos, fire, destruction, screaming, pain; Jonathan standing over her, watching as she begged for help ("please, don't leave me here, you promised!") before he walked off, leaving her alone, injured, and at the mercy of the panicked, violent citizens of what used to be Gotham...

A movement from the other side of the bed startled her out of her thoughts as she released her breath from her tight chest. Blinking through the darkness, she saw that the arm that had been previously thrown over Jonathan's face was now stretched out between them.

"Come on, you know you're going to end up over here anyway," came his tired voice by way of invitation. After a moment's hesitation, El obeyed and once again found herself tucked up against her friend's torso. "So, what happened?" Jonathan asked as his arm wrapped around her and felt a sharp intake of breath from the redhead.

"It doesn't matter." He waited patiently for her to elaborate. "I already know you wouldn't leave me behind." Oh. Almost subconsciously, he squeezed her tighter.

"No, I wouldn't." The finality in his tone did well to reassure El and quell the final remnants of her apprehension.

"No, of course not. Doesn't matter," she murmured to herself, holding him close.

"Doesn't matter," Jonathan repeated affirmatively, clearly drifting back to sleep judging by his voice, and El found herself at last in a similar state. She hummed a response and kissed his shoulder before the pair finally slipped back into slumber.

[rambleandbabble]

Fresh Morning Dew or Don’t? A Review of Happy Skin Dew Cooling Lip & Cheek Tint #2

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! It’s your resident liquid / cream blush whore, bringing you reviews on, well, liquid / cream blushes. What else would this blog be about? Tints, you say? Why yes! Tints are also included. They’re multi-purpose as well, perfect for makeup enthusiasts who like to get the most out of their buck.

New followers of the blog, welcome ♥ Thank you so much.

Today, we will be reviewing this:

What is it? It’s the Happy Skin Dew Cooling Lip and Cheek Tint

What are its claims? According to Happy Skin’s website, “The Fresh Morning Dew Cooling Lip & Cheek Tint is both hydrating and cooling, making it the most refreshing lip tint! The milky soft texture provides smooth, high coverage color that cools into a long-lasting stain. Lightweight yet vibrant, this no-mess lip tint delivers intense but natural color while helping maintain moisturized lips all day.“ It has 3ml of product, and can be applied on the cheek and lips.

They also claimed that the tint is infused with Hyaluronic Acid, which makes the skin and lips moisturized, and natural mint for soothing the skin. Paraben-free. Vegan and cruelty free.

This tint has a lot to live up to, especially for dry lipped girls like yours truly.

I purchased this lip and cheek tint because I was curious with the formula and plus, the colors of this collection intrigued me. Rarely do I encounter lip and cheek tints that provide nude, brown colors, and these are the types of tints / blushes that I live for. I originally wanted to purchase their Color Play Multi-Use Mousse in the shade Dawn because of the color, but granted that I already know how the formula is and I still have a lot of Peach Bum remaining, I figured I might try something new. Hence, I purchased this in the shade, Latte Fix.

This shade, upon first swatching, reminded me of Happy Skin’s Color Play Multi-Use Mousse in the shade, Peach Bum, and for a moment, I thought I had made a mistake. BUT when applied on the lips, it appeared more like a brown than an orange shade, so imagine my relief, because I prefer browns and I LOATHE ORANGE BLUSHES. It’s just a personal preference, but yes, you’ll never see me review any orange blushes here. Happy Skin’s Color Play Multi-Use Mousse in the shade, Peach Bum is an exception.

Latte Fix is described as a ginger nude, so imagine nude brown orange. Upon application on the lips, the brown stood out, but as it faded, the stain left it as a muted orange, which, initially, I minded a lot, but the brown was the more dominant color regardless of how many ways I applied it, so I ended up being okay with the shade.

SHADE COMPARISON

Happy Skin Color Play in Peach Bum: An orange shade with pink & brown undertones. When saturated, is more orange than Latte Fix, but when blended and with little product used, produces an orange-brown-pink shade. Has notes of pink compared to Latte Fix, which was more of a brown with muted orange tones. Stays the longest and most pigmented among the three. 

Sunnies Face Airblush in Biscuit: A warm toned brown, browner than Latte Fix. May have hints of orange as well, but not as much as Latte Fix. Least pigmented of the three despite swatching so much product on my arm. Okay staying power, stays longer than Latte Fix.

PRODUCT REVIEW

Let’s review the product based from the claims that Happy Skin listed down on their website.

This tint is hydrating and cooling! - Why, yes it is. This is what actually surprised me about this tint, because most tints that I have tried before have dried my lips out one way or another. I wasn’t expecting the moisturizing effects this had on my lips, and how I didn’t feel the need to apply a lip balm often while the product was still on. The product does cling onto the dry patches of my lips, and stains more so in those areas, so I suggest exfoliating your lips prior to use for best results.

This tint has a milky soft texture - True to its description, the formula reminded me of Peripera’s Water Gel tint, which also has a similar gel like consistency, except that Happy Skin’s Dew Cooling Lip and Cheek tint was creamier in a way compared to Peripera, which was more of a soft gel-watered down consistency. The way they apply on the cheeks is pretty similar. As for lip application, this tint is more moisturizing than Peripera’s, which is a plus for me. The tint is easy to blend, and the soothing sensation felt when blending it on my face felt really good and refreshing. The downside, I must say though, is that application felt tacky and it took a few minutes for the product to set, probably because of the hyaluronic acid in it, which is also tacky for a few minutes before setting. The tint feels light on the skin, but if you apply it on top of concealer or powder, you could feel both products on the skin, along with minimal tackiness too. Based from experience for products with hyaluronic acid, once I started sweating, the tackiness returns. I haven’t tried sweating while wearing this tint, but here’s a heads up just in case. I don’t see it clinging onto the dry patches of my skin either. The product did not break me out after a few days of use.

Products Used: Happy Skin Dew Cooling Lip and Cheek Tint in the shade, Latte Fix

The product left a brown stain that melded into the skin, giving you this natural dewy glow that you wished you were blessed with by the gods. It goes well on the eyes, but fair warning: the product has mint extracts and peppermint oil, so thread carefully, lest you intend to burn your eyes with this product. There’s a reason why they endorsed this as a lip and cheek product only, but I like to defy convention for the sake of getting my money’s worth. Plus, it looks nice.

This tint provides smooth, high coverage color that cools into a long-lasting stain - It is smooth yet tacky upon application. Pigmentation is alright. I wouldn’t say high coverage because the formula isn’t packed with purely pigment, but I prefer it that way because it makes it easier to apply and blend. User-friendly, if you will. It does leave a nice stain that remains on the face for a while, but given how it was easily removed with makeup wipes, I can only assume that it would last at most 8 hours on the eyes and cheeks with commute during a hot, sweaty day (I can’t really test that because it’s the rainy season now in the Philippines and we’re still under quarantine). As for the lips, although the product transfers and comes off easily, it does leave a stain. However, because this is a nude color, the pigment doesn’t last long and the stain fades away easily. This might be a different case for a darker shade (like Sunrise, which is a burnt peach color).

This tint is a lightweight, no mess (tint), (that provides an) intense but natural color - True (they didn’t claim it to be weightless, after all), true, true. Because it’s so easy to blend, you can’t really make a mess out of it. Plus, the applicator is small and thin, so you can get more controlled applications. Reduces mess. (A possible issue though is that the applicator is bendable, which makes it easier to break.) Color is natural and not as intense as your Colourette Colourtints (which are, pure pigment powders in oil and beeswax, hence the pigmentation), but I like it that way because then you could build it up as much as you’d like.

This tint helps maintain moisturized lips all day - This is where I have to disagree with you, Happy Skin. YMMV, I know. Maybe it applies for the general public. But being the girl with them dry lips, this product does not help maintain moisturized lips all day. It is moisturizing only for 1-2 hours before the product is wiped off my lips for some reason (be it food, kissing, saliva), but after that, I would need to reapply to get the moisturizing effect once more.

And here’s another thing that I noticed with the tint on my lips. If you’re like me who puckers her lips a lot, you might notice the product clumping when you do so. Even with some minimal puckering.

I don’t know if you could notice that small clump on my bottom lip, a bit off center, but it’s there. I tried this with other lip tints to see if the product would clump up if I pucker up a lot, but the clumping didn’t happen when I applied my Peripera Water Gel tint. As for my Colourette Colourtint, there were some clumps, but it was barely noticeable. But if you apply too much of this product on your lips, expect some clumps to form when you pucker your lips a lot. To minimize the clumping effects, I suggest you apply a thin layer of product and let it set for a while. Oh, and prevent puckering your lips, if that’s possible.

RECOMMENDATIONS

Modify the formula to minimize this clumping effect on the lips, and minimize the formula’s initial tackiness felt upon application on the face

A less mobile, more stable applicator - for users who may not have good hand control, a bendy applicator allows for easy breakage when manipulating it. Even I am cautious when handling it, as I mishandle makeup at times. But the size is good.

Lengthen the moisturizing effect on the lips for more than 1-2 hours? And leave the lips moisturized after the product has faded from the lips. Fenty Beauty’s Gloss Bomb leaves my lips moisturized even after the product has faded on my lips. That kind of effect, if possible.

RATING

Packaging: 4/5 (the mobile applicator has that risk of breaking off easily if you mishandle it by accident; the frosted glass packaging is a win for me, however)

Pigmentation: 4/5

Formula: 4/5 (If it weren’t for the initial tackiness on the skin and on top of makeup, this would’ve been a 5)

Longevity: 3.5/5

Skin Comfort: 4/5

Price: 4/5

SUMMARY

Overall, the Happy Skin Dew Cooling Lip and Cheek Tint provides the effect of naturally flushing skin, something that a liquid / cream blush / tint is supposed to give you. Albeit tacky during application, it is easy to blend to the skin, giving you this dewiness that is best suited on bare skin. The color choices scream summer vibes, and are suitable for mestizas and morenas. While it may produce clumps on the lips, it is moisturizing, albeit for a good 1-2 hours in my case, and does not cling onto the dry patches of my skin. I’d recommend it to people who like brown shades of blushes, but not so much because of the formula itself, as mentioned in detail above. For the price of PhP 399.00, would I say this is worth it? Yes, with reservations.

Happy Skin prides itself in infusing skincare ingredients in its products, and while I do appreciate the lengths they went through for providing unconventional nude shades in tints and the moisturizing effects it had on my lips, the Cooling Lip & Cheek Tint is not something that I would repurchase again, unless some modifications are done. I think it is priced appropriately, given the skincare ingredients it is infused with and the unique shades, but I dislike the tackiness upon first application, the clumps formed on my lips whenever I’d pucker up, and how it leaves my lips dry upon removing the product despite its claims to maintain moisture all day. It took a few days for the product to grow on me, and while I am pleased with how it looks on my skin, I would say that the formula is a mere step up from your conventional lip and cheek tints, but not mind blowing or spectacular.

I really wanted to love this product a lot like how I love, love, love the Color Play Multi-Use Mousse, but I can’t. If some modifications were to be made, I would love to try it out again and give my thoughts, hopefully more favorable ones.

[gumnut-logic]

The Hero (Part Four)

Title: The Hero

Sequel/companion piece to The Joker

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Author: Gumnut

12 - 18 Nov 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Thunderbird Two, with Virgil and Gordon aboard, is hijacked and stolen. With Virgil injured, it is up to Gordon to save his brother and his ‘bird. Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’. Gordon is far more than he seems.

Word count: 5158

Spoilers & warnings: Violence, WASP!Gordon, Military!Scott, whump, language.

Timeline: Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’.

Author’s note: For @corbyinoz because she has written some magnificent Virgil and Gordon fics and is a great inspiration. Thank you for all your wonderful words.

Well, this chapter took forever and is much longer than the other three. So much plot to manipulate. I hope you enjoy it :D

It started with ‘The Joker’. I got interested in WASP!Gordon and decided to explore his side of the story. Then PLOT happened. Now I have no idea what is going on.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for putting up with my crazy.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

 “We have to get it out of him.” Gordon’s voice bounced about unheard.

The hospital was in an uproar, doctors and security arguing, IR temporarily shoved to one side as the ‘authorities’ determined what to do with the bomb in their midst.

“And who exactly are you asking to risk their lives to do that?” The question came from their chief of security, a brawny man, head shaved with a permanent frown carved into his forehead.

Scott straightened up to his full height, those couple of inches and his stony expression amply compensating for any extra muscle in the room. “Show me what to do, and I’ll do it myself.”

“And what training do you have?”

Blue eyes snapped to the Chief of Medicine. “All IR personnel are trained paramedics, Doctor.”

Gordon’s heart was pounding hard enough to jump out of his chest. Paramedics, yes, but this was surgery...on Virgil.

“What the hell is going on in here?!” A whir of machinery and a blur of white coat and dark hair and Virgil’s principle doctor shot into the room. “Commander Robertson, what are you doing with my patient and why are all these people in his room?”

The Chief of Medicine held up his hands defensively. “Dr Harris, we have a situation.”

“I bloody well think you do. Get all these people the hell out of this room. Mr Tracy does not need...what do you think you’re doing?! You are not moving him!”

“Doctor! The man has a bomb inside him that could destroy this entire hospital.”

“I don’t care if he has a bloody nuke inside him. He is my patient and moving him like that could damn well kill him.” She shot over to the nervous orderly and shoved him out of the way, revealing an IV knotted in the bed frame and pulling on not only Virgil’s venous catheter, but also dislodging his oxygen supply.

Scott was moving. Gordon frowned and grabbed his arm. Wait a moment.

The furious doctor untangled the medical equipment and checked Virgil was comfortable, her fingers deftly checking his responses.

Virgil didn’t respond at all.

“Get out.” Her voice was sharp.

“Doctor Harris-“

“Need I remind you why you called me in, Commander?”

“Doctor Harris!”

She straightened as much as she could in her hoverchair, her eyes steely, her lips thin.

“He must be evacuated to a safe location.”

“He will be.” And Gordon’s sister stalked in through the door. The aquanaut stared as every man present stepped back to make room for her. Tin’s expression was like a battering ram. “Commander Robertson, a moment please.”

The Chief of Medicine approached her warily. Gordon didn’t quite hear what his sister said to the man, but the shock on his face was followed by a command that dismissed everyone.

The room emptied for all except Scott, Gordon, Kayo, Doctor Harris, Robertson, and, of course, his unconscious brother.

It still felt cramped.

“Commander, time is short. My brother needs help. Can you provide it?” Kayo’s eyes were fiery.

“I cannot ask any of my staff to risk their lives-“

“For god’s sake, Ray, do you have any idea who these people are? How many lives they have saved?”

The man spun on the spot and glared at the doctor. “I will not risk this hospital and all the people in it for one man. We save as many lives as they do.”

Beside Gordon, Scott stiffened even more. “Tell us what needs to be done!”

Pale blue eyes set in even paler skin turned to Scott and targeted him. “Mr Tracy.” She glanced back at Virgil a moment before moving around the end of the bed. A flick of controls and the hoverchair lifted her a little higher in order to come face to face with the IR Commander. “Virgil needs an upper endoscopy. A camera and micro tools will need to be passed down his oesophagus. There is a possibility part of his oesophageal lining will need to be cut and sutured in order to remove the device.” Her eyes flashed and Gordon was ever so glad he wasn’t the one they were aimed at. “Do you think your skills reach that far?”

“Do I have a choice, Doctor?” Scott was a picture of tension. “And the longer we sit here talking about it the higher the chance I lose my brother.”

“You can’t operate in this hospital.”

Robertson jumped as Kayo turned to face him again. “We can evacuate to Thunderbird Two and fly to a remote area to perform the operation, or to...” Her voice drifted off into a silent room, her eyes catching her brothers’.

Gordon’s heart stopped and he glanced at his wan co-pilot. “Screw this, we need to get moving. Scott, are we go?”

His big brother was as pale as the sheets his brother was wrapped in. Voice firm but parched. “We are go.”

“Not on my watch, you’re not.” Doctor Harris glared at both of them. “He’s my patient.” A glance up and down at Scott. “You can be my nurse.” She turned to the other doctor in the room. “Ray, I need your endoscopy equipment.”

“Em, you are not a gastroenterologist and you are not operating in this hospital!”

“God, Ray, you can shove your bloody hospital where the sun doesn’t shine. It’s not like I want to come back here after this fiasco. And no, I’m not a specialist, but I do have enough emergency surgery experience to have shoved just enough instruments in just enough orifices to know what the hell I am doing. Apparently, I’m all these poor blokes have since you’re showing your true colours. Give me the damned equipment and I will help this man on a plane in the middle of nowhere if I have to.”

“Em, this is your life!”

“And it is worth less than his! Move your ass!”

Robertson looked about ready to explode, but a shift in stance by Kayo had him glance over at the Tracys before skittering out of the room.

He left silence behind him.

Until a whir of hoverjets and Doctor Harris turned back to Scott so abruptly, her thin and limp legs shook in their harness. “If we are going to do this, we will need to be fast.”

Scott shifted his feet. “We can do fast.”

-o-o-o-

The night grew late and Gordon found himself slouching into the couch. Virgil had been the principle injured brother in the incident, but Gordon had his fair share of bruises and the aftermath had been a major strain. Not to mention the alcohol he had consumed.

It was catching up.

“Mister Gordon, you should listen to your body.” Kyrano sat calmly on the couch beside him, far too upright and calm for Gordon’s liking.

“K, I’m fine.” But a pair of blue eyes had targeted him and he knew he was going to be nagged to bed at any moment. “And drop the ‘mister’, it makes you sound like a servant or something.”

“A simple sign of respect, Mister Gordon.”

Gordon groaned. “Yes, Mister Kyrano.”

“‘Master’ would be more applicable in that instance.”

The aquanaut stared at him. Kyrano’s expression was completely serious...except for the tiniest of curve of his lips.

“God, you’re still an ass.”

“Respect, Mister Gordon, goes a long way. You should remember that.”

It had been a long time since the first ‘mister’. Hell, Gordon couldn’t have been more than six years old the first time the security specialist had addressed him that way. As a kid, it was ego-chuffing. As an adult it was a little uncomfortable. The Tracys might be billionaires, but no one was beneath them. Except perhaps the Hood. He was beneath everyone.

Gordon blinked.

“He’s your brother.” It came out without thought. The news of Kayo’s relationship to their nemesis was a couple of years old now, but they hadn’t encountered Kyrano during that time.

His former teacher did not react other than a brief flicker in those green eyes. “Half-brother.”

“What’s the story?”

“Gordon-“ Scott was cut off as Kyrano held up his hand.

“Bela Gaat, was born of my mother, against her will, during a time she and our family prefer not to discuss. Suffice to say, he is my older half-brother whose heritage differs considerably from my own.”

“Bela Gaat.” The name fell from Scott’s lips like a gasped curse. “You’ve known who he is all this time.” It wasn’t a question, but it was.

Green eyes met blue, unflinching. “And what power has his name? Can it stop him from hunting your family?”

Internally, Gordon sighed as Scott visibly flared. “Any information would have helped, Kyrano.”

“If it had, I would have given it to you.”

“What else do you know?”

“Not enough.”

“K, please.” All chances of sleep now gone, Gordon struggled to find the energy this discussion suddenly needed.

Green eyes turned to him and for the first time in his life, Gordon saw vulnerability beyond the steel.

Shit.

“I was not aware of his existence until shortly after Tanusha was born. He came to us, needing assistance. For some time, he dwelt with our family as a brother and an uncle. It was a pleasant for a while.” Those eyes darted between the two Tracys. “I regret my kindness more than you will ever know.”

“What happened?” It was like watching a car crash. He couldn’t look away.

“Tanusha lost her mother, her grandfather and, to a certain extent, her father.” Lips thinned. “Jeff Tracy was her saviour. And ultimately, Bela took him, too.”

A silence followed that statement. Gordon simply staring, his brain tumbling with permutations. Beside him Scott was stiff as a board.

“The man is a curse to all he touches. You will always be Mister Gordon and Mister Tracy as I owe you more than you will ever know.”

-o-o-o-

Only the man unconscious in his ‘bird’s medbay could have landed Thunderbird Two more gently than Scott did in the middle of the Simpson Desert. Outside the temperatures soared, but Two’s life support denied it any impact on the atmosphere inside the great green ‘bird.

Gordon felt her landing struts touch sand and rock from within the medbay. He had been conscripted as a nurse, Doctor Harris giving sharp and clear instructions during the short flight across half the Australian continent. Gordon had no doubt Penny had had to talk fast to get them access to the nearest vacant space, IR emergency codes likely stretched to the limit. John had sworn over comms at least once as the Australian authorities were not happy accepting an unknown incendiary device onto their turf.

John and Penny made it happen. They could smooth ruffled feathers later.

He just hoped they were fast enough.

The doctor had an array of equipment deployed around his brother. She was remarkably fast. He had never seen a hoverchair so deftly manipulated at such speed.

“Gordon, please secure your brother’s restraints. We can’t risk anaesthesia with what is already in his system. He’s out cold, but I can’t guarantee he will stay that way.”

The aquanaut stared at her for a second before shaking himself and doing as she bade. Virgil was propped on his side in preparation for the operation, not the optimal position for restraint, but they had to make do.

His brother’s hands were cold in his as he immobilised them. Straps across his arms, around his chest, legs and ankles, each strap tightening Gordon’s throat further. He prayed Virgil would sleep through it all. The thought of his brother waking up in the middle of the operation...

God, please no. Please don’t hurt him any further.

“Are you okay?” Pale eyes were assessing him.

“I’m fine.”

“You were injured during the incident.”

“Superficial.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Focus on Virgil. He needs you more than I do.”

Those eyes fixed on him a moment longer and he got the distinct impression he had been added to the list of ‘her patients’. The thought was mildly alarming.

Scott barrelled into the room, Kayo a step behind him. “We’re down and secured. Are we ready?”

Doctor Harris straightened. “We’re ready.”

The words were said and it all just happened. Masks were donned, hands were sterilised and surgically gloved, gowns were shoved over baldric-less uniforms and Gordon found himself handing instruments to a focussed Doctor Harris. He watched as the endoscope was fed down his brother’s throat and he shut down his emotional responses, letting calm settle as he distanced himself from what was happening before him.

Scott’s steely expression as he sat at Virgil’s head, monitoring his breathing, reflected the pain ignored in Gordon’s gut.

Above his prone brother, the endoscope display scrolled along Virgil’s oesophageal lining.

“I’m getting signal interference.” The doctor frowned.

“John.” Scott said his brother’s name and the response was immediate, the display clearing abruptly. “Thank you, Thunderbird Five.”

And there it was. The tiny bomb flickered once on the display. “Ask your Eye in the Sky for a reading on the capsule stability.” Harris’ voice was calm and sharp.

“Thunderbird Five, take instruction from Doctor Harris. Loop into the scanner.” A pause. “Deploy Eos, if necessary.”

“FAB.” John’s voice was its usual clear and calm balm. “Doctor Harris, capsule stability is poor.” A pause as John flickered numbers above the table, his holographic form blinking in beside them. “I don’t think forceps are an option.”

“Then we’ll have to cut it out.”

Gordon swallowed in sympathy.

“Doctor, you are going to have to prevent it from travelling further into his digestive system.”

“I am well aware of that, Thunderbird Five.”

It was odd hearing that callsign uttered by someone other than a member of International Rescue.

Gordon stared at the display. A flicker of medical shielding and a microlaser shot out, slicing into his brother. A glance down at Virgil, his skin was still pale, his mouth held open by a surgical guard, a cap covering his hair, Scott’s hand resting gently on his head.

It suddenly occurred to Gordon that these minutes could quite well be their last. One wrong move and that pill inside his brother would take them all. He should be alarmed, fearful, but he wasn’t. He stared at his eldest brother’s fingers laying gently on Virgil’s head and he knew he was exactly where he needed to be. There would regrets. For the doctor, for his sister, his brothers and those left behind. But not for himself. He would die doing what he was meant to do.

And then he’d hunt down the bastards who did this to his brother and haunt their asses to death.

Or insanity. Have them jumping at shadows and drooling on the carpet. That might be more satisfying.

The laser cauterised as it cut, the medical shielding inching over the gap to prevent gastric leakage.

“Get your lockbox ready.”

Kayo moved from the other side of the room, a containment capsule in hand. Inside was a specimen dish. Harris retracted the endoscopic tool, a tiny part of his brother held in its clawed tip. The bomb sat cushioned in flesh. The doctor placed it ever so carefully in the dish and Kayo closed the capsule.

The capsule wouldn’t contain the explosion if it was triggered, but it did prevent jostling of its contents.

Kayo was out the door. Scott caught Gordon’s eyes as he rose to his feet, his hand still gentle on Virgil’s head. And his big brother was moving. “I’ll launch as smoothly as I can, but it won’t be perfect.”

“You worry about flying, I’ll worry about my patient, Commander.” The doctor didn’t even look up, her eyes focussed on the micro-sutures she was stitching.

Scott’s fingers touched Virgil’s head one more time, ever so gently, and he, too, left the room.

“We need to move fast. With that bomb went whatever drug was keeping your brother under. I do not want him waking up in this situation.”

They were fast enough.

Kayo got the bomb out of Thunderbird Two and onto the desert sands where she left it. Scott got them off the ground before it could explode. Harris finished her suturing and got the endoscope out of his brother before he could stir.

The Australian authorities got bomb disposal out to the Simpson Desert and contained the fallout.

Penny got to have afternoon tea with the Prime Minister.

Thunderbird Two returned to Wellington, however Doctor Harris demanded they attend Wellington Hospital rather than returning to the military complex. Her scorn of Ray Robertson was rather extensive and Gordon had suspicions that there was more to that equation than she was letting on.

But he didn’t care. He got to sit beside Virgil and watch a pair of dopey brown eyes finally open and focus on him.

“Hey, Virgil.”

“G’don.” A slow blink. “He c’n’t have you, n’t gonna let him.” And those eyes slipped closed again.

Gordon slumped in his seat before reaching out and touching his brother’s hair. Dark strands slipped through his fingers.

Quietly. “No, Virg, I know you won’t.”

-o-o-o-

Scott was called off on Tracy Industries business the next morning...the last few days of neglect due to Virgil’s injuries now needing to be compensated for. So, it was Gordon and John who spent the next day running through Tracy Island’s security with Kyrano. Brains was called in when necessary, but he was clearly uncomfortable with the specialist and made himself scarce as soon as possible.

Kyrano ignored him.

“What’s the sensor rotational period?”

Gordon raised an eyebrow. “You know that. We argued over it extensively and you won.”

“Refresh my memory.”

“One fiftieth of a second.”

“Increase it.”

“What?”

“You have a window enough to slip a missile through.” The Malay’s expression was solemn.

“There is no missile that can breach that period.”

“That you know of.”

Gordon stared at him. “The energy expenditure will double.”

“Better than losing half an island.”

Gordon continued to stare. “Okay, I’ll speak to Brains and Kayo.” Tin’s absence spoke volumes. It was likely she was performing her own assessments, but he could almost guarantee she was listening in. There was no way she was going to compromise the Island’s security because of a tiff with her father. She’d listen in and make her own decisions.

“Her name is Tanusha.”

“Her name is whatever she wants it to be.” Gordon sighed. “C’mon, K, what are we going to do about these Null people? They hurt Virg bad.”

Green eyes fastened on him. “How is he? I have yet to see him.”

“Sleeping. He has a lot of recovery to get through.”

“I hope to see him later today. He might have some intel on those who captured you.”

Gordon held up a hand. “K, no, don’t.”

“Mister Gordon, we need every bit of information we can gather.”

“We have enough. Virgil doesn’t remember much at all.”

“Yet you chose to hide what he does remember from me.”

“For personal reasons! Nothing of a security nature.”

“Everything is important.”

“No, K, just no! Leave Virgil alone.” His brother had gone through enough. “Anything you need to know can come from me. I was conscious the entire time.”

Kyrano eyed him. “Why do you feel the need to protect Mister Virgil from me? I mean him no harm. And our relationship has been well tended over the years. We correspond regularly.”

Gordon stared. “You do?”

“Most certainly, Mister Virgil has been in contact for many years.” An arched eyebrow. “Unlike some.”

“I didn’t know that.” Really? Virgil had never mentioned any regular contact with Gordon’s mentor. What had they spoken about?

“Perhaps if you put more effort into communication in general, you would know.”

The stare turned into a narrow-eyed glare. “Communication takes two, K. I haven’t heard a thing from you. So, apparently, you’ll speak to my brother, but not me. Got an answer for that?”

Those green eyes held him for a moment before looking away. “Life is far from perfect, Mister Gordon.”

“Hah! Philosophical wank, K, is not an answer.” Okay, so it did hurt. Of all his brothers, Gordon thought he had connected the most with their security specialist. At least until he disappeared on them.

“Sometimes there is no answer.” It was said somewhat wistfully and for a moment sadness passed over the man’s face only to be quickly pushed aside.

Gordon frowned. “K?”

His mentor straightened, his posture ramrod. “Sensor density?”

Lips thinned, Gordon’s eyes caught Kyrano’s challenging him. But as always, the older man was dominant and a flicker of an eyebrow had his protege turning back to the instrumentation. “Five per thousand metres, but overlap is considerable.”

Kyrano sighed. “ More, Mister Gordon, you cannot afford to compromise.”

A sigh. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

-o-o-o-

“C’mon, Virgil, I know you’re in there. Time to wake up.”

His brother had slept and slept. Doctor Harris said it was normal. Hell, Virgil slept like the dead when perfectly healthy, but it had been over a day and both Gordon and Scott needed the reassurance that their brother was with them.

Best way to do that was the same way he did it when the man crashed on the couch at home.

“Viiiiiiiirgiiiiiiiil.”

The man’s eyes shot open and glared at him. “What?!”

Wow. Poke the bear and you get snarled at. “Ooh, welcome back to the land of the living. Nice entrance.”

“Gordon, what the hell? Let me sleep.”

“Nope.”

He watched as Virgil drifted and, for a moment, he thought he had lost him again. But those eyes opened and stared at the world around him with an awareness that Gordon hadn’t seen in days.

God, it was a relief.

“Why am I in hospital?”

He saw the dots connect and he was reaching out as Virgil shot up yelling about a trap. Scott, sitting on the other side of the bed caught their brother the same time Gordon did. The engineer wobbled where he sat and they lowered him back down to the bed.

“Take it easy, Virgil, you’ve been through quite a bit.” The moment Scott spoke, Virgil’s attention narrowed on their eldest brother. Gordon could have been offended, but really, that was just the way things were. They all looked to Scott for guidance, but none more so than Virgil.

“What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

Virgil spouted off the basics and then, thank god, he ran out of specifics. “A fight. I lost?”

Scott hesitated a second, Virgil didn’t appear to notice. “We think so. You have quite a lot of bruising, a couple of cracked ribs and two head injuries.”

Gordon frowned and Scott shot him a look that clearly said ‘shut up’.

“Two?”

“Yeah, and you also had a bloodstream full of some nasty chemicals. They drugged you pretty bad. Took the doctors some time to identify with exactly what. You’ve been mostly out of it for a couple of days.”

“Days?!”

“You were unconscious for most of it.”

Brown eyes darted back and forth between the two brothers and frowned. “Most of it?”

“Yeah.”

That gaze narrowed once again on Scott. His brother glanced at Gordon again, before looking at his watch.

Virgil caught the shift in gaze and frowned even more. “What did I do?”

“Nothing of importance.” Scott finally made eye contact with Virgil.

“Like what?” Their brother had a history of bad reactions to medications and there was a familiar worry in those eyes. Scott’s omission of certain details became clear. He was distracting Virgil by planting the suspicion that he had done something outlandish while out of it.

Well, he had, really, but there was no way Gordon was going to make fun of his brother’s faith in him. Not on pain of death.

“There was some delirium. Look, Virgil, you were ill. Don’t worry about it.”

Virgil was obviously suspicious and no doubt they would have to come up with something in the short term. At least until Virgil was ready to hear the truth. A truth Scott had obviously decided to keep to himself for the moment.

“How did we get out?”

Scott shifted Virgil’s attention in his direction. “Gordon got you out.”

And those brown eyes latched onto Gordon with that same faith he’d seen in that hangar. It should be funny. It should be something he could rib his brother about. But no.

It chilled him.

So, he threw it away with humour, ducking out of the questions with flippancy and misdirection. So much misdirection that Virgil, even in his half-awake state realised something was wrong and peppered him with questions about his health.

The faith turned to worry and the world righted itself. His big brother taking his place once again and checking up on him.

“He’s fine, Virgil. Stop worrying.” Scott’s exasperation was obvious, emphasised by a glare shot in Gordon’s direction. “He’s just being Gordon...and if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to kick his ass.”

Gordon froze.

Those brown eyes flicked back to him and the faith appeared again. “You got us out of there.”

“That I did.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, bro.” He forced a grin under that admiring gaze. I’m the goofball brother, remember? “Anytime.”

The soft smile that appeared on Virgil’s face almost broke him. But those brown eyes were closing again.

“Go back to sleep, Virgil.” Despite himself, he reached out and rested his hand on his brother’s arm.

“Knew you could do it.” It was whispered and his brother’s eyes did not open again.

Well, shit.

Virgil’s breathing shifted into the soft regularity of sleep, but Gordon just sat there and stared.

-o-o-o-

“What I want to know, Colonel Casey, is why International Rescue was not informed that we could expect an attack on one of our vessels.”

Colonel Casey’s hologram could not have been standing straighter, but that was nothing unusual. “And I, Commander, would like to know how you discovered that information.”

Brown eyes met blue and Gordon swore there was a flash in the air where their energies fought each other. Scott stood next to him equally ramrod straight, fury in his stance. “I think that is rather redundant now, Colonel, since I have two operatives injured due to a neglect in communications.”

“Scott, you need to rein in Thunderbird Five. The damage your brother did to the GDF network is not something I can cover up.”

“I’m not asking you to cover up anything, Colonel. John did nothing to your network. We have our sources. We don’t need to hack your systems to discover a truth we should have been told long before it put a Tracy in the hospital.”

Okay, technically Scott wasn’t lying. Eos hacked the GDF, Eos found the information and she could be considered a source...technically.

Scott and Gordon were alone in the comms room. Virgil still hadn’t left his suite. Gordon had checked on his earlier and found him still fast asleep. He wasn’t going to disturb that sleep. Alan had taken Grandma to the mainland for a supply run...otherwise known as a distraction enough to keep their matriarch out of the kitchen and come back with plenty of edibles. That left Brains in his lab and Kayo and Kyrano prowling around each other in the security offices.

Gordon chose to keep well out of that and the moment Scott finished his conference call with Tracy Industries, he joined him in what was looking to be the confrontation of the century between the GDF and IR.

“Do you expect me to believe that, Commander?” Casey’s voice had lost all the godmother and had an edge of steel.

“I expect to be reliably informed of any danger to my operatives, Colonel.”

The ranks being tossed around had Gordon wanting to dig up his lieutenant bars in self-defence.

“Commander, we had our reasons for withholding the information. Our relationship has a certain amount of trust in it. I had hoped you would consider that before questioning.”

“Virgil nearly died. He had a bomb in his throat that didn’t explode simply through pure chance!”

That did it. The colonel’s expression flickered for a moment, like a broken holosignal, and their horrified godmother peeked through.

But only for a moment.

“Commander, the decision was made for a valid reason.”

“And what reason is that?”

“That International Rescue has been compromised.”

Gordon froze. “What?”

Those brown eyes flickered to him, their gaze scanning the bruises on his face, no doubt. Aunt Val’s shoulders settled a little. “The group call themselves ‘Null’, they claim their aim is to end the war between the Chaos Crew and International Rescue.”

“We know that.” Scott’s voice gave no ground.

“A source advised us that an attack was planned, but we had very little detail. It was our hope that we would be able to respond quickly enough with that intel.”

“You didn’t.” So, so cold. “And despite our team’s sacrifices, you failed to capture a single perpetrator. In fact, if it wasn’t for a civilian doctor in a military hospital that refused to assist us, Virgil would be dead.”

Why Gordon was feeling so distant from events that had so intimately involved him, he didn’t know. Scott’s fury was a volcanic presence beside him, threatening to take out everything in its path. In contrast, Gordon felt cold, more like a glacier than a lava flow. Cold, still, but ultimately inevitable.

“How are we compromised?” Gordon’s voice sounded inadequate against the gravity of the question.

Again, that brown gaze caught his. “A known associate of International Rescue has been identified as a major player in the Null group. It was decided that it was unsafe to notify you of our knowledge in case the information was leaked to that person.”

A shift of his feet. “Leaked to who?”

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke in pain.

But that was nothing unusual. His ribs ached and there was the nastiness deep in his throat. Swallowing hurt.

At least his head had stopped aching. All he had to contend with there was the fog, which, no doubt, would double once his brothers worked out he was awake and delivered his pain medication.

Ugh.

It sucked to be him.

He rolled over and his whole body complained. Maybe drugs would be a good idea. He reached for his comms.

There was a knock at the door.

Speak of the devil? “Come in?” His voice came out dry and parched and it set him coughing, something he shouldn’t be doing.

The moment blurred as his body shook. A hand landed in his hair and he leant into it until he could get his breathing under control.

His eyes were teary and he had to blink to clear them, looking up expecting to see Scott frowning down at him.

It wasn’t Scott.

“Kyrano?”

“Hello, Mister Virgil.”

-o-o-o-

End Part Four

Part Five

[moonsabr]

Disney Fever Rant

Let’s be honest with ourselves, the Family Friendly Disney©️™️ Corporation became nothing but another soulless, creatively bankrupt, money hungry business that has a board full of greedy — potentially and allegedly (don’t sue me Disney) potentially criminally so — directors who, according to Abigail Disney allegedly underpay their employees, and only put in any sort “effort” (READ: spending half of their film’s marketing budget buying up opening night seats to make sure that every single one of their films makes $1 Billion dollars because God forbid Disney have a single flop), believed they didn’t need to market Galaxy’s Edge because Chief Executive Asshole Bob “I know we’re having a bad quarter & our PR is in the shitter but imma take a book tour for my autobiography real quick” Iger thought it would market itself (this is the same Disney CEO Bob Iger, by the way, who keeps raising prices because he’s so confident in the brand created, built, and embedded permanently within previous decades of Americana due to the hard work and creative genius of Walt Disney that he believes he can peddle out absolute garbage without consequence. CEO of Disney Lil’ Bitch Bobbie “My salary is 1,000x Greater Than the Average Disney Employees Even Though My Decisions Are Causing a Cutback in Hours and Even Getting People Laid Off” Iger really got his head up his ass because he believes he can say shit insanely out of touch and greedy shit like “[I can’t imagine] a maximum price guests will pay for a ticket to [our] theme parks” and keep hiking up the prices until one day, big surprise, this foolish, smug turd charged too much or didn’t market enough or maybe, people are just not blinded by the now-defunct and decades-long neglected Disney Magic™️ because the man in charge is more focused on a single-minded and extremely concerning-to-artistic-integrity-and-the-very-concepts-of-free-speech-and-fair-trade-and-anti-monopolistic fair business practices of purchasing every potentially lucrative IP known to man in a move so anti-competitive that they were forced by the fucking U.S. Justice Department to sell off some of their news properties — oh, but it’s okay, guys! The extremely hardworking and under-appreciated employees of Disney World will finally be making a baseline amount of $15/hour, so at least those hardworking folks can have the chance of affording a shared apartment less than 40 minutes away from the park! And hey, at least we’ll inevitably get a Summer Blockbuster X-Men trilogy, which I’m sure won’t be a bland and extremely superficial set of films more concerned with entertaining a general audience than preserving the heart of X-Men and why it was created and what it continues to symbolize. Good Ol’ Bobbie Buy-ger’s “Hello, Fellow Children” Disney will absolutely not make a mockery of the integrity with which those contemporaneously radical set of complex and volatile cultural and sociopolitical issues of the 1960′s were addressed via the humanization of both the protagonistic X-Men, who were peaceful advocates for the (then-primarily racially coded) mutants’ integration and equality within a society that is terrified and disgusted by them, in contrast with the slowly developing and unexpected depth of character and humanization of the members of the Brotherhood of Mutants, who are constantly portrayed as an antagonistic but not wholly evil foil to the X-Men as a much more violent group of radicals with a more extreme and militant approach to gaining mutant’s rights (coded heavily at the time, of course, as the Black Panther Movement) which fought for an apartheid with a zealous “Mutant’s First” slogan, believing themselves superior to humans without the X-Gene. And because of the appropriately addressed and carefully handled themes, mutants occasionally even switched sides because after all, they were all fighting for mutant rights. Baring in mind the intricacies and mature themes of X-Men and the MCU’s masterfully sophisticated and tactfully manifold take on sexism which can be succinctly summarized as “WOMAN GOOD; MAN BAD” (which strikes me as particularly unusual narrative composition to frame the villain, who has assaulted a stranger and stolen his property because he gave her a cheesy pickup line that wasn’t particularly sexual or intimidating, as the hero of the story — clearly, if the Disney MCU is willing to create such an experimental piece of avant-garde cinema verité wherein the reality of a cruel, spiteful, and sadistic person is constantly thrust into the spotlight and incessantly touted as a heroic figure is put on display. None of this would have been possible, however, without a courageously flawless and unconventional choice to hire Brie Larson via the application of typage casting, allowing Boden and Fleck to shine a  b l a c k  m i r r o r , if you will allow me to be so edgy and bold as to use such a trite phrase in this post Netflix world, on our own flawed society, they will be capable of producing a mere three trivial films on something so relatively simplistic as translating the extremely volatile and divided zeitgeist of race relations in the height of the civil rights movement into a modern, appropriate, and respectful piece of representative fiction.

I’m sure Disney CEO Bob “Galaxy’s Edge Only Severely Underperformed Because People Were Worried There Would Be Too Many People There and This Has Nothing to Do With the Fact that I Thought My Dick Was Bigger Than It Actually Is and So I Thought I Could Get Away Without Marketing it Whatsoever Until Like 3 Months Before it Opened in Disneyland Because I Realized (but will never, ever admit) that I Fucked Up After they Low Crowds in Disney World and Over-Estimated the Current Value Of the Star Wars Brand After Green-Lighting A Film Wherein All the Original Characters Left Were Bastardized and Shat On So Now Everyone Who Wants to Watch TV Will Have A 35% Chance of Being Assaulted By Our Incessant Ads for this Bullshit Because I Bought a Bunch of Shit with No Creative Vision in Mind and Am So Incompetent and Think So Lowly of My Own Customer Base that I Signed Off on a Plan for This Park that Didn’t Include Most of the ‘Immersive Experience’ as Advertised Because I Truly Believe Most Consumers are So Stupid That They Will not Notice or Care that They’ve Paid ~$400-$500 per Person to Get Access to a Glorified Shopping Mall with Extremely Overpriced Toys that You Can’t Even Use within Park Grounds” Iger will make sure these concepts are addressed via internal, philosophical dilemmas such as “What level of respect do we owe to our oppressors?” and “How much humanity should we offer to those who don’t offer us the same courtesy in return?” that were written and drawn by a couple of Jewish WWII-Veterans who had fought violently on enemy soil for their right to live and be seen as human and were, twenty years later, observing an uprising against a disturbingly similar “Separate but Equal” system that was reminiscent of the insidious and dehumanizing relegation of German Jewish communities into ghettos implemented early during the Nazi regime. I’m just feeling so fucking positive about this Fox acquisition guys, because I’m just so sure somebody whose very goal is to buy up all his competition and suppress even the most constructive of criticism is truly concerned about honestly and properly representing a title with so many counter-cultural and anti-establishmentarian ideals that aren’t already commonly accepted in today’s political climate, right? At least we get the X-Men in the MCU, right gamers?!?!?!?!!!!!!

Regardless of how you feel about Disney, you can’t deny that the company’s board atm is entirely creatively bankrupt and out of touch. For god’s sake, they created a hyper-realistic CGI remake of The Lion King that perfectly represents the state of the Disney Corporation today: bland, boring, forgettable, and completely lacking in any sort of creative vision.

[true-neutral-earth-elf]

Necromancy in Earthblood society: headcanons and theories

( Wow, haven’t posted one of these before. Let’s see how it goes!)

Personally, I don’t believe necromancy is as unnatural - dare I say, unrealistic- and completely revolting in the tdp world as it is in D&D, any zombie-esque story, or Frankenstein (yes, I consider that a form of necromancy; get used to it). My reasons for claiming these examples as “unrealistic” is largely due to the use of corpses that are already in a state of decay. Rigor Mortis, the state in which a corpse’s muscles and joints stiffen due to the lack of oxygen needed to produce the chemical compound adenosine triphosphate (ATP) which is necessary for the relaxation of muscle fibers, sets in 2-6 hrs -depending on body size, sex, physique, environmental condition, etc.- and ends only when the muscle fibers themselves begin to decay. This means that a corpse is physically incapable of unassisted movement, much less eating/digesting brains. So, in order to avoid this mistake (which can be easily identified by looking up rigor mortis in Wikipedia or, you know, a freaking book! Mary Shelley lived in a time when this information was either difficult to find or being discovered; what’s Hollywood’s excuse?) a necromancer would have to do one of two things: require a really, really fresh corpse (like in the 1968 version of, “Night of the Living Dead” (the corpses had to have died recently in order to be reanimated));or be able to revive the organism on a cellular level, this would also require the necromancer to stimulate rapid cell reproduction in order to keep the revived cells from immediately dying due to the lack of oxygen, again. I have yet to watch or read anything that applies the latter form of necromancy (if you know of any, please leave a suggestion in the comments), or at least acknowledges it’s application. This is one of the first reason why I hope to god it’s implemented in, “The Dragon Prince,” universe. The second is how it can also be applied as a form of healing. That’s right my DMs and adventurers, your healer can theoretically use their abilities for necromancy and vice versa; let that sink in for a moment. This would further support my belief that Earth mages are capable of healing, just a different form of healing than would be used by Sun and Ocean Healers (I’ll write a post to further discuss what these different forms of healing are, I swear). Anyways.... that’s theory/headcanon thingy #1 of this list. (Just gonna tag @dragonprinceofficial , in case anyone finds this particularly interesting....couldn’t hurt, right?)

Necromancy, of this sort, cannot bring dead loved ones back. The brain is one of the first organs to decay minutes after death, which means that the memories stored within those neurons would be lost; even if those cells were revived, the explicit and possibly implicit memories of the subject would likely never return. Of course, since this is probably an exhausting process and would require a lot of time to complete, the necromancer would have to prioritize the neurons responsible for respiration and circulation of blood in order to keep the revived cells alive throughout the ordeal (kind of like an internal, natural life support machine...actually, if Xadia has the technology for life support machines that would take a load off of the necromancer/s; instead of immediately worrying over the neurons, they could focus on regenerating the major organs then go back to the brain later on......wait, no, that’s a tangent...getting back to the point), which means that even if the person died only a little while before, it would take even more time for the necromancer to finally regenerate the parts of the brain believed to store explicit/implicit memories. This isn’t taking the spirit of the subject into consideration. We know that spirits do exist within the tdp universe, the creators have even stated that it’s possible to communicate with these spirits via moon magic (though they also stated that some most magical abilities are not exclusive to a single primal source, but that’s not important right now). But can an earth mage call the spirit of the individual back into the body? I’m going to assume not since spirits or souls are not typically considered part of the “natural-earthy” world, but the ethereal one. (I am not in any way an expert in neurology, biology, anatomy, or any other scientific field. All of the above is based on my very limited memory of anatomy class and quick fact checks. Do not quote me on anything. If you are an expert and see a mistake, please, correct me.)

For the reasons previously mentioned, I believe Earthblood elves would outlaw the resurrection of the recently deceased; for the sake of the individual’s family and friends. It’s too much for grieving loved ones to handle, even if necromancy is normalized within their society. Perhaps resurrecting elves, period, is taboo, simply because of ethical concerns. Of course, some, if not many, would likely disregard the established laws in favor of exploring new regenerative spells; perhaps, even attempting to create chimeras from multiple corpses. If my assumption that Druidic orders exist within Xadia is correct, then it is likely that mages whom dabble in this practice are either excommunicated, rejected, or forced to hide their research and experiments by their elders.

All mages gifted with Life-earth magic (spells that focus on flora and fauna) have the ability to learn necromantic spells. Botanical mages have an easier time with necromatic spells, that’s how they revive dead plants. However, neither party can preform necromatic spells in a different field (Botanical mages can’t revive animals, and Zoological mages can’t revive plants).

NECROMANCY IS FREAKING HARD!!!! You know the amount of studying it takes to keep humans alive? Doctors are required to have an intimate understanding of bodily functions, including cellular reproduction. Healers in the tdp universe would probably also require this knowledge along with spells and accompanying runes. But you see, the healer’s patient is alive. That means that their body is, for the most part, keeping itself alive. Which allows the healer to focus on the main issue. The necromancer is literally bringing their subject back from the dead. They not only need to know how the body works, or which spells will sustain the subject; but also which parts need to be revived first, which other organs are required to keep others alive, which veins and arteries to reconstruct, how many capillaries will be needed to deposit nutrients to the revived cells, how to reconstruct an organ from literal mush, which bacteria is good for the subject and which needs to be purged, and the list goes on, and on! Necromancers need to be a specialist of specialists, in a medical sense, in order to make a reasonably functional being. Then, one has to take into account the amount of magical, mental, and physical energy required from the mage to perform each and everyone of the spells on every single structure within the body in succession. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was why dark magic was created in the first place! I’m not even sure Aaravos could pull something like this off by himself. Of course, if the mage doesn’t want a self aware lackey, they could cut corners in regards to the construction of the brain; possibly leave out the appendix, one of the kidneys, maybe part of a lung, probably the voice box, hair, pituitary glands (in regards to human subject)....if longevity isn’t a priority of the caster, then there’s much that can be ignored to save time. It’s quite possible that, in the end, the reanimated subject won’t even appear as they were meant to.

I might add a second part to this list later on, only time will tell. Feel free to ask any questions regarding this and other post, or add any of your own headcanons/theories; I’d love to hear from y’all! I hope y’all enjoyed.

Thank you for reading!

[puawarriors-production]

Week 17 – Alex – I Told You I’d See You Later

My previous post was a little anti-climactic if you ask me, and I didn’t get to recap what I did so here we gooo.

----------------------FIRST, MAJOR DISCLAIMER---------------

     As you can see, this post is pretty dang long, so I’m just gonna put evaluation stuff for the class here first, and if you feel like reading on afterward that’s cool, but it’s just personal reflections and final send-off stuff. 

     So, shockingly, I was one of the main contributors to the rough animation which you can see in the animatic, and can track the progress of throughout this blog’s history. I finished 15 roughed shots in total. I also have 8 shots concurrently blocked (in other words, partial progress,) and 2 shots unstarted.       I also made the 3D environment models used for reference in making the backgrounds, as well as handling the editing side (video composition, timing, and sound edits) for the animatic up to this point. 

     Next, I worked closely with Sophia and our sound mixer Tim to get the voice actresses recorded, their clips edited, and finally integrated into the film. And also, while this hasn’t made it into the animatic yet, I have been creating some original sound design elements as well. Here’s a sample of some:

I’m focusing mostly on the characters’ Pua powers and transformations right now, and some sludge sounds. And in hand with that, I also did the voice clips/sound effects for the Sludge Monster. Aaand that’s pretty much it from me this semester! Super excited to keep up the work in the weeks to come! If you’re not sticking till the end of the post, then thanks for an awesome class, and awesome semester! 

------------------ The Feels Side of the Post -----------------

                                       The Pua Warriors Experience

     When I first heard about Pua Warriors, I thought the idea sounded awesome: Magical girls set in Hawai'i using flower powers and sparkles to save the day? Yeah I’m down for that. It felt… familiar to me, I suppose. But at the time I still knew relatively little about the characters, the story, and only had a vague idea of their designs.

     As time went on and the Capstone application deadline was approaching, I felt like I was a bit stuck, with the exhaustion of working on Midnight Showing holding me on one side, and having only a vague outline of a plot for my own film idea on the other. And with no crew to speak of, the decision not to make a Capstone of my own was … difficult… one of the most difficult in my time at ACM. Cause in my mind (at the time at least,) not making “your own” Capstone project felt like a failure somehow. But this whole Pua Warriors thing was sounding pretty nice, and I already knew everyone working on it. So I decided life’s better together, and far be it from me to not work on a project of some kind. So I hopped on-board for a little trip into the unknown. And well, here we are, still in the unknown. But that doesn’t mean we’re lost. Not yet.

     I have to say, Pua Warriors has grown on me. At a certain point it stopped feeling like a student film, and started feeling more like a potential series: a world with its own storyline, and indeed one that’s worth telling – yes, I would make a distinction between the two. Working on the project has just been the sweetest, most wonderful, enlightening, mild existential crisis inducing, and bizarrely friendly thing I’ve had the privilege of working on, all at once. It didn’t just change how I approach character design, animation, or working on a team – I feel it changed me for the better as a person, and at times I feel almost unworthy to be on this project.

     One thing I’ll never forget is the time we spent hanging out in the Keller lab, going to group meetings, and recording at MELE. What silly fun times those were. I admit, not being able to hang out with my friends after the virus shut the world down has truly been one of the most difficult parts of my whole “college era” of my life experience. To feel like something great was forming, only to be ripped away by something so crazy and completely over-the-top as this virus – words just can’t capture the feeling of melancholy. But even when we’re spread hundreds or thousands of miles apart, at times I can still feel near, even if it is only through a screen. And personally, I don’t want that to change just because the semester’s ending. That’s why, in a way, I’m sort of glad we have time to work on into the summer.

                                             Reflections on Life

     Some lessons this semester taught me: First is on fitting in. It’s never blending in for the sake of blending in, nor standing out for the sake of standing out. It’s being comfortably unique in your own talents and skills, strengths and weaknesses, styles and tastes - while being happy to share those things with others. Indeed, it’s not about being “good enough” to belong, but rather belonging, in order that may do good for others. Second is on wanting to help. For a long time I remained kind of a loner in ACM, sitting in “my” corner with “my” ideas. It wasn’t until last semester and especially during this semester I realized just how powerful, or perhaps rather how much more powerful the drive to help and serve others can be. That’s true not just for creative endeavors, but all areas of life. The Third lesson: doing things for the right reasons. We do things for a lot of different reasons, and often times we aren’t cognizant of why we act or feel the way we do. Having an understanding of who you truly are and what you really want is critical in exercising self-control, and you may come to realize your desires aren’t always what you think they are. And the Fourth lesson is on being assertive. We all want and feel things, and one of the greatest feelings is being in control. You may doubt yourself when you don’t know where your feelings and desires come from. You may think your mind is playing tricks on you. But the truth is, we’ll never go places in life if we don’t speak up and acknowledge our ideas. We may not always come to the right conclusions, but that doesn’t mean we’re wrong for trying. So try, try, and try again. It’s okay to fail, as long as you pick up something with you as you get up. Take risks, and understand that doubt is often our greatest enemy, so fight it!

     So now, at the end, I don’t really know what I feel: I don’t know if this is sadness or happiness? Courage or fear? Maybe it’s none of those things, but something I haven’t quite felt before. Until recently, I didn’t realize there’s an emotion that can make you feel so weak, yet feel strong at the same time. One thing’s for sure, I’m going to miss the project, the crew, and all of Hawai'i. To us, the future is a blank slate: nothing is written on it, yet it holds an infinite number of possibilities. 

                                          Honoring my Maker

     Now before I wrap up, I have a specific topic I’d like to address.

     While I  usually avoid discussing my religious life openly in a scholastic context, I will say here and now that God has been my greatest help throughout these past couple years. For the longest time, even before coming to Hawai'i, I struggled with feelings of not fitting in, of low self-esteem, and of self-doubt. There were a lot of recurring battles at my home growing up, and many of the wounds followed me into adulthood. And if nothing else, this semester has brought many of those to the forefront.

     As a child back in Washington, I would often just go with the flow of my friends at the time, because it was easier, and allowed me to avoid conflict. Yet I would be lead into instances where I would not speak up or act, even though I felt what we were doing, thinking, or saying was wrong. My family wasn’t particularly religious, or at least they certainly didn’t act like it. And for a while I think I didn’t believe in God. Maybe there was some higher power... maybe, perhaps, but not God. Yet still I felt a crushing weight on my conscience, for both the things I had done, and the things I had failed to do. So I watched TV shows and movies to help me feel safe, to distract myself, and indeed to feel as if I had more power than I actually did. 

     There came a time in middle school when a big storm came through my life, and when I was living in fear, I turned to God, and He helped me through it. And again in high school, God helped me. And in college, many times more. Through it all, God answered my prayers, and showed me there is a better way. And I came to understand that He gave me a way to life through His Son, long before I was even born. And because of that, I could find comfort and rest by trusting in Him through the afflictions I faced.      So the way I see it, God has lead my life in a way neither I, nor any human being could. I have found that He has a purpose for all things, and truly that nothing comes by accident. I may not say it aloud, but I observe it every day in the places He sets me in, and the people with whom He places me. Yes, even in the midst of this virus. So while family and friends may not always be there to support me, and while institutions may crumble and fall, and while I may move away and feel isolated from all I’ve known, my God was, is, and always will be with me. There is nothing more empowering or reassuring than that. And without coming off too preachy, my hope is that people might perhaps look at that reflected in my life - to see the work God has done, and to consider their own relationship with Him.

                                                       Roll Call

     Next, I have a few shout-outs I’d like to mention.

     First, to my wonderful film Director Sophia: What can I say? This project has been simply amazing to work on with you. I think back to the moment I first overheard you talking about Pua Warriors. You were so thrilled to do it, and that’s when I realized I might want to jump onboard as well. Since then, the only adjective that comes to mind describing this experience is “vibrant.” I know there have been a lot of ups and downs, but that’s part of what makes the experience worth remembering. And there may very well be more hills and valleys to go through, but I actually look forward to them every day with you, as we continue to make this film happen. You shine like a star with a brilliant, positive energy I’ve never seen before. And I think you have a much greater potential than perhaps even you yourself realize. Of course, everyone has room to grow, but that doesn’t reflect poorly on you at all. It’s the fact that you’ve been so supportive of your team, and that you didn’t give up on your vision, and indeed, you’ve made massive efforts to grow this semester – that’s what makes you a good director in my eyes. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have anybody else direct the film – certainly at least not this “episode” anyway. It’s been a lasting experience, and I hope you’ll take what you’ve learned from it with you. You have a bright future ahead of you Sophia – all you need to do is reach out to it!

     Next, to the Art Director and my good friend Gavin, wow what a ride this has been. Your artistic vision, your stamina, and your work ethic are so very remarkable. It’s been awesome these last few years getting to know you and work with you through all the late nights and long class periods. And especially through Midnight Showing and Pua Warriors. You basically set the standard that I and most other animation students aspire to, and you have such a unique way of looking at things too. Even when you’re feeling drained from all the work, your passion clearly shows, and you know how to communicate both very clearly, AND very, uh, sassily, which makes hanging around you hilarious. You’re also one of the only people on Earth that could get me to watch Clone Wars, and I don’t regret it. You give exceptional feedback in each critique, and though it can be tough to incorporate sometimes, you make listening to you a worthwhile endeavor. ACM simply would not be what it is without you, and I know you have many great things you’ll do with your skills moving forward.

     To our excellent Animation Supervisor Chandelle, this semester’s been a tough one, but even in the darkest times, the sun still rises! You’ve always been an awesome animator, an incredibly hard worker, and an exceptionally friendly and helpful member of the group. And what’s more, you never sought to put the spotlight on yourself for it. You do things simply because you care, and you do them with such a level of discipline and professionalism that few in the ACM department could match it. I’m sure I speak for the whole group when I say, we care about you so much, and we’re just thankful you’ve been with us on the project. Never sell yourself short Chandelle! You’ve conquered some major obstacles in the past, and I know you have it in you to overcome this one as well.The light will shine again someday, so hang in there, and thanks for all the help you’ve given!

     To my fellow animation friend Jared, man, have I got a lot of respect for you. You really know what it’s like to get down and dirty for the team, or feel stuck in a rut in the middle of a project. This last year has probably tested you the most, and yet you never fell apart. Sure, cracks may have formed at times, but you held together and pulled on through to the end. That proves you’ve got guts, and a great capacity for patience and accommodation especially in times of crisis. And that’s exactly what we need - that kind of boldness and passion, to be able to outlast our worries, especially when there are so many unknowns. I remember back to Midnight Showing; boy, that felt like a big time of unknowns too. We had no idea what was coming. And yet you outmatched it, and sure enough, things worked out in the end. And because you’ve been so humble and willing to improve yourself, I’ve seen you get so much better over these last few years, and frankly, it’s astonishing! You’re a great friend, and a hard worker Jared. Keep it up! You’ve got this!

     I’d also like mention my fellow animation friend Kalilinoe! Even though we’re not in the same team this semester, you’re still an awesome and inspiring animator to have in class! Working together on Midnight Showing last semester was a lot of work, but also so much fun! And I love your style of animation using rotoscoping. And I gotta say, the animation in Pua Ka Uahi looks sooo smooth and beautiful. Watching your progress on the film this semester has been super inspiring, and definitely keeps the other teams on their toes! I can’t wait to see the finished film!

     I’ll also make a brief mention of Jayme and Bobby from our 320/420 classes! You guys rock, and made the year all the better! I hope we’ll get to hang out again sometime! 

     PLUS, A big thanks to the whole Capstone class! Stay creative, and best wishes to you all!

     And finally, one last big shout-out to Lisette for making all of this possible! You’ve been an awesome teacher not just for this course, but for the last few years in general! You always bring such wisdom and expert film knowledge to us younglings. And you’re so willing to make yourself available to your students; always helpful and encouraging to everyone, and even more so now during this time. That’s just the kind of support we need! I’ll be missing your classes greatly! Thanks so much for all your care and help!

                                              A New Chapter Begins

Well, that pretty much wraps up my blog (for the school-production time anyway) of Pua Warriors. I’d like to once again thank each and every one of you for making the ACM experience so incredible. I think I like posting, so I’ll probably try to keep up with the blogs for the future, or at least make an update every once in a while. Thanks for reading through this epic conclusion of a post. 

Until next time my friends! This is Alex(is) Nelson, Ganitine, the Undercover Animator, uncovered! See you next time!

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Any Stranger I Choose

When Lena comes barreling into Sam’s office holding a copy of CatCo’s magazine in one hand and a cup holder with two coffees sitting in it in the other, Sam knows that something is wrong. Actually, Sam’s first thought is: where’s Jess? Because usually if they have a situation that involves unscheduled meetings and coffee, then Lena has inevitably pissed off the Chinese investors or - God forbid - the Russians and that means a six-hour video conference that will force Sam to call a babysitter for Ruby. But Lena doesn’t look stressed or upset, just bordering on giddy in a way that Sam has never seen. Sam swivels her chair so that she’s facing Lena and waits, impatiently, for Lena to sit in front of her desk, place their coffees on coasters, and set the magazine in front of Sam. “Page thirteen” is all Lena says before she leans back in her chair and takes a slow drink of her coffee.

Sam knows that look and even though she feels like she’s being set up, she still opens the magazine and lands on a feature story titled “Outside of the Frame: Prestigious Photography Returns to National City for a Showstopper”. Sam arches a brow because - apparently - she must be missing something. “Okay...cool?”

“That’s Alex Danvers!” Lena says with a huge grin. “You’d probably know her better as the cinematographer for Alignment .” Sam’s eyes dart back to the article, she scans down a few lines and notes the hoard of awards listed including an Oscar for cinematography. “Remember how you kept posting your favorite shots from that movie on your Instagram? I can’t believe she’s back in town.”

“We’ll go to the show when it opens.” Sam tries to sound as chill as possible but Lena was right to show her this. Alignment was her favorite movie and she’ll certainly have the opening of this new art show booked in her calendar for months.

“Did you see what the new show is going to be about?”

“I assume it’ll be portraits, that’s what she’s known…” Sam stops talking when her eyes fall on the last line of the article: Danvers will be shooting a new collection titled ‘The Rise and Fall of Desire’ in which she will be depicting her subjects before, during, and after they orgasm.

Sam could scream. She could throw the magazine across the room and scream. This is why Lena came in here. This is really what she wanted to show her. Lena looks absolutely delighted. Sam knows her cheeks are warming. “She’s looking for new subjects. I mean, taking requests at least-.”

“Are you joking? You can’t do that! You run LCorp-.”

“Not me! You.” Lena rolls her eyes. “I think you should do it.”

“Me?” Sam is dumbfounded. “I...I could never do that. I have a daughter.” Sam says this like that’s the end of it. Lena continues sipping her coffee. Sam knows that she needs to say something more definitive, something to get Lena to back off. “Plus, you know I can never really...well you know .”

“Orgasm?” Lena sets her cup down. “Okay, first of all, Ruby doesn’t need to know about this. It’s a closed event and I doubt any of those boring soccer moms at Ruby's school even know what an art exhibit even is.”

“I’m a soccer mom,” Sam deadpans.

“And have you considered that the reason you haven’t had an orgasm is that you’ve only slept with Missionary Position A and B for your entire life?” Lena reaches across Sam’s desk and flips to the next page in the article. It’s a full page photo of Alex Danvers wearing stylishly tattered black jeans with some average t-shirt showing off her - many - tattoos. Her undercut is perfectly trimmed, her hair looks messy in the best way, and she’s looking right at the camera. Right at Sam. “Wow…”

“What?”

“You’re drooling!” Lena laughs. Sam closes the magazine and slides it across the desk to Lena. “Well, at any rate, I made a call to Shaun who called James who might know Alex from their war photography days and...you’re in.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m in’?” Sam looks at Lena, incredulous.

“There’s this whole application. Background check. I even had to send like ten photos too and apparently, Danvers wants to shoot you.” Right now, Sam would prefer to shoot herself. “I guess there was a huge waitlist but Alex bumped you up-.”

“What the fuck, Lena?!” Sam throws her body back dramatically in her chair. “Seriously, stop laughing or I’ll make you go bankrupt.” Sam closes her eyes. “Plus, she kinda sounds like an asshole. Choosing people based on how they look? Jerk.”

“I actually think James might’ve talked you up. And what do you care? If you aren’t doing it then it doesn’t matter.”

“But she did say yes? I feel like...well, if it’s something she’s considered...and maybe something she’s prepared for…” Sam doesn’t know how to say it. She doesn’t know how to say any of it. Lena knows that. She must know because Lena’s eyes have gone all soft and accommodating like she’s waiting for Sam to go vulnerable so that she can jump. Sam knows her best friend and she knows that there isn’t any maliciousness behind this offer. Just care. And love.

Lena’s probably right. Sam has dated all the wrong people - men - who had been so quick to get to fucking that they’d forgotten that it was a shared experience. Sam was technically out. Technically proud too. But her fears about being with another woman sexually were an issue, something that should be resolved sooner rather than later.

And it wasn’t just about men versus women. It was about the way that Sam felt in the presence of another woman. Completely seen. She’s never gotten past making out because she was frightened by the idea of not knowing what to do. How could she please another woman if she’d never even been able to get off on her own?

“You’re overthinking,” Lena asserts. She reaches across the desk and grabs Sam’s hands. “I think this might be good for you. The experience alone will be a great conversation starter.”

“I’m not saying yes.” Sam pretends to return to her work. “But I will think about it.”

                                                           -----

During their weekly brunch, Alex Danvers somehow finds a way to weasel into their conversation again. Sam certainly doesn’t bring it up but Jess is an art nerd so she’s already ranting and raving about Alex like she’s some kind of Annie Leibovitz. Lena has gone stark silent and that seems to spur Jess to ask, “I thought you liked her work. That one movie, right?”

“Alignment,” Lena supplies trying not to smile around her bite of kale.

“Oh my gosh, yes! So good. We should go to the show together. I bet she’ll do some kind of panel or even go around talking to people.”

“I’ll bet,” Sam mumbles.

“Sam might actually be meeting Alex.” Sam kicks Lena’s leg under the table.

“You’re meeting her?!”

“ Might, ” Lena clarifies. “As a subject for her next collection.”

“Lena…” Sam warns.

“The orgasm one? Holy shoot.” Though Sam usually finds Jess’s inability to say curse words enduring, right now she thinks ‘holy shit’ is a warranted expression of how crazy this situation is. “You have to do it. You have to.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“I know her sister,” Jess tells them. Lena’s eyes widen. Lena was probably happy that Jess was on her side but she obviously didn’t know that tidbit of information. “I mean, she works at the food co-op on Tuesdays with me. Apparently, Alex is really cool. And smart. She was an anthropology major in college.”

“That’s great, Jess, but...I’m still on the fence.” Unlike Lena, Jess seems to take Sam’s apprehension as permission to continue to push her. Jess has all but abandoned her chorizo, egg, and potato hash and has moved on to twirling the mint leaf around in her sangria.

“Sam, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Kara - that’s Alex’s sister by the way - she said that Alex really values her work and she really wants this project to impact the world and her subjects.” Jess is beaming. “I think that you’re scared. And that’s okay.”

“Feel the fear and do it anyway,” Lena adds, even though she knows she sounds dorky. “I guarantee you’ll have a great experience. Don’t do it for Alex’s sake, do it for yourself.” It’s right now that Sam realizes that she really can have it all. A good work life, great friends, and possibly more. What’s the harm in taking a very contained risk?

And in the two days since Lena’s has mentioned it, she’s been thinking about just taking the plunge. She can meet one of her favorite artists, be a part of the work that she admires, and Alex seems...passionate. Sam read a few articles about her and it was clear that Alex took great pride in everything she did. If Sam was going to try - and fail - to have an orgasm in front of anyone, Alex wouldn’t be the last person she'd chose.

“For the record, I’m not scared,” Sam says with all the confidence of a lying liar who lies.

                                                          -----

Sam is terrified. Ever since she sent the okay email to the a_danvers photography email, she has been a nervous wreck. Alex obviously had an assistant because the email reply was devoid of any emotion and Sam was told to arrive at 135 Miller St. Apartment 209 at 8 pm. After extensive research on the building, she’d determined that she’d be meeting at a high-end loft downtown and even though it would be a breeze to get to from LCorp, Sam was very uneasy about going to someone’s apartment to do...this.

It didn’t matter how much information Jess could dig up, Sam struggles to trust anyone that easily, so she made sure to bring mace on her drive over. Even as she approached the building, wearing a high waisted pink pencil skirt and a white silk blouse, Sam was nervous that she was going to do the wrong thing. Say the wrong thing. Alex would take one look at her deer in headlights face and send her away in favor of another subject someone who was easier to deal with. Someone braver. Hotter.

When Sam knocked at the door, her fist pushed it open. She was too shy to step in, afraid of intruding, but then she heard the distant call, “Come in,” and she pressed forward. The loft was less of a home and more of a frantic mess of moving boxes in one area, a half-organized kitchen, a “living space” that was just a couch and a coffee table with a few mugs on it, and a bedroom area. That’s where Alex was. She must have been finishing setting up because she had a dirty rag slung over her shoulder like a mechanic as she tweaked one of the light fixtures.

All Sam could focus on right now was the bed. Light lavender colored comforter, a nightstand with a few books and a mug sitting on it, and big fluffy pillows that looked very inviting. It was a king sized bed, Sam knew that because hers was smaller. “Samantha, I assume.” Alex tosses the rag onto a stool near her camera equipment and approaches Sam with her hand out. Sam takes it.

“Sam is fine.”

“Oh, Sam it is.” Alex looks much more midwest-kind in person. Her tattoos that usually make her look tough are actually quite beautiful and alluring in person. Her handshake is firm though and she has a look in her eyes that is perfectly inviting. Sam calms down ever so slightly. “Here, let me take that for you.” Alex takes Sam’s purse and puts it somewhere off to the side. Sam’s eyes are drawn to the art that Alex has apparently just started putting on the walls. They’re unique pieces, things that Sam is almost sure haven’t been in any of her shows. “Did you find the place okay?”

“Yeah, it was close to where I work.” Sam doesn’t know what she should do. Join Alex near the kitchen island or continue standing in the middle of the room.

“Right. LCorp.” Alex goes to her fridge and opens it. “Drink? I’ve got water, some weird hippie shit my sister made, juice, beer…” Sam would take eight shots of anything if that was available but she isn’t sure that she should be drinking.

“Water is fine.” Sam does join her now. She enjoys the way Alex seems confused by every element of the simple process. First, she doesn’t know where the glasses are. Then she can’t figure out how to work the ice dispenser. It lightens the mood enough for Sam to laugh. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s...everything is new here. My assistant bought me all this fancy bullshit.” Alex hands Sam the glass with a smile. “I’m just a simple kid at heart.” Sam watches Alex go from the kitchen to a desk, rummage around, and come back with a few papers and a pen. “So, let’s get all the boring stuff out of the way.” Alex sets a document in front of Sam. “For this project, I’ve written out my artist’s statement, preliminary show info, and...well, obviously, due to the sensitive nature of this project the final gallery will only be photos that my models approve of. But it’s a series of three photos, so I need at least one series in order for that model to be included.”

Alex could be telling Sam that the Earth is flat and she’d be nodding along. Alex is more attractive in person. It’s the movement. She doesn’t talk with her hands but with her eyes. She says everything like it’s the truth, and Sam knows that she’ll be going through with this just because it’s what Alex wants. “Okay.”

“I know I just threw a lot at you. Just wanna check in and to make sure that you know that we can stop at any time.” Alex waits for Sam to nod again before she hands over the pen. “I’ve also done a few sessions with some of the models. Actually one of the male models had to go because his dog bit his neighbor-.”

“Oh, you don’t just do this with women?”

Alex blinks a few times, confused. “Uh...no? This project is for everyone, including those outside of the binary.” Alex leads Sam toward the bed where Sam awkwardly holds the water glass and does not sit down. “Actually, the most difficult thing for people is the lights. I’m open to rescheduling in the morning if that’s more your speed. Natural light can be a game changer.”

“No, I think I’m okay.” Sam isn’t okay and if the way Alex is looking at her is any indication: Alex knows that Sam is nervous.

“Here, why don’t you take a seat.” Sam does and Alex takes the glass from her and places it on the nightstand. Alex sits beside her, not crowding her, just being there for a moment. “Like I said earlier, you don’t have to do this. My work usually isn’t easy but I like knowing that you’ve gotten something out of it too. Why did you decide to do this?”

“Oh, Jesus.” Sam looks away from Alex. “I don’t...I wanted to prove something, I think. To myself.” Sam sighs. “I wanted to try something different. You’re actually...I admire your work.”

“Thanks,” Alex seems taken aback by the compliment. “Well, I think you can do this, Sam. Just think about what makes you feel good.” Alex grabs her camera and sits on the stool by the bed. “I haven’t masturbated in front of other people often but you can pretend I’m not even here if you want.” Wait...what?

“You’re not…” Sam can hear the shock in her voice. “I thought you were…”

“Is everything alright?”

“No, it’s...I’m an idiot. I thought that you were a part of this whole process. You know like…”

“Sex?” Alex lets her camera hang around her neck. “Oh. No, it’s...it’s more of a masturbation thing. Shit, that must not have been clear. I’m so sorry.” Sam wishes she could disappear. She wishes the Earth was flat so she could jump off the edge.

“No, I’m sorry. That just means that I can’t do this. I’ve never...oh, god.” Sam sucks it up. There’s no way that she could be more embarrassed than she is now. “I’ve never had an orgasm. Not with my partners, not on my own. There’s just...something wrong with me, I guess.”

“Hang on, let’s not go there.” Alex looks at Sam thoughtfully. “What if we just took a few test shots? Please say no if I’m pushing you but my work is about fun. Not about climaxing.” Alex motions to her camera. “We should have fun.” Alex looks so earnest and genuine. Sam is very much aware of the fact that she thought she was coming here to get fucked by Alex, so having a little bit of fun is tame in comparison.

“Sure.” Sam smiles. She likes the mischevious look in Alex’s eyes.

“You checked ‘yes’ for nudity on your contract, are you still okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” Alex raises her camera and snaps a photo. Sam isn’t sure she was supposed to be posing or ready or doing anything, Alex looks playful, so Sam plays. One thing that Sam learns two photos in is that she loves being watched. Even with a lens between them, Sam can tell that Alex is enjoying herself so kicking off her shoes comes naturally. Sam slides back onto the bed a little more and Alex comes closer.

Sam feels sexy. Alex is being professional but Sam wants Alex to look at her differently. Not playfully, not casually, Sam wants to be wanted. Sam unbuttons the top button of her blouse and then another. “Can you help me with the rest of these?” Sam and Alex both know that Sam doesn’t need help but Alex still reaches forward, unbuttoning the last three buttons with practiced ease.

Her blouse is still tucked into her skirt, Sam reaches to pull it out, but Alex holds up her hand. “Hold on.” It’s the most demanding Alex has been so far. She stays focused on her shot. She likes the way Sam looks right now. Half-dressed, beginning to be naked. It’s the middle ground that catches her eye, Sam will have to remember that. “Look at me.” Sam likes being told what to do. She’s always in control, always in charge, she enjoys that subtle dominance. It makes her get ideas. It makes her look at Alex differently. “Okay.” Alex untucks Sam’s blouse for her. She has soft fingers. One hand on silk the other on her camera, Alex has yet to look at Sam except through the lens.

Sam starts to let her shirt fall off her body, but Alex grabs her arm, leaving one shoulder completely exposed and the other covered. “Wait, I like you like this.”

“Like this?”

“Yes.” Alex has long moved on from her stool. Now she’s hovering around and over Sam, photo after photo, the room gets warmer and warmer. “You still doing okay?”Better than okay , Sam thinks. She can vaguely feel the dampness of her panties and her nipples are prodding at her bra. Her body is telling her to expose herself completely. Her body wants Alex.

“Yeah, I’m…” Sam doesn’t know what she is. Horny? Charmed? “Am I doing okay?”

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing.” Alex lowers the camera and smiles at her. Sam notices the little droplet of sweat running down the side of Alex’s face. Her hair looks so totally grabbable. “You look beautiful, Sam.”

“I think I want to try.” Sam surprises herself by saying this so boldly. Alex tries to stay emotionally consistent, nodding her head. “But if it doesn’t happen-.”

“It’ll be okay. I won’t be upset or disappointed,” Alex assures her. “Do you want to get further on the bed? Take more clothes off?”

“You’d like that, huh?”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

“I think I’ll stay as I am.” Sam, apparently, wants this more than she realized. There’s something about being half dressed, with another woman watching her, that makes Sam ready to push up her skirt just enough so that her hand can easily reach where it needs to go. Sam wonders if Alex looked at all her subjects like she’s looking at her now. Hungry eyes. That’s the way someone looks at another person when they’re ready to devour them. “I’m nervous.”

“Close your eyes. Pretend I’m not here.” Sam scoots back on the bed and closes her eyes. She reaches her hand down, rubs her fingers along her underwear, feels herself. It’s a marvel really, the idea that Sam has only had missionary sex in the dark, and now Alex Danvers is getting a full view of her masturbating. Sam is okay with it, completely. Turned on by the whole thing more than she probably should be too.

“Can I take these off?”

“If you want.” Alex’s voice is breathy. There’s desire there, Sam knows it. The lack of hesitation is what keeps Sam going. It’s what makes her touch herself without even thinking about the fact that someone else is there. Sam startles herself when she moans. She’d expected silence. Most noises she made during sex were fake but this is the first time she’s heard herself experience pleasure in this way. Sam stops suddenly, afraid that she sounds strange. Different.

That Alex won’t like her.

“Sorry, I need…” Sam opens her eyes and pulls down her skirt. “I usually don’t feel touch that intensely.”

“Was it bad?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry you stopped then.” Alex sets down her camera. It looks like a move of finality. Like Sam has broken a rule and they can never go back. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Obviously, I have a job to do, but I actually do care about how this experience is for you. And you looked like...well, I think you were having fun. I think you know your body better than you think.” Alex takes a deep breath. “So if you want to do another session, we should.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Alex runs her fingers through her hair. “And, for the record, tell your partner that they need to eat you out.” Sam’s face warms as she tugs on her shirt.

“I don’t have a partner and even if I did, the people I’ve been with don’t like doing that.”

“I do.” Alex ducks her head. “I just meant that there are people who do enjoy that.” Sam has already put her shirt back on but she briefly considers yanking it off and telling Alex to prove it . Is this flirting? Or is this just how Alex is?

“Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you enjoy it?”

“I’m a sucker for validation. A woman pushing and pulling on my hair is something I like. I like to tease too, bring her to the edge, get her groaning and begging...I don’t know, all that is a big turn on.” Alex keeps looking at Sam like she’s waiting. Alex seems like she wants permission. Like she’d love to hear Sam begging. “You should go.”

“Probably. Do you want me to?”

“No.” Alex thinks for a second. “Come back tomorrow though, if you want.”

“None of this is weird for you?”

“Not really.” Alex shrugs. “Here, I’ll give you my number. We don’t have to set up an exact time but you can text me when you’re ready. If you’re ready.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Sam struggles to put on her shoes. She’s about to walk to the door when she sees Alex lean down and pick something up. It takes Sam a moment to realize that it’s her underwear, still damp, flung carelessly on the ground just a few minutes ago.

“These are nice, black lace. I like them.” Alex grabs Sam’s phone and enters her number. “I’ll keep them for you.” Alex has tapped into something subconscious. Something Sam didn’t even know about herself.

“What if I don’t come back?”

“You’ll come back. And you will come.”

“You promise?” They should be kissing right now. Sam wants to tear off her clothes, she wants to tear off Alex’s clothes. They should be naked. Touching. Fucking.

“I promise.” It doesn’t make sense for her to leave. But she does. Though it’s a chore to drive home, Sam manages to compose herself just enough to follow a few laws properly. Thankfully Ruby is spending the night at her best friends house and going to the pool tomorrow morning, which means Sam is completely free to…

Not text Alex.

She knows it wouldn’t be wise. Her sexual frustrations were on full display earlier and knowing that the answer to her problems was just one text away, well that was a problem. Alex was nothing like the other people that Sam has dated. She’s confident, not cocky. Her style is simple but fresh. Jess was right, Alex is smart. And Sam wishes that Alex could use her brains to understand that she would do anything to get Alex to touch her.

So Sam texted even though she shouldn’t.

[sam]: hey, it’s Sam. Are you thinking of maybe taking photos of yourself?

Sam throws her phone onto her bed and resigns herself to taking a shower. A very cold and miserable one spent thinking of everything except Alex Danvers. She really does need to get a grip, which is probably easier said than done, but if she’s really going to show up there tomorrow then she can’t be this desperate. After Alex changes into a comfortable t-shirt, brushes her teeth, and half-asses her routine, she returns to bed where she scoops up her phone and sees that Alex has texted her twice.

[alex]: not sure yet

[alex]: what do you think?

[sam]: you should, i think your fans would be interested in seeing that

[alex]: you mean you?

Sam rolls her eyes. She takes it back. Alex is cocky, not that it matters to her. She’s just happy that Alex responded. Is this what desperation feels like? The thrill of a stupid text message coming through. If Sam wanted, she could’ve figured all this shit out in her early twenties, now she’s coming through right at thirty trying - and probably failing - at starting an ill-advised fling with someone she admires.

[sam]: I’ll see you tomorrow

This is not the smartest thing Sam has ever done. It’s a mess of impulsivity and the unrelenting desire to be touched. But Sam is a big girl and so is Alex and if they both want this to go somewhere, then it should. If Sam really wants to be touched and craved the way she’s wanted for so long, then tomorrow was her best shot.

[alex]: I can’t wait ;-)

My AO3 - My Kofi 

[sweetmarzipan]

1 - 23 hi im that person - anon

MULTIMUSE QUESTIONS

not accepting! @ofkngs​dear god

Which muse(s) is/are your favourite(s)?

I’ve really really enjoyed Seth since creating them; Divali and Selene have special places in my hearts from how long I’ve had them (along with Kitae & Anthea).

Which muse(s) do you wish had more interactions?

Kitae, Kiha, Juno, Haru and Sodapop honestly. Kitae in particular, as the muns he has interactions with are on hiatus at the moment.

Which muse(s) do you currently have most muse for?

Probably Seth, Nari (not up), Cassidy and Haru!

Name a muse you have written in the past. What was your favourite thing about this muse?

I’ve written Heejoon, Selene, Divali, Anthea, Ivon and Kitae before. My particular favorite thing about Heejoon though is how his personality contradicts what his FC looks like. People look at BYG and his comeback concepts and often just assume he’s going to be this hardass dom who’s going to be aggressive and curt. And then I turn him into a gentle giant who feels like he’s far, far too big for his soul. 

Name a muse you wish to write in the future. What’s your favourite thing about this muse?

I’m excited to write Nari honestly. She’s a horror writer who killed her husband and I just wanna sort of.. deal with the paranoia that she has that comes with trying not to get caught. 

How is your multimuse blog organised?

I make sure every muse has their own reply tag for people to find replies easier and I make sure to tag urls so people can find threads between us better. I try to keep general tags like plots, starters and images under a single tag so that people can block a tag if I post too much. Mostly for images – multimuses that have an image tag for each muse that post a lot of photos are ones I often don’t follow, just because I can’t block that many tags and don’t wanna waste my time doing so.

Do you have crossover verses for the muses on your blog?

Uhhh I’m not sure what this means? All of my muses are in the same universe; some just haven’t encountered the supernatural underground that exists. Certain muses are friends, like Dohyun & Kitae, Anthea & Selene, etc.

Which of your muses deserves better?

So many of them tbh. Definitely Cassidy, Ivon, Benji and Kitae though, the most.

Which of your muses do you most identify with? Why?

Probably Kiha. We’re both transmasc and there’s a lot of things that go with it. He’s sort of where I wish my life would end up drifting towards, at least in the comfort he has with his body and having had top surgery.

If you could change the faceclaim for any of you muses, would you do it?

I’m happy with FCs I have for the most part! The Kiha fc change was so much better and honestly feels much better than the face he had before.

Do you have any original characters on your multimuse? If so, tell us something more about them.

All of my muses are OCs, though some of them I do draw in my spare time and a small handful of them will be incorporated into a couple of graphic novels I have in mind in the future. Anthea for example, the diner she runs in the story I plan on putting her in is kind of like the HP room of requirement. It shows up to whoever needs an ear or something hot to eat.

How many muses are you currently writing?

I have 19 listed but will be adding 3 over the coming week or two, so probably gonna try and cap at 22 for awhile.

In how many fandoms are you currently active?

I don’t consider myself part of a fandom. I enjoy kpop and the music and think the people are gorgeous, but I don’t consider myself in any fandom. I’d rather avoid some of the negative associations that claiming to be part of them bring on

What is your favourite fandom to write in? Why?

Don’t write in fandoms, not applicable. I mostly stick to KRP though because it’s what I entered in when I was a teen and is what I started tumblr rp in. It’s familiar hence me staying.

What is a fandom you wish to write in one day?

Don’t write in fandoms, not applicable. 

What is a fandom you used to write in in the past?

KRP, though now I don’t consider myself part of the fandom. I listen to any good music that comes my way but I don’t follow groups or people. On occasion I check the news, but that’s every month or two and when something big happens. 

What is your favourite thing when you decide to add a new muse to your blog/when you decide to make a new blog?

I get excited for the plots I have in my head or writing out the open starters. The potential interactions I can get with them is often what leads me to add a muse idea.

Share an opinion you have about multimuse blogs.

I enjoy them for the variety that can exist and the possibilities that they come with. I do think there is at least a partial right way to do them, if only for organization’s sake. Years ago I had people tell me that they liked my multi but not most other people’s because I was organized with my tags and such while often times other people weren’t. I think organization has become much more prevalent in multis which is great ! and therefore the quality of the blogs and popularity of them have increased substantially.

Does your multimuse blog have a theme? Do the muses on your blog have something in common?

Nope, not really. I tried a themed multi a couple of times over the years but I can never stick to a theme.

What is the story or explanation behind your blog name?

I was thinking of ‘sweet menagerie ’ but the definition of menagerie didn’t fit. So I looked up some M names and found marzipan, which i thought would work. I like it honestly

Share a positive experience about multimuses you’ve had in the past.

The friends I’ve made! Most of my friends have multimuse blogs and some of the better ones I’ve made I’ve written with multiple of their muses before. There’s just so many opportunities and to see people excited about new muses you plan to add feels good, y’know?

List some of your favourite multimuse blogs.

OOF. @oleandercrowns​, @bvgeyman​, @mythvoiced​, @hclywater​, @rcfuscnik​, @nevstcries​, @nobilitylost​, @exhumesouls​, @tenderlovc​ , @2oners​ @lcvewave​ @grimmmer !!

Tag a multimuse blog and write some positivity about them (their blog, their muses, etc.)

@oleandercrowns​ !! A fantastic, exceedingly kind mun with a heart of gold. Deserves all the happiness in the world; I adore them more than I could ever put into words. Their muses are detailed and well thought out with a fascinating makeup. They deserve all the love and respect.

[humansofhds]

Emmanuel Correa, MDiv ’21

“There was a moment in my college career where nothing felt gravitas. Everything I did lacked gravitas. I felt disconnected from the real world. I felt that I needed to do something, to be of service to people, to live according to what God wanted me to do.”

Emmanuel is a second-year master of divinity candidate on the Lutheran ordination track.

Born into a Family of Service from Puerto Rico

I was born in Puerto Rico and lived there for most of my life. I studied at the University of Puerto Rico at Rio Piedras, which is the main historic campus in the island. It’s a public university. I studied Hispanic literature with a special emphasis in mysticism and Latin American literature, especially on the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges.

I was mostly concerned with getting a PhD in the humanities; mostly concerned with my intellectual development. But I come from a family where we don’t pursue intellectualism as a goal. We value intellect, but are not interested in being the intellectual elite by any means.

My family is a family of service. They are health professionals. My dad is a family physician, my grandfather also. My grandmother is a physician. My mom is a psychological counselor. My brother is a physical therapist and my sister is an audiologist.

So we’re all oriented towards what Jesus said, “the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve.” That is the motto of my family. We are very self-effacing and we just like to serve. We like to help people in an imitation of Jesus Christ. If there’s something from my family that is very particular is that we are very committed Christians and we like to serve people in obedience to the Gospel message. That’s my family in a nutshell.

So in a purely intellectual and academic environment, sometimes I feel the odd one out, like in between two streams. I read wonderful books, like the Seven Storey Mountain, which led me to think about living the life that is actually being described, not just talk about it. To be existentially grounded, that feeling was burning inside me.

There was a moment in my college career where nothing felt gravitas. Everything I did lacked gravitas. I felt disconnected from the real world. I felt that I needed to do something, to be of service to people, to live according to what God wanted me to do.

The books I read talked about living a committed life in the service of God, living for a specific purpose in a very embodied way. It’s what I would learn to call incarnational, very involved. So by that time, there was a little bit of intention. I wanted to act upon that intention.

One Sunday, as I was going to my grandfather’s Lutheran church in my hometown, and this ties in with my call to ministry, my pastor was giving Communion to the congregation. This is for me the highest point of service, to give Christ to people. To be present to their lives, to listen to the suffering, all this kind of things. Once my pastor gave Communion, I saw myself in that role and I have seen myself in that role ever since. Everything I’ve done is to do precisely that. The seed was there. I was still tempted to do a PhD. That was in the burner.

When Hurricane Maria Hits, The World Stops

But before HDS, before DivEx, before everything, came Hurricane María. It has marked Puerto Rican history for my generation. This was a very big pause in life. Everything stopped. Regarding my experience of the hurricane, I’m still staggered by the fact that many of my contemporaries and I lived through this ordeal.  

Once you see, it doesn’t matter who you are, the hurricane affected us all in one way or another. It was a material, spiritual, and psychological shock.  I realized that I was not affected as much as other people, so I was compelled to help others who had lost more.

Outside of government help, people didn’t wait for the government. They started doing things in their immediate communities as quickly as possible and that was a very beautiful thing to see. It also reinforced my sense of ministry, which was being with people and listening to people—an important thing because you could feel so isolated.

We were literally isolated, there was no communications at all. You had to talk to your neighbors. It was important for the sake of surviving every day to listen to people. So listening has been an important focus in my sense of ministry and it’s something that I carried over into my application for HDS.

Hurricane María has cemented my sense of service. I need to be out there with the people. I can’t be in the ivory tower anymore. It helped me discern the fact that I’m more interested in ministry rather than pursuing an academic career. It’s a sobering thing that one goes through.

I had already applied to DivEx and the only way I could get signal was going to the capital in San Juan. Being rejected or accepted depended on me responding to the email. I saw my email and it said I was accepted. But how I was going to get there was the question, because the airplanes were either full or too expensive.

In my university they had an emergency program in which they took a group of more than 25 students from the University of Puerto Rico, Rio Piedras, to Brown University to finish their semester. Many friends thought I should apply, so I did. I stayed in Brown University for around a year, so by staying there I was able to go to DivEx without any problems.

DivEx Offers a New Home

DivEx was a very interesting experience. I got to meet a lot of people that I now know in the MDiv program. They showed us around and gave us a view of HDS. “This is community. This is cool. This is the place I want to apply to,” I thought to myself. There was a perception that this was a close-knit and supportive community.

Afterwards, you realize it’s more complicated than that, but DivEx really helped my application to HDS. They see your face and know who you are. It’s a very practical thing for students, especially students from diverse backgrounds, to get the opportunity to at least see what they can do at HDS. Then, see if it’s a place where they can flourish.

So, I got accepted to HDS. I was super nervous at the time because I only applied to HDS. I have one mind as to what I want to do. I want to use Harvard’s resources and take all the classes that I need to be a good minister of Christ’s church. I’m not here to create any theory of religion. I’m not here to necessarily fulfill HDS’s slogan.

A Life of Service at HDS

I am here to fulfill what I feel is my life’s calling by God. I have to prepare for it, get the resources, the classes, the knowledge, the experiences of field work. In this case HDS provides a lot of good field opportunities to be a good minister, to what I believe is God’s calling in my life. It’s a very simple thing.

I’m not here to problematize too much. Well, if I’m going to problematize, it is to be like what Jacques Ellul said, “a holy troublemaker.” That’s something that I really apply to myself, but not necessarily to be THE ethical leader. I think that’s antithetical for the Christian ministers who are not out there to be the center of attention. They recognize they are part of a community belonging to God, which invites to exercise leadership through humility and mercy.

I’m here to serve the people in a specific manner. For me, God gets all the glory, God gets all of it. I’m not here to accrue awards, but to engage in my vocation. I am here to serve the poor, serve the needy, serve the marginalized.

To have a relationship with people, to be the nexus of dialogue between different groups. For me that’s the most important thing and for this, I have tons of people who inspire me to do this work, like Jean Vanier, Fred Rogers, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day, and all these great religious figures who really lived out their faith. They willed one thing, which is to serve those in need in the name of Jesus Christ. It’s primarily to give oneself for the sake of others.

I’m just getting on the HDS wagon to do precisely that. HDS provides the framework where I can develop into that role.

In the future, my ideal is that I return to Puerto Rico. Yet, like a lot of people in my generation who left the island because they want to fulfill their careers and aspirations, that can take them away from the island. It’s not an easy decision, but one expects it’s for the best. It’s bitter-sweet. It’s mostly bitter than sweet because the island has a grip on you. I hope that I can go back and fulfill my ministry amongst my people.

Interview and photos by Kaitlin Wheeler

[niskrp]

:// SEARCHING OPERATIVE …

… searching for AGENT 006 / KING OF SPADES. classified files indicate that they go by KO YURA. born in SEOUL, SK, in 1986/30/01, further investigation makes it clear that they joined the agency FIVE YEARS ago. they are a CLANDESTINE AGENT who specialize in MARKSMANSHIP. higher clearance is needed to access further information…

… ENTER PASSWORD TO ACCESS THE COMPLETE FILE.

:// ACCESSING BACKGROUND FILES …

rumour has it they were happy back in the day.

her father owned a successful business which meant a large home, an array of expensive gifts, not to mention a pristine reputation. they were apparently a family envied by many for being seemingly perfect; hardworking husband, pretty wife, prettier daughter.

but then they crash and burn in spectacular fashion, a glittering empire crumbling in a matter of weeks; a fall said to be inevitable for a multitude of reasons.

from here the details become murky, truth lost among the gossip and rumours. people preferring to offer their own side of the story rather than seeking out the exact details on what went on behind the scenes.

bankruptcy. rival business. gambling addiction. shady connections. plain greed.

their standard of living takes a dive—and so does she, dragged face first into a world absolutely nobody wants to be a part of.

/

sometimes home is a cramped one bedroom apartment on the outskirts of seoul. sometimes home is the living room floor of an acquaintance. sometimes home is the backseat of the family’s car. never pleasant, never comfortable. never hers. somehow they manage: father, mother, and her. a miserable trio scampering from one dilapidated house to another, desperately clinging onto any hope that they’ll make it through another day. which they do, barely. she doesn’t question it. grows accustomed to finding bills hidden beneath old newspapers and waking to the landlord’s demand for rent at 1 am. believes it’s normal to live on three day old rice and whatever else her mother can prepare from a near empty fridge. doesn’t blink an eye when her father announces they have to move somewhere else for the second time that month.

too young to understand the reasons why they’re subjected to this hellish experience. not young enough to realise that she deserves better, they deserve better.

/

poor girl. dirty girl. sad girl. it’s the norm to address yura by anything but her name. not that she minds—or more specifically, not that she has any say in the matter when classmates are adamant on frowning upon her very existence anyway. poking fun at her lowly status and tarnished reputation, like it’s her own damn fault that the world has it out for her at every turn. so she feigns ignorance, redirects her attention to her studies and other activities where her questionable family history isn’t the main topic of conversation. no easy feat when everyone is insistent they know more than she does. bad girl. violent girl. bully girl. she can’t be blamed for snapping when a “joke” crosses the line and hits a nerve. word spreads fast of an incident involving her fist and the jaw of a popular upperclassman, and previous judgemental looks quickly turn into that of disgust, of borderline fear.

as much as yura despises the way her name is dragged through the mud, she begrudgingly admits it isn’t too bad. it’s better, maybe, to be feared than pitied by complete strangers. those who don’t even care.

/

they say she shares a lot of similarities with her father. don’t you see it, they ask. by the way you both smile and laugh, they point out. no way anyone can ignore the fact you’re his daughter, they tell her. but she struggles to see it. only associates him with helplessness and failure, both traits she’s certain they don’t share. perhaps they’d been similar once, at a time when they weren’t burdened by the need to make ends meet. laughter would’ve come freely then, and she might’ve been able to revel in the very details that brought them together as a father and daughter pair. for now they couldn’t be anymore different. him, regularly found in a drunken stupor, mourning his fall from grace with the assistance of cheap soju. her, reading outside a nearby restaurant when the electricity is suddenly cut off at home, trying to avoid following in his footsteps.

her mother tires of their situation and never hesitates to threaten walking out. makes a scene of packing her bags and announcing her imminent departure before quietly returning hours, days later.

normally she refrains from asking why. pretends nothing has changed and goes about her usual routine, except she’s ever curious today. thinks the whole packing and unpacking business is more trouble than it’s worth.

“it’s because i love him.” “that’s sad.” the words roll off her tongue, and a single glance over to her mother is enough for yura to regret opening her mouth in the first place. the answer she receives is only confirmation of that. “yeah.” a long pause. “it really is.”

/

graduation will be it. better life, better pay. money to buy an actual home that’s free of mould, creaky floors, and disgruntled landlords. maybe there’ll be enough to relocate to a high end suburb she’s read so much about and forge a brand-new identity, a sought after fresh beginning. study hard, this will be hers. knows it can be, sees it to be true by the amount of stories she’s heard of people like her. bottom of the rung folks who’ve worked their way up and now lead a life starkly different to what they started with. an escape can be granted if she tries. uses her brain for more than breaking the landlord’s locks (out of necessity, obviously) and wandering the streets with a ragtag group of friends in tow.

alas, normalcy doesn’t bode well for her.

she dreads the daily grind of day-to-day life. climbing up the corporate ladder isn’t as appealing as others make it out to be, nor is abiding by what society insists is in order for a young woman like her: marriage, motherhood, filial piety until death. even now, with nothing to her name, the prospect of settling for stability is amazingly out of the question. if it means sacrificing her own enjoyment for the sake of fitting in and catering to what’s expected of her, she’s happy to go without it. teachers tut over her eventual choice, as if she’s making a massive mistake over signing her name to join the police. maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. either way, she doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business but her own over what she chooses to do with the rest of her life. then again, why should it?

/

safe to say, training brings her to her knees. meaning: she really, really likes it here. potential bad habits are all but crushed beneath the heel of superiors eager to see what she’s worth, what she can do; this gangly thing with a smart mouth and chip on her shoulder. if anything, the reason she provides for joining the force (“the uniforms, i’m a fan”) simply gives them the incentive to run her ragged. which they certainly do, in an almost sadistic fashion, except to their surprise, she manages to flourish—and then some. strict discipline is all she needs and it does well to shape her into a deadly weapon. talents are already there: dogged determination and reckless sort of fearlessness. they just need to polish each and every one of it up until she emerges gleaming, shining; much like the framed college degree on her wall.

an uncanny knack to remain cool under pressure becomes the draw card for many. throw her into the most difficult of situations and she’ll pull through. slightly battered, a little bruised. but most importantly: alive. it’s commonly assumed that she simply thrives in chaotic environments such as these. the type who isn’t distracted by irrelevant details and can be solely focused on the task at hand. capable of adhering to instructions while simultaneously preparing a plan b for when things don’t quite click.

kinda stubborn, kinda risky. all round lethal.

she supposes she only has her tumultuous home life to thank for getting this far.

/

he’s impressed.

“i think you should apply though.”

“is this your way of getting rid of me, sunbaenim? i’m hurt.”

it used to be perceived as an ominous sign whenever the superintendent bursts out laughing, though she’s long come to see it as a reassurance of sorts. that, she hasn’t completely fucked up in his presence and her body won’t be thrown into the han river at dusk for ruining his usual foul mood.

a very, very good sign indeed.

”you know what i mean. you’d do well elsewhere, with them.”

“guess i’ll think about it.”

“is that a yes?”

“it’s honestly a ‘i have to compare salaries first and get back to you’ kinda yes.”

“yura.”

she grins, decides to cut back on the jokes before he dumps her in the river for real. “i’m kidding, i’ll do it. want to see if their coffee is as good as ours, too.”

god knows what the coffee tastes like at nis. they could be drinking the elixir of life and she’d still be reluctant to relocate, uncertain of what they could possibly offer her when she has everything she needs over here. a steady career, wide social circle, glowing reputation.

can’t say the hesitation is enough to deter her from completing an application out of plain curiosity, though.

/

after much deliberation, the application is sent through without dwelling on what might occur if she’s accepted. doesn’t hold much of a hope she’ll make the cut when there are bound to be others who would be better suited for the role. candidates who are more experienced and fulfil the criteria nis have set out, whereas she may fall short somewhere along the lines.

she prepares for rejection. reality, however, has another thing coming.

training puts her through her paces once again, but she digs deep and holds on in the exact same way she’s been taught to do, learned to do over the years. rides with the punches until she adheres to their lofty expectations, leaving nothing to be desired—besides keeping her smartass comments to herself.

experience is taken into consideration when they ultimately usher her to the role of marksman, and it’d be a lie to say she isn’t somewhat perplexed by their decision. it’s not what she initially had in mind, especially with the position she’s just left behind, but she bites her tongue and accepts the offer anyway.

we need someone like you here though, they explain. someone focused, someone calm, someone with a damn good aim.

can you do this for us?

she can, and she does.

:// ACCESSING PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION …

they deem her bright, diligent, ruthless; a woman in possession of a sharp mind but sharper tongue. such ferocity is hidden beneath a calm and collected demeanour, only resorting to violence in situations where negotiation is no longer on the cards. rumour has it her anger is especially volatile, bloody even, though no one’s been fortunate enough to bear witness to such a scene to be able to confirm.

despite her line of work, yura manages to maintain a happy go lucky approach in regards to delegated tasks and interactions with colleagues. first to crack a joke, first to suggest heading out for a round of drinks, first to distance herself from serious and stressful situations. it’d be far from beneficial to be constantly preoccupied with either past or present missions, and she never fails to emphasise the importance of being able to ‘switch off’ once the job is complete.

many frequently mistaken her laid back nature to be that of pure laziness instead, what with her tendencies to move around at a leisurely pace and taking things in her stride. could be seen as not caring enough, or half heartedly doing whatever necessary before quickly shifting her focus elsewhere—which couldn’t be further from the truth. she’s always watching, always listening, and always willing to defend when the time calls for it.

rest assured that the success of the agency is a main priority, and yura has every intention of ensuring the safety of those involved won’t be jeopardised.

… END OF FILE. CONTACT THE AGENT DIRECTLY FOR MORE.

[papadjinn-blog]

SU A.I. Theory

Alright guys, time to dig up an old theory of my from a long time ago that I’m sure will never be addressed in Steven Universe, however seems rather interesting to me. As a heads up, I haven’t seen any other theories about this anywhere so although I claim this version if you have seen another or have come up with your own I wouldn’t mind a link to read it.

The theory is about, as the title suggests, that gems are not only artificial life but even more so artificial intelligence. The latest reveal with White Diamond really nailed it for me.

I’ll start with a tl;dr to make it as simple as possible to get across. Gems are artificial intelligence created by an ancient and highly advanced civilization not unlike our own. Now I do not believe that all Gems were created by these people, I believe that it was only one and that was White Diamond. After her creation however the civilization may have either been wiped out by their own vices or by an unfortunate apocalyptic level event that destroyed them. White Diamond being left alone for more than likely decades if not centuries more than like decided to create more gems to replace her fallen creators. Alright for those of you who have decided to keep reading I’ll break each one of these thoughts here. So the reason I always believed that Gems are artificial intelligence is solely based on gem biology. Although they have physical projection, can eat, sleep and dream it seems all of these things are simply for aesthetic more than for function. Even using their “bodies” to manipulate things around them seems to again to make them closer to sentient life forms. The most important piece of evidence though is the fact that they lack the ability to breed or replicate like living organisms. There is only one way for a gem to be created and that is through mechanical means. The question becomes, if they can only be made in a “factory” like kindergarten, where would this process have started? Surely we do not believe that these machines sprung from nothing or that the first gem(s) suddenly popped out of the ground to produce these machines. This leaves only one answer, intelligent design.

Now of course I can’t begin to imagine what civilization could have created the gems so I won’t go into that. However I do believe that not unlike earthlings they constantly flexed their intelligence and created many a weapon of war and salvation. I believe that White Diamond was to be their greatest scientific achievement. An artificial intelligence that could mimic life and required no energy after its initial “birth”. We don’t even have to imagine all the applications of such lifeforms. However I believe that one (especially one as powerful as white seems to be) would be plenty and although they may have studied the creation of more I doubt they would have much need to follow through.

Now I will admit that we have only seen White Diamond once. She seems to be the most robotic of all the gems so far which only seemed to make the theory more plausible to me. Since she would have been created with functionality in mind over personality and/or any sort of person-hood. With that said, I do not believe that WD didn’t/doesn’t have ANY personality or anything, however I do believe she doesn’t process things in the same way that other sentient life does. As I stated earlier I believe that the people that created her must have died out. Although this could have happened in an infinite number of ways, for the sake of this theory I subscribe to the idea that they destroyed themselves. This would leave WD alone with no one to interact with for god knows how long. I can only imagine that this loneliness would give her plenty of time to contemplate lots of things including her place in the universe and those that created her. With nothing but time an opportunity I believe that she would have tried to create life... the only way she knew how. The only difference was that these gems that she would create would be made to replace those who created her, only more perfect. They would be orderly, obedient and they would all have a purpose. WD only mistake would be designing them with sentient life in mind, an error that would not be readily apparent for millennia.

Okay this is where the theory gets a bit wild and dives into more than just the A.I. portion, so if you are only here for my explanation of that, you just read the gist of my thoughts on that.

Now having started life I believe that she would see the mistakes of her creators as an inevitability for all organic life. She would calculate the chances of such organic life forms existing or coming to prominence to be extremely and uncomfortably high. The only measure that could garentee that this would not happen, was if she sent her own gems to colonize and police the universe. This may have been where Blue and Yellow came into play. They would be her right and left hand in her endeavor to populate the universe with her gems.

Pink on the other hand... I believe Pink was a sort of experiment gone awry. WD may have created her with the intention learning what a Gem with complete free will would be like. Although YD and BD would have had some ability to act on their own accord, they more than likely were built with a prime directive leading there actions. This would keep them from ever doing anything that would get in the way of WD goal of colonizing the universe. PD on the other hand was more precious because she would have something that no other gem would have and that was choice. A choice to “play games”, a choice to disguise herself, a choice to start a rebellion and ultimately a choice to feel love and empathy for things not gem oriented.

[varun-krishnan]

High School: Good Luck Keeping Your  Cool

        Are you reading this because you have to or because you want to? Do you have the self-control to finish reading this paper if you wished? Or do you have the ability to rebel against reading this paper if you’re only looking at this sentence through obligation? These questions about control, rebellion, and independence are what thinkers like Friedrich Nietzsche to W.E.B Du Bois implore us to answer. I don’t claim to have answered those questions; instead, I have explored them through the context of my life and the paradigm of cool. After all, in our society, the word cool is like a cellphone, people use it every day but have no idea of its inner workings. But by reflecting on the thoughts of those who have studied the word, and relating it to my own life, I can hope to unscrew the casing and at least glimpse what lies underneath.

        I grew up in a high school that viewed class participation as a God, and everyone from the teachers to the students worshipped it as such. Your grade hinged on how you acted in class, and if you couldn’t speak up, you were going to be lacking a certain vowel on your transcript. Most of my peers and I were happily oblivious to our grades throughout middle school, and so class involvement was just an abstract idea floating beyond the horizon of reality. But as we walked into the jaws of high school, the pervasive stench of college applications began to affect everyone. Soon, I noticed that the classroom was a jungle of outstretched hands swaying back and forth for the teacher’s attention. People were making noise just for the sake of making noise so that subconsciously the instructor would think they were participating more. And don’t even get me started on how much “funnier” the teacher’s jokes suddenly got. I felt like I wasn’t surrounded by my friends anymore, but these alien life forms whose mission was to capture as much of the teacher’s attention as possible. The worst part is...I started turning into those unrecognizable creatures as well. I begin to tune out the material taught and instead, solely focused on what I was going to say next. I stopped refining and re-refining my thoughts in my head and instead, blurted half-baked thoughts as they spawned into my consciousness. I used to prize ideas that I contributed, but now I simply jumped from concept to concept without being committed to any of them. Perhaps worst of all, I hated all of it. I was despised and ashamed of how shallow and artificial I was, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to jump off the train because I had no idea where I’d land. Now I know, however, that I would have landed in the cool.

        The rejecting of my individuality and acceptance of superficiality is profoundly uncool. Just look at Oscar Wilde who said “Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation(De Profundis).” And he’s right. My classmates and I didn't love trigonometry or enjoy discussing some long-forgotten battle, but we sure acted like we did. Our thoughts sought to mirror that of our teachers and hence, we were no longer ourselves. And this hollow imitation we lived, through the lens of Oscar Wilde, was uncool. Oscar Wilde was far from the only person who recognized the importance of one’s identity. W.E.B Du Bois wrote about how his racially discriminated peers “shrunk into tasteless sycophancy(The Souls of Black Folk)” and how they failed to realize that for one “to attain his place in the world, he must be himself, and not another(The Souls of Black Folk).” Were my friends and I too not tasteless sycophants seeking to flatter our way to a better grade? I, like many of Du Bois’ audience, thought I had to slip into the skin of someone else if I was to fit into the world. But Du Bois, just like Oscar Wilde, drew from the wells of cool to preach the importance of remaining true to yourself.

        I gave up another aspect of myself during my high school experience: self-control. And in the bible of cool, there’s no greater sin than relinquishing control. For example, Robert Farris Thompson in his studying of the aesthetic of the cool argues “Control, stability, and composure...seem to constitute elements of an all-embracing aesthetic attitude(An Aesthetic of the Cool).” You would see none of those traits if you walked into my high school classrooms. I learned that being composed meant being unable to contribute your thoughts amid my unconstrained peers continually trying to make sound. Our class discussions were as shifting as the tides, and new waves steadily erupted as people tried to change the topic to what fell into their minds. And hence, I lost all self-control. I could no longer prevent myself from foregoing my tendency for careful thought and instead, succumbing to the mindless chatter around me. As Thompson would say, I no longer exhibited “the intelligent withholding of speech for the purposes of higher deliberation(An Aesthetic of the Cool),” and hence, I no longer fit into the definition of cool. Nietzsche too held the same notions about control when he said: “Virtues are as dangerous as vices in so far as one lets them rule over one as authorities and laws(The Will to Power).” Nietzsche argues that, just like how authorities and laws can control you, so do virtues. Being able to involve myself in school was always taught to me by my friends, my parents, my teachers, almost everyone really, as a beneficial value I must adopt. But as the German philosopher acutely points out, virtues can exert great control over you, and if you’re not careful, it can leave you like a marionette with loose strings for anyone to seize.

        I’ve spent most of my life never rebelling, and I can never hope to find even signs pointing to the highway of cool if I haven’t shown defiance. I grew up in a household that revolved around risk, specifically how best to eradicate it. My father taught us that predictability would lead to success, which, in his eyes, meant doing well in school, becoming a doctor, and safely investing your money till retirement. He wanted to ensure our financial stability as we grew older and beseeched us to follow the well-beaten route to the top without getting distracted by the side trails continuously dotting the path. And hence, when faced with the choice to either jump in the boat with my classmates to float safely to an A, or to bid farewell and strike out on my own to explore the turbid tributaries, I, of course, chose the former. But that is wholly uncool.  

        The authors of Cool Rules put it succinctly when they wrote “Cool is an oppositional attitude adopted by individuals or small groups to express defiance state to authority(Cool Rules).” My injected sense of caution couldn’t have led me farther from the attitude Pountain and Robins are describing. The problem with defying authority is that it is inherently risky, and you never know the consequences of such an action. The thought of disobeying my teachers scared, and still does scare, me because you’re no longer on the surest path to success. But being in a “private rebellion(Cool Rules)” is critical to the art of cool, and without it you are, as Nietzsche would say, “a herd animal, something eager to please, sickly, and mediocre(Beyond Good and Evil).” And that’s a pretty accurate way to describe my classmates and me. Herd animals that are corralled by the teacher and graze on her approval. This sentiment is furthered by Oscar Wilde’s assertion that “Disobedience, in the eyes of anyone who has read history, is man’s original virtue. It is through disobedience and rebellion that progress has been made(The Soul of Man Under Socialism).” For Wilde, disobedience is an integral part of humanity that has helped us continuously propel the wheel of progress forward. In his eyes, there was no progress in our classroom, no one was pushing the teacher to be her best self by questioning her, and in turn, no one was pushing us to become better by questioning us. Everyone simply said what everyone else wanted to hear, and as Wilde predicted, neither the teacher nor the student grew as a result. And if you can’t even find a way to grow in life, how do you expect to be cool?

        Too many people say that they were the coolest when they were in high school. And yet, from studying the true meaning behind the word cool, I would say they couldn’t be farther from the truth. My high school ran off with my individuality and left me with only a threadbare blanket of superficiality with which to shamefully wrap myself. And, as both W.E.B Du Bois and Oscar Wilde described, individuality is central to a person's being. Furthermore, I lost my ability to control myself and was instead forced to sing a song I despised. This loss of self-control, in the eyes of Nietzsche, bound me down just like any law or authority figure would. Thompson too valued self-control, stating that if you can’t even teach yourself how to stay quiet, you can never hope to become cool. Finally, my dad’s instruction to always color in between the lines left me passive and obedient, adjectives that, in the eyes of Cool Rule’s authors, would be noticeably absent in any cool man’s dictionary. Hence, no matter how cool I, or any of my classmates, thought we were in high school the thinkers who actually analyzed the essence of the word would only smile(well maybe not Nietzsche) and shake their heads in dissent.

[daresplaining]

Blindness, Guilt, Suicide, and Other Cheerful Topics from the Current Daredevil Run

    It’s been too long since we posted about the current Daredevil series-- mostly because it’s difficult to write about a story while you’re in the middle of it (and also because we’ve been very busy. Excuses, excuses...). But we wanted to reflect a bit on the “Seventh Day” arc (#15 and 16), and on the subject of suicide. 

    The current run is a giant exploration of identity. Having reinvented himself/had a reinvention thrust upon him, Matt has to figure out who he wants to be, what he wants to represent, and how he wants to approach this new life. He has done this many times before, with varying degrees of success. (At least this reinvention didn’t involve demonic possession or giant metal shoulder pads). But as hard as he tries, we see again and again that this new start is not working out as well as he would have liked. He is initially unable to handle his work at the D.A.’s office-- to the point where it’s amazing he still has a job. His loss of a connection with his friends and loved ones leaves him feeling isolated and without distractions. He is not in control of the side effects of his identity restoration, which draws Elektra into a traumatic experience for which he blames himself. And his attempt at being a mentor to an aspiring young superhero results in tragedy. All of Matt’s identity shifts have involved periods of adjustment, but even by his standards, this is a mess. 

    Sam’s blinding at the hands of Muse is, in many ways, the final straw. It is the worst possible indication of all of Matt’s recent failures to handle his life, and represents yet another case of someone getting hurt because of him. His main reason for revamping his life was to prevent bringing pain down on those close to him, and now he sees that it was all for nothing. This leaves him feeling helpless and aimless. In the past we’ve bemoaned this run’s failure to integrate the massive amount of character development Matt underwent in the previous two volumes, but we do actually get a nice moment of self-awareness here. Matt is able to reflect on the reality that he does, in fact, need other people to help him handle his despair-- a big lesson he learned in Waid’s run. The only problem is that he’s isolated himself, for secret identity purposes, and now no longer has that necessary support system. 

Matt: “Matt... you know better. Don’t... don’t just pack this away. Give it some air. Foggy? No. He’s made his feelings on Daredevil-related business pretty clear. He’s done with it. Kirsten? No. She doesn’t deserve this in her life. That was the whole idea. You can’t. Natasha. Luke. Danny. Steve. No. I’d have to explain. Tell them... more than I want them to know.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #16 by Charles Soule, Goran Sudzuka, and Matt Milla

    His decision to place a hit on himself to attract Bullseye’s attention is rooted in a complicated series of emotional reactions to the situation. Matt lies to himself (and thus, to us) about his main motivations for intentionally bringing one of his most dangerous enemies back into his life. The excuse he makes is that he needs to get ahold of the blend of chemicals Bullseye used to create Ikari in Volume 3-- the same blend that gave Matt his powers. With this, he can help Sam to cope with his blindness by irradiating him and giving him hypersenses. 

Matt: “Sam wanted to follow my example, wanted to do what I do. I let him. I knew it was a mistake, and I let him do it anyway. He’s brilliant. He invented his own invisibility suit out of salvaged scraps, for God’s sake. He could do anything. I should have pushed Blindspot away, shoved him towards any other life at all. And now his eyes are gone [...] All of this was about trying to help him. Bullseye once created a sort of serum that can duplicate my powers. If I can get it... well. I can’t give Same his eyes back-- but I can give him my enhanced senses.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #16 by Charles Soule, Goran Sudzuka, and Matt Milla

    This is a loaded plan-- even if it’s not his actual intention (which is debatable). Matt has a complicated relationship with blindness-- both his own and other people’s. While he fully acknowledges and accepts his status as a blind person, he is also acutely aware of the distinction between his hypersenses-augmented existence and that of non-powered blind people. We see this in his desperate, almost cruel attempts to train Tyrone-- a young boy who was blinded by swimming in a polluted lake-- in Ann Nocenti’s run.

Tyrone: “Matt? Why do you hate me?! Why are you so mad at me?! I don’t understand this power you talk of, I can’t tell where your fist is, but I can feel your anger! I feel that! I feel your anger so big it’s crashing through the darkness!”

Matt: “I’m sorry! Tyrone... I’m sorry. I want so bad to teach you what I know! But my way is too harsh, too brutal! But we can’t stop! If you don’t learn-- the alternative is the dull stupid empty dead world of helpless darkness!”

Daredevil vol. 1 #254 by Ann Nocenti, John Romita, Jr., and Christie Scheele

    The implication is that he has grown so used to his hypersenses, and the idea of losing them is so frightening to him, that he has internalized the idea that they are a necessary improvement-- something that non-powered blind people are sadly lacking. There’s also an element of personal identification and guilt tied to both Tyrone’s situation and Sam’s. He sees his young self in them, sees the life his hypersenses have allowed him to lead, feels a responsibility to help them in their time of need, just like Stick helped him-- and fails to realize that they don’t need to follow his path, and don’t need hypersenses to live full, happy lives. The fact that he is able to semi-convince himself that he’s summoning Bullseye in order to access the serum suggests that it contains some truth, and as we see at the end of issue 16, he does actually get his hands on a vial of it. On some level, Matt feels he can make up for what happened to Sam by putting him through an extremely painful procedure that he doesn’t necessarily need. And that, from a character perspective, is fascinating.    

    Of course, the other explanation-- the real reason Matt realizes he wanted to summon Bullseye-- is to attempt suicide.

    This is not the first time suicide has come up Daredevil comics, and considering the nature of Matt’s life, it probably won’t be the last. And despite his comments to the Shroud in Volume 4, he has considered it before. 

Matt: “I am quite the expert on self-destructive despair. I know exactly what it’s like to have nothing. To have taken from me all the light there is. I can spend the rest of the night going, for your benefit, through the impossibly long list of tragedies I have faced. All the loves I have lost. All the hopeless moments. I have been where you are, but in all my most desperate times... I have never considered suicide by super villain.”

Daredevil vol. 4 #4 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, and Javier Rodriguez

    Arguably the most memorable instance is from vol. 1 #225. In the aftermath of Heather Glenn’s suicide (for which Matt is more than a little bit to blame), with the law office in shambles and his friendship with Foggy falling apart, Matt is confronted by the Vulture-- used by writer Denny O’Neil to represent death. Matt chases the Vulture away from an attempt to rob Heather’s grave, and then battles him again on the roof of the now-bankrupt law office. In the midst of their fight, Matt finds it difficult to summon the will to protect himself. He nearly lets the Vulture kill him, before realizing what he’s doing. The thought that he might actually, on some level, want to die shocks him into fighting back.  

Matt: “A while ago, you said I secretly wanted to die. You were wrong. Cowards want to die. I’m no coward. I’m proving it-- to you and to myself-- by beating you... You-- and everything you represent... the death and decay that eat away at a man until he surrenders... the horror that pulls you down into the pit! Well, I’m not the surrendering kind, mister! Got that? I never give up!”

Daredevil vol. 1 #225 by Denny O’Neil, David Mazzucchelli, and Ken Feduniewicz

    This issue is closely tied to the specific context of the moment-- that of Heather’s decision to take her own life, and the specter of despair this tragedy casts on her loved ones. But it’s also part of a long tradition of Matt battling his way back from the brink of hopelessness and surrender. It’s the dark application the “Man Without Fear” epithet-- that he not only laughs in the face of physical danger, but has the strength to confront and overcome psychological torment as well.  We see a similar situation in Soule’s run, in which Matt refuses to face his own motivations until death is literally on its way. 

Matt: “It’s time to be honest. I sought out a man who has brought nothing but ruin to my life. [...] I didn’t do that to find some damn serum. I just want it to end. Bullseye can give me that. I knew this all along.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #16 by Charles Soule, Goran Sudzuka, and Matt Milla

    And in the end, he makes the logical decision-- the one that he, as Daredevil, has to make. He decides to keep fighting. In many ways, this is a rehashing of key elements of his character that have been examined and re-examined for decades and decades. But these themes are always worth bringing back, since they're so central to who Matt is-- particularly now, as he is rebuilding and reinventing his life.