#he really chased a life path as hard as he possibly could and then sustained injuries that are gonna fuck with him for the rest of his life

[remyfire]

The fact that BJ walks out of residency directly into a war and then has to go home with his dominant hand battered to hell will always break my heart.

[sacred-coffin]

Rubbing my grubby little hands together. It's time to bipolar Terzo.

And, one thing for the record, I'm bipolar! So I know what I'm talking about and I'm projecting a little and that's valid

I tried to rewrite my bullet points from my google doc to sound... nicer and more professional, but it didn't feel right. So y'all are getting the raw unfiltered version from when I infodumped about this in a discord chat, hope you like it :)

ONE . He has big overarching aspirations, but also mad depressive episodes. These get in the way of him completing his goals and also make things fuzzy along the way.

He's got this big city, big social change, all of these huge goals and life paths he wants to follow. And there are times where he's really set and driven on working on it! Especially when people are egging him on, like when he was a cardinal. I imagine he had a lot of sustained manic or hypomanic episodes while he was a cardinal.

Being very dead set on a goal, possibly losing sleep over it, putting all of your time and effort on it...Also however you want to interpret the cream pies comment (sexual or food) it both lines up with something a manic person would do. SO.

I think once he's in the ministry again / papa his depressive episodes started getting harder & his manic episodes more. Erratic.

He had less people pushing & supporting him towards his goals / what he was really passionate about, so he was just . Really bitter and pulled away from people. You see a lot more of his irritable and generally temperamental side come out during this time bc like. When he has manic episodes he has so much energy to use up but nowhere for it to go! Sometimes being really angry with something can trigger a manic episode, and I think he might be prone to doing things really excessive/extreme all of a sudden to spite people. If that makes sense. Like the decision to ditch the papa robes, things like that.

Also iirc, when he was a cardinal he was really over indulgent. That is very common for manic episodes; it's very common to  develop substance abuse issues as well. I think he could be a borderline alcoholic, but he's pretty good at hiding it. Definitely better at hiding it than when he was younger, but the habit is worse when he's older

I kinda wanna talk about Terzo possibly being like, a pretty angry person. And this is definitely projection LMAO. He very much presents himself as a guy who probably doesn't have angry outbursts and such, but I think that. Well. If he's bipolar that is NOT true ok. When I thought about this the first time I was like "would he punch walls? No. His mom raised him better than that. But God does he want to break stuff"

I feel like part of his reclusiveness is to keep up this image he has to everyone-- you can't judge him or form an opinion of him in his off time if you don't see it. So you don't see him getting drunk, you don't see him being depressed, you don't see him getting mad, but god it is happening all the time

I just feel like, like, you could argue he has this sudden shift in personality at a certain point. Or maybe at multiple points. In regards to how he felt about his goals at least. Esp bc I resonate so hard with the thought that he didn't want to be the machine-man (from Metropolis, 1927), but he had to, and I feel like being bipolar explains that so so well. Facing adversity he'd get so pissed about it, but he would only let that stop him for a little bit. But he'd also wouldn't be able to make the kind of progress he did before (like drawing up blueprints or plans) because he doesn't have that same well of outside energy & support to tap into

God also. He is so delusional. He is so so so delusional.

I think being Papa ruined his mind .

No offense but like. His goals are impossible. He's chasing them so hard anyways. He's insane. Like. Like.

I don't know I can only compare this in my mind rn to my mom looking at me when I was like, 5 years old or something and telling me she was going to become an archeologist and move to Egypt. Like she was so so sure of herself that it was going to happen. Obviously it fuckin didn't,

Also also. I feel like he's not diagnosed bc I feel like it's more likely to be missed in men. Also I want to give him migraines even though it's less common in men but slightly more common with people who are bipolar and also bc it is GENUINE projection but I think the idea of Omega walking in and seeing Terzo hidden in a bundle of blankets with all the lights off like "is this a depression cocoon or a migraine cocoon" and Terzo just kinda shifts the blanket around and you see him wearing this funny as fuck eye mask. And Omega is like "migraine cocoon, got it" and just fucking leaves

Did he shave his head once and regret it? Yes. Did he get addicted to cocaine? Probably. Did he spend all of his money on model city pieces? At least twice.

I think in the end it's entirely possible he bought into everyone's ideas that maybe he is the one who should be worshiped

I feel like a lot of manic episodes & things can be so warped by the people you surround yourself with and like. Idk. Being the face of a devil worshiping cult can give a normal guy a God complex.

But a guy who's already prone to delusion and God complex??? Oh honey he's FUCKED.

[shepherds-of-haven]

In an alternate Blest where the Endarkened never returned thus there was never a need for the shepherds to form, what would the main cast be doing?🧐 Would any of their paths have crossed otherwise? For those who are not from Haven would they have any other reason to travel there?

Holy shit anon, this is such a great question that I've literally sat on it for six weeks thinking about it... Let's give this a try! 🤔💭

Beware! Heavy alpha build and overall spoilers below! Read at your own risk, or do not read if you haven't played the alpha fully!

Blade: well, if things had gone exactly the way they had, just without the need for the Shepherds in the mix, he'd be dead! But if we ignore that particular detail, he'd still be working as an assassin for the Ket Rebellion, and he'd probably be a colder, crueler person as a result of it. He would still be a frequent visitor to Haven, plotting you-know-what and taking on various jobs and assignments in the meantime; and he and Trouble were friends before the Shepherds were formed, so they'd still be merc buddies and occasional partners on bigger jobs where they'd need someone to watch their back! But they probably wouldn't be as close. He'd probably spend the rest of his life working as the tip of the spear for the Ket rebellion, the left hand and living weapon of his brother. It'd be an okay life, but he'd never truly be independent!

Trouble: he'd likely still be a mercenary or soldier-for-hire, sort of wandering around the Continent with Haven as his home base. For some reason, I could see him being talked into joining the Army of the Sun and becoming a military man once he was older and tired of the merc life; he'd probably like the order and structure and camaraderie of it for a time, but he'd clash with his superiors and the culture so much that he'd probably eventually wind up discharged! At that point, he'd probably leave it all behind and go West to start a new life... maybe he'd become the sheriff of some small town out there, or a farmer, or an airship mechanic in Lindell!

Tallys: she'd probably work as a hunter for hire, usually working for the farms out in the Sun's Embrace or guarding their livestock from wolves and predators, or possibly as a 'van guard for Elvish caravans. She volunteered at poorhouses and Elvish clinics in Ashtown before joining the Shepherds, so she'd probably still be doing that. I think her life would be a sort of haze of just... existing, looking for a purpose or some way to help people but feeling like it's all a bit futile. She'd probably do some self-destructive things to make her forget the emptiness inside of her, and if things reached a boiling point, perhaps she'd simply disappear into the wind one day...

Shery: hmmmm, this is an interesting question! Shery met up with the Shepherds because her parents sold her into an apprenticeship that she didn't want and she ran away, and by coincidence she happened to come across the group and Blade offered her a job as quartermaster because she was good at book-keeping. If that didn't happen, I don't know what would have happened to her?! She alludes in the game that she saw how prostitutes by the docks were living and was scared that that was the only option open to her if no one would hire her, but I like to think she would have found a job as like, a librarian or a bookshop clerk or a merchant's assistant. I almost feel like she could have somehow run into Riel and joined Merchants Guild as one of his assistants alongside Aerin! So I feel like she would have been okay, though her life would have been very quiet and domestic and humble, and unless she worked for Riel, she likely would have never earned enough to have more than a little dingy apartment all to herself (and some cats).

If things hadn't worked out so well, she likely would have returned home and faced her terrible parents, and probably would have lived under their thumbs for the rest of her life as atonement! :(

Riel: he'd still be master of Merchants Guild, and doing just fine! I think he'd just continue to garner wealth, power, and influence, and likely would have been made a minister or some sort of politician within the Consortium when he was older! Not sure yet if he would have taken that offer, though! If the Endarkened didn't exist, I wonder if Merchants Guild and Thieves Guild would have had any particular bone to pick with each other, as they largely ignored each other's existence... Chase's thieves typically targeted the aristocracy and the obscenely wealthy before the whole Black Sun thing, so they might never have crossed paths!

Chase: he'd still be master of Thieves Guild, also doing just fine! I can't really imagine anything about his life changing that much; he would have continued to steal, nettle, and harangue the denizens and criminal underworld of Haven until the ecosystem could no longer sustain it and the Thieves Guild would have to pack up and move elsewhere to elude capture (probably to Conte); or he would have developed such a monopoly on crime in Haven that he would have gotten bored of the power, handed control off to Ari and Kato, and peaced out to parts unknown... realistically, in that scenario, his luck would have to run out at some point, and he'd probably sleep with or double-cross the wrong person (probably both) and get himself into a corner he couldn't back out of alone...

Red: he'd still be Archmage of the Veiled Circle, and they probably would have remained at Capra for longer, since there wouldn't have been the Endarkened to draw attention to their activities as pointedly as Quiial did. Still, they would have had to leave to evade the Inquisitors eventually, and probably would have settled somewhere else; and Red probably would have passed off leadership of the Circle to someone else, maybe a promising instructor who joined later or Pan or someone. Basically when he'd felt he'd put in the time and wasn't abandoning the Circle to its fate, he'd leave and go off and do his Traveler stuff he'd always wanted to. But it'd be a lonelier, more solitary life, and his letters home or his jaunts back to the Circle would drop off as he became more and more engrossed in his research, and people would worry about him or his health, not having anyone to watch his back on the road. He has a 50/50 chance of marrying someone nice that his family set him up with after like a concerned intervention on their part, or he'd probably drop off the face of the earth and no one would know where he went!

Ayla: she'd still be working as a wilderness guide, taking rich people around on tours and guiding parties and caravans through dangerous stretches of wilderness. She would have gone to Haven to visit as a tourist, but probably wouldn't have stayed long; a handful of weeks, at the most. She'd spend her life scrapping, fighting to stay alive, and watching her own back, but it would be an empty life, pretty much devoid of meaningful connection or meaning. At some point she'd probably get fed up, return to Jalis, and launch a single-woman campaign against the warlords there, just because she could!

Briony: hmmm... okay, she'd still be in that shipwreck, but would slavers have found her if there was no gladiator arena, since there would be no Endarkened to have created it?? I feel like she would have woken up, still an amnesiac, and staggered to the nearest town eventually (which I think would have been Courtshore or one of its outlying, smaller towns/villages). After recovering a little, she probably would have put herself to work as a mercenary or as a street-fighter working for bets (so like a gladiator... but on the street!). She probably would have been taken in by a kind innkeeper or family and allowed to rent a small room with her bizarre story of not having a memory. Or she could have taken up something simpler, like working as a barmaid in the inn or something like that! She probably would have had a relatively happy, peaceful life once she got used to things and it all settled down... but given her proximity to the shipwreck, her past would have caught up to her way faster, and the fallout would have been... intense...

Lavinet: she'd still be in Lockwood, and the Elementals would still be an issue, since that wasn't tied to demonwork! What probably would have happened: things would have deteriorated, and the families of the besieged nobles in Lockwood would have grown impatient and would sent in their personal armies to deal with the situation, most likely without Lavinet's consent. The ensuing conflict would have been devastating, with the Elementals most likely winning. In response, the Autarchy would have mobilized the Army of the Sun and absolutely annihilated the Elementals--but Lockwood would have likely burned, caught in the crossfire. Lavinet would have to spend the rest of her life with that shadow looming over her, and while she'd still harbor ambitions to attend the Sun Court and rise in the ranks as a Sun Courtier, there would always be that stain on her reputation, or she wouldn't have been able to leave Lockwood, having to help it rebuild after its destruction. Or she would have gotten kidnapped by the Elementals far earlier and might have been killed then!

Halek: he would have stayed sol of the Reach, and I have no idea what would have happened... he probably would have married Moonsilk and just have been absolutely miserable... probably would have popped out a few kids and just... existed! Or maybe he might have run away and left Naolin holding the bag and become like a guilty drunkard in some random town, though it's hard to believe they wouldn't have tracked him down eventually...

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 09 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 3K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

Some Dreams Become True

Two man hold you, one on each arm, walking you through the rocky path of the Wayne House. They're just making sure you can walk. When you see Bruce, tears fill your eyes. You want to run, but you don't think you can. He's nervous, hands clenched into fists, a hard expression on his face, eyes on the man holding you.

When you're climbing the few steps to his front the door, feeling Bruce's eyes on you, the man holding your right arm let go, and you use the last bit of strength to turn around, hitting him in the chest with the heavy metal handcuffs.

He lets out a groan, falling down. The other man is quick to respond, pushing you violently to the floor. You feel a sting on your leg, hurting on the already injured skin.

“Get your hands off her!” Bruce yells, stepping forward and placing a punch on the man's jaw. Everyone backs up, hands raised, straight back into the trucks. “(Y/N).” He comes to help you up, and you're thankful for having his arms to sustain your weight.

You pull him with you as you move to get inside, out of those men's sight. When you're in, he pushes the door closed, and you just can't help it, you fall into his arms, hiding your face on his chest. “They beat me.” It comes out as a whisper, a low cry. “In the truck, just now, they... They said you'd think I got them from the mission but I didn't.”

Felling vulnerable isn't your thing. But you spent so much time playing as the tough one, it has a hint of freedom to accept that you're breakable, human. And with Bruce... You feel you can be fragile... You don't have to hide it.

“I'll have them fired.” He says, his chest vibrating with the anger in his voice. “I swear to God I'll–” He stops suddenly when your legs fail and, if it wasn't for him, you'd fall. Bruce picks you up bridal style, and, since you can't look at him right now, you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Let's get you cleaned up, ok?”

Nodding, you feel as he carries you upstairs, to the room you missed so much. Bruce sits you down on the bed, carefully taking off your shoes. “Do you need help? In the shower?” He speaks low, not sure if he should say it.

“No, I think I can stand up for a while...”

“I'll be right here the whole time, so if you fall or need anything, just call me, ok?”

Nodding, you give him a small smile. Bruce takes some clothes and puts them in the bathroom for you before taking you there. When he leaves, you get inside the box, opening the warm water and taking everything you'll need and laying it on the floor around you. Slowly, and trying not to moan from the pain, you take your clothes off and start washing away the dust and blood. You wish you could wash away the bruises too, but that only time can provide.

It hurts, but you have to wash your hair too. You take so long that Bruce asks if you're alright a few times, and starts making some questions, just so he can make sure you're well. You step out of the shower, dry yourself and your hair before dressing up. As soon as you open the door, Bruce comes, picking you up again and taking you to the bed.

Then, he starts attending to all the wounds, no matter how small. Your heart is a confusion of feelings, and the butterflies give you no rest. After a little more than two weeks, you're finally back in the place where you feel safe. With the man who has been unbelievably gentle. He asks permission to lift your shirt and that's when he sees the four inches of stitches on your left side, just below the ribs.

“What was that?”

“One of the terrorists cut me. The soldiers wanted to heat up a knife and just burn it, but Floyd... Deadshot... Made them call the doctor to stitch it up.” Your voice is low, and you flinch a little when he touches the wound.

“Sorry.”

It takes almost an hour until he stops, gathering all the medical stuff he used before giving you two painkillers. You don't know what to say, you're completely lost. During the mission, you had more than enough time to think about how you'd feel to be back here, but now it's different. It's real... And you have to apologize for what you did before you left.

“Bruce... Before I left I... I kissed you and I shouldn't, I- I was so scared and I didn't want to go so I had an impulse. I'm sorry.” Your heart is beating fast now, so you look down at your hands.

“Why did you kiss me? Tell me the truth.” Bruce moves closer, his hand coming to your cheek. You can't help but close your eyes and sigh, melting into his touch.

How is it possible that he doesn't know how you feel yet? You're sure you failed to hide it under his sharp eyes. “I... I really wanted to kiss you because it's- it's a sign of affection, right?”

“A kiss on the cheek is a sign of affection. On the lips... It means a completely different kind of affection.” His fingers trail the outline of your jaw, your chin...

“I know, I... I just...”

“On the times you thought I was a dream, you said you could fall in love with me. Do you remember what I said back?”

“What?” How does he know... “Was that... Was that real? Did you really came here and...” You don't know what to think. Why would Bruce do such a thing? Not only bother to come but to stay and hold you... Why did he hold you like that? “But- but you–” You stop talking because Bruce leans closer, closer than he ever was. You feel his lips brushing on yours, so softly that it makes you wonder if this might be a dream all over again. But the pain is very real, so this must be too. “What are you doing?” You question him, struggling to control yourself, to stand still.

“I'm trying to explain how I feel about you without using words.”

Before you can say anything, you feel his lips on yours, fully this time. It takes no time until you react, your arms around his neck as you move your lips at his pace, trying to move closer. But a sting on your side makes you jump, and Bruce starts pulling away.

“What was–” Screw your beat-up body. Right now, you couldn't care less. You pull him close once again, not wanting the kiss to be so brief. You waited for a hell of a long time for this, and you won't let a wound ruin it.

You're happy when he gives in to the kiss, and his lips are so soft, so warm... Imagining it didn't get anywhere close to the real thing. There's a small cut on your bottom lip, and it burns a little, but you don't care. This could last forever.

“(Y/N)–” He breaks apart again, but you push yourself forward, chasing his lips, groaning a little when your body complains. You use his shoulders to sustain some of your weight, pulling him into the kiss again. It probably comes out as too needy, but overthinking won't do any good now. Bruce kissed you. He kissed you. Against all odds, against every possibility, Bruce might like you. So you want to have it, to taste his kiss for as long as you can before trying to understand what's going on.

“(Y/N), slow down.” He tells you when you pull away to breathe. “Slow down.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, foreheads touching. Bruce helps you sit back down, resting your back on the headboard, and fixing the pillows around. “What- What was that about, Bruce?”

“Doesn't it make things clear?”

“I know, I just... I need you to say it because I keep thinking that I'm a criminal and it's been a while since I've been trying not to have feelings for you because we're on different sides and... The dreams that weren't dreams happened, the birthday party, all the rest but I... I'll be forever telling myself I'm misreading the signs if you don't tell me...” It comes out all confusing, and you feel pathetic.

“I tried so hard not to fall for you.” He begins, moving the hair away from your face. “That's why I disappeared a while after you got here. My feelings started confusing me so I thought it would be better to call out the project. But I couldn't. Your beauty was the first thing that caught my eyes but after that... Everything you are, it just got me. You got me.”

Biting back a smile, you look down at your hands. “So... I'm the first criminal of Gotham who actually got the Batman.” Such a bad joke.

But a low giggle makes you raise your head and stare at him. “I guess we can say that. But you're not a criminal anymore.”

“That's not what they think.” You tilt your head towards the door.

You're still speaking when Bruce stands up and walks to the other side of the bed. You watch as he takes his shoes off, pulls the blanket away, and sits beside you. “Come here.” He says, and you move as carefully as you can. Bruce puts an arm around your shoulders, and you rest your back on his chest. You don't know why he's doing this, but who are you to argue. It feels good to be held by him. “It's this ok?”

“Yes,” you mutter, closing your eyes. “Being... Being away from you was the worst part of the Suicide Squad, but... It was also a constant reminder of who I am. Or who I was. Havoc.”

“Tell me how you felt.” He asks.

“Therapy session?”

“No. I just want to know everything about you. And help as much as I can.” Softly, he caresses your hair.

You don't want to go back there, but you did wish you had Bruce there to tell him everything that confused you. That made you feel bad. “You know what Havoc means, right? Great destruction, devastation. Something or someone who causes ruin and damage. And I used to be so proud of it.”

“Who gave you this name?”

“A newspaper used the word to describe me in an article about my very first assault to a bank. The place was wrecked.” You speak low, and despite the fact that you hate to remember what you did in the past, there's a good feeling, of pure bliss to be like this with Bruce. His arms are the best place in the world, and your sore body can rest. “And I did that because I wanted to, just for... Fun.”

“Sometimes I get the feeling that your idea of fun was influenced by your sister.”

“Well, my life was terrible until I started hanging out with her so yes... I guess I allowed that world to shape me.”

“Do you still think about returning to your old life?” You feel the expectation on his voice, and also a little bit of vulnerability. Bruce is scared that he likes someone who may still slide back into the crime life.

“On my birthday, before going downstairs I was thinking about it.” You turn around slowly, just enough to look into his eyes. “And I was going to ask you for help.” You smile when he caresses your cheek. “I'm sure now that I don't want to go back... I had money, cars, jewels, but those were only things. You... You showed me things aren't enough. So I made the decision to try. To really try. But I don't know what to do. I supposed to be graduated by now, and have a job, you know... To have started my own life, but... I have nothing.”

“If you want to study I'll pay for your college.”

“I can't let you do that.” Biting back a moan, you turn your body towards him, so you're laying your head on his chest. “It's expensive and... It would be weird.”

“You have to let me take care of you. Not only when you're injured.” He rests his chin on the top of your head, and you close your eyes. “So I'll pay for your college. Then help you find a good job.”

“Hm...” You mumble because you're so tired that you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep. “Will you be here when I wake up?” You manage to ask.

“I'll try, but Batman needs to be on the streets tonight.” He answers in an apologetic tone.

“That's alright, Batman. I understand.”

“Now try to rest, sweetheart.”

“I love it when you call me that.” Whispering, you smile to feel his chest vibrating when he giggles.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you drift off to sleep peacefully, feeling safe and sound, in the arms of someone you truly care about, and who also cares about you.

Your dreams aren't bad. Not as bad as they used to. But yet, you're awake in the middle of the night, completely alone. As you check the clock, 3 a.m., you imagine what Batman is doing right now...

Your body feels numb from the painkillers, so that makes you more secure to stand up and walk around. You do what you usually do, standing in by the window looking down. But then you remember you can go there now. That Bruce doesn't lock the door anymore. Smiling to yourself, you go to the bathroom to wash your face before going to the garden, just to shake the sleep away. The girl in the mirror looks so different from the one you used to see a couple of months ago... Her eyes are different, softer, not desperate, and full of uncertainty. How is it possible that a person can change so much in such a little time? Despite the bruises, your skin does look better, and so does your hair.

Your hair...

The dark roots look bad, and the faded lilac color suddenly seems too odd. In a rush, you search for the box dye Bruce got you. The hair is the only thing that remains of your past. The bruises will heal with time, but it's your job to fix the hair.

You know what to do, so you have no trouble avoiding a mess. Maybe this is something superficial, silly even. But you meant what you said to Bruce, you do want a different life, a restart. You dyed your hair lilac because you wanted to look wild and crazy, like the Joker or Harley. Now you don't need to look like someone else, you feel secure enough to just look like yourself.

You use all three boxes, so you'll be sure to have nice coverage. You're scared now, afraid of how you'll look. When your hair is completely dry, you brush it, moving to stand before the mirror, eyes closed.

Taking a deep breath, you open up your eyes. You're smiling even before you notice, and there are some tears in your eyes. Bruce chose the right color because it merges perfectly with the natural color. Running a hand through your hair, you pull it over your shoulders. You're mesmerized by how it looks. You can't wait to show Bruce so you decide to check if he's back already.

Leaving the room, you walk through the house, calling him. But after a while, it's clear he's not here yet.

“Miss Quinzel?” Alfred calls, and you turn to look at him. “Do you need anything?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “That's a nice change, Miss Quinzel.”

“Thank you, Alfred. I was just checking if Bruce was back already.”

“Master Bruce just got back. He's at the... Cave.”

“Cave?”

“Follow me, please.”

Alfred guides you through the place, to an office in the back of the house. Then, he moves closer to a clock on the wall, and before you can ask what's he's doing, he pushes it to reveal a hole in the wall. “You can go in, Miss Quinzel, he's down there. Careful with the stairs.”

“Ok.” The stairs are dark, so you squint your eyes to try and see better. They take you to a huge, open area. It's a cave indeed, but it looks like another building underground. You'd never guess this was under the house. “Bruce?” You call him, your voice echoing through the place.

There's a whole lab here and a complete hospital room. On the far left, a gym, with more types of equipments than a normal gym would have.

“I'm here.” Bruce comes from behind a wall, wet hair, still buttoning up his shirt. “How did you get in here?”

“I- I'm sorry. Alfred brought me here, through a hole behind a clock. I didn't know I couldn't–”

“Hey, it's alright.” He walks your way, and his face lights up when he gets closer, and a smile comes to his lips. “You look beautiful.” Bruce takes a strand of hair in his fingers before bringing them to caress your cheek.

“I just dyed it and... I wanted you to see it because I really liked it.”

“That's what matters.” Bruce bends down, and you close your eyes to receive the kiss.

You tiptoe when you feel his lips on yours, surrendering into the kiss and wrapping your arms around his neck. You still can't believe this is real, that Bruce actually wants to kiss you. You can't help but wonder what this is. What's this means... You know how a relationship works. A person can be either single, dating, engaged, or married. Sometimes it's complicated, and maybe that's the best you can get with Bruce. These thoughts make you pull away, breaking the kiss without even noticing.

“Something wrong?” Bruce asks, looking a little confused.

“No, I was just... Thinking... It was nothing.”

“(Y/N), we're supposed, to be honest with each other, remember? If you're not ok with me kissing you like that you just have to say and–”

“No!” You burst out, shaking your head slightly. “Please, that's not it.” The thought of not kissing Bruce is just absurd, unbearable even, that you just cut him off, keeping him close by holding the collar of his shirt. “That's not it but I... I can't tell you.”

“It's about me, then.” He affirms. “The last time you didn't want to tell me something it was about you dreaming of me.” Bruce places a soft, delicate kiss on your lips. “Tell me what's bothering you. Please.”

Taking a deep breath, you step away, turning your back at him. It's easier if you're not looking into his eyes. “My mind is always working, you know. I'm always thinking and... I was just wondering what this is. What we're doing, what we... What we are, you and I.”

“What do you think we are?”

“I wouldn't be asking if I knew, Bruce.” You sound defeated, shy.

“Tell me what you want, then.”

“I can't. Haven't you noticed that this is crazy? Dangerous, even. You're a hero and I'm a villain. And I do want to try and change my position in this but... It's still complicated and I don't want us to be complicated. I'm tired of complicated things.” Bruce moves closer as you speak, so you hide your face in his chest.

“Do you want us to be together? Officially?”

“It's not about what I want, it's about–”

“I want us to be together.” He interrupts, strong arms embracing you. “Now I need to know if you want the same. It's not about me or about you, it's about both of us.”

Be brave, just say it. You just have to say it. “I want to be with you... Like... I want us to have, Uhm... A relationship status? Is it how people call it?”

He giggles, pulling away just enough to raise you face his index finger. His eyes are gentle, calming, and you realize you don't have to be so desperately nervous around him. That you trust him more than you ever thought you could trust anyone. “Do you want to be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

Biting your lip to hold back a smile, you nod. The smile comes anyways, but you push yourself forward, tiptoeing to kiss him. This is insane. This is... Real. You thought you'd die in that prison, or in any other, or maybe on an alley after you lost a fight... But this is so much better.

You're still kissing when a beep starts. Rolling your eyes, you pull away and step down, looking at the source of the noise. “Come.” Bruce takes your hand and guides you through the cave, to a high tech computer with six huge screens, a table full of buttons, and a chair. On the screen in the middle, you see what looks like a call. Bruce moves closer to the table and presses a button, and five people appear on the screen. You know them from the news. They're the other superheroes, so you step away just before Bruce connects, so they won't see you.

“Bruce. We have a problem.” The woman says, Wonder Woman. “An alien spaceship is hovering over Washington.”

“They haven't made contact yet, but the ship has several weapons, which I imagine they will use.” It's Superman who speaks this time.

“I never liked that Independence Day movie.” A younger boy mutters, but nobody seems to pay much attention.

“Is anybody in Washington?” Bruce asks.

“Just Clark and I. But the rest is coming too. And we need you.” Wonder Woman answers.

“Alright.” He looks down for a moment before looking at you. “I'll be there.” He says before hanging up.

He seems to be a little sad, but you don't mind that he has to go. It's his job, to protect Gotham and the world. Smiling, you walk over him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Go get them, Batman. I'll be waiting for you.”

×

@fionanovasleftnut @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

[thecomicsnexus]

DOOM PATROL #23-24 JUNE-JULY 1989 BY GRANT MORRISON, RICHARD CASE AND SCOTT HANNA

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC WIKIA)

Overnight, the temperature outside the Secret Sanctuary of the Doom Patrol dropped dramatically. The unexpected weather change has made The Chief curious, and he plots out the system of equations that represent that weather pattern into a Lorenz Attractor - a graphical representation that resembles a butterfly. He is joined that morning by Josh Clay, who has decided that he will stay with the Doom Patrol after all - but only in a strictly medical capacity. Dismissively, the Chief agrees to the terms, and introduces Josh to another new member: Dorothy Spinner.

Elsewhere, Rebis visits with Eleanor Poole's husband Dan, who is more than a little bothered by the idea that his wife has merged with a man, and become this bandaged hermaphrodite. Rather than listen to Dan's pleas for his wife, Rebis becomes fascinated by a wall of Matryoshka dolls, hoping to take one away with it.

Meanwhile, Cliff Steele and Crazy Jane go the the hospital to visit their comatose friend Rhea Jones. Unfortunately, they discover that her room has been ransacked, and she is nowhere to be found.

While wandering the halls of the new Doom Patrol Headquarters, Dorothy and Josh discuss how the Gene-bomb affected her. Josh stops her, suddenly, hearing an unusual sound. Turning, he sees a horrifying giant bug, and tries to shove Dorothy out of its path. Instead, she rushes forward, and sternly orders the creature to go away. Soon, the creature seems to fade away, and Dorothy explains that the Gene-bomb gave her the ability to conjure what she imagines into reality - though it isn't exactly within her control.

In England, Holly McKenzie wakes on the banks of the Thames river after spending the night in a squat in Brixton. She's not sure how she got from there to here, but the smoking wreckage of a police car and the bodies within seem to tell part of the story. Her attention is caught by a strange voice calling her name. A silhouette stands on the edge of the water, and approaches her. He introduces himself to her as Mister Nobody.

In Rhea's room, Jane senses something sinister, and is suddenly taken over by a personality who demands to be shown to a book store. Cliff is forced to chase after her as she determinedly leaves the hospital, and smashes through the front window of the nearest bookstore before stealing several books off of the shelves. Embarrassed, Cliff leaves an address to send the bill to.

Returning to the hospital, Jane begins cutting the pages of the books into little pieces, and arranging them on the floor, claiming that this technique can be used as a form of divination. Later, with Rebis in attendance, Jane begins to read the words that she has collected in sequence. In reading them, Cliff notices that there are a number of references in the texts to Jack the Ripper. Jane explains that the names of the victims are the key to opening the door to finding Rhea. She begins reciting the names; Mary Ann Nichols through Rhea Jones, and finally says the name Red Jack. With that, the door opens to a hallway that was not there before. After the Doom Patrollers pass through it, the nursing staff peers through, but all they see is one of the hospital's corridors, as usual.

Cliff finds himself separated from his companions, hoping that whatever reality he is in, it isn't the work of the Scissormen again. He is startled by the sight of strange man, who warns him that it is too late, as he holds Rhea's prone body in one hand, and a knife in the other.

Rebis finds itself in darkness, and fumbles around for a light switch. The chandelier illuminates an ornately decorated room with ultraviolet strobes. Exploring the hallways of strange mansion, Rebis is attacked by a giant marionette.

Elsewhere in the house, Crazy Jane calls out to the companions she was separated from, and comes upon an old Mutoscope labelled What the Butler Saw. When she looks into it, she sees a strange scene of a shirtless man preparing to eat dinner while a woman holds a baby nearby. He reveals his dinner to be a plate full of human hands armed with knives and forks. His blood spatters on the wall, and the woman cries while her baby is revealed to be some kind of large insect. Jane recoils with some discomfort, only to see that someone is watching her through a set of eye-holes in the ceiling.

Cliff Steele, meanwhile, has come face to face with the owner of this house. He introduces a still comatose Rhea Jones as his wife, which enrages Cliff. He rushes forward, but the earth splits in two, opening a fissure beneath his feet, apparently at his host's will. Grabbing onto the edge, Cliff barely manages to hold on while Red Jack introduces himself, claiming that he is God.

In another section of the house, Crazy Jane continues her search. She discovers a hallway where the walls are covered in live butterflies, pinned there in an entomological fashion. Seeing them pinned there, she feels sympathy for their plight.

Red Jack claims that he was punished for creating reality - by himself - and stuck in this endless prison. Despite Cliff's numerous attempts to attack him, he fails every time, and Jack unexpectedly plunges a knife viciously into Rhea's shoulder. Red Jack promises that nothing ever really dies in his house, it is merely pain that sustains his existence. In fact, he began his butterfly collection because the butterflies' pain nourished him. Unfortunately, their nervous systems are so rudimentary as to require that he capture millions of them.

He goes on to explain how every hundred years, he finds his way into Cliff's reality. One hundred years ago, he had the joy of murdering several prostitutes in Whitechapel as Jack the Ripper. Now, he has decided to take a human wife, having noticed Rhea's abilities, despite the coma. Rebis, meanwhile, has since freed himself of the marionette, and upon discovering Red Jack, attacks. Nonchalantly, Jack skewers Rebis, and tears off Cliff's arm, reminding them that he is not to be crossed.

Unexpectedly, though, Red Jack senses Rebis' nervous system shutting down, which is a result of the Negative Spirit leaving its body. The spirit attacks, but even its efforts are to no avail. As Cliff hobbles toward him again, Red Jack drops a chandelier on his head. He is surprised, though, when Rhea herself attacks him with his own knife. Stumbling from the sensation of a knife in his back, Jack is confused by a feeling of emptiness inside him. He is swarmed by millions of butterflies, apparently freed from their walls.

As they fly away, their pain leaves him, and he has no sustenance. His life force begins to fade. Crazy Jane appears, and it turns out that it was she who released the butterflies from their prison. Standing over Jack's corpse, Cliff wonders if he really was God. Rebis gathers Rhea up in its arms, and they hope to find a way back home.

Somewhere in Detroit, a a crazed homeless man named Lloyd Jefferson has just burnt down a building. He is accosted by Mister Nobody, who invites him to a Brotherhood.

REVIEW

So, does the story have no meaning?

Reviewing Morrison isn’t easy. The man puts a lot of references into his work, literary, art, movies, you name it. Red Jack is god... and possibly Jack The Ripper. I am not going to even try to figure this out.

What I can do instead is judge the story itself, which is crazy. From beginning to end. Rebis is cold as ice to her husband, Cliff has a very distinctive sense of humor and Crazy Jane tries hard to not look screwed up. The whole sequence with her regretting shattering a window and walking with glass on her head... it’s priceless.

And the funniest thing is how Cliff tries to lay low by saying that it is all ok, because she is a super-hero (like you could expect super-heroes to be involved in crazy stuff).

And Rhea comes out of her coma to stab Jack. Then goes back to it. The whole thing is crazy. But that is exactly the intention of the writer.

Only thing that I feel concerned about is... how often will things get trippy until it gets repetitive?

I give the story a score of 9

[reawakenment]

placebo

[] de mortuis nihil nisi bonum

  § puppetry §

 it wasn’t supposed to be this way. not like this. no, not like this.

how is it supposed to be, then?

she, breathing, feeling, alive.

he, breathing, feeling, alive.

they are both dead. aren’t they? after all, what manner of existence has he been leading since her murder at the hands of the taken king? fraud, fraud, all pretense, just like the whisper of a dream that she had chased. the soft mechanics of his physiology are what sustains him and no aspect of his physiognomy.

hardwired instincts keep the rhythm of his pulse, his lungs expanding and contracting, keep him drawing another breath in and out. it surely is not through force of will, a will that he had buried with her and his imagined dreamt of hallucinated visions of a limp and pallid body. if not for autonomic functions, he would have died from a lack of caring.

dead for not giving a damn.

the irony in that barely registers in his mind. there was a time, close at hand, far in the distance, a time that such a realization would have made him laugh. but not anymore.

she is dead for giving too much of a damn. for wanting to know too much, for having too many questions, for wishing to protect her people, their beautiful creation. he has long since stopped faulting himself for not having the answers for her. she elected to follow a path that he could not possibly join her on. for how much longer could he suffer her transgression?

no, he can no longer afford to carry her blame for her.

if she was damned, if there was a soul to be condemned, let it be hers. let it be…

no.

 § like the flare of a match §

 …what?

the words of their mother, their father, course through his memory unbidden. trespassers. unwanted. if he still had any fight in him, any will to live remaining, he would also categorize their words as unwarranted.

you should have known, uldwyn. you should have known that she was planning this. you should have saved her. our little girl was always very trusting and very believing and you should have known that mara was counting on you to save her.

should have known. could have known. should have known.

fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. she was your daughter, where were you then, where are you now, i could have known, i should have acted, don’t lay your fucking guilt of failure on me; i’ve got enough of my fucking own.

weak, you are weak, you were weak, believing in a lie, feeding it to her, infecting her, fucking weak, so goddamn selfish, living a faerie tale, making her have faith in it, in you, so feeble, wretched, weak, just. like. her.

oh god.

he is standing, breathing ragged, hands clenched into fists. he feels his heart pounding in his chest, the one that felt hollow only moments before. his neck feels tight, constricted, and it is a moment before he realizes that he spoke those words aloud.

“i… didn’t let her die.” his voice is weak from disuse, it’s been so long, how long has it been? “he…killed her. it wasn’t…me.” his throat is burning, his eyes are burning, he’s crying again. he had come to think that he had no more tears left. but they are streaming down his face, leaving their mark on him, hot against his flesh. “i didn’t kill her.” he feels cold fingers circle his neck, the familiar choke of guilt take hold of him and he falls to his knees, hard, gasping, sobbing.

he folds over onto himself, onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest as he wordlessly relives the moment. he cannot stay the images, he cannot stop the replay, he can only surrender himself to the torrent.

hurt.

loss.

pain.

remember me?

  § blue touch paper §

  she used to dance in the kitchen.

               i don’t want to look at this.

she used to spin and whirl with her arms raised above her head, smiling.

               i don’t want to remember.

smiling at you. smelling of sunflowers. the barest trace of vanilla, she used to favor a vanilla-scented lotion. her favorite color was purple, a pale, lavender-like purple. she disliked jeans or long pants then. she liked the feel of the sun on her legs.

               stop.

she would smile and laugh and sing and dance as she would make the tea, like some circus variation on the tea ceremony.

               don’t make me do this. please.

she took ballet as a girl. she was quite limber, quite nimble. she used to make you laugh by performing an arabesque when serving the tea to you. she had wonderful balance.

               please stop.

she used to make the tea on that cooker right there, over in the kitchen, the one at aunt livinia’s house on greymalkin place. if you open your eyes you can see it.

               no.

uldren, you really should have known what your twin was thinking.

               oh my god...

 he draws in a long, shuddering breath, clasping his head with both hands as though the memories might cause a split, a tear, a rending. a keening spills from his lips and fills the vacant rooms of the royal suite. echoing. replacing the damned silence. filling the void. momentarily.

something, anything, just make it.

stop. 

  § fire, that bursts open §

contrasts.

               he. life is sorrow.

she. life is beautiful.

               he. death is the end.

she. death is only another beginning.

he should have believed her when she said she was going to find god.

she went down, so far down, to where it's so cold, it's so deep, he couldn’t go with her.

he could never go with her.

there is no such thing as a heaven or a hell, there is no after, there is no phantom touch upon his lips, caress along his finger. the rain… it is not the teardrops of the angels drifting in the air. there are no angels, there are no ghosts, there is no over the rainbow. it was a dream, nothing more than a dream, an endless story spun from her youth.

he is haunted by melancholic memories and an assumption of blame.

clouds of dust stir in his mind, swirling, spinning, a dizzying miasma of light and sound, of fact and imagination. he withdraws further, tightening his body, forming a shell. until the winds die down, he must remain inside.

but he’s burning now. burning. opposing, embracing, feeling.

again.

can’t you hear me smiling?

  § at your back §

  in any event, what can he possibly do?

he is at the window, looking out at the garden that was once hers. what can he do to change the reality of his confinement? he has not yet lived through a second collapse. his experiences are unconsciously inscribed upon him.

he is able to see his existence for the first time. only upon losing her. only upon her running toward somewhere unknown, somewhere he did not believe in, running toward something bigger and deeper. toward a world that exceeded her expectations and would never live up to his.

was that tacit belief power? or something else?

he wonders if it’s something that he can go through now. does it require a level of devotion he has never had? he has never been possessed of a tremendous confidence.

why did he not see this long ago? why did he not see where her distant future was headed? was it because he had abandoned her beliefs before he could notice her obsession?

she used to tell him that he was walking alone in the wilderness and until he became more confident he would never live up to himself. he was never certain of what that meant.

he is standing before the door now, the door leading to her garden.

she went to where he could not follow.

he wants to know more.

not about the spaces in between, those things left unsaid between them. not if she arrived at where she was going.

not if she found god.

not if she became god.

or something else.

he wants to know more about himself.

the sun is shining. it is cold inside of his chambers, cold and dark and it bears down on him, weighing upon his back.

his hand is on the keypad, fingers loosely draped on digital buttons, shiny and smooth.

he feels the now familiar fingers slip around his neck.

he takes in a deep breath, inhaling regret and memory, and closes his eyes.

the fingers tighten.

and he is able to see.

[poppyknitt]

A Miracle Of Life- A JSE Egos Fanfic

Recap: Marvin has finally returned from wherever he had wandered off to after being essentially abandoned by the others for his mistakes and wrongdoings, but not without having things go very wrong for him in the process. He ended up violently crashing into the ground at a velocity that shouldn’t even be humanly possible to attain without going into a top-class military jet, and sustained tons of serious injuries. He was lucky enough to stabilize and return to consciousness within a few hours past when he got to the hospital. As it stands now, JJ and Robbie have forgiven him, whilst Henrik lashed out at him, but came to regret doing so, once he found out the cause of Marvin’s prior “phase”.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[December 15th]

Jackie quickly followed as his fiancé was hurried off to a delivery room, his heart beating wildly and his mind racing in hundreds of directions as he tried to process a million things at once. All he remembered clearly by now was the moment it happened- He had been helping Ava climb the stairs up to their apartment, when suddenly, her water broke. After that, the race to get to a hospital as soon as they could, and everything else that had happened, was a total blur. He wasn’t able to completely process everything as fast as it happened, even as they got to the room, and started waiting and preparing for their son’s arrival. They had thankfully decided on calling him Liam a few days ago, so naming him would be the least of their worries.

As he held Ava’s hand, and stared lovingly into her eyes, all he could think or hope for was that everything was going to be okay.

~~

Seán wrapped up the recording for the day’s video, sent the files to Robin for editing, and turned around. He stared at Sam in confusion, having noticed him floating behind him, thankfully out of view of the camera, practically staring through the closed door. He got up, and walked over to him.

“What is it, buddy? Is there something there?” He whispered. Sam looked at him, and nodded. He took a deep breath in, and slowly opened the door, peeking outside the room to see what could possibly be there. To his surprise, a little green creature, which looked almost like a Venus flytrap crossed with a snake, was staring back at them, its head poking out from the doorway two doors down.

He stepped out, and began to approach it, but it just slithered away, heading to the other hallway, which was a dead end. He could tell it was a familiar of some kind, given its appearance and the almost undetectably faint magical aura it gave off.

As he turned the corner, he stopped, blinking in surprise when he saw that someone, who looked a fair bit like Marvin, if he had long, wavy hair with green and purple dye in it, was sitting in the window at the end of the hall, staring out of it boredly.

The person turned, as if detecting his sudden presence, blinked at him, taking a moment to understand what was happening, and then spoke, “Oh! You must be this world’s Sean! Uh... I-I didn’t realize there were worlds where you’d woken up yet... Sorry.”

“Worlds? What, you mean like, the multiverse theory or whatever?”

“Yeah. Neat, right? I’m, uh, Marvin, but you probably figured that out already, haven’t you..?”

“... Yep. Mind explaining why you’re here? I’m not exactly on the greatest of terms with my Marvin right now.” His voice dripped faintly with aggravation.

“Oh..! Right... I should’ve figured he chose that path... it would explain the difference in Henrik and Jackie’s mental health..” The almost childlike magician’s stature sunk as he probably figured out what was going on.

“Wait, wha-“

“Oh! Oh my god, you have a Sam?!” He interrupted, his eyes lighting up as he marveled at the little eye.

~~~

[10:47PM]

Jackie held tightly onto his beloved’s hand, as her contractions began, trying to help her handle the pain. Time seemed to zip by before he could really process its passage, as the anticipation for the end result built up more and more.

Before he knew it, the moment was there, and it was almost 12am. He felt his heart swell up with joy-filled pride, as he held his newborn son close to his side. It only lasted a moment, though, because he was then alerted to the fact that it wasn’t over yet.

“What?! Wh- How?! The ultrasounds only showed one kid!” He exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Ultrasounds aren’t always accurate. Sometimes one baby hides the other from the scanner. It’s very rare, but it’s happened before.” The doctor explained. Ava looked at him, her eyes wide and almost pleading for it to be over with soon.

~~

Seán sighed, pacing restlessly around the kitchen. The newcomer, who had removed his mask some time ago, stared at him, clearly nervous about whatever was happening.

“Hey, uh, by the way... Have you encountered a second Anti roaming around in your world..?” He started again. Seán stopped immediately after hearing that, and turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Uh, you know... A new Anti that’s presumably a bit different from your own, but just as dangerous..?” He shrunk back a bit.

“No, what do you mean, a second fucking Anti?!” He turned around fully, and placed both hands on the table, almost glaring at the poor magician.

“I... um... well... i-it’s kinda the reason I left my world..? A-Apparently my Anti has figured out how to hop dimensions, and, well... he’s... a bit of a megalomaniac..? So he’s probably trying to gain control of the multiverse or something..?” Merlin, as he said he usually went by when not in his own universe, fiddled with his hands nervously, as he shrunk back far enough into his seat that he was probably about to slide right out of it.

“God damn it. Of course there’s another Anti running around making a mess of things..!”

“... So..rry..?” Merlin smiled nervously, his eyes still pretty wide.

“It’s fine.. Not the weirdest damn thing that’s happened since I woke back up.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

~~~

[December 16th, 12:45AM]

Jackie could barely believe everything that was happening. Between the suddenness of Ava’s water breaking, the drawn out timespan between it, when Liam was finally born, and the discovery of a second baby, everything was just really blurred together, and hard to work his mind through. Before he even knew what was happening, Ava was cradling a second baby boy in her arms, and his mind was being overwhelmed with a flurry of emotions ranging all the way from concern to pure joy. He laughed softly, feeling tears of unknown origin welling up as he hugged Ava and his sons close to him.

“What will their names be?” A nurse asked.

“... Liam. Liam and Brandon.”

——————————————————

Next Chapter

(Hey! Look! The intermediary chapter came like, almost a month early!) Yeah so uh I was like “Okay so uh we’re gonna need some World Initiative between the setting up of WorldView, right?” and had no ideas for anything else until i got to writing this chapter, and, well, couple that with the fact that i had to do SOMETHING relatively creative to ward away my spontaneous bout of dissociation, and, uh, ya get this, i guess... But yeah. Merlin’s chasing Monitor down on his own, like the adorably stupid and childish idiot he is, probably giving his world’s Jackie and Henrik a heart attack in the process, and he thought that there wasn’t gonna be anyone at Jack’s apartment, so, logically, he took this as an excuse to be alone and enjoy himself for a little while-

have i mentioned how much I absolutely love merlin as a character? cuz i do

@antis-loyal-puppet

@tiny-septic-puppet

@septic-dr-schneep

@chaoticcrimsonrose

@rorald-spooks

[millimallow]

pt 3 - the hills are alive with light

thank you to everyone who’s followed me recently for my mitski edits! i’m really glad you’re here. i post other stuff as well, though more mitski stuff will be coming. this is pt 3 of my fantasy anthology series based on the setting for my dnd series, and it takes place in the mountainous high shires. please enjoy, leave a like, reblog, w/e!

“are you sure that this’ll work?”

“i’m not sure of anything, but i don’t think it’s a waste of our time to try. so let’s try.”

my name is shenahra asramh. i would have a long, hard time explaining how i got into this situation, so let’s cut to the chase- me and my cousin/on-and-off criminal conspirator tusol are on the run. our efforts in smuggling bootleg wines from the pinnacle vineyards up through the trevailian ports was evidently unappreciated by the inspecting dock warden, his greying moustache curling up at the corners like a drying fern. and though tusol tried to bargain for our safe passage, i knew that it was over, over unless we ran. so that’s what we’ve been doing for the past few days. running. well, not constantly, and not in the most literal sense of running. but trying to get somewhere out of the way enough that nobody could think to look for us there. so much for the great income we would receive for our efforts hefting bottles of red in burlap backpacks under the guise of gifts for relatives, then hawking them to tourists on the streets.

in fact, so much for my dignity.

our most obvious route from the port city was to be the one which took us the furthest away from high concentrations of people. people who might recognize us. away as well from notable border checks. we had identification, but only the goddess of mercy could save us if we were to be found. this took us through the plainslands, from where we headed south-west to the border with the high shires. it was out inevitable destination, but in one of his many lectures tusol turned to me and instructed- “the north-west border is a touchy place. we might escape, only to be killed by some raving dwarf with a tattoo on his skull.” i doubted he had ever even met a member of the sarmot fir, but i did not trust the state of conflict there myself, so we went south, cutting time by sneaking into the cargo holders of several trains which bought us only a few miles’ trek from the official border station. as fitting for an area as sparse as the plainslands, the trains were few and far between, though timely when they came. standing on the loosely defined gravel platform, i was able to look into tusol’s eyes for the first time since our near-capture and ask him a question.

“what are we going to do when we get to the shires?”

“live out of a cave.” i was astonished at the answer.

“we’ve never lived outside of anything other than a normal clay home. how can that possibly be your solution?” i cried, but tusol only smirked in response.

“it’s only until the heat dies down. when something bigger than a few petty bootleggers comes up we will be forgotten about. that, or until we meet some hot mountain chick.” i turned away to end the line of inquiry, not knowing how serious his statement was.

it was not a serious journey from our final station to the border crossing, from which we would travel on foot. the guard, a halfling whose seat prevented any eye contact, was apathetic about our entry. the latter trail was what made me more nervous. if the plainslands is vast and windswept, the high shires is the pressure point of where a great god once cracked the earth open long before any human, halfling or elf. its ridges are mind-numbingly steep, conditions scorching hot and exposed in places while completely frigid elsewhere. the people who live there do so very carefully and with thousands of years of experience. initially it was not the worst- tusol’s frequent attempts to eat certainly-poisonous berries were easily thwarted- but hours in a great desperation overcame me. i could not go further without filling my hand wounds with dirt, as all our greatly limited supply of bandages had been expended on an unfortunate wild dog bite tusol sustained. and as such, when the moon became full and heady over us, i requested that we camp for the night.

“nonsense. why camp in the wild where we can get mauled by anyone or anything that passes us by? it’s not like we have tents.”

“you’ve already been mauled. i’m doing better than you on the mauling front.”

“well, there was the time aunt irtha’s birdhound bit your knee at the house.” it was true- the marks were still there. but i was eleven, and the dog was only the size of a housecat.

“so we’ll walk through the night?” i replied tartly.

“no, we’ll camp indoors. have a look over there.” he pointed towards the horizon, down one of the gentler mossy slopes we had encountered so far.

“i can’t see anything”.

tusol laughed in response. “that’s because you have the eyesight of a bat on a good day with glasses on. there are lights over there, and lights means people.” perhaps it meant fireflies, i thought, but i wasn’t about to get smart with him when we needed rest. i didn’t suggest the people could be bandits, either, on several grounds: bandits pick common paths, that our situation could hardly get worse and that tusol wasn’t likely to listen. what did i do? i picked up my pace and followed him, resigned to meet what was on the other side of that light. and it’s from there i’m writing this now.

i mentioned previously that people who live in this environment have to live clever, and it proves true. the light source we stumbled upon- an amalgamation of firey torches and buzzing electric lights- was only the front of what i could only just make out to be a village carved into the side of the mountain. tusol had knocked on the door before i could suggest otherwise. only a few seconds could pass before the small door was opened by a gnome, tawny skinned and grey haired with a distinct element of pallour, who then emerged.

“what is your business at this time of day?”

“we’ve been travelling. and we’re looking to board for the night.” the gnome looked up and down tusol as i winced at his confidence internally- we had kept little money on us to avoid customs troubles, and there was no way he didn’t know this. after a solid look-over he pointed inwards.

“come with me. and whoever that is.” i hurried to tusol’s behind and followed as quickly and unobtrusively as i could, but the gnomish occupants took note of two humans regardless. the cramped feeling of the structure was alien and uncomfortable, its roofs low and twists many, but we eventually reached a much greater room with a higher ceiling. before we could sigh in relief, we noticed a gnomish woman on a grand throne of oak and gold thread drapings, face as cold and metallic as the jewellery which adorned her face.

“why do you bring these outsiders here, callatar amsai?” she asked, her voice still.

“they came to ask for boarding.” his head was bowed- the impression of her power was undeniable despite her youth.

“why must we entertain them?”

“there is no obligation.”

she paused. “state your names, travellers.”

“tusol.”

“shenahra.”

“where do you come from?” i let tusol speak, though i was afraid he would easily let his tongue run away with him.

“trevailia, ma’am.” her expression betrayed her disinterest. “we have been through talgene mer and the plainslands for our visit.”

“its purpose being?”

“…sightseeing.” and it was turning sour.

“what do you do that compels you to sightsee here?” tusol could not answer. he would not admit it, but his path in life was that of a petty crook. my heart bundled into my throat, i spoke for him.

“i’m a writer.”

“you are?” it was not untrue- i figured it gave me a better chance than otherwise. “and you came here to write?”

“indeed.” after a moment, she stepped down from her throne, long dark hair trailing behind her as she walked.

“my name is heani klattisvula.” she held her hand out to me and i took it into mine, feeling its small size and its warmth. “can you write something for me and my people?”

and so i have.

[ucflibrary]

Every October UCF celebrates Diversity Week. This year’s dates are October 16 – 20, and the theme is Transform and Inspire Inclusion. University-wide departments and groups champion the breadth and culture within the UCF community, and work to increase acceptance and inclusion for everyone at UCF and the surrounding communities.

One of the fantastic things about UCF is the wide range of cultures and ethnicities of our students, staff, and faculty. We come from all over. We’re just as proud of where we are from as we are of where we are now.

For information about the Library Diversity Week activities visit: guides.ucf.edu/diversityweek

Join the UCF Libraries as we celebrate diverse voices and subjects with these suggestions (below the keep reading link)

And thank you to every Knight who works to help others feel accepted and included at UCF!

Blindspot: hidden biases of good people by Mahzarin R. Banaji and Anthony G. Greenwald In this accessible and groundbreaking look at the science of prejudice, Banaji and Greenwald show that prejudice and unconscious biases toward others are a fundamental part of the human psyche. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Creating a World that Works for All by Sharif Abdullah (ebook) The world is a mess. The privileged few prosper. The masses suffer. And everyone feels spiritually empty. Most people would blame capitalism, racism, or some other "ism". But according to Sharif M. Abdullah, the problem is not ideology. It's exclusivity -- our desire to stay separate from other people. In Creating a World That Works for All, Abdullah takes a look at the mess we live in -- and presents a way out. To restore balance to the earth and build community, he says, people must stop blaming others, embrace inclusivity, and become "menders". He outlines three simple tests -- for "enoughness", exchangeability, and common benefit -- to guide people as they transform themselves and the world. Suggested by Schuyler Kirby, Rosen Library

Digital Countercultures and The Struggle for Community by Jessa Lingel Whether by accidental keystroke or deliberate tinkering, technology is often used in ways that are unintended and unimagined by its designers and inventors. Jessa Lingel tells stories from the margins of countercultural communities that have made the Internet meet their needs, subverting established norms of how digital technologies should be used. She examines a social media platform (developed long before Facebook) for body modification enthusiasts, with early web experiments in blogging, community, wikis, online dating, and podcasts; a network of communication technologies (both analog and digital) developed by a local community of punk rockers to manage information about underground shows; and the use of Facebook and Instagram for both promotional and community purposes by Brooklyn drag queens. By examining online life in terms of countercultural communities, Lingel argues that looking at outsider experiences helps us to imagine new uses and possibilities for the tools and platforms we use in everyday life. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Dreamland Burning by Jennifer Latham When Rowan Chase finds a skeleton on her family's property, she has no idea that investigating the brutal century-old murder will lead to a summer of painful discoveries about the past... and the present. Nearly one hundred years earlier, in 1821, a misguided violent encounter propels Will Tillman into a racial firestorm. In a country rife with violence against blacks and a hometown segregated by Jim Crow, Will must make hard choices on a painful journey towards self discovery and face his inner demons in order to do what's right the night Tulsa burns. Suggested by Christina Wray, Digital Learning & Engagement Librarian

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire Children have always disappeared from Eleanor West's Home for Wayward Children under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere ... else. But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children. Nancy tumbled once, but now she's back. The things she's experienced ... they change a person. The children under Miss West's care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world. But Nancy's arrival marks a change at the Home. There's a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it's up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Furiously Happy: a funny book about horrible things by Jenny Lawson Jenny Lawson is beloved around the world for her inimitable humor and honesty, and in Furiously Happy, she is at her snort-inducing funniest. This is a book about embracing everything that makes us who we are - the beautiful and the flawed - and then using it to find joy in fantastic and outrageous ways. Because as Jenny's mom says, "Maybe 'crazy' isn't so bad after all." Sometimes crazy is just right. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Gender Nonconformity and the Law by Kimberly A. Yuracko When the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed, its primary target was the outright exclusion of women from particular jobs. Over time, the Act's scope of protection has expanded to prevent not only discrimination based on sex but also discrimination based on expression of gender identity. Kimberly Yuracko uses specific court decisions to identify the varied principles that underlie this expansion. Filling a significant gap in law literature, this timely book clarifies an issue of increasing concern to scholars interested in gender issues and the law. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Made by Raffi by Craig Pomranz; illustrated by Margaret Chamberlain As a shy boy, Raffi is a loner and teased at school until one day he discovers knitting and decides to make a scarf for his father and a cape for the prince in the school play. Suggested by Cindy Dancel, Research & Information Services

Symptoms of Being Human by Jeff Garvin A gender-fluid teenager who struggles with identity creates a blog on the topic that goes viral, and faces ridicule at the hands of fellow students. Suggested by Cindy Dancel, Research & Information Services

The Good People by Hannah Kent (on order) Based on true events in nineteenth century Ireland, Hannah Kent's startling new novel tells the story of three women, drawn together to rescue child from a superstitious community. Nora, bereft after the death of her husband, finds herself alone and caring for her grandson Micheál, who can neither speak nor walk. A handmaid, Mary, arrives to help Nóra just as rumours begin to spread that Micheál is a changeling child who is bringing bad luck to the valley. Determined to banish evil, Nora and Mary enlist the help of Nance, an elderly wanderer who understands the magic of the old ways. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Bone People: a novel by Keri Hulme Kerewin, a part-Maori painter living in self-exile, is drawn out of her isolation by a mute boy who is cast up on a beach, the only survivor of a shipwreck. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed. Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil's name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr. But what Starr does or does not say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life. Suggested by Andrew Hackler, Circulation

The Inclusion Breakthrough: unleashing the real power of diversity by Frederick A. Miller & Judith H. Katz The Inclusion Breakthrough cuts a path through this potential minefield, offering a proven methodology for strategic organizational change, including models for diagnosing, planning, and implementing inclusion-focused, culture-change strategies tailored to each organization's individual needs. It also describes the key competencies for leading and sustaining a culture of inclusion. Offering real-world results of ''before and after'' surveys, including anecdotal and statistical reports of organizational change achieved using the methodologies described,  Suggested by Sandy Avila, Subject Librarian

The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf by Ambelin Kwaymullina Taking refuge among other teens who are in hiding from a government threatened by their supernatural powers, Ashala covertly practices her abilities only to be captured and interrogated for information about the location of her friends. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness What if you aren't the Chosen One? The one who's supposed to fight the zombies, or the soul-eating ghosts, or whatever the heck this new thing is, with the blue lights and the death? What if you're like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Again. Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week's end of the world, and sometimes you just have to find the extraordinary in your ordinary life. Even if your best friend is worshiped by mountain lions. Suggested by Christina Wray, Digital Learning & Engagement Librarian

What if?: short stories to spark diversity dialogue by Steve L. Robbins Hiring and retaining the best and brightest talent is what defines market leadership today. And in the global marketplace winning the war for talent means embracing differences, discovering other worldviews, and reframing our organizations for competitive advantage. What If? delivers a creative and innovative way to explore the issues that dominate today's multicultural workplace: leadership and mentoring, creativity and innovation, organizational culture and engagement. In 25 inspiring stories-some deeply personal-Steve Robbins offers fresh insight into the real and meaningful differences among people and how the power of everyday experiences can be the catalyst for seeing the world through a different lens. What If? also presents specific ideas of what organizations can do toengage our global world, build core competencies in diversity and inclusion, and benefit from the best talent available - regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, religion, race, or disability. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Subject Librarian

What We Left Behind by Robin Talley From the critically acclaimed author of Lies We Tell Ourselves comes an emotional, empowering story of what happens when love may not be enough to conquer all. Toni and Gretchen are the couple everyone envied in high school. They've been together forever. They never fight. They’re deeply, hopelessly in love. When they separate for their first year at college—Toni to Harvard and Gretchen to NYU—they’re sure they’ll be fine. Where other long-distance relationships have fallen apart, theirs is bound to stay rock-solid. The reality of being apart, though, is very different than they expected. Toni, who identifies as genderqueer, meets a group of transgender upperclassmen and immediately finds a sense of belonging that has always been missing, but Gretchen struggles to remember who she is outside their relationship. Suggested by Cindy Dancel, Research & Information Services

Whistling Vivaldi: and other clues to how stereotypes affect us by Claude M. Steele In this work, the author, a social psychologist, addresses one of the most perplexing social issues of our time: the trend of minority underperformance in higher education. With strong evidence showing that the problem involves more than weaker skills, he explores other explanations. Here he presents an insider's look at his research and details his groundbreaking findings on stereotypes and identity, findings that will deeply alter the way we think about ourselves, our abilities, and our relationships with each other. What he discovers is that this experience of "stereotype threat" can profoundly affect our functioning: undermining our performance, causing emotional and physiological reactions, and affecting our career and relationship choices. But because these threats, though little recognized, are near-daily and life-shaping for all of us, the shared experience of them can help bring Americans closer together. In a time of renewed discourse about race and class, this work offers insight into how we form our sense of self, and lays out a plan that will both reduce the negative effects of "stereotype threat" and begin reshaping American identities Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Women and Leadership: transforming visions and diverse voices edited by Jean Lau Chin Over the past thirty years the number of women assuming leadership roles has grown dramatically. This original and important book identifies the challenges faced by women in positions of leadership, and discusses the intersection between theories of leadership and feminism. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

You're Welcome, Universe by Whitney Gardner When Julia finds a slur about her best friend scrawled across the back of the Kingston School for the Deaf, she covers it up with a beautiful (albeit illegal) graffiti mural. Her supposed best friend snitches, the principal expels her, and her two mothers set Julia up with a one-way ticket to a "mainstream" school in the suburbs, where she's treated like an outcast as the only deaf student. The last thing she has left is her art, and not even Banksy himself could convince her to give that up. Out in the 'burbs, Julia paints anywhere she can, eager to claim some turf of her own. But Julia soon learns that she might not be the only vandal in town. Someone is adding to her tags, making them better, showing offand showing Julia up in the process. She expected her art might get painted over by cops. But she never imagined getting dragged into a full-blown graffiti war. Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

[jrmcwilliam]

Emotional Releasing - Less of a how-to, more of a hope-to.

At some point, I never thought that 4 in the afternoon was ever going to end. A rush of anxiety and stresses run through my blood as I stare over my mountain of bills and shot glasses. I don’t even know what to do with them, “Do I touch them? Do I organize them? Do I pay them? Do I drink them?” But I don’t have any money. I know that.

Getting fired wasn’t the easiest part of my life, by any means. I didn’t know I was going to be moving onto the path to following my dreams. Following them into a place where I truly believe that I can be a part of them. That I can do this all on my own. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t ready at all. I barely, even now, know what my dreams look like. (And not the dreams I have at night, but the dreams that I have to be a writer, a self-sustainable, successful person.)

What I’ve learned most from this experience is that I am so done working for people. I am going to have to figure out how to make my own money and secure my own life in my own hands. It’s amazing what you see in yourself when you are left stranded and fighting for a chance to get back up. I’ve learned so many things about myself it’s like I’m a completely different person – though I have thought that maybe I’m just starting to see myself the way that others do. Which can be a good thing - and a bad thing.

I wrote this three years ago:

“I look around my house and wonder what it would be like if I didn’t live here anymore. I’ve been doing so well with keeping it afloat that now that I can’t, (or so I think), seem to get back on my feet, it’s a task that I might not be meant for at this time. It might just not be my time. Still. And that’s just going to have to be okay with me. 

I look at my car, the car I’ve been working so hard to keep, and I see the possibility of it being towed away into a rental car wasteland and destroyed alongside my loan and my credit. Nice. I’m going to try to keep that from happening though. I think I’m doing my best. I think.”

Three years have passed since I wrote that. I did lose everything mentioned in that piece. I lost it all. But what I did get was Chase. He stood by me through everything. He helped more than money ever could. He made me believe in love again - and not in just a romcom way - in a way that love is more valuable than gold.  I lost everything. But I gained everything. 5 PM has been my personal time. My safe time. My happy hour. Being from a line of alcoholics, I find it important that I keep on top of my substance abuse. So I won’t drink until after 5, which when given the opportunity to have a beer in the afternoon, is sometimes fairly difficult. The most important part of this 5 o’clock drink is that I get to sit in silence for a whole hour, uninterrupted, nothing that needs to be done (unless I truly want to), and no one is around to judge me for it. I spend that hour doing whatever it is my heart needs me to do and sometimes it turns out to be absolutely fucking nothing. I limit myself to drinking 2. It’s 2 maximum. Then I am allowed to start drinking again when I am having dinner or after I’ve already had it. Solid monitoring. I think. This is how I’ve been able to manage my anxiety and also loosen up. Yoga helps too but who wants to do yoga throughout the entire evening!?

Sometimes, the only thing that I want to do is turn everything off, computer and TV and Tablet and Phone and everything else that stimulates my entire brain – then just sit back, crack the beer, smoke a cigarette – be one with myself. It’s quiet, it’s unexpected, it’s glorious.

But – When I am going through something, I always tend to make the schedule change to suit my needs. Like when I got fired, I had drinks at 11 in the fucking morning. Then smoked a bowl. Then smoked six cigarettes. Not a pretty sight. But I can’t be the only one who does this when something fucked up happens. I know I’m not alone in that and I have to remind myself of that every time I have a breakdown. I am not alone in this. Then sometimes I sleep from the afternoon to the evening and stay awake until 4 in the morning watching movies that I’ve already watched a thousand times. Sad. I know – Then get so drunk that I start to explain myself to my stuffed dog, Freddy because I’m positive that he judges me sometimes. I’m so sure of it it’s solid. I convince myself that he has a soul. Yes – “That Guy” drunk. Not my finest hours.

I have ripped my house apart in really intense moments of weakness where I feel all of my emotions at the exact same time and it’s a really scary moment for anyone to go through – Because when I’m done being angry, I clean until I feel better. But it happens. I just lose complete ability to focus my emotions into manageable categories and organize them by priority – but not easy when all you wanna do is scream and swear and throw things.

I talked to a friend today - and it really helped me start to understand better why I react to things the way that I do.

Though my friend doesn’t react the same way I do, she reacts to the same things I do, poorly, in her own way - as I do. And it got me thinking - who can judge anyone for their seemingly uncontrollable reactions to life's seemingly uncontrollable curve balls, ultimately resulting in an uncontrollable emotion? Even those that are good at controlling their emotions lose it every now and then. It’s all a matter of what tips you right off that high ledge of patience and limitations.

I react to things the way that I do...because I do. I don’t have a reason and it isn’t an excuse - at least not an intentional excuse. To me, now, it just seems that it is what it is.

Have you ever had someone say to you, “you need to calm down.” And in your head, you’re like, “No!” That’s because telling someone to be calm when they are clearly not calm is like the least helpful thing you can say to someone in the moment. How about letting them get it all out in an unorganized rant? In history, the only way to get people to “calm down” is to allow them to feel what they are feeling and then move on - calmly.

Back to my friend.  I don’t have many friends. That is a choice I have made. Though, to be honest, once it is clear to most people that you aren’t a “friend” kind of person, less people want to be your friend. I pat myself on the back frequently for my success.  But every now and then, you find a gem in the rough. That gem being - someone you can actually enjoy spending time with without having to look at the time every 5 minutes and wish the interaction was over. I feel like if you meet people you actually enjoy spending time with, they can be considered a friend. Let’s be real, we don’t have an abundance of time on this planet in our short little lives - your time is valuable. Use it on things that bring you joy. My friend is reacting to things in her life that I’m not even fully aware of. It doesn’t matter too much if we know the details - the fact is - the details are none of our business. The fact is - she is going through something - and all we can do as the outsiders is to be there to listen if and when she is damn well ready to speak her truth. I’m not overly worried about her hurting herself. If I was, I would be much more assertive and break the laws of “what my business is” and make her spill the beans. All I need to know is that she is okay - she’s going through a rough time - and she may need a friend at some point when she is ready to release! Knowing this - I will totally be there. Also! (And this is back to that valuable friend thing - which usually operates symbiotically, I’ve heard,) Is that I could use a friend too. Why? Because I feel my life is in shambles. Same with my friend. What timing!  (We have to learn to laugh at our short-comings or else we will die young - in a horrible way. Scary? Good. Now laugh at your short-comings. Now!)

The best part about the relationship you have with this said friend, of which you share life events, is that there is no judgment between the two of you. 

Yes, judgment is as uncontrollable as the weather, but the point is not to use that judgment against anybody. It is still true to say, “You choose how hurt you feel by others words. They are only words - their words. It is not up to you how other people feel about you.” The truth from a true friend can go a long way. Even if you don’t want to hear it. You probably need it. Sometimes we aren’t always right about ourselves. So, to have a confidant that will listen to you, not listen to you, give you advice, not give you advice - whatever you need - is extremely valuable...and for the most part - rare.

So when it comes to dealing with your emotions, do you think you handle them properly all the time? There is a good person inside of you, which is why, when something bad happens, you are immediately emotional - if not, there is clearly a different issue. But usually, you react to things you generally feel strongly about. So react! Go ahead! But don’t forget to talk to the person you know won’t judge you - they will be there for you - but be prepared to listen to feedback and work on change. We can’t just walk around having an emotional breakdown every 5 minutes. Right? That doesn’t sound like an enjoyable way to spend your precious, valuable time. Now...what to change...what to change... I’mma go ask my friend. Tomorrow, it’s now 5:08. I am late for my date with myself. 

JR McWilliam

*- The images used in this post are not my own. I found them on a photo shopping binge on google. They are beautiful and relevant to my story. Enjoy them! (Except the one of the hand poored beer in a pub. I took that photo.)

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (53/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous Chapters conveniently available here

[1 July 236 Before Age.  Luffasworld]

Atop a glacier in the middle of nowhere, Luffa screamed.  

While she had some vague plan for training, the inescapable truth was that she had no idea how to go about this, nor would anyone else.  All she could do was to figure things out as she went, and see what worked.  Now that she had faced the upper limit of her power, she wanted to replicate that feeling, to better understand it.  

For once, there was no reason to hold anything back.  Even on Wist, where she had the luxury of fighting a stronger opponent on enemy territory, she still had to focus on the battle.  Here, on this empty planet, she could simply power up and do nothing else.  It pleased her to see that she had already grown stronger since recovering from her recent defeat.   All Saiyans possessed this trait, sometimes called 'Zenkai', but in her case it wasn't going to help very much.  The Zenkai she had gained after losing to the Shockmaster would have been incredible for a typical Saiyan, but in her case it was just a drop in a very large bucket. She suspected that she would have to lose a hundred fights just to see any significant improvement.  

That bothered her.  When Luffa had first become a Super Saiyan, she had to be convinced that the transformation was natural.  Over time, she started to wonder if the ability was not only normal, but commonplace.  What if every Saiyan had the potential to do this?  The Zenkai was a path to achieving that kind of power, but you had to lose a lot of battles just to get started, and most Saiyans preferred to fight to the death.  That shortsighted attitude meant that most of her race never lived long enough to even approach the threshold of Super Saiyan power.  Luffa herself had won the ability through blind chance.  The Tikosi had forced her to experience repeated Zenkais, and then she transformed in a moment of desperation.  

But what if it hadn't always been that way?  What if there was a time when her distant ancestors understood the Super Saiyan form, and attaining it was just a normal part of growing up?  The Zenkai increases were just to get adolescents ready for the change, and then they would spend their adulthood mastering the form, using wholly other means to improve.  

The possibility chilled her more than the freezing winds that blew across the glacier.  If it were true, then hers was race of tadpoles that had forgotten how to become frogs.  Through no real talent of her own, she was the first one in a thousand years to grow legs, and now she was trying to figure out how to hop.  

She thought of her unborn son, and her golden aura flashed in tune with her turbulent emotions.  If the boy had lived, maybe he could have learned to transform too.  Maybe they would have been able to train together, and he could have helped her figure some of it out.  Or maybe she really was a once-in-a-milennium occurrence.  Her son would have probably grown up to be a perfectly average warrior.  She would have been proud of the boy no matter what, of course, but having him around would have answered a lot of questions.  

Normally, she tried not to dwell on the matter, since it always made her lose control of her power, but for once she could let it all out.  The tears came, and her hands trembled, and she did nothing to stop them.  She balled up her fists, and felt her fingernails digging into the scarred flesh of her palms.  

She let it all come back to her at once.  Losing her son.  The betrayal of her father and husband.  Months of torment at the hands of the Tikosi.  The terror of not knowing what she had become.  The shame of being rescued by aliens as if she were a helpless child.  The revulsion and contempt that her own people had for her.  All of it was fuel for the fire, and she stoked the flames as high and as hot as she could.

Her thoughts drifted to Zatte, and she used this as well.  The Dorlun woman had lost an eye because Luffa hadn't been there when it counted.  Zatte had been abducted and corrupted by the loathsome Makyans, and Luffa had failed to prevent this as well.  True, she had managed to free Zatte and put things right, but it had taken far too long by Luffa's own demanding standard.  And Zatte had been the one to finally avenge Luffa's son, because Luffa had been far too emotionally compromised to do it herself.  It was maddening.  

The glacier began to crack up beneath her feet.  She could still feel the cold air, but it seemed more like an unpleasant memory than an immediate discomfort.   Luffa had reached her limit several minutes ago, and now she was simply maintaining her maximum power, but it didn't feel the same as before.  Somehow, she knew there was more, just a little more, if only she could bring it out.   But sustaining this level was hard enough in itself, and she had no idea what to do next.  She pushed herself to hold this power for a little longer, hoping that the answer would present itself.  

Then she saw something. 

At first, she assumed it was just the rippling of her aura playing tricks on her eyes.  But the image became brighter and more clear with time, and while she couldn't quite tell what it was, she was certain it was several yards away.  

Unsettled by the disturbance, she leaped towards it, her warrior instincts interpreting the anomaly as an intrusion.  But she misjudged her strength, and instead of closing the distance to the object, she sailed right past it.  No, through it.  

She turned to get a closer look, and the image was as fuzzy up-close as it had been at a distance.  It was basically humanoid like herself, though not obviously male or female.  Most of it appeared to be grey, with blue and purple markings on its body.  There was some kind of tool or weapon in its hand.  

She reached out to touch it, unsure how to proceed.  The planet was supposed to be uninhabited.  Even if the realtors had been lying, she had run her own sensor sweeps before landing, and found no signs of intelligent life.  More importantly, her own inborn ki senses could detect no life energy from this being at all.  Was this creature even real?  

Then, just as her fingertips were about to make contact, it turned and faced her.  Its eyes seemed more vivid than the rest of it, and while it wasn't looking directly at her, something about them made her draw back her hand.  It raised its weapon, as if making some sort of noiseless battle cry, and then took off running.  Luffa began to chase after it, hoping to learn more--

And then everything went dark.  She had been maintaining her maximum power for so long that her Super Saiyan form was starting to fail.  Her eyes had grown used to the illumination of her own body, and without it they would need time to adjust to the twilight.  Irritated, she generated a ball of ki energy in her left hand and pointed it in the general direction of what she had seen, hoping to light the way.  

She found nothing.

Luffa flew around the glacier for a while to be certain, then growled a series of Saiyan profanities, and decided to break early for breakfast.

*******

[1 July 236 Before Age.  Wist.]

The reconstruction of Wist proceeded quickly by most people's standards, but the Shockmaster was not most people.  Tigon had learned that lesson as soon as she was elevated to the role of his chief of staff.  The post should have been purely administrative, but he preferred operatives to take matters into their own hands.  Using ancient Wistian methods beyond her understanding, he had bestowed special powers upon her, and enhancing her strength and speed, and granting her the ability to fly.   Her task was not only to run the day-to-day operations of the Wistian government, but to patrol the planet and enforce the Shockmaster's will.  

Before the war, he had entrusted this responsibility to four people.  Argon, the former ruler of the planet, Calgon, the one-time leader of the rebellion against Argon's regime, a Saiyan refugee by the name of Kandai, and the Kami of the Planet Wist.  The first three had all been killed by the Super Saiyan before the Shockmaster forced her to withdraw.  That left the Kami, who had apparently fallen out of favor.  Tigon wasn't sure what had become of the planet's god, and if she didn't know, then she doubted the Shockmaster had informed anyone else.

Besides, she had enough to worry about without wondering what happened to her predecessor.  The Shockmaster spent more and more time meditating.  He would disappear for days at a time, effectively leaving Tigon in charge of the entire planet.  If she were a more ambitious sort, Tigon might have found this  role appealing.  For a few days, she managed to convince herself that she could make a positive change this way, and truly improve the lives of her people.  

In practice, she was just the one who bore the brunt of the blame for the Shockmaster's negligent policies.  

"We need more workers!" insisted one of the officers in command of the thirteenth zone of the southern continent.  Tigon had tried to learn all of their names, but she abandoned this effort once she realized it would make no difference.  She remembered his face from her last visit to his zone, and the problems he was facing.  

He pointed to a map that he had spread out over a chrome-plated table.  "The dam will burst if we don't repair it soon, and if that happens, the whole valley will be flooded.  It will take decades for the region to recover--"

"Then fix it," Tigon said cooly.  It wasn't that she didn't care, but she had bigger problems to worry about, and she had no time to spare expressing her concern.

"We won't make it in time," he said.  "I've got everyone I can spare on it already, and that won't be enough!  What happened to the work crews I requisitioned--?"

"The Super Saiyan happened, that's what!" Tigon snapped.  "She tore through our armies like they were nothing.  The forces we sent to Extraliga never returned, and likely never will.  The ones who stayed behind were cut down like wheat.  I don't have the luxury of sending work crews to every zone that requisitions them."

"Extraliga!" he growled.  "All this death and destruction over a planet on the other side of the galaxy.  A year ago none of us had ever heard of the wretched place, and now I wish I still didn't!"  

"Mind your tone," Tigon warned.  "The Master Reigns, the Partner Provides.  The conquest of Extraliga is vital to the Shockmaster's plans.  Once it is secured, the way will be clear to make Wist into what it once was."

The officer spit on the silver plating of her uniform.  It was a common experience for her these days.  

"At the rate we're going, there won't be anything left of this planet to bother restoring!" he shouted.  "The people in this zone don't need shiny metal houses or empty promises!  They certainly don't need to be sent off to die in another war!  What they need is food and protection, and I can't secure any of those things with the resources I have!  You cannot--Urk!"

Tigon had grabbed him by the throat and raised him high over her head.  She sympathized with him, and with the people for whom he was speaking, but insubordination would solve nothing.  

"New orders," she said.  "Find all the able-bodied adults you can, and send them to the capitol zone in one week's time."

"That's... insane!" he gasped.  She set him down and let him speak.  "You can't seriously be planning to send them all into space!  I have enough children separated from their parents as it is!"

"Then you can send the children to Zone 14, where they'll be safe from the effects of the flooding," Tigon said.  "That should solve your problem, won't it?  And without taking up valuable resources from the war effort."

"This is monstrous!" the officer shouted.  "You're only sending those people across the galaxy to die!"

"You have your orders!" Tigon said with a sneer.  She turned her back to him and floated into the air.  "I'll be back to see that you carry them out."  

As she flew, she wondered if her powers might have been of some use in repairing the dam, but she had no time to waste on finding out.  She still had to visit nine more zones, and then inspect the shipyards.  With any luck she could complete negotiations with the mercenaries, and that might ease the situation, but she didn't want to get her hopes up.

*******

[1 July 236 Before Age.  Luffasworld]

"No life signs at all then?  Not even fossils or ruins or anything like that?"

"Nope," Keda said.  "I mean, there were probably a few mosses and insects, but nothing intelligent. Why?  Did you see something on that glacier?"

"No," Luffa lied.  "No, I just got a little carried away out there, and thought I should double check."

Aboard Luffa's star-yacht, she and Keda were eating snacks on the bridge.  The Dorlun child practically lived on this deck, and now that she had finished reviewing the ship's sensor logs, she left the bridge console and sprawled out on the sleeping mat she had laid on the floor.

"How's the training going?" Keda asked idly.  

"It's going," Luffa said.  "I'm making progress, just not as much as I hoped for."

"You'll get there," Keda said.  "Eventually.  I mean, how long do Saiyans live for, anyway?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid," Luffa grumbled.

"No problem," Keda said.  "It's like when I was learning how to shapeshift different kinds of clothing.  It was slow going, but I just had to stick with it.  If you need any pointers, just let me know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Luffa said dryly.  "Maybe you can make yourself look like the Shockmaster and I can use you for a tackling dummy.  How about it?"

"Uh..."

"Didn't think so," Luffa snorted.  She put three cookies in her mouth and chewed them with relish.

"So you're not going to the Hobstot System with Zatte and Doctor Topsas?" Keda asked.

"Of course not," Luffa said.  "I'm here to train.  The rest of you can come and go as you please."

"You mind if I stay at your place while they're gone?" Keda asked.  "I've got some work to catch up on, but I've been cooped up on this bridge for too long."

"Why don't you go with them?" Luffa asked.  

"I was just there last week ago.  Supply run."

Luffa shrugged.   "I mean, sure.  But I'll be gone most of the day.  You'll be on your own the whole time."

"It's cool.  I just haven't spent a lot of time there.  I thought I could use a change of scenery."

"Well, whatever, kid.  Suit yourself."  

The bridge was silent for several minutes, then Keda finally spoke up again.  "So, uh, about the ship.  How would you feel about me bringing guests aboard once in a while?"  

"Guests?" Luffa asked.  

"Yeah, I mean, I'd check with you first when you're around, but lately I've been making a lot of supply runs without you."

"What kind of guests?" Luffa asked.  

Keda shrugged.  "Nobody in particular.  You know.  Boys."

"Aren't you a little young to be thinking about boys?" Luffa asked pointedly.

"I'll be twelve before you know it," Keda said.  

"Oh, excuse me, Honored Elder," Luffa snorted.  "Are we talking about any specific boys?"

"No, I just want to clear it with you in case it comes up down the road.  I'll probably wait until I’m thirteen to really get serious about it.  Right now I'm just keeping an eye out.  Seeing what's out there.  So how about it?"

Luffa took a bite of jerky and rolled her eyes.  "Can I think about this for a while?" she finally said.  

"Oh, you don't have to worry about checking with Zatte," Keda said. "She and I already talked about it, and she told me whatever you want to do is fine with her."

"I wasn't going to check with her," Luffa said.  "It's my ship, kid."

"Well, once you're married, half of it's hers, right?  Wait, you didn't draft a pre-nup, did you?  I mean, I would if I were you, but how’d you talk her into that?  Wait, if it was bedroom stuff then don’t tell me."

Luffa rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed.

*******

[1 July 236 Before Age.  Wist.]

"Get off this planet!  Now!"

Tigon had gotten up so quickly that she had knocked over her chair.  She was pointing at the door to her office, but she would have preferred to pick the man up and hurl him into space.  

General Lekvar remained seated, and chuckled.  "You know, you're beautiful when you're angry, Madam Tigon, but you really ought to smile more."

He was a tall blue man with scaly skin and red eyes.  Every few minutes he would dip his fingers into a small canister of gel and smear it on himself, even though he seemed to be covered in the stuff already.  According to Lekvar, it was considered a potent aphrodisiac on his homeworld.  Tigon found this to be about as legitimate as his rank.  

Sadly, Wist needed men like Lekvar.  The first invasion of Extraliga was supposed to be a quick, clean, and bloodless triumph.  The Shockmaster had produced a wormhole that connected the two worlds, and the Undeletor, a seemingly magical device that could digitize and recreate an entire occupation army.   A single agent could travel through the wormhole and install the Undeletor in a matter of hours.  Then the Undeletor could deploy the army in an instant, bypassing Extraliga's defenses and taking the entire planet by surprise.  But the Super Saiyan Luffa had thwarted the entire plan, and now the wormhole was sealed, and the Undeletor in enemy hands.  The Shockmaster had beaten Luffa, but if he wanted to take back Extraliga, he would have to do it the old-fashioned way, which would not be quick, nor clean, nor bloodless.

The Wistian military could be rebuilt with time, but the Shockmaster was in too great a hurry, and the only way to raise a large enough force was to hire mercenaries.  This put the Wistian economy on the brink of financial ruin, but the Shockmaster didn't seem to care.  It seemed that all of the peace, prosperity, and glory he had promised would only come true once Extraliga was firmly under his control.  Until that moment, no sacrifice was too great for the cause.  

But Lekvar had gone too far.  He wasn't just a soldier for hire, he was a gangster, a pirate, and a slaver.  It would take six weeks for his ships to reach Extraliga, and he wanted Wistian civilians put aboard his ships to 'entertain' his crews during the long voyage.  Tigon had a pretty good idea what this meant, although Lekvar was quite forthcoming about explaining exactly what sort of 'entertainment' he had in mind.  

"I said get out!" she shouted.  

"Or what?  You'll cancel our contract?  Go ahead.  Plenty of other high-paying jobs out there.  Good luck on Extraliga."

"You lousy--!"  

In a flash, Tigon had leaped over her desk and grabbed Levkar by the collar of his uniform.  He grabbed her wrists and tried to break her hold, but she was far too strong.  

"What... now?" he rasped.  "You'll... kill me?  Is that it?"

Tigon hadn't planned that far ahead, but she liked the idea.  She had served in the rebellion against Lord Argon before the Shockmaster took over.  She had dreamed of having this kind of power.  No hit-and-run tactics, or waiting for the right opportunity, or entrusting a higher power to settle the score.  She could just grab wicked men and squeeze the misbegotten life right out of them.  

"Why shouldn't I?" Tigon asked.  She didn't really expect an answer.  She just wanted to see the terror in his eyes as he realized she was serious.  

"Because if I die, the Levkar fleet breaks up into at least five different factions," he said calmly.  "You can negotiate with each of them separately, but good luck getting them all to work alongside one another while each captain is trying to undermine the other four.  And you'll still need to supply their crews with 'entertainment' for the long trip."

She stared into his eyes for a moment and saw no trace of fear.  And why should he be afraid?   He was right.  

"You need me, Madam Tigon," he said triumphantly.  "At least, the Shockmaster does.  Kill me, and you delay his big war plan.  And then what happens to you?  What happens to the people on this planet?  Think about it and ask yourself if it's worth a few thousand civilians."

She released him and dropped her arms to her sides.  If she didn't give him what he wanted, the Shockmaster would simply drive the Wistian people even harder to make up for the loss.  More families broken up by the military draft.  More resources reallocated to the shipyards and away from critical infrastructure.  

And worst of all, if she didn't give him what he wanted, the Shockmaster would simply replace her with another subordinate who would.  That was how she got the job in the first place, after all.  

"I’ll need to clear your request with the Shockmaster," she said in a low voice.  

"Naturally," he said.  "I'm sure he'll see things my way."

"I'm sure he will."

He reached out and patted the side of her face with his hand, which was still coated in gel.  "You really are a beautiful girl, you know that?  I'm looking forward to having some of your kind on my ship."

She clenched her fists, but took no other action.  Lekvar smiled and turned to leave.  When he was gone, she sat at her desk and stared at her hands.  Despite the power she felt within her, she had never felt so helpless in her entire life.

NEXT: Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?  

[artcenterstories]

The Future Looks Bright: Meet propelland founder Hugo Giralt

ArtCenter: What are you working on right now? Hugo Giralt (GradID '12) founding partner/CEO of propelland: As a multidisciplinary team of designers, engineers and strategists, we're working on projects that merge digital and the physical experiences — our “super power” is to bring them to life. Our current roster of projects includes helping to reduce single-use packaging by reimagining hydration solutions and redefining behaviors around recycling, looking at the future of mobility and how it will add value in our lives, and designing a more human experience for people with cancer.

AC: What’s the most unique thing you’ve designed? HG: We have designed very unique solutions during these last seven years. But one that we especially celebrate is a telecare platform that connects a new category of smart devices. I'm lucky to still enjoy time with both my grandmothers who are in their 90s. These 24/7 telecare solutions will add phenomenal value by helping combat loneliness as a key driver in the aging process we go through as humans.

AC: How do you define success? HG: Bring your dreams to life by doing what you love, surround yourself with great people, and create extraordinary things that add value to people’s lives.

AC: Do you have any superstitions? HG: I'm strangely connected to the number 23. In school, I was always the 23rd in the class list year after year; it didn't matter the number of students. Since I was a kid, 23 became a good friend and keeps appearing in plane seats, hotel rooms, apartment numbers… and of course best NBA player of all time, Michael Jordan.

AC: What’s the design cliché you’re most tempted to use? HG: “Less is more," searching for minimalism and simplicity in everything we create, from architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe or highly admired industrial designer Dieter Rams. We live in a time where problems are becoming more systematized and we must find more systematized solutions. "Less is more” truly has a deeper meaning on the environmental impact of the solutions we design. As designers and architects of the future, we need to have a circular economy mindset and understand the importance of sustainability with purpose.

AC: What’s the one tool you can’t do without? HG: My sketchbook with Kuretake Zig Mangaka fine black pen and the smallest set of water colors I have on hand. On several occasions, these have sufficed to win a new project by visualizing in front of the client.

AC: What’s the first site you look at when you open your computer in the morning? HG: Slack. It's a super useful and inspiring aggregator of research, collective intelligence and team communication on project deliverables. With studios in San Francisco, Madrid and México City, the time difference makes it really exciting to see the whole universe of things that have happened while we were sleeping.

AC: Where do you go (online or offline) when you’re taking a break? HG: I like to walk to grab a hot chocolate (I don't drink coffee as I am already very caffeinated) and sketch on my sketchbook or on any napkin within reach.

AC: What do you do to detox from media and screens? HG: When I'm in San Francisco, I go to Fort Funston beach to walk for hours, take photos and save some crabs from sea gulls by throwing them back into the ocean. As I travel quite often across our three studios and for projects, I really like to get lost discovering museum exhibitions, meeting new people and discovering hidden corners in cities. In winter, my passion is skiing, having Lake Tahoe close by is a gift. And in the day to day, I like to read physical books - love their colors, smells, textures. I collect the things I find in my travels to use as bookmarks.

AC: If you could trade jobs with anyone for a day who would it be? HG: I would choose a day with Bill and Melinda Gates. They are such an inspiration of innovation, commitment and perseverance in bringing to life solutions for some of the largest problems humanity faces. There's so much to learn from them; we look forward to having the opportunity to collaborate with their team in the near future on some projects.

AC: What book is on your bedside table? HG: I tend to read several books at the same time on strategy, design, history, biology, technologies... I'm chasing the goal of finishing one or two per month - which would be 12 to 24 a year, or 120 to 240 in 10 years. Can you imagine how much the brain can evolve? One that I would definitely recommend is Magellan by Stefan Zweig, such an epic adventure! 

AC: Who are the most interesting designers working today? HG: Some of my favorites are Naoto Fukasawa, Neri Oxman, Oki Sato, Marc Newson, and the gone-too-soon Zaha Hadid. There are so many incredible teams of multidisciplinary designers, collectives and academic institutions creating the extraordinary that it's hard to focus on just a few individuals.

AC: Describe a moment in your childhood when you first identified as a designer. HG: When I was 4 years old, my teacher gave the class some paper and asked us to draw things round like a circle. Everyone started to draw a wheel, eye glasses, human eye, a clock, the sun, a planet. After 15 minutes, students started to look to each other to get more ideas or at the ceiling thinking what else they could draw. I kept drawing the whole day: spaceships, space battles where laser beams where continuous circles, robots, vehicles, space suits, space stations, engines... The school’s director ended up calling my mother to pick me up; I guess that was the first.

AC: If you could have a superpower, what would it be? HG: As I feel so curious about how we can use our history to help create our future, I would choose time travel for sure. Can you imagine? Endless possibilities to learn and make things better at so many levels.

AC: What’s your most irrational or rational fear? HG: Some nights I dream I've forgotten to finish a deliverable for a class at ArtCenter and then suddenly I wake up. Do you know the feeling? Does it happen to you?

AC: What’s your most prized possession? HG: The great memories with so many great people throughout the journey.

AC: Where is your happy place? HG: The countryside. We have a small house in El Olivar, a tiny, old town an hour from Madrid. All houses are made of stone with moss growing wild on their roofs; there's the smell of wood-burning fireplaces and plants after the rain; the sound of the wind playing with the leaves and hundreds of sheep in the far inland gradients of greens and other earthy colors. Timeless place.

AC: How would your closest friend describe you? HG: This is the toughest question to answer by myself… Probably my closest friend (I've just asked her) would describe me as loyal, curious, creative, passionate, motivated, energetic, shy but social, persuasive, analytical, stubborn, tenacious, a perfectionist and risk-taker.

AC: What’s your best piece of advice for an ArtCenter student who’s interested in following your career path? HG: Personally, I believe that the future is for “expert generalists," which means that the more hybrid we are, the larger impact we will generate. For instance, I studied business first and expanded with industrial design after having worked in corporations over 15 years. We're in the era of learning to learn; we must see ourselves as a toolbox we will constantly fill. There are many disciplines and professions that will be created and we'll need to adapt, fast.

I'll share something super useful I learned from my boss, mentor and great friend after years together in the corporate world. One day, he asked us to bring a “next 15 years resume” as a way to help us envision and guide our future. I remember looking at that blank page, feeling so lost. What to write? This will help. Think of yourself in 15 years; think of your passions. I would structure your resume in sections of people, projects, companies, skills.

First, start with “the people," what type of people do you want to create projects with? What are their backgrounds? You might know them personally or not. Choose people from whom you can learn a ton.

Second, continue adding the types of projects you'd like to work on with these extraordinary people and the impact you'd like your work to have.

Third, what are the companies you'd like to to work for? Also, what are the companies you'd like to build as an entrepreneur?

Last, but not least, add the skills you'd like to learn.

Now, you have a vision of you 15 years in the future. Congrats! Feels good, right? People, projects, companies and skills. Now, the question is what to do next to achieve all that.

Back-engineer the path from the future to the present by breaking it up in five parts of three years each. You now have your hands on the future. You can review this exercise every 6 months to a year to refine and add what you are discovering along your journey.

I hope you find this tool useful ��� it was for me. Any questions, email me. And if you pass by San Francisco, come say hi, propelland is your home.

[zipgrowth]

The Professor Who Quit His Tenured Job to Make Podcasts and Lecture Videos

What’s life like after quitting a tenured job as a professor to become a freelance educator, making video courses and podcasts for a living?

That’s one question we had for Kevin deLaplante, who did just that when he left Iowa State University in 2015 to focus on running his Argument Ninja Podcast and teaching courses on his online Critical Thinker Academy, both aimed at bringing concepts from his scholarship to a popular audience.

One area he’s exploring these days is the rise of tribalism in U.S. politics and culture, and how that’s leading to polarization that is making it hard for us to talk to each other. He’s arguing for a new kind of “tribal literacy,” so we can better understand how humans are hard-wired to be drawn to certain tribal behaviors that, in too large a dose, can lead to trouble for societies. He says that, perhaps surprisingly, he has more time now and can explore the topic more broadly than when he was a traditional scholar.

Listen to the EdSurge On Air podcast? We want to hear from you! Fill out this five-minute survey, and you can enter to win a $100 Amazon gift card.

He made the move to his new phase of scholarly life during a rush of enthusiasm for so-called MOOCs, Massive Open Online Courses, that big-name colleges were starting to offer low-cost higher education to a wider audience. It looked like there was going to be a big realignment. But the big shiny revolution didn’t exactly happen.

So we also asked deLaplante what he thinks about the broader landscape of online education that he’s part of.

Listen to the discussion on this week’s EdSurge On Air podcast. You can follow the podcast on the Apple Podcast app, Spotify, Stitcher, Google Play Music or wherever you listen.

EdSurge: What got you started making online courses on your own?

deLaplante: I started creating videos as an extension of my classroom teaching—some version of the flipped classroom where you're doing lectures all the time, you're doing the same intros to this figure, or whatnot. You imagine: wouldn't it be nice if I could have a version of that lecture recorded, and it's a format that you like and then you could upload it on a web server so the students could look at it. Then you could switch up the kind of activities that you're doing in your classroom time.

That means that the students then get to access that content asynchronously on their time. That was something that Khan Academy understood—the value for students to access content at their convenience in the environments in which they're comfortable, and to be able to see the same lecture over and over again.

I think the broader reason why I was thinking along these lines was because I always had an interest in public education. When I started as an undergraduate student, I was a physics major and I became a philosophy of science student and then I went to graduate school to study philosophy of science. f My heroes at the time were people like Carl Sagan. He was a well-known astronomer, but he was also using television and film and these other multimedia technologies effectively to communicate these big ideas to a broader audience. I really responded to that. I was thinking about cool ways of communicating these interesting philosophical and scientific ideas in a way that was accessible to the public and went beyond just writing books.

In 2015 you actually left your university job. What made you decide to leave and focus on these other activities.

The vision was partly to be mobile. My wife was never a fan of the town that we were living in when I was an academic. We were thinking about ways in which we could be portable and mobile, and that means really having a location-independent business from which we need to replace my salary.

The most positive jumping off moment was when I realized I'd made $30,000 in extra income in 2012 or something like that. That was a combination of speaking gigs that came not out of my academic work, but because of the videos I put on YouTube.

The first year I put my courses [on Udemy, an online course market], I had about 12 hours worth of content. I threw it all up there back in 2013. In the first month, I made $800 bucks.

So you have been doing this full-time for three years now. Is it sustainable? Did you pull it off?

I'm still here working from my basement in Ottawa.

Back in 2015 there was still excitement around Massive Open Online Courses and other online learning, and I’ll admit I was thinking more professors would break off on their own like you did. But other than a few unique stories, it’s not that common. What do you think about where things are now compared to that moment when you left as far as the landscape of this independent educator world?

One thing that happened is that the academic institutions all bought into online courses. Now they saw an audience that had to be served in order to [be competitive] for students.

But there has to be demand from educators and teachers who want to make this shift. It's quite risky. It's an unusual path, and there's every social incentive [to stay on a campus] as you become socialized into academia.

You're socialized not to think about going out on your own. You're socialized to believe that research has to be done a certain way—this is the path. Once you deviate from that, once you start considering these alternatives, it's not something that you share. When I was harboring these interests in alternative forms of education and possible career paths, I never told anyone in my department who I didn't trust.

It was secret?

It was. It was in some ways an open secret. I could say, “Well, I'm working on these video courses as a supplement to my own teaching.” They certainly were supportive of that. You could take workshops on how to use audio and video. The institution was interested in faculty who were pursuing audio/visual projects. I actually took a bunch of those free courses.

As soon as you start talking about [going off on your own], it’s like, “Then you're not serious. You're not a serious academic anymore.”

I remember at the time talking to people secretly, and they'd like, “Yeah. I'd love to do this.” They're kind of privately envious of the idea of having the freedom to do these things. It was all kind of hush-hush. In that sense I think that the broader picture is that there's these incentives to do things to maintain the status quo, even in an environment where the jobs are rare.

I also never thought that my moving to teaching online was some indictment of classroom teaching. I also never imagined it as a replacement for it. I still don't. The difference between developing YouTube videos and stringing them in a sequence to provide a structured learning experience and actual teaching is night and day. It's the same as the difference between buying a textbook on biology and going to a classroom where they teach the content in that textbook.

My video series ... becomes like a multimedia textbook.

But aren’t there downsides of going solo? The fact that you have to get people to somehow sponsor you or your work, is that a negative influence on your research that you were protected from as a faculty member?

The commercial side of this proposition is going to keep some people away from it, for sure. If they recoil at that thought then they're going to have a hard time, because there's just no doubt that you have to think like an entrepreneur some fraction of the time in order to do this successfully.

Business and income cannot be bad words, and academics are very poorly socialized on this. There are a lot of mindset issues with academics who have never had to confront the economic realities of the institutions in which they work. It's an interesting dynamic. I think if you're an independent content creator, you do have to be careful about trying to chase audiences and do what you think audiences want as opposed to what you think is important, or what you're good at. Just like any business.

In your podcast these days you are talking about “tribal literacy” and the growing polarization in the U.S. How worried are you about our level of functionality in our democracy?

I'm very worried.

I'm a philosopher of science by training. Back in the day I was a complex systems philosopher of science. I studied complex social and physical and biological systems. I think social polarization is a complex social phenomenon. It probably has a set of complex origins, like multi-scale, multifactor origins. Part of what I've been doing with my recent videos, and some of the stuff on the podcast, is trying to map out my understanding of the dimensions of this problem.

When I sketch out my next podcast episode, it looks like it's the section of a book.

I'm not teaching in a classroom so I have the time to read stuff and do these projects. One of the misconceptions about this is that when you leave academia to do online teaching, you're basically giving up research. It's certainly not the case for me. In fact, I've probably written more and done more reading since I've been independent than I was doing as a paid academic.

So in a way I’m still trying to figure out the lesson or takeaway from deLaplante’s story. Is he the beginning of a new kind of public independent scholar? Or is this just a unique tale of someone with a rare mix of skills and interests willing to try this?

And if this is going to be some kind of trend, is that a good thing or a bad thing for higher ed and the broader society? Do we want a world where each scholar has to convince an audience of students to come study with them, and will that leader to broader access to education. Or is that a recipe for disaster, and do we need to fiercely protect these campus structures to give the structure to philosophers and other thinkers to thrive and explore whatever they want, no matter how popular their ideas are or not. Or can we have both?

The Professor Who Quit His Tenured Job to Make Podcasts and Lecture Videos published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness

[love-god-forever]

Without Holiness, No One Will See the Lord

By Hemiao

The sky was dull and the clouds were hanging low, the thunder blaring dimly out from a distance. A storm was striking soon. These days, people were all baked like the cracked land due to the dryness and fervor. At the moment, the cool wind accompanied the drizzle took away the dryness of these days, bringing coolness to people. It was the time for the rain to come. Heyu hurried to fetch the washing in, and then she gazed to the sky while waiting for the arrival of Tao Yun and Zhang Ruirui. Recently they were all busy sustaining the church they each led and hadn’t met for days. So Heyu invited them to her house to have a chat and have an understanding of the situations of the brothers and sisters.

Soon, the two sisters both came. After Heyu poured the tea, they began to talk about church matters pleasantly …

After a while, suddenly, Zhang Ruirui sighed, saying, “Last night, when watching TV, I saw there’re lots of floods and earthquakes happening in many places. Now the disasters escalating, the days of the Lord’s coming are indeed upon us. These several years, I’ve been leading the brothers and sisters to watch, pray, and have meetings. However, lots of brothers and sisters are still passive and weak, and even many believers don’t attend meetings. It is too dangerous in the long run. We are very likely to be abandoned by the Lord.”

Heyu nodded, saying, “That’s true! The Lord Jesus admonished us many times to watch and Revelation also says, ‘If therefore you shall not watch, I will come on you as a thief, and you shall not know what hour I will come on you’ (Revelation 3:3). The Lord Jesus said He would come as a thief, and that if we didn’t watch, we shall not know. However, the brothers and sisters are so weak now, always living in sins. Even if the Lord comes, I’m afraid we may not know. Sister Tao, what do you think of the matter that the brothers and sisters are unwilling to attend meetings?”

Tao Yun took a drink of tea, saying with a smile, “The Lord had already said that on the days of His return, the faith and love of many believers will become cold, and that only the ones who can endure to the end will be saved. Now is the most crucial moment. However, many brothers and sisters are busy making money, unwilling to attend meetings, and have little time to read the Bible and pray. We indeed should lead them to watch and prepare to welcome the Lord’s return.”

Nodding to one another, they all felt their burden much heavier. At this time, something seemed to occur to Zhang Ruirui, and she asked right away, “Hey! Sister Tao, Have you contacted with your family recently after you were chased from your home by them? Are they still mad at you?”

Tao Yun paused and said, “Um, having contacted several times. Ah, my father is still bitter about my being arrested because of believing in God. Last time I went home, when my father saw me still going out to preach the gospel, he flew into a rage, reproaching me for only having Jesus in my heart and not caring about the family. And because I still believe in the Lord after having been imprisoned for three years, they chased me out and disowned me! Thank the Lord! The Lord said, ‘No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God’ (Luke 9:62). ‘The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force’ (Matthew 11:12). We will not receive the Lord’s promises if we don’t suffer. Now the prophecies of the Lord’s return have all been fulfilled. The Lord will soon come and rapture us into the heavenly home. The suffering is just temporary. Isn’t it said in the Bible, ‘For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory’ (2 Corinthians 4:17)? At the thought of the blessings in the future, I believe no matter how much I suffer and how many tears I shed for the Lord, they will be worth it!” Then, a hopeful look appeared on her face.

Zhang Ruirui kept on nodding, saying, “Yes, we needn’t suffer anymore when the Lord returns and brings us to the heavenly kingdom.”

Heyu pondered for a while, and then said, “Um, It’s our blessings to suffer for the Lord. However, I’m thinking about this recently: Although we work hard and sacrifice something, we are still in the cycle of sinning and repentance. We still often tell lies and even when others affect our interests, we will have the thoughts of hating them. Moreover, among co-workers, we compare ourselves with each other and envy the others. Confronting something untoward, we will complain against the Lord. We follow our own intentions when working …These expressions prove that actually we have no place for the Lord in our hearts and have no hearts of reverence for Him, and even more haven’t practiced many of His words. How could this be in accordance with the Lord’s will? The Lord is holy. In this kind of condition, is it possible for us to be raptured into the heavenly kingdom? I’m really not certain of this!”

As soon as her voice subsided, Zhang Ruirui frowned, saying, “Sister He, I don’t agree with you. These several years, we’ve been expending for the Lord, and working from dawn till dusk. Even if we do not get any credit, we are rewarded by hard work, and if we get no credit for our hard work, we’re rewarded with fatigue. Besides, the Lord has already absolved all of our sins. Even if we still sin, as long as we repent to the Lord, He won’t remember. We’ve been justified through our faith. As long as we continue forsaking everything else and laboring for the Lord, when the Lord returns, He will certainly raise us into the kingdom of heaven.”

Tao Yun brushed a strand of hair aside and said to Heyu with a puzzled eye, “Yes! The apostle Paul said, ‘I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: From now on there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness’ (2 Thessalonians 4:7-8). Think about it, there are so many believers in the Lord, but how many of them can truly forsake their houses, money, families, and material enjoyment to preach gospel and suffer for the Lord? Those working hard are the people who are to get rewards from the Lord in the kingdom of heaven. Sister He, we should have faith. As long as we forsake everything, preach the gospel more and work hard for the Lord, we are certain to enter into the kingdom of heaven in the end.”

Heyu looked at Tao Yun, and said slowly, “But, the Lord also said, ‘Be you holy; for I am holy’ (1 Peter 1:16). The Lord requires us to be a holy person, for only such man can meet Him. Although we work hard and perform some good deeds, we still haven’t practiced many of the Lord’s words. The Lord Jesus requires us to love Him, love others as we love ourselves, love our enemies, be the light of the world and the salt of the earth, and follow the Lord’s way in everything. However, we fail to achieve most of them, instead we often sin. In what sense are we the holy people? Even so, we still aspire to be raptured into the kingdom of heaven. Isn’t that somewhat unrealistic?”

With a thoughtful look, Zhang Ruirui didn’t contradict Heyu anymore.

Tao Yun took her cup and tossed off the tea. Then she puckered up her lips and said, “Although we’re not perfect, yet the Lord is perfect. The Lord has forgiven all our sins, and we’ve been those who receive salvation by grace. The Lord will certainly raise us up into the kingdom of heaven. This is called relying on grace for absolution and relying on grace to enter the heavenly kingdom.”

Heyu said seriously, “We are all church co-workers, and ones who serve the Lord. We should speak to the facts. To judge whether we are qualified to enter into the heavenly kingdom, it should be based on the requirements of the Lord Jesus. We can’t only make good dreams of relying on grace for absolution and relying on grace to enter the heavenly kingdom. Think about these many years when we have believed in the Lord. Although we have done much work and suffered a lot through the wind and rain, we never focus on putting the Lord’s words into practice. We haven’t become holy up to now, and always sin and resist the Lord, not shaking off the fetters of sin. The brothers and sisters indulge in the secular world, covet the enjoyment of the flesh and pursue life’s pleasures. And they attend meetings as they please. These are hugely connected to it that we speak of letters and doctrines when working, not leading them to come before the Lord to worship God. Now the situation of the church is becoming like this. We should reflect on whether the path we walk is approved by the Lord. I still think when believing in the Lord, we should pursue to be holy. This is the Lord’s requirements of us. It’s not accurate to judge whether we could enter into the heavenly kingdom merely based on the outward hard work for the Lord. Back then, the Pharisees also worked hard, spent and sacrificed, and they even worked harder than us. But why, when the Lord came, did they still nail Him on the cross and commit a monstrous sin? Can it be that they were able to enter into the heavenly kingdom? Therefore, the outward hard work can’t decide our fates. The Lord Jesus said,‘Not every one that said to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that does the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in your name? and in your name have cast out devils? and in your name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess to them, I never knew you: depart from me, you that work iniquity’ (Matthew 7:21-23). We should believe in the Lord according to His words. Only those who follow God’s will and become holy can enter into the kingdom of heaven. This is the only condition set by the Lord for entering the kingdom of heaven. It is true that no man will meet God without being sanctified. Certainly we should self-reflect on our present conditions …” After the words of Heyu, Zhang Ruirui nodded with a serious expression. Tao Yun was deep in thought as well.

[gjgriff736]

Since I’ve been MIA for the past couple of weeks, this is going to be a condensed two-parter for “Dead or Alive or” and “The Key” episodes.  Let’s go!

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In “Dead or Alive or,” Daryl, Rosita and the survivors of Alexandria are on the move to the Hilltop.  The Saviors are hot on their tails, but they’ve got an ace up their sleeve:  former Savior Dwight.  However, Tara has a problem with this.  No, wait, what she really has a problem with is Dwight still walking, talking and, you know, being alive.  Tara made that perfectly clear when she practically threw a walker on Dwight, who was barely able to get it off and kill it.  She’s (understandably) still pissed about Dr. Denise, but now is not the time.  If the Alexandrians are going to make it to the Hilltop, she’s going to have to put her desire for vengeance aside for a little bit longer.  Unfortunately, she couldn’t do it and went after Dwight anyway.  Tara pulled a gun on him while they were out clearing walkers.  When Dwight told her that he hated Negan and the Saviors and wanted Alexandria to win, Tara had the gall to lecture him about switching sides.  Ummm, Tara, if I recall, your ass used to work for the Governor and YOU switched sides when you saw what a complete psycho he was.  So yeah, glass houses.

Anywho, Tara shoots at Dwight and he hauls ass.  He runs out into a clearing but Tara catches up to him and is ready to blow his brains out.  Just then, they hear voices and run for cover, Tara still pointing her gun at Dwight’s head.  A group of Saviors are searching for the remaining Alexandrians and are about to head to the swamp.  Before they can, Dwight jumps out of the bushes and draws the Saviors away from the Alexandrians, leaving Tara pretty shooketh because not only did he save her and her group, but he sacrificed himself and went back to the Sanctuary.

While all of Tara’s shenanigans were going on, Daryl and Rosita were clearing a path for the group across the swamp.  That was a pretty dangerous thing, too, because the water was crawling with walkers.  Many of them were under water and didn’t show themselves until someone was close enough for them to bite.  It was tough going, but they made it through.  Just in time for them to find out about Tara and Dwight.  To say Daryl was pissed is an understatement.  He hasn’t said that much since Season 1!  He pretty much flipped out until he saw how scared poor Judith was watching him act like a psychopath.  So, he calmed his ass down and they made their way to the Hilltop.

Meanwhile, Dr. Carson and Father Gabriel are lost and have no idea where they’re going.  They’re out of gas and on top of all that, Father Gabriel is sick and his eyes are failing.  But he still has faith that the Lord will lead the way.  Dr. Carson, not so much.  He thinks God is on a permanent holiday but Father Gabriel is ever faithful.  Things start happening that make Dr. Carson possibly see the light:  they find a house in the middle of nowhere; said house has antibiotics to help Father Gabriel get well; there’s also a map and car keys that they found when Father Gabriel knocked over a piggy bank.  Even when Dr. Carson’s leg is caught in a bear trap and he’s trapped under a walker, when Father Gabriel miraculously shoots the walker, the good doctor starts to believe.  Once they get in the car they find, they hear guns being cocked and, of course, it’s the Saviors.  But Father Gabriel still has faith and so does Dr. Carson.  So much so that he tries to steal a Savior’s gun and is shot dead in the process.  The abundance of faith Father Gabriel had is completely drained from his body once he realized what happened.  Dr. Carson’s body is then dumped from the pickup truck and Father Gabriel is taken back to the Sanctuary where he’s given the job of bullet sorter under Eugene’s punk ass.

Speaking of Eugene, it absolutely galls me that he is still alive.  Maybe I’m being too hard on him because Lord knows what I would do in his situation.  But I hope that if I were in that situation, I would stand up and fight, even if it meant not making it to the end.  To see him walking around breathing makes me nauseous and more than a bit pissed off.

At the Hilltop, Maggie is doing her best to keep things running smoothly.  But they’re running out of food and supplies and she’s still got 28 captive Saviors to watch over.  I’m hoping that she doesn’t let that cute Savior change her mind about anything, because hot or not, that guy is still a Savior.  And they are not to be trusted.

And at the Sanctuary, Negan has found a new way to combat Rick and the others.  He wants to coat the Saviors’ weapons in walker blood, because we all know that it only takes a bite or a scratch with that tainted blood and it’s the end of the road.  Negan is tired of playing this game.  Rick either joins him or ends up as a walker.  Plain and simple.  Which takes us to the next episode.

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In “The Key,” it was basically the Rick and Negan show.  The Saviors made their way to the Hilltop so they could try to scare everyone there into submission.  But on the way, things go haywire.  See, Rick and Michonne made it back to the Hilltop before then, and Rick decided to go on lookout duty.  He sees the Saviors and is about to warn Maggie and the rest when he instead decides to deal with Negan on his own.

As the Saviors get closer to the Hilltop, Simon sees a car coming through one of the alleys but says nothing.  He knows the car is gunning for Negan and lets it happen.  Rick smashes his car into Negan’s and a Walking Dead car chase ensues.  Rick turns into the savage we all know and love, with murder in those baby blues.  Eventually, the two crash and Rick starts shooting up Negan’s car.  For the first time, Negan looks scared which made me extremely happy.  He runs into a building as Rick keeps shooting at him and drawing walkers to the noise.  When Rick runs into the building, he just barely missed getting his head knocked off by Lucille, and the two men duke it out.  Rick pulls out his handgun and shoots again, until he runs out of bullets.  When he does, Negan gets cocky and eggs him on, but Savage Rick throws his ax at Negan’s head.  He ducks, losing his balance and Lucille at the same time.  Negan falls through the banister and is holding on to the ledge for dear life when Rick takes his ax and aims straight for him.  Negan falls through a hole in the floor below him, but we all know he ain’t dead.

While all of this is going on, Simon and Dwight take over and tell the rest of the Saviors that they’re going to look for Negan.  Simon’s been looking for this opportunity for the longest time so it wasn’t surprising when he basically said screw Negan.  He and Dwight agree to leave him and head back to the group.  When they arrive, the Saviors are a little rattled when Simon tells them Negan is gone.  But he gives them a pep talk and then changes the plan Negan had for the Hilltop:  instead of scaring them, Simon wants everyone at the Hilltop killed.  Everyone last one of them.  Dwight didn’t sign up for that and he looks a bit shook at this newest change of plan.

As we knew, Negan is still alive and trying to find Lucille.  But Rick gets his hands on her first.  He sees a door barricaded by planks with the word “Eaters” painted on one of them.  You can hear the walkers trying to claw their way through there are so many.  Negan tries to see if he and Rick can come to some sort of agreement, but it’s no dice, especially after what happened to Jadis’ community.  Oh that’s right!  Negan didn’t know about that.  Rick casually mentions that Negan’s men killed everyone in Jadis’ community except for her, so excuse him if he didn’t think Negan’s offer was legit.  Rick then lights Lucille on fire and starts to break the door barricading the walkers down.  Negan charges at Rick and both of them fall through the door.  When they recover, Rick starts swinging at Negan with a lit Lucille while the walkers go after both of them.  Long story short, Negan gets Lucille back and escapes.  Again.

During all of this chaos, a strange woman who looked like your friendly neighborhood city council rep met up with Maggie, Michonne, Rosita and Enid.  The woman, named Georgie, had sent them a message earlier so they could barter:  four crates of food and music for the key to their future.  Umm, ok.  Well, Maggie wasn’t okay with that and decided to take Georgie and her companions back to the Hilltop.  Michonne tries to talk Maggie into making the deal, but Enid is on fire and still distraught about Carl.  She thinks they should just take Georgie’s crates of food and that’s it.  Poor Enid is so upset that she gets in Michonne’s face, but she ain’t that upset.  When General Okoye Michonne tells her to step back, Enid remembers she likes living and walks out.

Maggie listens to her friend and makes the deal.  And for that, Georgie changes her mind and asks for one crate of food and music in exchange for her knowledge.  Turns out, she has a book of real knowledge, a book that shows how to create windmills, aquaducts and the like in order to build a sustainable community.  Yup, Georgie was the real deal.  Now if I were Maggie, I would have opened that book and read through it first before letting Georgie leave, but it must have been a breath of fresh air to deal with someone who actually kept their word.

Remember when Negan escaped from Rick?  Again?  Well, he didn’t get very far.  In fact, he didn’t escape at all.  We see him unconscious in the passenger seat of a car that is driven by none other than Jadis herself.  The last time we saw her, she was turning her dead people into mush after Simon went against Negan’s orders and killed everyone but Jadis.  She’s got some serious vengeance to seek and she’s starting with Negan.

Will Negan survive this latest blow?  Will Rick’s desire to kill Negan continue to cloud his judgment?  Will Simon become the new Negan?  And will Eugene ever get what’s coming to him?

  Stay tuned.

The Walking Dead airs Sundays at 9 pm on AMC.  Photos courtesy of AMC.

The Walking Dead, Season 8 – Double Feature Since I’ve been MIA for the past couple of weeks, this is going to be a condensed two-parter for “Dead or Alive or” and “The Key” episodes. 

[lozandherparty]

What is it like to be an artist in the Australian Music Industry?

What a huge question. Curious – I thought the best way to gain insight into such a vast question would be to ask an Australian artist themselves, to grant me some knowledge of the inner workings of the ‘industry’. In particular, focusing upon the recording industry.

Feki is a young Australian artist who produces electronic music which brings forth emotion not usually heard through electronic genre, (Auxoro, 2017). Although, Feki didn’t believe that a career could be made from electronic music [especially with his purpose in mind]. However, Australian producers such as Ta-ku and Flume helped carve his path as an artist. Feki’s motto is Make What You Feel, which is reflected in the music he releases.

Relating to his motto, I further read into his opinions as an artist – not conforming to the constraints of genre, and control within the industry.  His answers intrigued me. And so did his music.

I formulated ten questions which targeted certain aspects of the Australian Music Recording Industry.

My questions and his answers are shown below.

....

Now having worked and recorded now what are your current perceptions of the Australian music industry?

The Australian music scene is very unique in my opinion. When you’re in the scene you’ll soon realize that it’s not as big as it seems and everybody knows everybody, regardless of the genre of music you create. We’re small enough to get to know everyone, but big enough to have a major presence overseas. I also believe that we have a whole heap of talent

Are you currently signed to a record contract?

Yes. I am currently signed to Inertia Records. A boutique record label based in Sydney.

www.inertiamusic.com

Is everything as it seems? I.e. how much control does an artist really have? How much control do record labels have concerning releases, social media posts etc?

Not really. There is a lot more going on behind the scenes than the artist will ever let the public know. But it really just depends on the type of artist and their personality. Some are very outspoken and will call out their own labels/managers if things aren’t going the way they want. Whereas some will choose to take a more subtle approach in dealing with the business side of things.

Labels have as much control as you want them to have. And that comes down to what type of deal you signed and how much creative control you let them have. There are some deals that give the label almost full control of an artist but thats becoming less and less every year. My deal for instance, ensures that I have final say over everything to do with “Feki”. That doesn’t mean my label and managers won’t make suggestions and push for what they feel is right to do, but ultimately it comes down to my decision and how I want to do things.

How hard is it to make a music career work financially?

It’s very very hard. You have to be willing to work multiple jobs and be comfortable with little to no sleep on the regular in order to pursue this music thing. If you’re chasing money in music, you’re in the wrong industry. But like most things, if you put in good hard work, the money will come.

Is the Australian music industry racist, sexist or homophobic?

I have not personally experienced any of those to be true myself, but I am not saying those issues don’t exist at all.

Are Australian festivals doing enough to tackle their diversity problem?

I think they are, but like all things there is always room for improvement.

How essential is it for triple j to get behind your music? Do you think it makes or breaks an artist?

It’s not essential for Triple J to get behind your music, but it’s always welcomed. But no, it definitely does not make or break an artist. It might take things a bit longer to get recognition in Australia but there are so many other ways of building your fanbase and getting your music heard thanks to the internet.

If you could, what’s the one thing you would change about the Australian music industry? (if anything were possible)

Less about marketing, more about the music.

Is breaking overseas a goal for you? Why/why isn’t it?

100% it is. You’ve got to dream big and set bigger goals when you do music and if you don’t, you might as well go and work a 9-5 desk job for the rest of your life lol. But nah, it would definitely be a dream to be able to tour and play my music all over the world.

A lot of musicians are naïve to the workings of the industry when starting out. If there were a piece of advice you could give to yourself when you first started dealing with the industry, what would it be?

I see a lot of young artists sign with the first manager or record label that comes calling. Don’t get caught up in the emotion of it all and take your time with those decisions. Don’t do anything rash and don’t sign anything without at least talking to other musicians and do your own research on whoever it is that is chasing you.

Also, know who you are and what you’re worth and don’t settle for anything less. The right people will come at the right time. When I started out I made sure I did all of that before I signed anything and it has made my life so much easier all these years later.

…..

The music industry today, as expected, is different to what it was in the past. Through the years, things have developed and the industry underwent a massive evolution to acclimate with the changes technology triggered. The music industry adapted as new forms of technological tools industrialised,  including; media platforms, communication methods and marketing approaches. As a result, artists found they could have more control – it was a chance to become more independent and in control of their art.

I am currently an emerging artist who is entering the Australian music industry. I presently reside in Brisbane, studying a Bachelor of Music at QUT – Queensland University of Technology. The course I am undertaking embraces the new found independence the industry offers. The course teaches students to become self sustaining artists. I have the luxury of having access to people and equipment. I am able to write, produce and collaborate, explore genres etc, in a safe environment.

As an emerging artist, these responses didn’t shock me. I already had some knowledge of the music industry, and artists have become somewhat vocal upon political issues including diversity and equality being recognised in the industry. Furthermore, my own research has made me aware of some aspects of the industry. In saying this, these responses gave further insight into my own knowledge and gave concrete answers to some ‘myths’ of the industry. One in particular being about Triple J.  

Feki stated;

It’s not essential for Triple J to get behind your music, but it’s always welcomed. But no, it definitely does not make or break an artist. It might take things a bit longer to get recognition in Australia but there are so many other ways of building your fan base and getting your music heard thanks to the internet.

This response really intrigued me. Triple J being Australia’s only nationwide radio station – it seems like a platform which has a lot of influence. However, after further research, other Australian artists shared like minded views. DJ Nina Las Vegas stated;  

It’s such a myth that triple j makes or breaks you. Australia is the only place in the world where a radio station has that much talk about it, (2017).

Additionally, Feki’s statement; Less about marketing, more about the music - is a prime example of the way the advancement of technological tools has had a larger impact upon the industry.

As an artist hoping to gain some credibility within the music industry, this interview furthered my insight into what to prepare for.

Find more information on Feki and his process @ https://www.auxoro.com/artists/fekielectronicmusicaustralia

https://www.facebook.com/Fekibeats/