#help a useless old fuck negotiate the present

[shabbytigers]

update: it appears that most or all of the files on the passport drive are corrupt

💀😱😭

the music either doesn’t play at all or is fucked up and skips a lot. i tried moving some files onto the actual laptop hard drive but it didn’t make any difference

solutions … i could use a little advice

1. next time i’m in new york i’ll get my ex to re-attempt transferring the 375 GB music library into my possession by some other method. idk if this hard drive, which is pretty old but has been functioning fine, is the problem, or if the files just wrote badly first time round. i suspect the latter, and at this scale idk how to avoid it happening again. we shall pursue, though. i’m not gonna be able to just find all of this stuff again. rares, no longer available classical, bootlegs (is that still a word) and so on. we may have a stash of actual cds somewhere but i haven’t had a cd drive in some fucking time lmao. will come up with something, not worried, ex will be able to figure it out

2. but meanwhile i need some fucking music! i’ve drifted along with the occasional youtube listen on the phone, but now that i’m within groping distance of access to decent music at home, it’s suddenly a highly pressing need, and i take it seriously, bc the degree to which i value and listen to music historically has been a good mental health kpi

2A. i can put a certain amount of music physically on my phone, by downloading it to my phone. my phone can talk to these speakers fine. i only have two songs in the apple music app right now but they work. mostly that costs money, though, right? am i going to have to buy everything i want to listen to again. jffc. are there good places to get music for free in 2025 lol. i love artists and wish to support them but i have precarious to no income and i just can’t drop full price for more than like a half dozen albums rn

2B. i can stream stuff on demand through my phone into the speakers. this has always seemed to me like prima facie a terrible idea. surely if your wifi is hinky so will the fucking music be? it’s not unusual for my wifi to very briefly cut out and then come back. that’s happened often with every wifi system i’ve ever had including this one. does that not fuck up the music? other people seem to make streaming work, however, so

i gather spotify does this? i’ve used it before, not much and mostly on the computer but i had a subscription at some point, i can reactivate it or make a new one. is that the right solution to pursue for now

or should i look at a different streaming solution

or 2C. a secret third thing

sorry to ask dumb questions but i haven’t had occasion to personally wrangle together a sound system since the precambrian era, like probably the nineties, and the last time i got heavily into internet music acquisition was circa limewire (i assume all that dubious torrenting shit went away ages ago but you could find incredible stuff on there)

got a speakers/subwoofer set from my roommate who is one of those hi-fi enthusiasts with wild standards and equipment. he sold his best amp recently for a shitload of money. this stuff is just spare tertiary-tier crap he had sitting around and it’s fucking fantastic by my lights

the thing is controllable by bluetooth from pc or phone, which is fine

my question is when did local music files stop being a thing? maybe (definitely) i’m old, but i have 375 GB of music files i’m not gonna just throw away for the sake of a nice simple spotify or whatever cloud-mediated experience

it took like two hours of googlefumbling (including a phase of seriously considering resurrecting an old QNAP NAS system of R’s) for it to dawn upon me that i don’t have to move the music onto my phone or some fancy new device in lieu of phone, i can play it from the fucking laptop. that’s good, because, for some reason, “put mp3 file on iphone” is a completely infeasible motherfucking ask in 2024!

(it is a minor inconvenience moving the laptop around all the time, but that’s why it’s a laptop and not a desktop)

next problem is mp3 player apps for the laptop, which mostly don’t seem to be able to recognize and work with a library of local files consisting of simple fucking nested folders on a computer (you know — music / artist / album or named misc collection / song.mp3 files) such that i can be like “play this whole album from start to finish.” which is only the number one ask i’m likely to have of the system??? i don’t Want to have to play songs individually, manually, every song. for some music this is horribly disruptive! but windows media player appears to demand i do that!

i’m trying another app now that seems reasonably promising qua interface but it’s still cataloguing the music library, which seems like a huge undertaking roughly equivalent to downloading all the material. i played like three songs very early in the process (patience is not my forte) to see how they’d sound on the awesome speakers and two of them were noticeably garbled; hoping the process is such that those files were incomplete at the time and that it’ll all work properly once the thing gets done onboarding itself 💀

i would have thought that by 2024 personal tech would be easier to wrangle tbqfh but it all seems to have gotten substantially worse instead of better since the iPod era

[opaldraws]

Dandelion

Billy never thought that he would become a dad. Besides believing that it wouldn’t be possible for a person like him, he also was scared shitless. He’d seen first hand what happens when the wrong kind of person became a parent, he knew how screwed up things could get. He had this huge fear that he would ruin a kid’s life. And even though Steve had assured him countless times that Billy would be a fantastic dad if they were to have a kid, he also accepted that Billy wasn’t ready for fatherhood and he may never be. So Steve never pushed the idea.

Then Max had a baby.

Out of the pair, no one expected Billy would be the one hit with baby fever.

Max was only able to get three weeks of leave from her work, so Billy volunteered to help out with little Julien. Julien was precious: He slept for long hours and rarely cried, he loved playing peek-a-boo and was easily entertained by crinkly paper, and when he got especially fussy, all Billy had to do was put him in his swing and Julien would knock right out.

Billy would come home from Max and Lucas’ and gush to Steve about whatever him and Julien got up to that day. It was usually the same sort of stuff, babies don’t really do that much, but Steve would listen fondly to Billy’s report while they cooked dinner together. Eventually Max found a sitter and changed her work hours, so Billy didn’t spend as much time with the runt.

A few years passed and Billy mentioned having kids of their own. Steve and him were in bed, the light on the nightstand casting enough light for Billy to read but not too much that Steve couldn’t doze off.

“Steve.” Billy ruffled Steve’s hair gently, letting his hand wander down to rub his back. Steve blinked over at him sleepily, his eyes a little unfocused without his glasses.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, frowning.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just… I’ve been thinking lately, maybe we could look into adoption?” Billy wrung his hands together nervously. When Steve didn’t answer immediately, Billy interjected, “Only if you want to, of course! Fuck, nevermind. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

Billy picked his book up, not able to look back at his partner. Steve hadn’t seen him this nervous since Billy had asked him to marry him. This conversation caught Steve off guard- and not only because he was half asleep. They’d talked about kids before when they were freshly married (technically unofficially, but whatever), Billy said he didn’t think he’d ever want to go down that path. And now, Billy was bringing it up.

“Babe, it’s not stupid.” Steve said seriously. “I want to do that with you.”

...

Adoption for two gay men in 2000 wasn’t easy. They were basically at the bottom of the ‘list’ of candidates and they’d been through multiple near adoptions that eventually fell through in just the past two years. Steve was beginning to lose hope, but Billy stayed determined. He called the adoption agency every week and he stopped by in person once a month. Steve told him he was probably bothering the agency, he said that they had their application and when the right kid came along, everything would work out. Billy’s perspective wasn’t quite as rose-colored as Steve’s: He realized that the agency didn’t want a same-sex couple adopting a baby. They may not outright say it, but he could tell. Billy wanted to show them that they were just as serious as any other couple.

In November of 2001, they got the call from the agency. The weekend before they brought their daughter home, Billy and Steve prepared the second bedroom for their new addition. Steve excitedly put up a fresh coat of paint while Billy struggled through assembling furniture for the bedroom. When they finished, they stood side by side in the doorway, misty eyed and excited for their daughter’s homecoming.

“We’re going to be parents.” Steve sighed, he let his head fall to Billy’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m so scared.” Billy admitted. He took a deep breath and tried to ease the panic creeping in. Steve gently wrapped his arms around him, pulling Billy in to hold him. Billy sagged into the hug.

“I am too, but I know it’s gonna be okay.” Steve said.

“How could you know that though?” Billy asked fearfully. So many things could go wrong, what if this was a mistake? Steve tightened his arms around Billy and leaned them against the doorframe.

“Because I know you. I’ve seen you grow into the man you are today and I know you’re going to be an amazing dad.”

...

Billy knew that for every developmental milestone that Abby passed, he should be excited. Don’t get him wrong, he was beyond happy to see his daughter growing and becoming a little person… but he also got sad? Abby was growing up so fast, one day she was crawling around on the carpet and the next she was racing around the apartment wreaking havoc. It felt like only a few days ago she drooled and needed to be spoon fed, now she was talking in barely formed sentences. Sometimes Billy would just curl up next to Steve in bed at night and have to cry about how big Abby was getting. Steve would rub his back, comforting his partner as best as he could. These breakdowns started happening more frequently as Abby’s 2nd birthday got nearer and nearer. Billy was aware that he was being dramatic, but his little girl was growing up way too fast. He felt like he was going to blink and then she’d be gone, old enough not to need her dads anymore.

“Billy, stop worrying about the future, Abby’s barely two! You have got to just live for today.” Max scolded him during one of Abby’s and Julien’s playdates after he had opened up to her. It was a sunny June day and Julien was happily keeping Abby occupied on a blanket in Lucas and Max’s yard. Lucas had been called out of town for a work emergency and Steve had gotten stuck covering a late shift. The step-siblings watched the kids from the porch, periodically bringing out new toys and snacks.

“Yeah, that’s what Steve keeps telling me. That’s what everyone keeps telling me, shitbird.” Billy huffed, rolling his eyes. “I can’t help it!”

“Listen to me, I felt the same way. Every time I had to go into work, every time I left Julien with you or Lucas, or the babysitter, I was so afraid that I was missing out on his childhood. Even when I was with him, all I could think about was how I could never get this moment back. But it’s useless to think that way! I realized that I couldn’t stop time from passing so I needed to enjoy it while it lasted!” Max insisted. She grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Billy squeezed back. Even though Max was younger than him, he appreciated the wisdom she occasionally provided. He was happy that their days of fighting and heated arguing were left behind at the house on Cherry Lane.

Billy looked out at the yard, he watched the way Abby would giggle when Julien ran circles around her with his toy airplane. She made grabby hands at him and squealed, “My turn!” Julien passed the toy plane to her and she zoomed it around. Max gave his shoulder a hard pat and announced that she was going to get food ready. Billy walked over to the rainbow blanket and sat down beside the duo.

“Daddy attack!” Abby jumped up, discarding the airplane to wrap her arms around his shoulders and climb onto his back. He held onto her chubby little legs and she laughed into his ear. He tried not to dwell on the future, let himself enjoy the moment. “Down.” Abby instructed him and he helped her back to the ground. She plucked a nearby dandelion from the ground and held it to Billy triumphantly. “Present for you.”

“Thank you baby, I love it.” He smiled at her, taking the dandelion. She beamed at him, clearly happy that her gift was well received. He tucked the yellow flower into the breast pocket of his shirt. Julien came bounding up to them excitedly, hiding something behind his back.

“I have a present for you too, Uncle Billy!” Julien grinned and offered him a wiggling pink worm clasped between his fingers. Billy chuckled and took the worm and Julien bounded off - probably to find more worms.

Abby went back to playing with the airplane and some of Julien’s matchbox cars. She pretended that Billy’s arm was the road and rolled the cars over it, back and forth. Every so often, she would show Billy a new car, telling him which color it was or if she liked it or not. Steve had been working on colors with her a lot recently, and Abby had gotten into the habit of pointing out the colors of things frequently. It was really adorable and she always looked proud when she got the color right. And when Billy would catch those intrusive thoughts about the future, he gave it his all not to dwell on them and instead focus on Abby rolling her car over his arm. Max rejoined them with a big plate of fruit and sandwiches to share for an early dinner, calling Julien over to eat.

Before Billy knew it, a few hours had passed and the sun was beginning to set. He helped Max bring all the toys back in the house and the kids savored the last few minutes of light while they cleaned up. Billy caught a glimpse of the clock on his trip inside; It was nearing 7pm and Steve would be arriving soon to pick them up. Billy and Max tried to coax the kids inside with the promise of a movie, but Julien had other ideas.

“Five more minutes? Please? Momma, I wanna see the fireflies!” Julien tugged at Max’s pant legs, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. “I promise I’ll be good for bedtime!” For a five year old, Julien was quite the negotiator. Of course Max caved which meant that Abby also got to chase the growing number of fireflies blinking around the yard. Billy couldn’t help but grin watching the cousins running around- and periodically jumping up- to try and catch the glowing bugs. After struggling to jump high enough to reach any of the fireflies, Abby pouted at Billy.

“Hold me?” She asked and how could Billy say no? He lifted her up in the air and she swung her little hands around, attempting to catch at least one bug. Billy could tell that she was getting frustrated when each time she came back fruitless. Abby got distracted by Julien showing Max all of the bugs he had captured, a faint green-ish yellow glow coming from his closed fists. “Daddy! Want one.” Abby’s chin wobbled - one of her tell tale signs that a meltdown was coming.

“Okay honey, I’ll get you one.” He smiled and moved her so that she was propped on his hip. They walked slowly around the yard together and Billy caught one for her. He helped her get it in her hand and her eyes widened. “Now you’ve got to be real careful, you don’t want to squish it right?” Abby shook her head no, wanting to keep her new friend forever. Billy watched the way she would peek into her fist to catch a glimpse of the small bug, finding it sweet how gentle she treated it. She kissed the top of her hand and said “I love you” to the tiny insect hidden within. Billy was so transfixed with her that he didn’t notice Steve’s arrival; It startled him when a hand met the small of his back. Abby lit up even more once she saw Steve.

“Papa look! Bug!” She opened up her hand to show Steve the bug, but the firefly took the opportunity to make its escape and flew off into the night sky before Abby could close her hand. She gasped and tried to reach for it in a futile attempt. Here comes the meltdown... or so Billy thought.

“Oh Abby, it was such a beautiful firefly! Looked like it was a really good flyer too huh?” Steve smiled and Abby only pouted a little. “Now it’s going to go home and tell all of its friends about you. And we gotta go home too sweetheart, it’s getting pretty late. Let’s say bye to Julien and Aunt Max, okay?” Steve was great at de-escalating a situation, he always knew exactly the right thing to say to stop Abby’s tears. Billy put Abby back down on her feet so that she could go over to Max and Julian to say goodbye. Steve turned to Billy and gave him a quick peck on the lips before taking his hand and walking them over to the trio waiting for them.

“Seems like you were able to get out of your head today, I’m glad.” Max said to Billy during their hug.

Once their farewells were said and done and they were all loaded up into Steve’s car, the small family made the short drive back home. Steve’s hand rested over Billy’s atop his thigh, periodically giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.

Back home, Steve carried a sleepy Abby in from the car and straight to her bed (he hated for her to miss brushing her teeth, but made an exception because of the long day she had had). While Steve helped Abby get settled in, Billy headed into their bedroom. He picked one of the heavier hardcover books off the bookshelf and pulled the dandelion out of his pocket. He tucked the wilting flower between the pages, saving it so that he could remember the day. Steve came into the bedroom as he was reshelving the book, he walked straight to Billy and wrapped his arms around him.

“Had a good day?” Steve asked. Billy twisted in his grip, turning to face Steve. They shared a few slow kisses, with no intention to escalate, only to be in each other’s space after being apart for the day. Billy pulled back, hands still holding onto Steve’s waist securely.

“Yeah, it was really good.” He smiled. Sure Abby was growing up, but they had so many years ahead of them, so many warm summer days just like this one. Although Billy didn’t expect he could completely quell his anxieties about the future, he was ready to start enjoying the moments as they happened.

[prettylilhalforc]

Forged in Conflict

After many a late night flitting between tumblr, Borderlands, and discord discussions with the lovely @lorecraft my brain could not shake a Luckyverse Borderlands AU with Triple Frontier boys.

Am pleased to present the first chapter of Forged in Conflict!

Summary: Dahl 12th Company, TangoFoxtrot Brigade have been assigned to secure an old asset planetside. Intel has it that a bunch of bandits are wreaking havoc on dig sites around a local settlement. Idiots trying to bust open an derelict mining facility for tech. Amateurs trying to on sell to Atlas.

Should be simple enough, right? Standard in and out.

Secure the asset, eliminate the threat, back to base in 72 hours flat. All wrapped up like a present on Mercenary Day.

Warnings: Military, allusions to violence and conflict, food.

Rating: M at most given the military themes

A/N: This will be more of a slow burn fic with each of the boys meeting their match. Cannot wait to introduce Lucky, Echo, IRIS and Teflon. This is gonna be so much fun!

Any and all feedback is most welcome!

Chapter 1 - Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

The scent of stale sweat hangs heavy in the recycled air. Hundreds of warm bodies fill the mess hall leaving little space to maneuverer. Unit upon unit of troopers lining the facility in orderly rows. Packed in tighter than vacuum sealed standard issue MREs.

Happens like groundhog day. Same routine over and over again.

Wake, eat, drills, eat, sleep.

Leaves him feeling little more than another cog in the fine-tuned military machine that is Dahl.

It’s stifling. Suffocating.

Maybe he’s just been stuck on base for too long. Maybe he just needs to head planetside. There’s this voracious itch that always rears its head between deployments. An uneasy tension sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach. Gnawing, screaming at him that more needs to be done and sitting here is just wasting time.

What good is a weapon in a fight if left unfired?

This was not what Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia signed up for when joining the Corp. Pipedreams and promises of jumping around the system, liberating settlements from the greedy grip of Atlas. Putting down bandit scum.

Life on Pandora prepped him for action, for violence.

Not the bureaucracy of the corporate military industrial complex.

Hoo’ fucking rah.

“Need some motor oil?”, a deep voice cuts through Pope’s musing, Ironhead giving him a knowing look.

“Wha-?”

Santiago’s eyes refocus. Physically shunted back into reality by a light shoulder check from the young blond adjacent to him.

“Can practically hear the gears crunching in your head, Pope.”

Will. Now there’s a company man through and through. Six foot and build like a brick house. Keen blue eyes that shine with something purely predatorial. Nothing gets past his gaze. Lives and breathes the life.

Nerves of steel and unwavering discipline earnt him the well-deserved moniker Ironhead.

Regimented. Reliable. Never fails under fire.

Dahl ‘til the day he dies.

“I hate being… stuck. Feel useless.”

Elbows braced on the slick steel benchtop, Pope runs both broad hands through his salt and pepper undercut. Pulling at strands. Trying to find a physical reset to pull him back from the frustration welling in his chest.

“I geddit. It’s driving me nuts, man, sitting here not doing anything.”

Now, Ben, the boy wonder, is pure unadulterated chaos. If Ironhead is a Doberman, then Benny is a damn Retriever chasing down a car on the highway. Kid had a good heart and boundless energy. Though doesn’t know do with it half the time.

Doesn’t think too often, just feels. Get’s him all sorts of situations.

Fortunately, The Miller boys made one hell of a team in combat. The Hellhounds from Hieronymous. Ironhead’s tactical efficiency paired with Wonderboy’s unbridled fury burnt through scores of Atlas platoons on tour. It was enough for brass to look the other way when it came to the frequent indiscretions they found themselves in.

“You hear that Lima Charlie got shipped to Elpis after Zarpedon’s crew went dark? Fucking bullshit man. Why do we get stuck here while- ”

“Better not let Redfly hear you saying that, hermano, especially after last month’s stunt. You’re lucky all you got was a week in the hole.”

Fish interrupts Ben with a look that can only be described as fatherly disappointment, grease-stained hand waving his fork about to about drive point home. Though underneath the worn cap his warm eyes give away everything, brimming with mirth.

Before Atlas. Before the exodus.

Pope swears he would have lost his humanity years ago if Fish hadn’t have kept him grounded. Practically inseparable, the two pulled each other out of scraps since they were knee high in Haven.

Frankie, ever the voice of reason, reminded Pope why they joined the Corp in the first place.

The guy was too honest for his own good. Has a big heart and wears it on his sleeve for all the world to see.

Made cleaning house during poker night a walk in the park.

“Yeah yeah, flyboy. Wouldn’t have been a problem if that snitch from Whiskey Kilo kept his big mouth shut.”

Benny petulantly spears at a suspect lump slathered in gravy on his tray, nostrils flaring.

“Well, it’s certainly shut now. Wired shut. Heard from Ty in medbay Phillips won't be having any solids until next month” Pope can’t help but chime in, it was a small comfort to know he wasn’t the only one grappling with the inertia being stuck shipside.

A collective chuckle erupts from the group and with that Benny's pout is wiped clean. Boyish face cracks into a smug grin.

And who could blame him?

Kid has a left hook that would floor a bullymong.

Conversation soon flows easily, falling into hopeful speculation about the next operation.

Tensions have escalated as of late between major intergalactic powerhouses. The system is on the precipice of a second Corporate War.

It's not just Dahl and Atlas duking out for supremacy across the stars.

Hyperion has begun to stake their claim, planet by planet. Peacocking with the latest in loader tech. Bunch of Machiavellian suits parading around as soldiers. Would sell their own grandmother to make a profit. And what they couldn't buy, they were willing acquire through "aggressive negotiation".

And Vladof, bunch of commie bastards, took glee in sabotaging years of blood, sweat and tears for the sake of glorious revolution. Whatever that meant. Why waste manpower when you can incite the masses to do your dirty work for you?

The desperate push for colonization in the most bizarre locations didn’t make any tactical sense whatsoever.

Something bigger was going on than just a turf war over resources. Not when this many players had come to the table. Stakes must be high.

“Nice to know that you boys are itching for action.”.

By pure reflex the four rise to their feet. Backs straight. Eyes forward. Jaws tight.

Chairs clatter across the hull floor, food all but forgotten.

The crimson glare shoots pure ice down Pope’s spine. Every damn time feels like someone walked over his grave. No matter how long he served, could never get used to it. Cybernetic eye picking apart every detail of the crew before him with clinical precision.

Captain Tom ‘Redeye’ Davis.

Takes a particular kind of individual rise through the ranks in the Corp. A certain cold bloodedness that makes a man willing to put the mission above all else. Hardly a surprise for a seasoned Dahl Mercenary. Redfly had a track record that would make any C.O. green with envy.

The company couldn’t fault him, no matter how harsh his methods. Ran tight crew and expected nothing but excellence. The Corp chewed up and spat so many bodies in the field, there was little room for complacency.

Or mercy.

“Fortunately for you, Brass has something that will scratch itch. Section-312, Intel Room 4. I expect you all there at nineteen hundred TangoFoxtrot. Copy?”

“Sir, yes Sir!”

“At ease soldiers.”

Will shoots Pope a wry smile that spreads across the crew like wildfire. It says it all.

Ask and ye shall receive.

[ssdescendantsau]

Chapter 1

Remus wanders around in silence, his makeshift morningstar slung over his shoulder, the nails digging into his shoulder. The world is too loud today, the clamour around him rising into a crescendo that grates against his ears. Maybe he could find something to steal or someone to fight so that everything would just shut up for one fucking second. Well, at least Remus lost his pursuers from the mindless fight he was just in. That was a good enough distaction. The only thing for Remus to do in the still air was talk to himself.

“You smash your morningstar in one person’s face and now the whole group is after you. Sounds petty in my opinion.” 

Or well, makeshift morningstar and less like an iron mace-like weapon that it normally would be. It was more a block of wood stuck to the end of an iron pipe with a shit ton of nails pounded into the wood. A rustling sound whistled through the air, a flash of gold briefly spotted in the corner of Remus’s eye.

“From my perspective it sounds like you’re being the petty one.”

Turning around, Remus’ eyes land on a figure nestled in the shadows, another teenager by the sound of his voice. The darkness hides everything except for a distinctive glittering golden eye.

“Hi Dee~ How ya doing?”

‘Dee’, or Janus “Deceit” of Agrabah was the trader on the Isle, usually coming along with a trinket or item stolen from someone else’s pockets. A thing for another thing, a favor for Remus to fulfill later down the line in exchange for something shiny, but useless. That’s usually how these trades went.

“Alright, managed to nab a few things that might catch your eye. A favor would be nice, I’m planning on robbing this one guy and might want your help,” Dee pauses, mulling over his next words.“I just came to tell you about Maleficent's goons. Seems they’re looking for you.” He almost sounds worried. Mom huh, well at least let’s just hope it’s not because I did something stupid. Again.

“Ugh can’t Mother do her own dirty work for once?” Remus grumbles, turning around to find Dee gone. “Fine, I'll just get the stuff later then. Sneaky noodle always fades into the shadows thinking he’s cool and edgy.”

A faint hiss of air draws Remus’s attention to a small alleyway to his right, a perfect alleyway for hiding a body. He does remember a similar alleyway that one time that he hid a corpse, he doesn’t really like or want to think about that stuff. 

Turning the corner he finds Virgil de Vil, the resident “artist” and the only one on the Island to wear all black, spraying something on the wall. The jacket was new though, the purple sleeves being a lovely addition along with the skull design on Virgil’s mask.

“Huh, well if it isn’t Virgie,” Remus drawls, moving forward to sling his arm around Virgie’s shoulders.

“First of all, it’s Virgil, not Virgie.” 

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

“Second of all” Virgil turns to look at Remus “I'm currently working on something. What do you think, some purple or red?”

Remus glances at the spray paint on the wall, moving away from his previous position. The artwork forming a purple stormcloud on a green background. “Lilac-blue, makes the green pop out more.” 

“Hm.” A quick nod of reassurance from Virgil and Remus moves next to him, plopping onto the dingy ground of the space. A thin silence hangs in the air only interrupted by the sound of Virgil’s spray cans.

“Have you ever thought about getting off this dump?” Remus doesn’t know why he said it in the first place, the question already forming before he can stop himself.

“Out of this cage? Sorry, but we’re always gonna be locked away with the “villians” in this fucked up world.”

“Of course,” Remus sighs, because this place was a death sentence in and of itself. “Forget it.” Nobody was coming to save the rejects of the world. That feeling was back, buzzing underneath his skin. So Remus did the only thing he could think of, he acted on impulse, quickly grabbing Virgil’s hand and running off with him in tow.

“Remus, no!” It was too late for Virgil to protest though.

“Remus yes.”

Whatever chaos that Remus wanted to create was quickly stopped as both of their bodies collided into an unmoving wall,black suits and sunglasses filling the frame of his vision. The only ones who dressed like here were his mom’s goons because they needed to be “presentable”. Her words not his.

“Maleficent wants to see you,” Goon #1 rumbles.

He hates these stupid lackeys. Mom sends them because she couldn’t care enough about her own kid to meet in person. Instead, it made him feel like he was twelve again, like a kid who was always getting in trouble for being too ‘much’. He can’t really protest though as Goon #1 grabs both him and Virgil.

He passes by beggars and kids with ratty clothes, crammed like sardines on this floating rock. Briefly, he passes by a mom pulling her kid with a makeshift cart and a scrawny teenager his age skimming through the crowd, most likely a pickpocket. After all, there’s no guarantee that your business will get food on the table. Remus remembers the first time that he got pickpocketed, broke the kid’s fingers for even trying. The regret came later, when the drone of bitterness and apathy left his system.

Remus watches as his “home” comes into view. It was supposed to be a fortress but it resembled a cardboard castle more than anything, ready to topple over at the slightest breeze. A building to play pretend in, Remus thinks bitterly so that everything would be ‘just like it was before’. He’s heard enough about “the glory days” from his mom to get an idea. Pushed through the entrance, Remus stares at his mom standing at the front of the room.

Looking around, Dee and the island's resident “heartbreaker” Remy, were also there with their own personal “goons” hovering over their shoulders. Remy’s sunglasses and plain leather jacket were kept clean enough as if he actually cared about his appearance. He is the kid on the Island most known from the stories gathered from his various flings. Nobody said anything at first, instead dissolving into a tense silence broken by his mom.

“Janus, Remy, Virgil and you will be going to Auradon.” Maleficent announced to the room, her gaze lingering on Remus as if to say Don’t mess this up.

“I’m sorry but, what?” Virgil splutters. 

Remus looks around the room to the rest of the three kids as if to ask she’s not joking right? briefly locking eyes with a panicking Virgil. 

Janus spoke up, his panicked eyes looking everywhere except for the people in the room.“I’m gonna have to agree with Virgil on this one, why the hell are we going over to those stuck-up pricks?” 

“Well the Prince has made a new decree, the soft-hearted fool. You four will be attending Auridon Prep,” Her tone was detached, leaving no room for negotiations or arguement. It was Remy to first act on his impulses, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Oh, fuck no. I’m not going to be surrounded by assholes more than I need to be, ” Remy said, arms crossed and glancing off to the side.

“This is an opportunity for you. You will sneak straight into those royal’s hearts and steal Fairy Godmother’s wand in the process using, of course, the generous gifts bestowed upon you by your parents that will hopefully not go to waste. Then you’ll release the barrier and evil will spread along the land, a perfect place for us to rule.”

Remus ignores that hopeful twist in his stomach that maybe, this will prove something to her. That maybe he can be a good enough son for her.

“You don’t have much of a choice. Especially considering that your ride is going to be here soon,” the Evil Queen snapped at Remy. Quickly rifling through her pockets, she quickly took out a small mirror “Now, here is my magic mirror.” Remy stares at the small glass hand mirror in her hand, “It’s not what it used to be sadly, but it should be useful,” Remy takes the small mirror in his hands and tucks it into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“And please, get some sleep while you’re at it. Those eyebags of yours are making you uglier than you already are.”

“Yes Mother,” Remy muttered.

“Now let me see,” Mom mutters to herself, rifling through what appears to be an old cupboard as she fishes out a tattered old book, worn down from use. Turning over to Remus, she holds out the book.

“Here. This is my spellbook.” Remus gingerly picks up the spellbook from her hand.

As Remus is leaving he hears snippets of conversation from the other kid’s parents and their farewells.

“Remember Janus, lying is always the best solution” Jafar quickly tells Janus 

“And always look out for yourself” Janus echoes back tonelessly, as if it were a mantra he’s heard a dozen times before.

“I’ll miss you Virgil.” Cruella puts a hand to her heart with a pout

“Really?” Virgil looks almost hopeful in those small minutes, a shine of maybe a little bit of softness in his expression

“Who else will take care of my beautiful coats.” Cruella doesn’t notice how Virgil deflates at her last sentence

“Right” Virgil scoffs to himself, his expression closing off like a set of iron gates slammed shut in front of his eyes.

Mom sharply turns to the rest of the VK’s in front of her.

“Now move along, there’s a wand to steal.”

The rest of the teenagers were shuffled out of the room to their “ride” sitting outside the fortress. A sleek black vehicle sits outside, gleaming under the sun and unbelievingly long. Maleficent clutches Remus’s arm as he’s leaving, her fingernails leaving indents in his skin.

”You better not mess this up.” Mom says through gritted teeth.

Looking at the limousine, Remus steps forward. I can make mom proud of me Remus thinks, an opportunity of a lifetime. It doesn’t stop the dread forming in his stomach.

Ao3 link

[csykora]

hey i was reading your post about evgeny kusnetsov and alexander semin (the friendship necklace one) and i got into hockey somewhat recently but i've heard/read some things about sasha and i was wondering if you could give me a rundown/what your perspective is? you mentioned cultural assimilation, but also social class, ethnic identity, ability, neurodiversity, and trauma and i was really curious what exactly you were talking about??

First, that’s cool you’re getting into hockey! How’s that going? I hope you’re having fun. Second…thanks for making me reread my old writing as we come up on the New Year ;)

That was one of my very first posts, and I think it reads like it—I definitely wasn’t much of a sports writer back then, and (I don’t think) I tell stories quite the same way now.

I don’t think some of those words I used mean much, except that I was angry. So I’d like to spell out what made, makes, me angry. The first half of this is stuff I’ve said before, more organized, with jokes. The second half is not fun, but it’s also something I think NHL fans have a duty to think about. So I want to try to talk about Lokomotiv.

Sasha Semin is the star and captain of a quite good, more fun KHL team. Today he was named to the All-Star team, actually. KHL All-Stars is a magical place where the players sing acoustic covers and routinely set things on fire, so hopefully they’ll let him bring his sword.

(I love the KHL)

Before that, he was the cool big brother of a generation of Russian stars. In the early 2000s the first post-Soviet young players were coming of age and working out what post-Soviet, now-Russian style hockey was going to be. In that moment we got two spectacular players: Sasha from Siberia, and Sasha from Moscow.

The Soviet style of play was supposed to be egalitarian—players skated the opposition sick and pass-pass-passed, always giving it to a teammate instead of taking chances, until whoever happened to have it had a sure shot. The Alexanders grew up in that style, and they grew up fuck-off strong. They started feeding off all their teammates’ passes and beginning to gun down goalies with one of two shots: Alex Ovechkin had the one-timer, and Alex Semin had the best wristshot in the game.

Did you watch Vegas’ magic season? Pull some clips of Wild Bill Karlsson. Imagine if he had upper body strength but was just as light on his feet. That’s how inexplicably electric young Semin was.

His and then Ovi’s performances at World Juniors were so explosive they convinced American businesses to risk money on something new. Semin was oldest, and the Capitals kind of sucked, so they got him first. Then a few years later they still sucked, so they got Ovi too. Then the two of them got Nicklas Backstrom and matching line promise necklaces and played really good hockey together for a number of years.

(If anyone would like 3,000 more nicer words about the above subjects, @ me)

A couple things shaped what happened after that:

▪ Semin’s unique wrister, twisted to be almost as hard as a slapper, is like spending every night downing jägerbombs with a shot of carpal tunnel. He seems to have chronic wrist and hand problems from inflammation, with apparent flare-ups that sometimes got rest and sometimes didn’t. So that’s a factor—not the only, but a—in why he had periods of poor shooting.

▪ Either because he never really went to school or just because he’s wired that way, Semin seems to suck at math.

▪ Ovi’s hot stick and the Sid Incident (Sidcident?): 

In their first interview together, Ovi described him and Sid as “partners”, and Sid asked for Ovi’s shirt. But over the first few years the League swung from branding them as buddies to making money off a rivalry, and Don Cherry started a string of bitter conflicts with Ovi.

Local journalists who knew him wrote about seeing Ovi flinch in interviews. They described him starting to hesitate, pale, tired, doubling back over answers to make sure they were watertight. We now know from Tatyana Ovechina that he was spending a lot of nights on the phone back home with her, asking if he was letting everybody down.

Sasha, who’s basically that guy on twitter who found kittens in his sock drawer and adopted them all, but with little brothers, got protective. He told Russian media that he thought Sid was a good player, but not his favorite, and said that the way the League was pushing media attention could make someone a ‘star’ even if they weren’t that good. The phrase he used means “dead wood”, or boring, useless person. The grammar he used means something like “even if he were (ie, he isn’t)”.

I think this was objectively very funny. And I still hold that anyone saying the level of exposure Sid endured was good for him or anyone sounds like the stage parents on Toddlers & Tiaras.)

But people get protective of their person, and most won’t stop for a grammar lesson before deciding what they think something meant. There was a media blitz, mostly accusing Sasha of wanting the attention Sid got, which made sense, if you didn’t know Russian or two things about him—that he’s best friends with Alex Ovechkin, and that he’d only just started to practice English with local reporters after several years. If he were an egomaniac, he was bad at it.

From his reaction it seems like he hadn’t thought his comment was that wild, and wasn’t prepared for the backlash. Next time he talked to local reporters, he brought the translator back. Asked routine questions he’d been getting for a couple years, he flinched and turned to them to rehearse every word of his answer. Asked what was up with the translator, he said “I just don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Although teammates like Mike Knuble, Jeff Schultz, Backstrom and Ovechkin kept talking about his personable, joking side, and we’d see it plenty in practice, he started insisting to reporters that he didn’t know English and that he was boring anyway, claiming “I’m just an ordinary person, just like everybody else. The only difference is I’m out there on the ice and that’s it. I’d just rather talk about hockey.”

–> Without math or English, Semin’s career depended on his agent, Mark Gandler.

Try not to depend on Mark Gandler.

As the Globe and Mail put it, “to many Canadian hockey fans, Mark Gandler is nothing less than the Prince of Darkness.”

Mark Gandler’s business was based on presenting himself as a friendly face to young Russian athletes, and pissing of NHL franchises. I’m pro-pissing off the NHL in general; my problem with Gandler is that if he was sincerely trying to get the best deal for him clients, he was bad at it..

When anyone talks about something Semin decided, they’re talking about what Gandler decided for him. Semin was honest with the media that he had no fucking clue what Gandler was asking for in negotiations. The Caps and Gandler couldn’t agree on anything, so while Ovechkin was locked down for life, Semin was only ever signed to one and two year bridge contracts, constantly up, his performance a constant subject of discussion and every wobble obvious.

Note: the following is the bit where I got angry and A. asked why the hell I was looking at photos of this and told me to go lie on the floor and do my butterfly exercises for a while.

One year Semin’s game really sucked. It didn’t help that Ovechkin was sucking too—they both got benched, Coach got fired, and still the Capitals just kind of sucked. Around the league, Russian stars were mostly fizzling. That was the 2011-2012 season. 

On September 7, 2011, the airplane carrying the Lokomotiv Yaroslavl team, coaching staff, and four youth players had overrun the runway, struck a signal tower, crashed, and caught fire moments after takeoff. Every member of the team onboard was killed.

I can’t understand, so certainly can’t explain, how that day changed the community. I’m not trying to speculate too much on anyone���s personal situation, but to point out how much more profound it was than just some other league’s trivia.

I don’t think there’s a mainstream North American parallel for the hockey community in Eastern Europe. Players are raised in a small number of hockey schools, often at that time in dormitories like the one where Semin lived in Chelyabinsk. While young North Americans are quite strictly separated by age, the Russians are growing up with older and younger kids from the same school all around them. Older teens are encouraged to mentor younger ones—Kuznetsov’s attachment to Semin is endearing, but not really so weird. Stanislav Yarushin is several years older than Sasha, and he befriended him, and then down to Kuz. In a community like that, any one person is intimately connected to the others.

From the coaches to the rookies, someone from three generations across nine nations was killed in the disaster. Each of them was connected not only to their peers, but to players older and younger than them, and to the city that raised them. Every Russian, Czech, and Slovak in the NHL lost at least one person they knew deeply.

Just that spring, Kuznetsov won gold at World Juniors with a little clique of friends. Vladimir Tarasenko, Artemi Panarin, and Dmitry Orlov are stars now, and two of the others are dead.

Kuznetsov is the one draped in the flag. #14, with the awesome hair, smiling, is Danylo Sobchenko. #12, reaching up towards the cup, is Yuri Urychev. Urychev had been injured, and supposed to stay home the day of the disaster, but he asked to be allowed to fly with them, so he could cheer for his friends.

Tarasenko himself was born in Yaroslavl, and his father played for Lokomotiv; he knew even more of the team, and if he’d taken a hometown offer instead of signing with Sibir, he would have died that day too.

The thing about a loss like this is that it keeps budding with new losses. It hadn’t been a problem with the plane, or a freak accident. Over the following month a miserable investigation revealed that the airline had fudged documents, and the pilots just didn’t know what they were doing. So as well as losing friends, the younger players lost any trust that people in authority were going to keep them safe in the future.

After the disaster, Ovechkin, Semin, and Malkin had to hold their phones waiting while Alexander Galimov (a friend from nationals) was found with burns over 80% of his body, stabilized, transported, placed in a medically-induced coma and ventilated. He finally died five days later. The day he died Tarasenko and Kuznetsov and all the others got back on their own planes and kept playing, so the NHLers just had to keeping waiting up for them, too. Now Tarasenko and Kuznetsov have little brothers on those planes. They’re better fucking planes now, because the disaster changed Russian law, but they’re still not great.

In a grim way, Semin and Ovechkin were lucky, because they had each other. At the time almost no NHL team had as many Eastern Europeans as the Caps, meaning almost all the others were alone.

Of course it just wasn’t possible for the North American public to grieve with them the way that Europe did, but how quickly it was boxed away and forgotten as a factor in players’ lives just…sucks.

You don’t just grieve somebody when you lose them; people who aren’t sure what to say will say it fades with time, but what it really does is rise and fall in waves. You grieve them when you lose them, and again when you’re as old as they were and realize how insufficient it really was, and again, when you’re older than they’ll ever be, when you’re old enough to see children their age. Like injuring your wrist, you can get back to work, but never back to exactly what you were before. 

Five years later, when Tarasenko scored his 100th goal, he dedicated it to Sobchenko and Urychev. 

Most of a decade later, Alex Ovechkin wears the Lokomotiv crest on his chest protector, over his heart.

So if we know all that, we can start to imagine why they sucked at hockey.

Actually, after a slow start to the season, Sasha sucked the least of all the Capitals. Always a stronger possession player than Ovechkin, Sasha actually recovered after the Caps brought in Dale Hunter, who ripped up the Goals First, Goals Always game plan and tried to make Ovi play defense. Sasha ended the season with the best possession metrics on the team (yes, including Nicke Backstrom). 

His goal-scoring didn’t recover, but that was because Coach Dale was basically treating him like Ovi’s security blanket, putting him on the second line with Mojo so Ovi couldn’t cuddle him until Ovi backchecked. Mojo (this is a Science fact) is not Nicke Backstrom.

The reason the Capitals traded Semin is they desperately needed to trade someone to make up for the team’s collective failures that year, he could be traded due to his shitty contracts, and he was worth trading. 

I’m not actually angry the Caps traded Semin. It made sense. I am mad the Habs did, because it was one of many decisions made by Marc Bergevin coughing up a heavily-gelled hairball on a depth chart, but hey.

Sports is hard. I don’t mean that teams should keep players who aren’t playing the way that team needs them to out of sympathy. I mean that it’s possible to say that Semin or Ovechkin sometimes play badly without saying they don’t care. It’s possible to name a practical problem without making it a moral one.

Because when we see someone not doing what we want, and we make it moral, we say, “well gosh, I can’t imagine a reason why they aren’t jazzed to do what I want right now, so there can’t be a reason, they just suck,” we’re always wrong, because we miss shit!

In 2011, the common complaint that Russian players “don’t seem to care” went from boring to breathtakingly cruel. 

It’s a collective failure of empathy, where a lot of us didn’t even know that empathy’s needed. How many NHL fans don’t know Lokomotiv existed? If we don’t even know what weight another person’s carrying, we can’t possibly judge them rightly! 

The athletes we’re watching aren’t just cartoon characters for American consumption, who always act and react in easily-readable ways. They’re people with beliefs, behaviors, and problems which might be meaningfully different from what we’re personally familiar with and really hard to sympathize with.  

But when we see someone struggling to do what we want them to, we have to wonder why, and look around to learn more about moments like this, and then offer empathy. I believe that if we have information, most people use it to be kind. So we really fucking need historical information.

I’m back on the floor and don’t have a closer, so here’s a picture of a cat with big mitts like Sasha. His name is Peppers.

[dicecast]

The Problem with Thanos Part 2

So the first video is basically about what is actually wrong with Thanos and by extension, Malthusian theory.   Today I want to pivot to something a bit more complicated, Thanos as a character and why he is a less good character because he isn’t a racist.  

I’ve said before that Thanos is a good character and I think that is basically true but I want to clarify.  Thanos is a good character for you know…Superhero movies, where most of the characters at best are a list of consistent traits with a consistent voice and maybe one or two issues that define them . Thanos’s motivations make sense (they are morally and intellectually wrong but it makes sense), he has a general personality template, and he has more complexity than most marvel villains.  But there is a larger issue with his attatchment to Malthusian economics, namely that it doesn’t make any sense he’d be so attracted to it.  

Let me jump back for a moment here.  See, in real life, the Malthusian notions of population control and necessary brutality for the sake of preserving the world’s resources is an ideology that comes with a lot of baggage attached.  From the start, Malthusians aren’t just saying we need mass purges to keep population in check, it always comes with a larger ideological view point about which people should be purged. Malthusianism in real life was directed at the Irish, Catholics, and the poor, and theories influenced by Malthus would be directed at African Americans, Slavs, and Jews, and today it tends to be used in the context of India, China, and Africans.  While it would be a simplification to say that the Nazi concept of “Useless Mouths” is purely Malthusian, the ideas are linked.  Eugenics, Social Darwinism, Imperialism, and Scrooge esc classicism have always been associated with Malthusian though, and that is why this doctrine is still around despite being debunked in the 19th century.  Its less a factual ideology as much as a world view, one obsessed with “us vs. them” mentalities and beliefs in “Nature is a warzone” despite the fact that this is not how society works.  

      Now in theory you could have a debate about Malthusian population control without dipping into the ideologies always associated with it, but in real life…yeah good luck with that. Malthusian economics are like IQ, or Social Darwinism its some people get into to justify their existing racist prejudice, not an ideology that leads them to racism.  That is why it always falls apart so easily when you apply real science to it, because it isn’t just a false scientific theory, its using scientific jargon to justify the same old prejudice.  

 But Thanos is that, he is a Malthusian without any of the baggage, he isn’t racist, classist, religiously intolerant, or a warmonger.  Thanks to the power of the plot, his population control method is actually unbiased, unlike real life Malthusians he doesn’t target a specific group as deserving extermination.   When Thomas Malthus spoke of necessary population control he wasn’t referring to his own group of middle class Englishmen, he meant the poor, the Irish, and the Catholic.  Thanos is truly “Unbias” in this view of extermination, which is equally stupid but lacks the bigotry that comes with Malthusian theory.  

    Now let’s pretend Marvel actually understood the themes of their own movie and they genuinely wanted to talk about this world view, it is understandable they would want to desperate the idea from the baggage surrounding it, otherwise it is too easy to dismiss it.  So while in real life Malthusianism is linked to a bunch of other horrific ideologies, for the purpose of fiction it might be worth debating it on its own merits rather than as part of something else.  It’s not much of a debate because its objectively wrong, but I get the idea.  Try to argue with the theory on its own terms rather than what it is associated with.  

Here is the problem, I’m not sure if it is actually a good thing to separate these ideologies.  Cause Malthusianism literally doesn’t make sense if it isn’t linked to a larger world view, and more importantly Thanos doesn’t make sense.  What I meant by this is that Malthusianism is basically a rational that bigots come to in order to justify their existing bigots.  You embrace Malthus if you already regard the Irish as subhuman, and you need a justification killing 1.5 million of them.  Or if you already don’t want to pay taxes for social programs that help the poor, or if you already don’t want to send aid overseas or sell weapons to war zones.  It’s not a true ideology so much as it’s a way to make standard selfish bigotry seem more reasonable and palatable.  You don’t become a Malthusian because of the strengths of its argument, you become a Malthusian because you already wanted to dehumanize large groups of people and this is a method lets you not come to terms with your own actions.  And this is why Malthusians aren’t convinced by evidence, cause its less a scientific theory so much has a psychological defense mechanism.  

      And that is the problem, Thanos isn’t a bigot, so his attachment to Malthus doesn’t make any sense.  There is no reason why Thanos wouldn’t listen to anybody who suggests to him that “Hey this isn’t how like…anything works” or do some damn research on the subject.  Which means that Marvel is either

Positing Malthusian theory is correct in the universe of Marvel which is basically saying “In this world, Eugenics is real, but we should do the right thing anyways

Thanos is actually a really dumb guy who fell for the pseudo science and never checked his assumptions.  Which you know...isn’t impossible, but that isn’t how he is presented in the film, instead he is shown as a thoughtful if cruel man.  If his main flaw is not his indifference but instead his stupidity, then the movie did a very bad job of conveying that 

      Now this entire time I’ve been giving Marvel the benefit of the doubt and assuming they were doing this on purpose in order to fight back against Malthusian economics, but lets be honest, they don’t deserve that much credit.  Which goes back to the earlier post, which is that they keep mistaking Malthusian for Utilitarianism.  So it is again presenting killing half the population as “Practical but evil’ vs. the protagonists “Moral but inefficient” but as I mentioned before, this simply isn’t the case.  Malthusian theory of population isn’t just immoral, its actively incorrect.  But that isn’t how the conflict is framed, when Thanos and Dr. Strange argue, Strange is like “This is wrong because Trillions will die” while what he, a scientist, should be saying is “This is wrong because....that would not fix the problem like...at all”.  Because again, Thomas Malthus ideas were debunked in the mid 19th century, the only reason why they continue to be relevant today is that they provide a handy justification for racist practices, and as Thanos is not a racist, it doesn’t make sense that he would believe this.  

This also leads to another uncomfortable bit, in his discussion with Dr. Strange, Thanos says ‘Titan was like most planets, too many mouths, not enough to go around.  When we faced extinction I offered a solution”  That is actually quite similar to the “Useless Mouths” rhetoric used in post WWI Germany.  Historical context.  During WWI, Britain placed German under a blockade which basically put the whole country under siege.  Since Germany’s best chance of winning the war was a defensive conflict, slowly giving ground as the allies lost millions and hoping that the ally states would collapse, the steady lack of resources due to this blockade was devestating to the German War effort.  While France and Britain could endlessly resupply thanks to their colonies and the Americas, Germany steadily ran out of oil, iron, lead, and food, and the civilian population of Germany, largely unexposed directly to the war, slowly starved, particularly in the “Turnip Winter” of 1916.   While there was still food, most of it went to the army, leaving the civilians with nothing. About 763,000 German civilians*, the vast majority of German Civilian deaths during WWI, were due to the famine rather than Allied Weapons.   This is not counting those who died of the Spanish Flue epidemic, and an additional 100,000 civilians who died during the negotiation period.  This blockade would eventually lead to the fall of the Kaiserreich, as the civilian government eventually overthrew the Kaiser and negotiated the surrender of Germany.  

Hitler, a soldier in the trenches and thus not starving, was among many of the German army who felt the civilians had betrayed them, leading to the “Stabbed in the Back” myth.  One of the big right wing talking points after WWI was that “we could have won the war, if only we had killed all useless mouths, or “useless eaters”, Lebensunweertes Leben.  Specifically the disabled, though this theory would also be applied to a lesser extent to Jews, Roma, Homosexuals, Slavs, and leftists.  The term used was basically “Life unworthy of life” and the idea was that the weak Kaiser government should have killed all the ‘worthless” people so that Germany could have won the war, and Hitler’s government used this to justify their own extermination of the mentally ill, the idea was faced with starvation, Germany should have made the “difficult choice” to kill the weak for the strong to survive.  

(I hate this fucking story.)  

   Now obviously this world view is immoral but its also....wrong.  The fact is, even if Germany had killed all of the disabled, they would have lost the war anyways, its not like the disabled were using up oil and bullets that would have otherwise gone to the front, nor would it have fixed Germany’s manpower shortage or prevented the US from entering the war.  The conspiracy, like most conspiracy theories, came about because German soldiers didn’t want to face an uncomfortable truth.  That they had suffered, sacrificed, and fought heroically in a war they never had much chance of winning and all of their pain was in vain. The Useless Eater’s theory was just wrong, it was actively incorrect. 

   Now how does that relate to Thanos?  See I am not calling Thanos a Nazi, unlike Hitler or Malthus, Thanos isn’t targeting any one group, he isn’t saying “We need to kill the Irish, Catholics, Jews or disabled to survive” he is applying that same sort of Life Boat morality in a way real life advocates of it never do, because he is including his own empire and family within the category of “those who can be disposed of”  Thanos is looking at a whole vein of right wing thinking which has always existed as a cover for their real policies and taking it at face value and applying it to its own logical extreme, and there could be value in a character like that but...why is Thanos like this?  Why is he mindlessly accepting stupid theories he really should be smart enough to just dismiss this nonsense.  

And that lead to my larger issue with Infinity Wars, that I don’t think Disney realizes that Malthus was just morally wrong, but was factually wrong.  The conflict is presented as if Thanos’ ideas have merit, and so Thanos is presented as a smart guy who lacks empathy, while the actual problem is that he is incorrect.  And it fits the sort of “Status Que” feel of the MCU, where the Super Heroes are mostly preventing a worse future rather than building their own (Black Panther is the exception to this) 

(cough)

*That number is actually really disputed, there are some that put the number as low as 300,000 so don’t take that as the final word.  I tend to assume higher numbers because I don’t want to underscore the death of civilians, but this is not uncontested.  

[soaringlanddormitory]

Title: The Risks [3/?]

Summary: A supposedly new head of the family quits his role to make his own gang. It was his choice to make, and this was the path he decided to take.

Word Count: 3988

Notes:

This part will focus on how Hanako and Tetsuji joined the gang!! Also the chapter after this will focus on them as a whole!! I think there will be a total of 5 chapters in total!! I hope you guys would like it !!! Also the first recruits of Dai will show up!!

Hanako/Lotus and Rin belongs to @polar-stars!!

Emile/Canción belongs to @polar-star-dorks!!

Part 1 can be found here! Part 2 here! Comments are appreciated, and remember that I love you!!

The phone was placed down after the conversation she had with the male and she wondered why he would suddenly ask her out. At occasions, he would only drop by and bring her some lotus flowers to have a conversation with her- but he never really asked her out to go somewhere before. She placed the phone aside, making sure it didn’t drop. She sighed, her cheeks still red.

She may have thought that it was him only being sweet, but there was something about his voice sounded serious. It was a mix of playfulness, but she could tell there was something odd- she couldn’t pinpoint it. However, the possibilities were endless. 

Why would he want her to visit his house from all places?

The male walked back to his living room, and he only heard the sound of music. A grin was seen on his face as he walked closer to his friends. “Music time already, I’m guessing.” He jumped to the couch before casually lying down. He really loved the sound of the songs he played on the guitar, and he felt really warm the moment Emile began singing. 

“I’m accepting requests, mi amigo.” He stopped for a moment so that his friend can hear him. “So if you want a song to hear, I’ll do it for you!” He smiles brightly and Kaoru laughs before he hugged up a pillow and sat up. What could he possibly suggest? The musician waited for his friend to reply, and once Kaoru knew what he wanted- he snapped his fingers.

“How about... the song made by Bruno Mars? The one with numbers?”

“Count on me?” 

“Yes.” He grinned. “That perfectly describes our friendship here.” Once he said those words, Emile looked like he was in peace.

“Alright, mi amigo.” He began strumming his guitar and began singing the song. This was one of the favorite things to do of the group every time they were together. Hearing him sing, being in the living room together... It always felt so great. It made them feel like they were completely normal people, and it made everyone in the room happy.

After a few song requests, Emile stopped and Masae began talking. “So Ruru, who were you talking to?” With that sudden question, he only raised an eyebrow. “Was it someone we know? Do we have something to do?” Ah. She meant who he was talking to a few minutes ago. 

“It was Hanako.” He replies. “I’ve asked to meet her because I should... probably explain everything to her. I wouldn’t want to keep secrets from her... Also I may be planning to ask her to join the little group of ours. She’s always been someone who I can trust with everything, especially when it comes to managing. She probably is great in planning things out too.”

“Alright, understandable.” Masae stood up before she glanced at Emile. “Play Can’t Help Falling In Love With You, if that’s okay!”

“Wait- NO! I’m being serious, Sae. It’s totally business related thing.”

“I heard mi amigo say it was a date.” 

“Emile never lies.”

God, Kaoru forgot how Emile can hear things beyond what a normal human can hear, and that Masae would literally trust him with anything- even if he told her dinosaurs fucking existed. “Fine, yeah. I told her that. It was to make her not overthink. If I said I had something to tell her, she’d probably wonder about it until Saturday.” He explained and once he did, they both believed in him. “She worries a lot, I don’t want to add up to her problems.”

At one point, Kaoru had to stay in his house and he waited for Masae and Emile to come back from their small mission together. He looked at all the people that had possibilities of getting targeted according to the people Emile negotiated with and the expression of his face changed after he saw the amount of people getting targeted in his school. “I do know that the people in middle school and high school were pretty rich but...” He flipped through the notes, fear in his eyes. “But this much... It’s probably...” His eyes darkened, and he twitched a bit. “Her.”

The door banged open, with Emile entering first, panting. Kaoru lost focus on the files he held and he instantly approached his friend. “The dorm called “Sakura Tokyo”...” He tried to catch his breathe. “There’s a shooting near it. Sae... She told me to go ahead... To tell you...”

Kaoru immediately paled. “Sakura... Tokyo?” That was the dorm where Hanako was currently living in, because she had an internship inside a place nearby. “Fuck. Emile... I...” He knew he couldn’t leave Emile alone in this area, and he wish he could split himself up. “Wait shit... Hold on...” He tried to think of another possibility to do, but his thoughts were stopped as soon as someone opened the door.

Out of surprise, Emile prepared a trap he was ready to push the trigger of, while Kaoru was prepared to throw a knife at someone’s head Before anything happened, the two observed the people who entered.

Two women. One with ginger hair and blue eyes. Another with white hair with icey eyes.

“Christelle... and I’m guessing you’re the new recruit of “Death”.”

The expression of the female became dangerous. “Yes. But he told me to come here quick. I don’t want anything to do with you, I only want to do as commanded.” She places her gun in her holster. “Emile Amamiya.”

Emile froze, not being that familiar with the woman who knew his name. “That’s me.” Luckily, he knew the person beside her so he gently placed the trigger back in his pocket.

“I and Christelle will protect you, for now.” She sighed, as she began tying up her ponytail. “I believe our gang leader will explain everything later. But we’ve heard about you.”

The girl with ginger hair moved closer to Kaoru before slapping him on the face to make him go back to reality instead of thinking of things. “What are you doing? You trust us, right? We got this. Go ahead. Go to “Death” and Sae. Be their back-up.” 

With that, Kaoru only looked back at Emile, before looking at the girls. “I trust you two because I trust your leader, don’t get me wrong.” He brought his pistol out, before spinning it around and catching it. “However, if anything happened to Emile, I’ll kill the both of you.” With that, he left the house.

Christelle only went to Emile before presenting herself politely, while Rin began panicking in the inside, but she showed no fear on the outside. “... Your leader has the guts to threat us like that.”

Kaoru finally arrived in his destination, and he noticed that Masae was back-to-back with another gang leader. “Aroon.” The male who was behind his member caught his attention. “Quick. Go inside the Sakura Tokyo Dormitory. An unknown figure went inside, and I believe he wielded a knife.” He gave him some details. “She and I can handle this.” A grin suddenly formed on his lips. “They’re fucking ants compared to us.”

Despite the increasing heart beats each second that Kaoru was experiencing, the only thing he could do was follow whatever the man could say. “I trust you with this, “Death”. Make sure all the enemies are gone when I’m back.” He raced inside the dorm while holding his gun.

Shit. Who were they aiming for? He wasn’t able to ask Emile... What if they... Fuck, he shouldn’t think about it. Despite people hiding and screaming once he entered, he only went through each floor to find a suspicious figure. He kicked the door open in each room, because he believed that the people were either on the ground floor or have evacuated by now.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here, Aroon.”

“What the fuck do you want?” 

Kaoru pointed the gun at the male who held a person with his hands. To his dismay, it was no other than the woman he talked to just a few days ago.

“... Let her go.”

She was currently blindfolded and held down. She even had her mouth covered by duct tape. She was a hostage. The person couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I hope you remember be, and the day where you decided to shame me in front of all of your schoolmates.”

“You’re too old for this fucking business.” He gritted his teeth. “She hasn’t done anything to you. Leave her out of this.” 

His mind was hazed. He knew that he could shoot the person dead at the moment, but if he did... There would be a chance that he’d stab the girl with one single wrong move. He had to calculate all the possibilities.

“I’ll give you three questions. If you answer all of it, I’ll let her go.” The man smirked and the girl was calm, she didn’t even show a single bit of fear. But maybe she was trying not to show it. She could hide things, after all.

He had no choice, now did he?

“Fine. Bring it.” Kaoru gulped, hoping that he would at least answer some questions vaguely, or the person in front of him was enough of a dumb ass to give him useless questions.

“First off, what’s your intention of joining the Yakuza?”

This wasn’t harmful to know, because it never dealt with anything too personal. “At first, I wanted to be a vigilante.” He paused. “Later on, I wanted to have revenge,”

“Second, who are the members of your gang?” 

He bit his bottom lips, but he knew there was an alternative. He couldn’t give the name of his gang members, that’s basically betraying their trust. “Canción and Gaia.”

“Third, Their real names?”

That was one thing he will never answer. Now, he had to pick his gang or a woman that he considered as a friend. He twitched slightly, his hands was trembling as he continued to point the gun at the man’s head. No matter what, it would be a dead end. “Can my name be said instead?”

“Fuck no. I already know it. Your face is too similar to a Chankul member, I am guessing you’re his son.”

Kaoru began looking down,and he began sweating. This was one of the hardest things to do if you were a-

“YOU BITCH!” His attention shifted to the scene before him. The girl held a Swiss Knife, and her hands were currently untied and there was a slash on the leg of the man. She quickly removed the duct tape off her mouth. “Come back here, you’re the only hos-”

“Shoot him!” She yelled and he followed her instruction. 

One single “bang” was heard inside the dorm, and with this- a body was down on the floor. The woman removed her blindfold. “It’s good I’ve always kept the swiss knife that Kao-” Once she met the eyes of the person who shot the man down, she was speechless.

“... I’m pretty sure you don’t know how to react.” He frowned before keeping his gun.

“Wait-”

They had direct eye contact, but he quickly avoided it, and she was able to tell that he had guilt in his eyes.

“I believe the Saturday Date is cancelled.” He runs through her before quickly jumping off the window. Even if she wanted to give him a response, he was gone before she could tell him anything.

After a few minutes, police sirens was heard in the district.

Saturday, 6:39 PM.

Kaoru was present inside the dining room talking to a someone who was almost twice his size. His head was down, and he was placing his head on his arms which were on top of the table.

“You do know when the food arrives, you have to sit properly. I think Masae is almost done.” 

“I know, Tetsuji...” He began fixing himself, looking a bit restless. “I know you might think I did the wrong move... and fuck, I probably did. I should have told her.”

The man sighed softly. “I do believe you have your reasons of why you keep things from her. You probably thought of her too much.” He pointed out. “You must have been terrified of how worried she’ll be and that stopped you.”

He nodded his head. “I think that’s the reason.” He answered, but he still felt like shit. “Or I was afraid that maybe she’d... be scared of me. I don’t know.” 

Even if Kaoru knew himself well, he couldn’t really say the real reason why he kept it from her... But maybe it was already said. 

“It’s a surprise you’d think that.” Tetsuji stated. “I’ve already told her that I was planning to join one, she may have tried to stop me a couple of times because of worry, but it quickly passed and she ended up telling me that I shouldn’t die, and if I made the promise- she’d accept it.”

“You’re... just beginning. You’re not even in one yet...” He gestured to himself. “Then there’s me! Who’s a fucking leader!” He leaned on the chair before placing his hands all over his face. “I’ve been a leader for two months, and more than that if you count Dai. And then if you count Eizan and Kuga, just imagine how long I’ve been in this life... My dad is a head, and then my mom can literally slit someone’s throat and cry right after... God, I’ve been in this life forever...” He began messing up his own hair. “And I never fucking told her.”

“I do believe it’s you just being reasonable. You never told Emile, until months ago. Masae only knew because she was your childhood friend. I only knew because you’ve told me when I said I was interested.”

“You never tell anyone anything, until you think it’s the right time.”

Kaoru became quiet, and he began believing whatever he said. “You really are my dad friend from my other friends.” He smiles a bit. “That helped a bit.” 

“Mi amiga! Pleasure to see you at this hour!”

“Emile, who en-”

Kaoru spun around to spot a female with her hair tied to a bun. She walked across the room to be near him. “You told me that we’re going to meet at 7. I always come 15 minutes prior to the meeting.” She looked around the room, and she noticed that Tetsuji was also present. “So what’s going on?”

“I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“And why wouldn’t I? I always go as scheduled.”

He was stunned by her answer. He always thought that after hearing that he shot someone, and seeing his face while he was doing his “job”- that she would be scared of him. That was the main reason why he wanted to talk before she ever saw anything.

Hanako looked at her watch. “Is my watch wrong?”

He didn’t respond immediately, but he did a gesture. “If you’re okay with it, then maybe I could talk to you in a more private room.”

“I don’t mind.”

Kaoru stood up from his chair before doing a salute to the man he was talking to. “Talk to you later, Tetsuji. Just eat with the other two, we’ll be back soon.”

They were currently inside the room of the gang leader, and it revealed a couple of things she’s never seen him wield before. “I certainly did not expect you to have this much weapons.” She stated before she brought out her Swiss knife. “I expected you to have some after giving me this for protection, but... this is way more than I thought you’d have.”

He sat down on the chair that was near his desk, and he started observing her. He couldn’t read her, and he couldn’t tell what she could have been planning or thinking about. “I gave you that to make sure that you have at least one self-defense weapon. I could have given you pepper spray, but I thought that you’d be better with a sharp object.”

“Out of topic.” She spoke. “But can I tell you something?”

He was already ready for the worst since he did betray her trust, but he did want to listen. “... Sure. I’m ready for anything.”

“It got me bewildered that you’d say that to me.” She kept her pocket knife back in her pocket. “When you said that you believed that the date was cancelled just because that whole scenario happened.”

He halted his movement for a moment. “... Is that all?”

“Actually... No.” She crossed her arms. “I wanted to ask... if you actually assumed .that I didn’t know that you were part of the Yakuza? I just could never conclude it because I’ve never seen you in action until yesterday. And you never told me.”

He was a little startled, hearing that she reacted like that. “If you knew, why were you never scared of me?”

“Why would I? You would never harm me, wouldn’t you?”

“I would never...”

“Exactly. Why would I be scared of someone who’d never harm me?” She brought up. “I may have been worried about you, and I wouldn’t want you to be in this dangerous business. However, it seemed like you were too into it, so I couldn’t stop you.”

He knew that she was brave, and that if she had something in mind- she’ll always do it. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you. I’ve even seen you bring that man down almost by yourself.”

“I would have been able to.” She brought up. “I made a plan for every thing that he may have done, I just thought shooting him down would waste less of my time. I still had several things to do, and I wouldn’t let a man mess with my time.”

“You’ve always amused me, Miss Hanako.” He began grinning. “I’ve always liked you, but right now, I’m even more interested.” He laughed, before pointing at his own bed. “You may sit, I want to ask you a couple of questions.”

She only sat down, but in an instant, she brought out her knife to block something that was thrown at her. 

“Immediately sliced.” He was honestly impressed. “Through and through. Your reaction time beats mine.” He praised her. “You probably are the best person in planning but...” He placed his elbows on top of his desk before leaning. “I don’t think I should do it anymore.”

“Actually. Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you want to have a date?” 

Kaoru almost forgot why she was here, and it was because he asked her out. She never left things unanswered, and she would want to conclude everything while she can. “I wanted to tell you this, but after the whole incident... I don’t think I can.”

“I still want to know. But if you’re not ready...”

“No, I am. But will you hate me after I ask?”

“Never.” She smiled. “I won’t be able to hate someone who always tried his best to try and cheer me up throughout my whole middle school and high school life.”

A blush went across his cheeks, but he shook his head to snap out of it. “That was sweet for you to say but...” He began tensing up. Somehow, asking Emile and Masae was easier... but it was probably because they told him that they wanted to join himself. “God, my plan was ruined because I thought you’d not come. We were suppose to have steak, and eat together. Then I’ll bring it up... but the mood is all ruined.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. The mood may not match, but I do want to know why you’d want this. You never asked me to come over.”

“I was supposed to tell me what I was, but you knew it- so it would have been useless. Probably show you around my house, and show you my room in specific, which has weapons and make you guess. You are clever, I knew you’d know.”

Hanako began listening to his story. “Yeah, I do know. I would have guessed it before you showed me your room. So then what?”

“I would have asked you... If you wanted to join.” He raised his arms in the air. “Trust me, you don’t need to... But Hanako, I’ve always wanted to know that I greatly appreciate you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Listen... You’re smart, and your ability to absorb information is beyond what a normal human can do. You’re able to manage anything, and you’ve always planned ahead... The fact of what happened when you found out the truth and confirmed it proved everything.” He paused, and he hoped she understood what she meant. 

“And this means?”

“Everything about you, it just shouts out that we could include you in our gang, you’ll be essential in our group...” He stood up before going closer to her. “We need you. We need your ability, no one can fit the role better. You’re one of the best people I’ve met. And... I don’t think I can find anyone better.”

She was overwhelmed with all the compliments he said, and he was able to point out her talent. He’s always been the type to be able to see the best of her, and he’d always support her for whatever. “I see...”

“You don’t need to accept my offer to join us, you can take your time. I don’t mind waiting for an answer.” He patted her head. “I don’t want to force you. I want you... to pick for yourself.” He walked over to the door.

“I’m glad you’re giving me time. It’s a lot to take in.” She walked over to him, and he soon opened the door. “But thank you for everything you said. I feel more confident in myself because of you.”

“Glad to do so, milady. You deserve all the praise thrown at you.” He gestured her to go outside. “Hopefully, you don’t mind that the supposedly romantic dinner with a candlelight is not happening. But we’ll eat together with friends.”

“I think it’s fine.” She responded.

“Alright, after you, milady.”

She wasn’t forced to join, and she did not need a deadline for her decision.

After four months, Tetsuji was driving a car with a woman inside. She crossed her legs, looking at a stack of papers. “Are you finally giving a response to him?” The man asks as he finally steps on the break. “I’ve joined him three months ago, I believe that you’re the only left that he’s waiting for.” The both of them exited the car and knocked on the door of the ever-so -familiar house.

“I’m well informed. I’ve been thinking for months.” She told the tall man and the moment the door opened, they spotted the gang leader with a suit on. “So, leader... I’ve made my decision.”

“What is it, Miss Hanako?”

“I’m joining the gang.”

[luirlar]

HOLY SHIT. Kara has John, John has bombs attached to his chest, they have a virus of some sort. Flashbacks and present time events introduce a new big bad while sending off an old one. Everything looks very big and very bad in this episode, and it is great to watch. And I get a lot of John x Harold feelings, which is great to witness, I hope. This one is long but I am pretty happy with it. Buckle up.

I have watched the whole show before, so SPOILERS MIGHT HAPPEN. Big spoilers will be blanked out but references and irrelevant spoilers are going to be out in the open.

Last bits on POI: After months of looking for The Man in the Suit (I cannot ever overstate how ridiculous this nickname is to me), Donnelly finally catches on and catches up with Carter and Reese. He is ready to bring them to jail and then Kara Stanton rams a literal goddamn truck into the plot (and my heart), shoots Donnelly, and sedates John.

The episode opens exactly the moment where we left off. Carter’s phone rings: it’s Finch. Carter tells him that she thinks the woman who took John used to be his CIA partner, and just as she says this, Finch enters the latest number he’s received from the Machine: Kara Stanton’s. So what the hell is up? A fucking ride that awaits us in this episode and the mess that it triggers, which directly and indirectly carries on till the series’ end. It’s that big of a bad, friends.

John wakes up in a bus, next to Mark Snow (who we last saw warning Joss about a Big Thing “She” Has Planned), opposite to Kara, and he strapped to a bomb vest.

Kara: I know you don’t care about yourself, John, but you’ve got enough semtex strapped in you to spread a lot of misery around.

Gosh. Kara Stanton makes me melt every time she opens her mouth. So cold, so evil, so calm and certain about the absolute havoc she can wreck.

John: So what’s this really about? Kara: This is about three dead little spies in a brave new world. It’s about the afterlife, John, and us negotiating our places in it.

Well, that sounds like a good, wholesome time.

Carter is called to the crime scene where Donnelly was shot, where she was but isn’t telling. Fusco suspects something is up, but Joss can’t tell him squat. I always feel a special appreciation for Fusco. He knows the least about what’s going on at all times, and he knows people hide shit from him, and yet he always helps. He has faith in the team, and I love him for it. They all set out to find out more about Kara and what she might be up to, which is difficult, what with her being declared dead a few years back and all.

On the first stop of their #assassin #throwback tour, John and Mark are supposed to pick up a hard drive, but the sellers try to get smart about the payment, so Kara gives out a kill order. Both Mark and John hesitate, so Kara shoots the sellers for them. Wait, she was in the room with them? No, no. From a rooftop, across the street, with a sniper rifle. She gives no shits whatsoever.

*fans self*

[2010] We are taken back to a scene we’ve seen before, where Alicia Corwin and Mark Snow send Kara and John to Ordos to retrieve the laptop, and where Mark tells both Kara and John separately that their partner has been compromised and needs to be killed. We also get a repeat of the scene where John refuses to shoot Kara, Kara shoots John, and John connects the dots about them being set up. We again see John running away from the building just in time to escape the missiles sent to bump them both off, but then… we see Kara wounded, and being picked up by some sort of uniformed squad. She wakes up in a hospital-looking place, and an Ominous British Man (not yet named) greets her. He tells her that he knows who she is and why she’s there and he doesn’t need her to talk, and that they’ll get along great. Not creepy at all.

John and Mark’s second stop is knocking out some ATF (Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms) agents and impersonate them. In what? A fake bomb threat in an office building. Because Kara couldn’t resist the joke, apparently. I too love joking around while strapping explosives to my former coworkers. John sends a text to Finch indicating he is carrying explosives, and the text allows Finch to know where he was, and who the phone belonged to.

Once inside the building, Kara tells the bomb bros to go to a super secured floor that doesn’t exist in the building’s public records. We know this because Carter, Finch and Fusco are good at detective-ing. Because the episode was not stressful enough, Kara informs us that the signal might be bad inside whatever super secured secret place the boys are headed to, so she puts a timer on their bomb vests.

[2011] We’re back in the hospital-looking place, but some time has passed (I hadn’t noticed the time stamp! This episode and plot point makes more sense to me now!).Ominous British Man babbles about the Titans – Kara’s bosses are the old gods, Kara is part of the new gods, the old gods wanted to eat her because they were afraid of her, or something – and Kara is done with his shit.

Kara: If I break your neck, can I go back to watching TV? She may be tired and is probably being tortured, but she can still sass people out like a champ.

Ominous British Man clarifies that he doesn’t work for any government, and that money is not his business, information is. He offers Kara the name of the person he labels as responsible for the state she is currently in, the person who sold the laptop Kara and John were sent for. (How badly did they psychologically torture and manipulate Kara for that to make sense to her, that the person responsible for her misery is not who gave the kill order, but the person who sold a laptop that she knows nothing about?! Anyway.) In exchange for what, Kara (and we) ask?

Ominous British Man: Do you remember how the Titans were finally killed? Before they could eat their youngest child, Zeus, he wrapped a boulder in his swaddling clothes, then watched as his father choked on it.

What the hell is this Brit on? It’ll all become clear in time (or not, I had to think really hard and read some wikipedia shit to get it, but I’m not a greek mythology buff so maybe you know exactly what this means right now.). He speaks in very obnoxious riddles. I wish Kara would have broken his neck to be honest.

Carter and Fusco are at the building where John and Mark are, but downstairs. John manages to quickly call Finch, and they both figure that since theyre basically in a DOD cyber weapons lab, Kara is probably trying to steal a virus that would shut down the entire internet, or specific networks, or something. She’s stealing something big, that’s for sure.

Unless… Unless John is the most predictable broody white knight in the world and Kara is a cold-hearted bitch who knows him too well. Kara knew John wouldn’t follow orders, would assume Kara wanted to steal something, and would erase all the drives with all the Very Bad Viruses.

Kara didn’t want any of the Very Bad Viruses, because she had a Very Very Bad one. Or at least, a very specific one that she needed to delete the others for. I don’t know how any of that works, can you tell? In any case, she unleashes the virus into the world, sets the timer of the bomb vests to 5 minutes, and skedaddles. But not before John tries his usual emotional “you don’t have to do this, we can hold hands and make the world better together” shtick, and Kara stares dead in his eyes with zero emotional response. Yikes, John, your white knight moves are starting to rust or something.

Mark tries to make a run for his life, with less than 5 minutes to do whatever he can. And then, then All Of The Feelings happen: As John is trying to head to the rooftop (cause his broody white knight redemption arc has to end in a fucking rooftop, right?) to try to hit as little civilians with his explosion as possible, Carter gets to his floor.

Carter: You don’t have to do this. John: You know I do. ‘Cause you’d do the exact same thing.

I mean, I mock his broody self-sacrificing shtick a lot, but it is absolutely the thing to do when you know you’re in all likelihood gonna blow up. And I think it’s because John’s character rarely shows emotions in his face, on purpose, but when he does, it cuts through my misandrist soul and makes me want to hug him and then punch him for making me Feel Things. Between that, and the amazing score as per POI usual, and Taraji’s always amazing performance, I am More than a Lil’ Stressed™. John heads to the rooftop, ready to die. Show’s over folks. But then again…

Finch: So I see I’m not too late…

So, you see, when John warned Finch over the DOD phone to stay clear of the building, what Finch actually heard was, “get as close to me and the building and the fucking bomb as humanly possible”. John tries to stop Finch by… pointing a gun at him? Which, for one, is rude, and more importantly, ridiculously useless in this context.

John: This is my past catching up to me. This doesn’t concern you. Harold: But this moment does. I’m not leaving you, John. So can we please stop wasting time?

Husbands that hang ’round bombs together, stay together. Unless their remains are scattered by the explosion. Sorry. Finch has 3 attempts at one of five combinations. Yikes. And the first one fails.

John: … Sorry.

In the meantime, Kara is making her way out of the building and calls Ominous British Man, who is still not given a name, a purpose, a boss, or a plan. Just a vague creepy Big Bad feel. He carries on speaking in riddles, making grand empty statements, and Kara cuts him off and asks for the goddamn name of the person who sold the laptop and indirectly sent her to Ordos, the name she went through all this trouble to get. Ominous British Man tells her a name is all he has, since this person apparently doesn’t exist in any known database. She jots down a name in a piece of paper. *INTRIIIIIGUE*

Back up in the rooftop, everyone is about to cry. Except me, I’m already crying.

John: I’m pretty sure I’d be dead already if you hadn’t found me. Harold: It’s hard to say. John: Not really.

This is a beautiful moment, except… why does Harold say it’s hard to say? It’s pretty straight forward to say, no? (Except… wait for it.) Harry looks like he is about to cry, which I guess one would if a bomb was about to blow up literally on the face. Goddamn, though, Michael Emerson is an acting champ. This is, on paper, a super contrived moment, but they make it work for me. In a completely unrealistic cliche moment that is only made bearable because the alternative would have been Captain America and his sugar daddy dying, Finch deactivates the bomb on the third and final try, 7 seconds before it is set to detonate.

We’re taken back to Kara’s car, and something is beeping. Her backseat. That has Mark Snow in it. He decided to do something positive (in-universe, negative for all Kara fans like myself) with his life for once, and take Kara with him to the sweet sweet afterlife. Goodbye, you sexy Big Bad motherfucker. John gets back to the library where Bear greats him happily, and John thanks Finch, all teary eyed. At the precinct, the FBI tells Carter that Mark Snow must have been the Man in the Suit, so they close that case. All’s good and right and there are no mysteries left to solve here. Ta-dah!

  What, you thought that was all? Sweet summer child. Did you forget Kara got the name of the guy who sold the laptop and started a whole trainwreck of events that brought us to this very episode, and in a way, brought this whole series into being? Maybe you don’t care. That’s fair. Who cares. Fuck The (Ominous British) Man.

Unless…

Mother of HECK. Yes, you read that right. Harold Finch! How? Why? When? What was that latop, then? (Sure, *now* you wanna know..!) WHAT THE FUCK?! *INTRIIIIIIGUE*

I know, I know. But the whole history of the laptop will not become clear until the second half of season 3, so you’d better get comfy with that unsettling feeling in your stomach. Aaaaand the virus Kara activated is set to go off in five months and change. *INTRIIIIGUE*.

  ** A note on Kara’s time with Ominous British Man: BIG SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AND 5 AHEAD ** Why do I say she was in all likelihood tortured? And that the time stamps make this episode make sense to me? Well, the first (and second) time I watched this episode< I wondered how come Kara turned so easily on her country – because remember, she always did her job, or said she did, for her country. Why would she do a job for a dubious mysterious man, a job that could endanger a lot of people? She asked zero questions for a man who was in no way her boss, or shouldn’t have been. I suspected some torturing or intense indoctrination might have taken place, but I didn’t think much of it other than “really? that easy?” But then season 5 happened. And we see how Shaw gets tortured and gaslighted and manipulated. On the one hand I’m glad we don’t get to see that, but on the other the blanks that aren’t filled make Kara seem like a godless spiteful easy traitor. Not because your bosses sending to kill you isn’t good reason to be vengeful, but it shouldn’t be for a trained, hardcore agent. Unless extreme measures were used, which they probably were. Anyway, I love talking about Kara Stanton and I love her.

Today I (re)watch: Person of Interest, 2.13 HOLY SHIT. Kara has John, John has bombs attached to his chest, they have a virus of some sort.

[raystart]

One House, Two Opinionated Designers, and the Joy of Collaboration

Ettore Sottsass was one of the most influential designers of the 20th century and David Kelley founded the design firm that ushered us into the 21st. But more than an ocean and a generation separates these two creative iconoclasts: Kelley is an unpretentious engineer from blue-collar Ohio who enjoys nothing more than a good tuna melt. Sottsass was the epitome of the Italian designer—mercurial, oracular, and slightly mischievous. Sottsass never knew what to make of Americans who eat fish out of cans (and then put cheese on it). Yet they remained the best of friends.

So in 2001, Kelley, flush with the success of his design firm, IDEO, asked Sottsass to build him a house in the horsey foothills above Silicon Valley, and Sottsass agreed. What followed was an elaborate courtship as the 80-something Italian architect and the 50-something American client, each of whom casts a long shadow across contemporary design, circled and sparred, thrust and parried, and together created an extraordinary house.

    The friendship between Kelley and Sottsass goes back a couple of decades to the glory days of Silicon Valley when “disruption” was not the only thing on everyone’s minds and interesting people were naturally gravitating toward each other. Kelley had just founded what was then David Kelley Design, and a mutual friend—Was it Steve Jobs?  Was it the art collector Johnny Pigozzi?— suggested that he seek out the legendary architect who had just jolted Milan’s fashionable design world with the opening of Memphis.  

Each was, in his own way, a bit of a renegade: Kelley had barreled out of Carnegie Mellon University with an electrical engineering degree and visions of rewiring the world. After six months spent at Boeing designing the circuitry for the “Lavatory Occupied” sign on the 747 he decided that this was not for him, and migrated toward the Valley just as the digital revolution was confronting designers with an endless wave of unprecedented challenges.  First he formed the Intergalactic Destruction Company; then Hovey-Kelley Design; then David Kelley Design, and finally IDEO. Sottsass, meanwhile, had just reinvented himself for the umpteenth time: The Memphis collection—with its bizarre collection of furniture objects crafted out of rare Brazilian hardwoods overlaid with cheap American formica, chrome tubing, and a red lightbulb—was only the latest provocation. At the opening of the Memphis showroom in 1981 one of Italy’s most revered furniture designers was heard to whisper, “You see? This lot has fucked us up for the next twenty years.”

As opposites attract, they were drawn to each other by a kind of mutual fascination. Sottsass lectured Kelley about the importance of metaphor while his muse, Barbara Radice, curled up on a sofa translating Sanskrit poetry. Kelley, not to be outdone, presented Sottsass with a package of Jiffy-Pop, which the architect spent days cleaning off the ceiling of his apartment in the Via Pontaccio. They liked each other, they respected each other, they complemented each other, but most of all, each got what the other was about without yielding one inch.

    Once they even decided to go into business together, launching a venture—Enorme—that would have been fatal to any normal friendship. The first product was a telephone: Sottsass designed a pure objet, accented with hints of Mondrian, Rietveldt and de Stijl, while Kelley’s firm handled the engineering. The Enorme telephone, with its logo of a gigantic Sumo wrestler, was instantly acquired by museum curators around the world—and by nobody else. From opposite sides of the Atlantic the partners watched in dismay as it passed from design to art, which is to say, became magnificently useless.

The friendship flourished, however, even as the partnership collapsed, and both began to think about what came next. Sottsass returned to architecture and to his newly-formed firm of Sottsass Associati. Riding the wave of Silicon Valley innovation, IDEO grew steadily to become certainly the largest and arguably the most influential design consultancy in history.  In time Kelley decided to move out of his loft in downtown Palo Alto and build himself a house. He did not spend a lot of time looking for an architect. 

Sottsass had already done some building in the United States—most notably a house in Ridgway, Colorado (1987-89) for the art collector Daniel Wolf and his wife, the celebrated sculptor-designer Maya Lin. But neither architect nor client had reckoned with the perversities of Silicon Valley, whose culture of technological adventurism is matched only by its hidebound architectural conservatism.  After endless applications, negotiations, inspections, and outright threats, the village elders of Woodside yielded, plans were approved, permits issued, contractors contracted, and the project got underway.

Ettore Sottsass, who believed that he understood David Kelley better than Kelley understood himself, did not begin by asking his client how many bathrooms he wanted. He asked him about his point of view on love, on food, on politics. Design, after all, is not about marrying form and functionality. It is, as he once reflected, “a way of discussing life.” Kelley tried to be helpful: He and his wife created a detailed process book of their daily life; they rented a helicopter and supplied aerial photographs of the building site; he shuttled back-and-forth to Milan, and fired off thousands of faxes. His confidence in Sottsass was great, and his requirements few: The only thing he specified was plenty of space to showcase his stuff.

    David Kelley had, after all, spent twenty years at the forward edge of design, and a fair amount of stuff had come his way: a canary-yellow Ducati that he parked in his living room; a coin-operated mechanical horse (“Sandy”) spirited away from outside of a grocery store; a 1948 Wurlitzer jukebox; an old bathroom scale that gives you honest weight and your fortune for a nickel; a shoebox containing the world’s first commercial mouse (which IDEO designed for Apple); a Braille edition of Playboy, complete with a pointillist bas-relief centerfold.

Sottsass told him to get rid of it. All of it. A house is for interrogating the present, he insisted, not memorializing the past. It is a space for meditating, for conjuring, for plotting against one’s enemies, and for writing a poem. It is not a machine for living in, as the Modernists had claimed, much less a warehouse of machines for living with. And so they circled one another, warily, tentatively, like a pair of giant Sumo wrestlers.

In The Art of War, the 4th century military strategist Sun Tzu argued that the most decisive victory is one in which your opponent believes that he has won. So it is with the house, which manages to express the intellectual vision of both architect and client.  In contrast to the sprawling trophy houses built for the princelings of the Silicon Valley dotconomy, the Kelley residence is not precious, lavishly-appointed, or large.  It takes the form, rather, of a spatial meditation on what is distinctive about California, and that proves to be the landscape.

      The result is a house consisting of five inside rooms with five outside “rooms”—courtyards, patios, play areas—negatively defined by the articulations of the building itself and blurred together on a single grade. Seen from the hillside above, there is absolutely no focal point, axis, or grid. Seen from a distance, it looks more like a village of little buildings than a house, with each room governed by a different architectural idiom: shingles on one, wood siding on another, brick on a third; there is a room with a flat roof, a room with a pitched roof, and a room with a barrel vault; a child’s room resembles a stylized playhouse—much as a child might have drawn it. 

The interior, likewise, bears the marks not of compromise but of a series of negotiated solutions.  Kelley’s approach to furniture is that of a hard-wired engineer:  (1) go to the store; (2) look at what they’ve got; (3) choose one. Sottsass takes a different approach: articulate a vision, then do what is necessary to make it happen. Kelley wanted smart-looking “Italian” chairs around the kitchen table. Sottsass refused: “No,” he thundered! “You want stupid American chairs,” and the solution was for Kelley to select a domestic icon—the ubiquitous, ladder-backed “schoolteacher’s chair” from which Mrs. Wormwood might have presided over the third grade. Kelley said he wanted a large open space for entertaining, but Sottsass forbade it because large rooms violate the human scale.  The solution is to break up the expansive living room-dining room-kitchen space with a forest of mysterious six-foot towers—“inscrutable Japanese boxes that make you wonder what’s in them”—that articulate the space without interrupting it.

    But on one account Sottsass prevailed: The collection of industrial detritus that is Kelley’s pride and joy has been exiled to his office, relegated to his garage, given to his friends, and consigned to the landfill. In their place stands a collection of Sottsass’ own ceramics, the architect’s secret first love but in their very uselessness an affront to the practical engineer: I have always imagined them, Sottsass once wrote, as “catalysts of perception,” emblems of a cosmos that is “neither measurable nor predictable nor controllable.” Ceramics are “older than the Bible, older than all the poems ever written, older than goats and cats, older than metals, older than houses.”

Older, even, than houses.

  ***

This essay was originally conceived as the Kelley-Sottsass house was being completed in 2001. Ettore Sottsass died in 2007 at the age of ninety, and David Kelley has recently moved onto the campus of Stanford University, where he is a professor. The house is now on the market.