#i live comfortably now at least in a global comparison

[sleepkey]

fucked how financial stability would fix me

[boybandposter]

[One Shot: [love]]

⤷𐙚 featuring: 2B 🤍

⤷𐙚 2B finds you in a meadow, where unresolved feelings are brought up

⤷𐙚 WLW

⤷𐙚 word count: 1.7K

⊹₊｡🌏°₊ ⊹

It had been a century since the war between humanity and the machines, and life on earth had returned to a relative peaceful state. Androids and humans lived amongst one another as they repaired the global damage from the countless battles fought on the surface (the area near the city Resistance camp being the first due to how bad it had become).

You were a human yourself, so there was only so much you could to do help in comparison to the androids and technology they had. You took a deep breath of the scent of the flowers in the meadow before you. It was your favorite place to be— away from everyone and not a trace of what happened during the war. It’s not that you didn’t like anyone in the used-to-be camp, in fact you loved each and every person there. But the peace it provided was like no other, and you relished the time you spent here.

The sound of grass rustling behind you stirred you from your thoughts, and you turned to face the source of the noise. It was none other than 2B who took long, elegant strides in your direction. It was funny— after a hundred years she still hardly changed. She wore a simple, black, short sleeved dress that reached the halfway point of her thighs, and black stockings with heels. The only thing that really changed was that she hardly ever wore her blindfold anymore. At least around you.

But in your eyes, it was hopeless. The last woman who asked her out was rejected pretty badly. 2B wouldn’t even let her speak, so you knew your feelings would have to remain buried. It didn’t even matter, you were so hopelessly infatuated that you would do anything to be in her presence.

2B stood directly at your side before sitting beside you, tucking her dress beneath her. Her fingers quickly slipped beneath her blindfold and tugged it off in one fluid motion, revealing her stormy blue eyes. “Hey. How long have you been out here?” Her voice was monotone, but it was expected. With her service as an android, it was a bit tough to stop her soldier-like tendencies such as her speaking.

You release your hold on your knees and stretched your legs out in front of you, leaning back on your hands. “Two hours I think. I kinda lost track of time.” You responded thoughtfully as you stared out across the expanse of the mesmerizing field. 2B simply look at you, her piercing gaze scanning your form. It made you nervous, but you managed to keep your eyes in front of you.

“I was looking for you, y/n.” 2B said, “But if you would like for me to leave, just say so.”

You shifted your gaze to look at the android, a look of slight confusion etched across your features. Normally when 2B came to find you, it was for little tasks or to ask little questions. You couldn’t recall a time when she came to you without an actual reason. Shit, now your heart was racing for sure. “No-! I mean, you’re perfectly fine to stay with me. Sorry. But do you mind if I ask why you were looking for me?”

You noticed the faintest trace of a smile on her pale features, but it soon disappeared. “I��� I’m not entirely sure myself. How strange. I came here on impulse since I knew this would be where you’re at.” She mused to herself, shocked at her own behavior. Why had she come out here? And why did she feel so nervous? Shy, maybe?

You giggled at her words, but in all honesty they sent butterflies to your stomach. Maybe this was just a way of saying you two were close friends, but it was better than nothing. And certainly better than what that one woman got from 2B. Thank goodness you were too scared to make any moves.

A comfortable silence ensued between them as the sun crept behind the horizon. Hues of orange and pink painted the skies; the birds that sang earlier retiring for the evening. The moment was serene and beautiful, and you couldn’t be more grateful than to spend it with 2B. Your heart sank a bit as you realized that you would more than likely never get to spend it with each other as lovers.

After a long while of basking in the sunset, 2B cleared her throat. In her mind, she had battled in her mind about why she came to seek you out. Why she wanted to find you, and why her thoughts seemed to turn to you at any given moment. “Y/n… may I ask you something personal?”

You nodded and turned to face her, admiring the way the light of the setting sun hit 2B’s pale skin. She looked like an angel— although she appeared this way a majority of the time.

2B swallowed any reluctance and stared into your eyes with an unnamed passion. “Y/n, do you love me?” She questioned bluntly, not a hint of hesitation laced in her voice. The words caught you off guard as your mind raced to come up with an answer. You didn’t even know how to start, let alone what to tell her. Should you come up with a bullshit lie? No, 2B would see through the lie and call you out on it.

“Uh… well, in the sense of what?”

“Romance.”

Dammit. There really was no way out of this, and she was being more blunt than usual. I guess there wouldn’t be too much harm in telling her… right? For the second time, you remembered the rejection of the woman, and how 2B spoke such ill of her afterwards. It sent a shiver down your spine just thinking about it. Or rather, made the pit in your stomach grow tenfold.

“2B, I know lying to you is completely useless. But please. Just… listen before you say anything else, okay?” You nearly whispered everything you said, and 2B nodded. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and began telling her everything.

“The truth is 2B, I do love you. I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t even know what to do with those feelings anymore. And I really did want to tell you, but after I heard about the rejections from other people, I couldn’t even handle the thought of you hating me.” You rambled on, gesturing a bit with your hands as you spoke, “I love the way you carry yourself; strong and unnerved. I love the way you pretend you don’t for care people in certain situations, but you would do anything in your power to help them. And God, I love the way your eyes speak to me.”

A sigh feel from your lips, “And I know that I’m a human and you’re an android, but I can’t help it.” You stopped your speech and buried your face in your hands. This had to be one of the most unexpected and humiliating moments on your life. It felt like ages before 2B said a word. “Y/n… look at me. Please?”

Her own hands wrapped around your own and pulled them away so she could look you in the eyes. Her slender fingers wrapped around your palms and pushed them to rest at your sides. “I— I know I’m not the most interesting or fun to be around. But the reason I refused all those women was because I wanted you. I’ve been a fool and haven’t understood until recently. And I still don’t understand these… feelings completely. So if you’re willing to be patient with me, could you help me learn more about love?” 2B leaned in, her breath caressing your lips. Her eyes flickered between your eyes and lips, her lashes fluttering as she waited.

You suddenly became aware of the fact that she was holding your hands, and that her thigh was touching yours, and that if you were to lean forward just the smallest amount, your lips would be on hers. It was almost overstimulating, but in the best way possible. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your words were but a whisper against the breeze, but 2B heard every word.

“There are many other people who would be a better suitor than I. That’s all.”

You stared at her blankly before bursting into laughter, pulling her into a hug that sent you both to the ground. You sat up, staring down at a confused 2B, her bangs pushed up from the sudden push. “I love you 2B. I’m glad I can finally teach you something you don’t know.” You teased, a grin gracing your countenance.

2B’s cheeks tinted pink and one of her hands reached up and squished your cheeks. “Don’t get too difficult with me.” She scolded firmly, but her expression disproved her words. Her eyes softened as she observed your features, and her hold on your face loosened. “But teach me quickly, I’ve wasted time delaying this already.”

You hummed as you thought for a moment and an idea crossed your mind. “Since you want me to teach you something… how about a kiss?” You asked her innocently, but your heart was pounding out of your chest.

2B sat up and guided you to sit on her lap instead, her hands finding their way to your hips. “A kiss? Isn’t that when humans place their lips on one another’s as a form of affection?” You nodded curtly as you absentmindedly played with the hair at the base of her neck. 2B’s eyes flickered to your lips, “May I share a kiss with you?”

You nodded again before cupping her face in your hands. You closed your eyes before pressing your lips against her own, guiding her along as she treaded through the waters. It was almost laughable how stiff 2B became and how her grip along your hips tightened. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You slowly broke the kiss with 2B’s breath ghosting across your lips. “Thank you y/n. I vow that as long as you live, I’ll be by your side.” And with that promise, she sealed her words with a gentle kiss as the sky went dark.

⊹₊｡ꕤ°₊ ⊹

⤷𐙚 author’s note: I think it’s my calling to write fanfic for the niche/unpopular characters </3 I’m probably going to write one for Tauro from Tears of the Kingdom or Niles from Fire Emblem: Fates next—

[dojae-huh]

Lucas has to build up his popularity again. Showing his face here and there, attending programmes. After he finds his footing again (psychologically first of all), I think he will be pushed as an actor. His main selling card is his looks and charisma, not performance skills, so modelling/acting/tv-personality is best. A Chinese-Thai Cantonese native speaker promoting in Indonesia in Korean, lol. Will Korean become the lingua franca for the region? It has the grammar/writing system advantage and the soft power of celebs.

aespa are on fire this comeback. Frankly, after many listens I still didn't warm up to "Armageddon", it's my least liked A-track, but the song serves aespa world-building and the transition to the part 2 of the lore. The concept is very beautiful, of course. And pre-releasing Supernova was a super smart move. SM repeated the success of "Illusion" (but this time adding an MV).

aespa members all progressed with dancing and stage precense, even Giselle moves better (the upper body, not legs yet). Now they are ready for global expansion and representing SK. They can show strong live singing, impress with encores, are confident. I agree with the method of starting off with minis and singles. A rookie group needs time not only to gain a fandom, but also to mature as performers. NCT U, aespa, Riize got first songs that serve in hind sight. Black mamba makes sense after the reveal of the lore. NCT started with a now classic track and with the most popular members. Riize - with a difficult daring choreo they are now known for (they repeated it with "Impossible").

The new TWS song is as bland as the previous ones, couldn't finish the MV. I'm actually curious if they will do well (considering Hybe's wealth and socmed platform, affiliation with SVT) or be the victim of fan fatigue. So far they offer nothing new in comparison to TXT and Enhypen.

Dream's "Moonlight" Jaemin gets the best clothes for MVs, heh. That sparky sweater caught my attention during the first seconds of the MV. The song is not for me, but it's very on brand for Dream - optimistic, uplifting, comforting. The MV is nice, light and sparkly, very nice colours. Fitting the concept. I like the white outfits.

Dream for me is the definition of "idol group". They are strong at performing (dancing skills, cohesion of the unit, similar height), every member is different and stands out on his own (it took time, but SM figured out how to highlight everyone and use individual skills), they are good at providing "a good company" (variety, friends, vlogs). Their overarching concept is youthful, optimistic, in parallel to their fanbase (growing up from teens to adults). The unit isn't vocally strong, only Mark is a good rapper, but the lack of technical skills is well hidden by assigning singing parts the members can manage, using Jaemin's deep voice and smiling face instead of trying to make him really rap, uniting voices in a chorus like in this song, etc. Dream sells "good time" and "good company" instead of "art" or "food for brain and ear" (like 127).

[papirouge]

Clicked the link for you from that other anon 👍🏾

It highlighted how in the US at least, the number of people who call themselves Christians on these polls are falling faster. Active church membership has fallen below 50% for the first time. By 2070, of this trend keeps up, the Christian majority will disappear.

It’s interesting to read because as someone who grew up Christian many people who call themselves Christian and go to church aren’t really Christian, I believe real number of people who are Christ-like right now is very small. USAmerican Christians often have their priorities set to be more about their ego and nationalism than actually follow Christ’s word. Right now, when Christians make up about 65% of the country already, many are outspoken about how Jesus is too liberal and his message is too weak. They want some overly muscular tattooed warlord Jesus who loves guns, hates socialism and stands for nationalism. When at least in my mind he was a brown Palestinian man who loves to laugh, enjoy the beauty of gods creations, and loved to share the word of God. He didn’t ignore or condemned anyone regardless of their background or profession, because Gods word is for everyone to hear. He is pure and comfort. He wouldn’t separate women from the group for being women, and he wouldn’t ignore children. He gave his word and it was up for the people to decide to follow because God have us free will and wants us to follow him willingly, not under threat of violence.

Anyway, yeah, I hope more americans study more about the history of the world back then, I hope more people maybe learn the languages and understand the Bible instead of using it to be hateful. Then the numbers of christians in these polls would be better reflected

Also happy Easter 🙌🏾

For context, that anon was a Zionist hater/troll that was pissy at me for calling out genocide.

So in a typical Zionist fashion she tried to used those articles to mock Christianity. She really thought she did something by popping up those articles but she only exposed how slow she is because it's a well documented fact that Christianity is losing influence in the western world, while it's growing in developing countries, such as Africa and Asia..

It's very embarrassing to see people like her think the USA is a relevant compass to grasp the dynamic of the Church. Most Christians on this planet aren't Americans, let alone White or Westerner. This anon stunt screams typical yankee main character syndrome.

I always said that USAmericans Christian were the most degenerate flock of Christians and that we global Christians didn't claim them. Just today I crossed sword with Christians on TikTok about OSAS, and the lot of them didn't even know about the story or Ananias and Saphira. They either thought it was the old testament, when it's in the new one (Ananias ans Saphira were Christian converts who lived in a Christian commune administered by Peter (see Acts 5:1-11) or that I was making this story up🤦🏾‍♀️ Many American Christian are absolutely uneducated about the Bible. They never read it back to back. They are just too lazy to do so and let their (most likely corrupted) pastor spoonfed them with cherry picked passage.

I'm not saying you have to remember the entire bibles, but reading it's entire content will greatly help you having ringing alarms whenever someone says stuff that has absolutely no place in that book. For example, there was a post floating around radblr mocking Christianity and quoting a book comparing women to dogs. And as someone who read the Bible back to back, I clocked that BS immediately bc I knew for a fact that 1) women were NEVER compared to dogs in the Bible 2) the only comparison that's made in the Bible between dogs and humans is in Matthew 15:26 in the mouth of Jesus who's speaking parabolically about Jews vs Gentiles [earning themselves a seat at the feast] - and btw Jesus used the word kunarion which means puppy/little (family) dog and not dog in a regular/lowkey derogatory sense that's rather translated from keleb. You'll also note that the kunarion dog is exclusively used in that scene of Jesus parabolically replying to Samaritan woman and not any other Bible passage that rather featured the keleb dog that has a derogatory nuance into it (unlike kunarion has an affectionate one which is why that word only came from the mouth of Jesus). Sorry for the MASSIVE tangent.

Anyway, it turns out that book was apocrypha (those dumb radfem though Ecclesiastes (in the Bible) and Ecclesiasticus (apocrypha) were the same book...🤦🏾‍♀️) so it was normal I had no recollection of reading in the Bible comparison women to dogs....

Thank you for your commitment by reading these articles though 🫡 i legit felt like it was laced with some malware crap lol And happy (belated) Easter to you too. I'm really showing how slow I am at replying asks now 😅

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating Bonus 1: Wyverian

So, a month ago, an anon asked me to review the Wyverians, which could basically be described as the elves of the Monster Hunter world. They aren’t actually monsters, but since someone asked for this, I thought it would be a nice little treat before I moved on to the next game. Since they aren’t monsters, I won’t actually rate them, but I’ll still use the categories (with the exception of equipment, ‘cause obviously they have none) for the sake of format. Let’s get started!

(The Kokoto Village Chief, who first appears in MH1)

(Hinoa, one of the twin Village Maidens from Monster Hunter Rise)

Appearance: When I said that Wyverians were the elves of Monster Hunter, I meant it; those pointy ears are one of the things that “suggest a wyvern ancestry.” Now, my first thought was that this implied some sort of proto-Wyverians somehow breeding with wyverns--an idea that I found highly disturbing--but after getting an anon ask about how they just evolved from wyverns, I think the whole bestiality thing was never meant to be someone’s interpretation, and it just occurred to me because the internet has forever destroyed my innocence.

Wyverians are also distinct from humans in that they have four-fingered hands, but there’s another, more striking trait that I’m guessing you noticed immediately upon looking at the above renders: the majority of Wyverians have digitigrade legs, meaning that like cats and dogs, they walk on their toes, and their feet are more like those of a dragon than those of a human--in fact, while most Wyverians have humanoid hands, others have scaly, clawed hands. I’m not going to say that the whole thing with their legs is disturbing, ‘cause trust me, the designers could have done worse things than that, but it feels like the only reason this is the case is that the creators of MH wanted to have a humanoid race like elves, and they wanted to give them many traits that elves in fantasy settings have, but they didn’t want them to be elves. 

Stepping away from that, the final thing I want to mention is that Wyverians vary much more in size than humans do. They can be short, like the Kokoto Chief (at least it seems like he’s short, I can’t actually tell), or, um...well, here’s a famous Wyverian known simply as “His Immenseness”:

Yeah, I can see where he got the name. The wiki says that estimates place him at 600 cm--or 19.7 ft--tall at the very least, and after way too much math involving a comparison to the person before him (and assuming said person to be 171 cm/5 ft 7.5 in, which is the global average of young adult men), I estimate him to be about 685.8 cm--or 22.5 ft--tall when he’s standing up; I assumed he was shorter because I forgot that he was sitting down when I first started comparing him and the smaller person. tl:dr, Wyverians can either be short or, very rarely, as tall as a two-story house.

Behavior/Lore: Wyverians tick off many of the same boxes that fantasy elves do; they live for hundreds of years, they’re connected to and have a great respect for nature, they prefer to avoid conflict, and they’re considered more rational than humans are. The last part may be due to their lengthy educations--which can be so long and cover so much that a human couldn’t learn everything Wyverians do in a reasonable amount of time--but it still feels like the MH team could have called Wyverians “elves” and nothing would really be lost. Though apparently Wyverians have a different sense of humor from humans, but I really don’t think that’s enough.

Here’s something you might not know, though: the first Hunters were Wyverians, but when the humans made a Hunter’s Guild, Wyverian Hunters became a rarity. But this was apparently by choice, ‘cause Wyverians seem more than happy to support human Hunters by doing tasks for the Guild. While I would normally be unhappy with this for the same reasons I don’t like how Lynians seem too comfortable in subordinate positions, this actually makes sense for Wyverians since they don’t like fighting, and it’s not like Wyverians are in a bad spot in human societies. In fact, the Village Chief in the first MH game is a Wyverian who was a legendary Hunter in his youth, so they’re clearly respected. Though this just makes the fact that Lynians seem to be in a lower class of human society seem even worse because it implies that Wyverians have it better because they look like humans.

Abilities: Obviously, Wyverians are capable of the same things humans are, but there are two things I want to mention: first is the fact that the “First Wyverians” have a language that relies on vibrations, not words, to communicate (I put their name in quotes because the wiki seems to imply that they’re still alive, implying that they aren’t really the first known members of the Wyverian species, but instead a specific Wyverian culture/sect/etc.). This is important to note because some Wyverians will “Resonate” with vibrations such as these and translate them into their spoken language, but the prime example of this is a spoiler for MHRise so I’m not saying anything more.

The second thing I want to bring attention two is that His Immenseness is known for wrestling Lao-Shan Lungs in his spare time. You know, the 200+ ft Elder Dragon that can reduce a mountain to rubble with its strength alone? Unless His Immenseness’ technique is really good at not giving the Lao-Shan Lungs any leverage whatsoever, he should be a pancake, so either someone’s lying or he’s improbably strong. If normal-sized Wyverians had the same strength-to-size ratio that he does, then they should be able to break a Gravios’ jaw by backhanding it, but the wiki doesn’t mention any superhuman abilities that Wyverians possess, so my guess is that if he’s as strong as they say, then this kind of strength is unique to giant Wyverians.

Final Thoughts: Look, I know I sounded kinda harsh about the whole “they’re just elves with different names” thing, but I don’t hate Wyverians; I just wish there was more done to give them their own identity. It’s clear that the MH team used a lot of the same tropes used for elves when they first designed Wyverians, but it seems like they used too many of them and didn’t come up with enough original aspects to make them stand out. But you have to remember, the only MH game I’ve watched someone play is Rise, and the main Wyverians you see in that game, the Village Maidens, are human sized, and as such seem a lot like elves to me. If the game had prominent Wyverians like the Kokoto Chief and His Immenseness, then maybe my perception would be changed.

[stupid-damn-harp]

Notes for “Rural Boys Watch the Apocalypse”

“Your hand’s in mine”

This poem doesn’t explicitly state the relationship between the two boys, and this adds to it. The two characters could be in a romantic relationship, and this choice comes with a variety of implications given the traditional christian liturgy that’s repeated throughout the poem. If this is the end of the world, where will these two gay boys end up? Are they thinking about their afterlife? Are they wondering if they can stay together? Whether they’ll be with their family? There’s so many questions that these boys might be thinking of if they’re in this sort of relationship. They could also just be very close neighbors. Later in the poem he specifies his “doomsday neighbors,” which might be a sign that the other boy and his family might be the other neighbors, or it might have just been explaining the neighbor’s behavior. Another option could be that they’re best friends that are so comfortable with each other that holding hands feels comforting, but not completely natural because the narrator thought it was important to point it out. 

“waters turnin' to blood”

The two boys obviously share the same or similar religious views, and are probably at least somewhat learned or devout in their faith. I grew up reading the scriptures and I can’t say off the top of my head what a biblical apocalypse looks like - but this boy can, and relates it to the other boy, expecting him to also understand.

“But there are only the fallin’ stars”

I’m struck that the “only” thing is the falling stars. It’s almost as if he’s saying that the rest of the world has already ended, already vanished from his view and his mind. All he can see is the stars falling, and it doesn’t matter anymore if the rest of the world or the people around him still exist. He’s somehow writing himself and the other boy off as unimportant in the face of this global catastrophe. This line also stands outside of any stanza, forcing us to pay attention to the entire phrase and inviting a degree of separation from the stanzas before and after. There are only the falling stars, and that’s important. More important than what this boy thought would happen, more important than telling where the initial warning came from. The present events hold more weight.

"'Least the weather channel warned us about it,"

I wonder why the weather channel is the one that predicted this apocalypse? He mentions falling stars, which might be under their jurisdiction, but I feel like higher-up governmental agencies would be in charge of announcing and predicting the literal end of the world. 

“are loadin' the back”

If the stars are falling, and this is the end of the world, where do these neighbors think they’re going? Where do they think that they’ll be safe?

“under large whitewashed crosses”

This line is especially striking given the religious imagery throughout the entire poem. Jesus was a middle eastern Jewish man, and that’s something that many Christians in America conveniently forget. Many people in this religion spread around views that those with darker skin are children of ham (as we see in the Poisonwood Bible) or suggest that the native american people are really the descendants of the Lamanites, so their darker skin was a curse from God. These crosses that the neighbors are taking with them embody all of these harmful beliefs. The religion itself is whitewashed. The crosses are described as large, and I’m having trouble modulating that size within my own thoughts. On one hand, they have to be small enough to fit within the back of a pickup truck. But, are these crosses large as in “human sized and could be used for their original purpose”? Large as in “larger than handheld so they seem giant, but they’re best suited for yard decorations”? Either way, I’m taking it as a symbol of how contemporary christians take up the most space in religious discussions in America and quite often interpret anything different from their blatantly obvious beliefs as an attack on their faith. Think Boomers yelling about the “war on christmas” type. These crosses are not only whitewashed but they’re large too, visibly screaming to anyone looking in their direction that the drivers of the truck belong to the Christian faith and that they’re going to be confrontational about it. Everything else is stacked under the crosses, giving them the most significance and the most visibility.

“I wanna see ‘em”

Honestly, this line slightly confused me. These women seem quite knowledgeable about the events foretold in the bible. But it’s also stated in the bible that human beings never see angels or God’s true form because we wouldn’t be able to handle it. Surely they must know that? Do they think that these rules will be lifted simply because the world is ending? Are they hoping to see these wonders even though it would have untold consequences on her own mortal form? Don’t get me wrong, I would also love to see an angel in their full and confusing glory, but I don’t have enough of a death wish to actually follow through with that.

“their calloused hands”

Interesting imagery here. Typically angels are described using delicate and ethereal words, or sometimes words that just remind us that angels are spirits and don’t have physical bodies. But the word “calloused.” Calluses imply hard work. Calluses mean rough hands, dirty feet, and tough love. Calluses mean a physical body that is growing stronger. There’s nothing delicate about calluses. There’s nothing inherently holy about calluses. The working class has calluses, and the so-called “perfect” bodies of models and influencersnever have calluses. But here these heavenly beings are, rough hands and all. Perhaps he’s envisioning someone he knows as an angel, and thus opted for the more human-feeling approach. Perhaps he’s hoping that the people of earth are fighting to stay here, fighting to continue living, and the mere act of carrying these writhing and fiery people causes so much work for the angels that they develop these human characteristics of calluses. Perhaps he’s hoping that he’ll become an angel over some darker fate. I’m not sure what implications were intended with this line, but it feels beautiful and wholly human to me, and I love it for that.

“stupid damn harp”

This is the first of two instances where the narrator uses the phrase “stupid dumb” to describe something of the archangel Gabriel’s. Both times he isn’t describing Gabriel himself, just things that he possesses in traditional stories. This could be a nervous boy making jokes in an unsure time as a coping mechanism, but it also could be the author showing his own disillusionment with the traditional christian stories and traditions. 

Additionally, the combination of “stupid” and “damn” here is pretty interesting. In Christian mythology, any deity in heaven (e.g. God, angels, Jesus, etc) possesses all the knowledge in the universe. This boy referring to the archangel’s belongings as “stupid” doesn’t reflect this. It almost feels like he wants to criticize the angel himself but he knows there might be consequences, so he settles for calling his iconic harp and tunic the words he wants to call the angel himself. He’s also using the word “damn,” which in biblical contexts typically has hellish connotations. If someone is damned, then they’ve been condemned to hell. The archangel Gabriel is the literal antithesis of that idea, so it’s interesting to see this word applied to anything involving him at all. 

“moanin’ like a sinner in hell”

This comparison continues the interesting dichotomy between heaven/hell that we find throughout the poem. The doomsday neighbors’ truck not only holds large whitewashed crosses, but also sounds like someone suffering in hell. Weirdly enough, it seems to give us a view at the sort of Christians that think they’re doing God’s work (holding the whitewashed crosses), but once they get started towards their destination, it becomes more and more obvious that they’re not being entirely truthful (sounding like a sinner in hell). 

I’m also struck by the mildness and neutrality in this sentence. Usually when someone’s talking about those in hell, the verb used is “screaming,” not “moaning.” Is this wishful thinking on the narrator’s part, or just a description of the truck’s engine using terminology he already knows? The narrator doesn’t seem to be passing judgement with this comparison either, it comes across as an observation rather than a condemnation of the neighbors’ actions. His family chose not to leave, their family is leaving right now, and those two actions aren’t compared or judged here.

*

This poem was chosen for the anthology because of the twisted biblical themes tempered by a slight homoerotic vibe. From the beginning of the Abrahamic religions to today, LGBt+ individuals have been left out of religious contexts at best and damned to hell at worst. Given the author’s experience as a gay trans man, I’m reading the narrator and the other “rural boy” as lovers. The poem contains many instances where the narrator invokes sacred and profane imagery in reference to the same objects or beings, and gives a new sort of “hot take’ on the biblical apocalypse - contributing perfectly to the theme of altered religion.

*

Bibliographical Information:

This poem was posted on Tumblr, and the original source is reblogged below. 

[bangwoolofbangtan]

TIME

ENTERTAINER of the year

BTS

[Time magazine BTS interview ]

It’s late October, and Suga is sitting on a couch strumming a guitar. His feet are bare, his long hair falling over his eyes. He noodles around, testing out chords and muttering softly to himself, silver hoop earrings glinting in the light. “I just started learning a few months ago,” he says. It’s an intimate moment, the kind you’d spend with a new crush in a college dorm room while they confess rock-star ambitions. But Suga is one-seventh of the Korean pop band BTS, which means I’m just one of millions of fans watching, savoring the moment.

BTS isn’t just the biggest K-pop act on the charts. They’ve become the biggest band in the world—full stop. Between releasing multiple albums, breaking every type of record and appearing in these extemporaneous livestreams in 2020, BTS ascended to the zenith of pop stardom. And they did it in a year defined by setbacks, one in which the world hit pause and everyone struggled to maintain their connections. Other celebrities tried to leverage this year’s challenges; most failed. (Remember that star-studded “Imagine” video?) But BTS’s bonds to their international fan base, called ARMY, deepened amid the pandemic, a global racial reckoning and worldwide shutdowns. “There are times when I’m still taken aback by all the unimaginable things that are happening,” Suga tells TIME later. “But I ask myself, Who’s going to do this, if not us?”

Today, K-pop is a multibillion-dollar business, but for decades the gatekeepers of the music world—the Western radio moguls, media outlets and number-crunchers—treated it as a novelty. BTS hits the expected high notes of traditional K-pop: sharp outfits, crisp choreography and dazzling videos. But they’ve matched that superstar shine with a surprising level of honesty about the hard work that goes into it. BTS meets the demands of Top 40’s authenticity era without sacrificing any of the gloss that’s made K-pop a cultural force. It doesn’t hurt that their songs are irresistible: polished confections that are dense with hooks and sit comfortably on any mainstream playlist.

BTS is not the first Korean act to establish a secure foothold in the West, yet their outsize success today is indicative of a sea change in the inner workings of fandom and how music is consumed. From propelling their label to a $7.5 billion IPO valuation to inspiring fans to match their $1 million donation to Black Lives Matter, BTS is a case study in music-industry dominance through human connection. Once Suga masters the guitar, there won’t be much left for them to conquer.

In an alternate universe where COVID-19 didn’t exist, BTS’s 2020 would likely have looked much like the years that came before. The group got its start in 2010, after K-pop mastermind and Big Hit Entertainment founder Bang Si-hyuk recruited RM, 26, from Seoul’s underground rap scene. He was soon joined by Jin, 28; Suga, 27; J-Hope, 26; Jimin, 25; V, 24; and Jung Kook, 23, selected for their dancing, rapping and singing talents.

But unlike their peers, BTS had an antiestablishment streak, both in their activism and in the way they contributed to their songwriting and production—which was then rare in K-pop, although that’s started to change. In BTS’s debut 2013 single, “No More Dream,” they critiqued Korean social pressures, like the high expectations placed on schoolkids. They have been open about their own challenges with mental health and spoken publicly about their support for LGBTQ+ rights. (Same-sex marriage is still not legally recognized in South Korea.) And they’ve modeled a form of gentler, more neutral masculinity, whether dyeing their hair pastel shades or draping their arms lovingly over one another. All this has made them unique not just in K-pop but also in the global pop marketplace.

In March, BTS was prepping for a global tour. Instead, they stayed in Seoul to wait out the pandemic. For the group, life didn’t feel too different: “We always spend 30 days a month together, 10 hours a day,” Jin says. But with their plans upended, they had to pivot. In August, BTS dropped an English-language single, “Dynamite,” that topped the charts in the U.S.—a first for an all-Korean act. With their latest album this year, Be, they’ve become the first band in history to debut a song and album at No. 1 on Billboard’s charts in the same week. “We never expected that we would release another album,” says RM. “Life is a trade-off.”

Their triumphs this year weren’t just about the music. In October, they put on perhaps the biggest virtual ticketed show of all time, selling nearly a million tickets to the two-night event. Their management company went public in Korea, turning Bang into a billionaire and each of the members into millionaires, a rarity in an industry where the spoils often go to the distributors, not the creators. And they were finally rewarded with a Grammy nomination. On YouTube, where their Big Hit Labels is one of the top 10 most subscribed music accounts (with over 13 billion views by this year), their only real competition is themselves, says YouTube’s music-trends manager Kevin Meenan. The “Dynamite” video racked up 101 million views in under 24 hours, a first for the platform. “They’ve beaten all their own records,” he says.

Not that the glory comes without drawbacks: namely, lack of free time. It’s nearing midnight in Seoul in late November, and BTS, sans Suga, who’s recovering from shoulder surgery, are fitting in another interview—this time, just with me. V, Jimin and J-Hope spontaneously burst into song as they discuss Jin’s upcoming birthday. “Love, love, love,” they harmonize, making good use of the Beatles’ chorus, turning to their bandmate and crossing their fingers in the Korean version of the heart symbol.

Comparisons to that epoch-defining group are inevitable. “What’s different is that we’re seven, and we also dance,” says V. “It’s kind of like a cliché when big boy bands are coming up: ‘Oh, there’s another Beatles!’” says RM. I’ve interviewed BTS five times, and in every interaction, they are polite to a fault. But by now they must be weary of revisiting these comparisons, just as they must be tired of explaining their success. RM says it’s a mix of luck, timing and mood. “I’m not 100% sure,” he says.

They’ve matured into smart celebrities: focused and cautious, they’re both more ready for the questions and more hesitant to make big statements. When you ask BTS about their landmark year, for once they’re not exactly chipper; J-Hope wryly calls it a “roller coaster.” “Sh-t happens,” says RM. “It was a year that we struggled a lot,” says Jimin. Usually a showman, on this point he seems more introspective than usual. “We might look like we’re doing well on the outside with the numbers, but we do go through a hard time ourselves,” he says. For a group whose purpose is truly defined by their fans, the lack of human interaction has been stifling. Still, they’ve made it a point to represent optimism. “I always wanted to become an artist that can provide comfort, relief and positive energy to people,” says J-Hope. “That intent harmonized with the sincerity of our group and led us to who we are today.”

In an era marked by so much anguish and cynicism, BTS has stayed true to their message of kindness, connection and self-acceptance. That’s the foundation of their relationship with their fans. South Korean philosopher and author Dr. Jiyoung Lee describes the passion of BTS’s fandom as a phenomenon called “horizontality,” a mutual exchange between artists and their fans. As opposed to top-down instruction from an icon to their followers, BTS has built a true community. “Us and our fans are a great influence on each other,” says J-Hope. “We learn through the process of making music and receiving feedback.” The BTS fandom isn’t just about ensuring the band’s primacy—it’s also about extending the band’s message of positivity into the world. “BTS and ARMY are a symbol of change in zeitgeist, not just of generational change,” says Lee.

And in June, BTS became a symbol of youth activism worldwide after they donated $1 million to the Black Lives Matter movement amid major protests in the U.S. (They have a long track record of supporting initiatives like UNICEF and school programs.) BTS says now it was simply in support of human rights. “That was not politics. It was related to racism,” Jin says. “We believe everyone deserves to be respected. That’s why we made that decision.”

That proved meaningful for fans like Yassin Adam, 20, an ARMY from Georgia who runs popular BTS social media accounts sharing news and updates, and who is Black. “It will bring more awareness to this issue people like me face in this country,” he says. “I see myself in them, or at least a version of myself.” In May and June, a broad coalition of K-pop fans made headlines for interfering with a police app and buying out tickets for a Trump campaign rally, depleting the in-person attendance. Later that summer, ARMY’s grassroots fundraising effort matched BTS’s $1 million donation to Black Lives Matter within 24 hours.

For 28-year-old Nicole Santero, who is Asian American, their success in the U.S. is also a triumph of representation: “I never really saw people like myself on such a mainstream stage,” Santero says. She’s writing her doctoral dissertation on the culture of BTS fandom, and she runs a popular Twitter account that analyzes and shares BTS data. “Anytime I’m awake, I’m doing something related to BTS,” she says. “This is a deeper kind of love.”

Devotion like that is a point of pride for BTS, particularly in a year when so much has felt uncertain. “We’re not sure if we’ve actually earned respect,” RM says. “But one thing for sure is that [people] feel like, O.K., this is not just some kind of a syndrome, a phenomenon.” He searches for the right words. “These little boys from Korea are doing this.” —With reporting by Aria Chen/Hong Kong; Mariah Espada/Washington; Sangsuk Sylvia Kang and Kat Moon/New York

FASHION CREDITS

RM: Jacket, shirt, pants and shoes HERMES; SUGA: Jacket, shirt and necklace CELINE. Pants GIVENCHY. Shoes LOUIS VUITTON; Jung Kook: Jacket, shirt, pants and shoes FENDI; J-Hope: Jacket, shirt, pants and shoes LOUIS VUITTON. Necklace HERMES; Jin: Suit, knit top and shoes BALENCIAGA; Jimin: Jacket, silk shirt, pants and shoes CELINE; V: Suit, shirt and shoes ALEXANDER McQUEEN. Tie THOM BROWNE.

[star-puff]

ღ a love letter, to me and to you.

truth be told, i said to myself that i wouldn’t get too sappy today. i was already doing a new years/milestone event, and i thought to myself, ‘this is good enough. at least i’m not doing nothing for the end of the year’ and i left it at that. that is, until now. i’ve already responded to a few mutuals that have mentioned me in their love letters, and it felt...a bit empty to just leave the year with half-hearted affirmations of the few. so here i am, not even 2 hours from when the ball drops, writing a love letter to me and to you (especially you).

to my followers:

where do i even start. there aren’t a lot of you, at least in comparison to other bigger blogs, but 400!! 400 of you saw my writing and made the conscious decision to join me in my shitposting adventure about 2D boys and the ocs that i somehow force into the role of ‘reader.’ i want to say thank you, but it seems a bit overdone at this point. because ‘thank you’ doesn’t even begin to express the gratitude i have for giving my writing a chance, for clicking on that ‘read more’ and unlocking a world i’ve created.

i’ve never been super confident about my writing, always questioning if what i’ve written, what i’ve bared my soul into creating was even good enough to be seen. frankly, i still have problems with that internal struggle, but having people say that they like it? that my writing made them feel emotions and took them some place other than where they were? i can’t even begin to describe how happy that made me, that i’ve done for others what others have done for me. if there’s anything i wanted to achieve with my creations, it’s making people feel. thank you for making it known that i’ve achieved that.

there wasn’t any obligation to read my stuff, to like it, to follow me, but you did anyway. hell, sometimes i wonder if i’m even deserving of it (but this isn’t the time for self-pity, so shush imposter syndrome! back away!!!!). but for doing all of the aforementioned i’m saying, due to my lack of words to express my emotions fully, thank you.

love,

meg <3

to my mutuals:

i! love all of you!! from the ones who i interact with regularly to the ones who are always sporadic, i love each and every one of you. thank you for being friends with me, thank you for allowing me the chance to be friends with you, i hope you know that if you’re my mutual i see your work & your vibes and i mean it when i say enjoy it and i want to see more.

(to the ones i haven’t seen for a while, i miss you a ton :( i hope you’re doing well, laughing the happiest laughs and eating the tastiest food and living your best life <3)

you’ve allowed me to feel a little less lonely during quarantine, talking to friends who are awake when i should be asleep, screaming about anime and manga that none of my irls are even remotely interested in, you’ve really provided me with a community where i feel comfortable sharing my opinions and thoughts, however random and weird they may be. i won’t be doing any direct letters, partially bc i think i’ve said all i need to say at one time or another, but when i say there are a few special, special people who are a part of my mutual circle, you know who you are. i love you so, so dearly, i hope you know how much you mean to me.

(if you don’t, i’m making a home in your inbox and nesting until you’re forced to call pest control to rid yourself of me. this is not a threat this is a promise >:( )

love,

meg <3

to me:

(to the me of last year)

hey you!! bitch!!!! who would have thought that you would’ve started a tumblr blog about writing fanfiction? when you couldn’t even go a month without writer’s block??? it’s wild, i know, but hey! life’s wild! go with the flow!

i want you to know that things get better :) you stop crying at random times at 2AM, you stop getting that random pang of loneliness when everything feels too far away from you, you stop feeling abandoned and like a dirty rag set in the sun to dry. you’ve made friends! you’ve become more social, you’ve formed a little circle of online friends, you’re a little stressed out because of college and senior year and a? global pandemic that your country doesn’t really take seriously?? and online classes but you can say that you’re happy now :) and sure, you miss some school friends, you miss going to class and talking to teachers but you made a very, very good new friend. someone you can tell pretty much everything to, someone who is on equal level as [redacted] and [redacted]. someone who has a rat dog that you’re not sure likes you or not but at least he follows you around sometimes and lets you pet him so maybe it’s okay! and even one of your online friends is someone you talk to almost every day, even though she ghosts you sometimes (if you see this, which you probably won’t...i l*ve you ok).

all i’m saying is, it gets better. you learn to love yourself and your creativity a little more than you do now. you get a funky lil mechanical keyboard to motivate you to write. you still have some issues you’re working out, but hey! this is only the meg of next year, not the meg of forever :)

be good to yourself, okay?

sincerely,

future you, 2020.

[luisgarcia21]

Narrative Theory

In this entry, the critical questions I am exploring are: How symbols used in graphics can make a change in people’s behavior? How can this type of symbols make a collective change? What assumptions of a narrative can be taken out of graphics and short texts like this one? What are the reasons that shocking symbols can have an impact on people? How effective can graphs, symbols and narrative be when trying to make a change?

To explore these critical questions, I examined a Pinterest post by Behance as my rhetorical artifact, reading ‘’There is no planet B. Act now. Earth day, April 22. ‘’ with a picture of the planet earth in the shape of a lighting candle that is halfway melted.

The feature of the post that the rhetor does is a strategy based in the tone seeking an impact in the audience through fear, having a behavioral change through implementing fear on them through language elements. A key fact is the use of a comparison to a non-existence ‘’planet B’’ which causes the audience to think what we would do if global warming ending our planet, assuming that our whole human race will disappear. The fear will be the one that will motivate the audience to act and start improving their actions towards a safer planet. The text goes very well with the image which creates fear in a more graphic way, using a metaphor of our planet as a candle. The metaphor depicts the idea that if we do noy change our actions, our inly planet will collapse due to global warming, just like when we light a candle. The creator intentions were definitely a change and action, that is why he uses very well both his narrative and his imagery towards a sense of fear. The audience will make the right assumptions as the metaphor is clear and the reference to a second planet is very obvious non-existent. The respond of the audience should be by aiming their ethical side, as we need change but that change starts with every single person that sees the post.

Behance is a Pinterest verified account that promotes creative work. They share messages of change and improvement in trending topics through their art. They often want to open people’s minds with a rhetoric that involves art and metaphors, hoping for a change and action.

Palczewski, Ice, and Fritch (2012) explain that narratives are the representation of at least two real or fictive events of situations in a time sequence. The artifact just shows a candle in an earth shape and a short text, but the author makes it a narrative using a metaphor that leads the audience to interpret the narrative. In this case we have an earth days post with a text of taking care of the planet because it is our only home and then we have a sequence of a fictive event in the form of metaphor, which is the earth and live as we know it ending due to global warming.

As it was stated earlier, when we apply the concepts to the artifact,  the way the author chose a tone of fear to reach out to the audience as that way they would be more engaged.  As Palczewski, Ice, and Fritch (2012) stated ‘’Narratives are interesting and enjoyable, even when they are about painful events.’’  The reason of this is because people try to avoid these type of narratives as they get easily engaged due to the fact of trying to avoid the pain. ‘’Stories develop imagination and provide new perspectives, while enlightening an educating listener’’ (Palczewski, Ice, and Fritch, 2012). As the post wills to achieve, educate their listeners about global warming being real and unstoppable unless a serious change is made and through the tone, they create engagement and educate listeners.

This narrative might be unproductive and cause no change at all, because even though we know a change is needed and it pushes us to take some actions because we do not want top end like the metaphor, but the post does not give any sort of explanations on what we are doing wrong, what to change or any sort of further information on things we can do to not end like that. So, the will of action might be present but not the actions itself because these are not specifically shown or known by the audience. However, I do feel like awakes a mindset that we are not doing well and the consequences of not starting to do something can be devastated. They do a great job to celebrate the Earths day by show hoe important it is and how a replacement does not exist, so our only way out is to start cha gong our habits for the health of our only home, the planet earth.

It still contributes to a narrative that has been becoming stronger throughout the years, because many people became aware that the change is necessary, and everyone needs to act right now. SO even though the post does not add any further information, the narrative of global warming should be already well known and that makes the issue better and the steps to take further actions should not be even explained as we are talking about a well-known narrative.

One of the narrative evident in The SAGE Handbook of Persuasion by Helena Bilandzic and Rick Busselle in the chapter 13, Narrative Persuasion is how narrative is most commonly considered in opposition to argumentation. This separation began since Aristotle’s distinction of pathos and ethos. The difference of narrative and persuasion has been seen in the differences of audiences and their form of processing the information, nevertheless the combination of this is possible, as in our artifact we can see a narrative that contains persuasive information and purpose as well. These two are not mutually exclusive and the truth is that in basic human communication we often find a combination of these two elements (narrative and persuasion). In the Book the SAGE Handbook of persuasion we can see that the narrative persuasive communication has been associated with better comprehension and it has been incorporated to advertising, entertainment and health communication. The book also explains hoe narrative in light of persuasion are effective as it enlightens the personal and emotional understandings of events.  The book also states how fear have a strong appeal in narratives in light of persuasion as it usually offers some type of victim and that moves the audience, bringing beliefs or actions to the audience.

When analyzing the book, we can realize how this type of post is something that we are seeing more often nowadays, of a narrative with lights of persuasion and how it is used often in ads and health communication, using images and a strong rhetoric. We can also realize that these types of post are indeed linked to comprehensions and action as they want to show you your destiny and that makes the audience understand the post better as it is shown in a more personal level. Another key fact from the reading is the fact that fear has been shown to be effective when it comes to involve the audience and, make them react to a specific topic. This happens as they see themselves in that situation in a future and act accordingly what is asked in order to avoid the situation driven by the fear.

In summary, the way the artifact is made, its narrative and persuasion does have an effect in the audience, and these are shown to be remarkably effective considering the audiences emotions that drive change.  Fear is a key concept when we analyze the artifact and its effects on people as they mentally put themselves in that tragic situation and makes them seek for change. The narrative created a future assumption that the audience was not supposed to feel comfortable with and affect them psychological as it is an urge to start working all together towards the health of our planet. The post is also remarkable as it unites concepts of advertising with health communication with a specific tone of fear and future narrative, making it unique and effective overall as the narrative they use is common and well-known.

Works Cited

Behance. (n.d.). Pinterest . Retrieved from Earth day: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/332984966168344662/

Bilandzic, H., & Buselle, R. (2013). Narrative Pesuasion . In J. P. Dillard, & L. Shen, The SAGE Handbook of Persuasion: Developments in Theory and Practice (pp. 200-205).

Palczewski, C. H., Ice, R., Fritch, J. (n.d.). Narratives. (2012)

[juleswolverton-hyde]

The Sword and Shield (BC x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Idol AU, Quarantine fiction

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warnings: Innuendos, nerdy Pokémon talk.

Summary: Every warrior needs a sword and shield to defend themselves against enemies. However, two nerds take up weapons in a vastly different fight. 

Masterlist

Credits for the banner art go to Satzzz Art.

Life between the sheets does not always have to be characterized by Sensuality because there is more to be found among the pillows and blankets. It is amiable comfort, dozing off together to the sunrays streaming in through the light bedroom curtains or listening to music while sharing earbuds to kill the boredom of quarantine by means of occupying oneself with whatever is at hand. After all, it is yet unknown for how long the global population is forbidden to leave their homes safe for retrieving necessities at the supermarket or drugstore.

A blessing in disguise, however, is being able to spend the period of restriction with a bunch of lively lads which includes the lover of little more than a year. The moment it became known countries were hauling in their own residents a foolhardy decision was made to remain in South-Korea and leave the life in the place of origin behind for a while. The choice did not sit well with Chan at first, not too subtly asking to reconsider it though soon finding a secret delight in finally being able to wake up every day in the same bed.

No thousands of kilometres distance.

No time to be taken away by management and time zone differences.

The pandemic has at least given us this.

A taste of life as a real couple.

 Just before IKEA closed as well, the lovable human kangaroo insisted on going there for the last shopping spree so personal taste could be added to the bedroom that would be shared. The well-meant idea was rejected at first, saying it was not needed and that the interior was fine as it was. However, once bleached locks have set their mind to something, it is barely possible to change the focus of determination and thus the private shared space has been decorated with a few candles alongside a new bookcase to house whichever books were already taken from home as well as a few pieces of art and a collection of postcards that have been pinned on a metal grate.

Our perfect little nest.

A haven of comfort for songs and nerdy thoughts.

‘Hey, babygirl.’ The mattress dips as the human koala joins the small kingdom in the sheets of sweatpants and loose tops that are somehow still deemed charming. Even the surface beneath the minimal layer of makeup is apparently preferred by the strong arm wrapping around the waist as platinum locks rest on the head and watch the screen held between hands. ‘What’re you playing?’

‘Pokémon Sword. It’s really good thus far and- Oh my god, it’s so cute!’ In an instance, the screen is lifted to show the six adorable balls clad in armor, a new creature which is called a Falinks. ‘Look at these little buddies!’

A wide smile breaks out on plush lips, wavy locks shaking in closed-eyed amusement before looking up again with the wonder of a new discovery. ‘So that’s why you’ve been kicking the air or screaming something is cute. I didn’t know you were a Pokémon fan?’

‘I have been since I was little, but it’s not something I tell others about.’ The true meaning of the grin no longer passes under the radar, igniting an ember of shame for harbouring a geeky side when it comes to the Japanese creatures. ‘Yes, I know, I am a mega nerd. Bite me.’

The jaw clenched in timidity relaxes when slender fingers tickle the sides as a big nose presses into the side of the neck to nuzzle it. The comment was not meant to provoke although the lowered voice suggests otherwise as it speaks against skin, teeth even cheekily nibbling. ‘Watch your words, Y/N, or I just might.’

However, the sensuous attitude fades as fast as it appeared as irises the colour of pure chocolate wander back to the device. ‘Can I see your Pokémon?’

Because the girl in the sheets is not the only trainer beneath the roof. 

‘Sure.’ With the same nonchalance that denies the suggestiveness from a second ago, the index of the creatures which are currently being trained is opened. The current team consists of a Corviknight, Obstagoon, Thievul, Drapion, Boltund and Cinderace. ‘I’m currently training these though I mostly specialize in Dark Types.’

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ To get more comfortable, Chan slouches further down the bed to rest more properly on a beloved narrow shoulder. Nevertheless, the all-knowing grin from before remains plastered onto plush lips. ‘I suppose you’re also interested in training Ghost and Psychic types as well?’

‘I’m an open book, aren’t I?’

‘Just a little bit.’ The teasing is made up for with a chaste peck on the nose followed by one on the forehead. Just the way it is preferred and done whenever apologizing for something or to simply gain a smile. Withal, now, judging by the twinkle in mischievous eyes, it is definitely to say sorry in advance for what is to come. ‘Can you guess what my type is?’

‘Me?’

The witty response evokes the bubbly boyish laughter that has been loved ever since the first time it was heard. ‘You’re not wrong.’

‘Okay, okay, let me think.’ The scanning for clues on the face results in nothing except a brighter devilish glimmer in a loving look. Henceforth, the answer will have to based on personality and all the little things that have been discovered since being in a relationship and now prematurely living together. ‘Electric? Although, no, wait. Fire. Something tells me you at least have a Growlith or had but it has transformed into Arcanine. Then again, judging by that splendid performance of the theme song in your VLive, I’d also wager you have a Pikachu. However, you’re very sporty so maybe you specialize in Fighting types?’

‘You’re on the right track. The answer is somewhere in there.’ Instead of one mocking eyebrow, two rise in a failed attempt to exaggerate coyness while looking cool. ‘Or is it?’

‘Very helpful, Chris.’ Sarcastically disregarding the useless remark and lopsided smirk, the former ramble is composed into a somewhat solid answer. Anywhere close to the truth is better than nothing. ‘You’re a Fire trainer who is also interested in Fighting types.’

‘Almost. I’m a Dragon trainer who always starts out as a Fire trainer. I am, however, also interested in Fighting types too. I do have an Arcanine and Pikachu is an exception to the rule because it’s Pikachu. Every trainer should have one.’

‘I have one too, but it doesn’t have a name since it’s a female and I only name my male Pokémon.’

Focus shifts back to the screen, Chan reading the names of the amiable creatures that form the company on the journey to becoming the best. It started as a fun idea and the names matched fairly well. ‘So I’ve noticed. Are you associating everyone in the industry with a Pokémon?’

But nothing ever runs smoothly. 

‘I’m trying, but it’s bloody hard at times. I made Jackson a Pidove. Don’t laugh! I don’t know why I did it, but his name was the first to pop up when I caught it. Baekhyun is an Applin. Wait, he’s transformed already so now he’s a Flapple. Han is a Greedent because, let’s be honest, he’s a squirrel. Changbin, well, Bin is a Corviknight. I gave his full name to a Rufflet. Minho is a Sneasel, Felix a Thievul and I have yet to decide on the rest of the boys.’

‘Which one would be me?’ Judging by the suggestive tone of curious eyes and barely noticeable pout, there is the clear hope of a comparison with an awesome creature. The tightened grip on the hips betrays it too, blatantly so. Almost forcing the unknown comparison to one’s personal preference. 

‘Without a doubt, you are Zacian, the giant warrior wolf with a sword in its mouth.’ A deep sigh cannot be helped at the thought of the game’s challenge which does absolutely not allow for failure. ‘The legendary Pokémon of the Galar region. Dammit, Channie! Why do you have to be so elusive and exclusive?’

‘Because I’m an amazing catch.’ The cheek is turned by slender fingers, compelling lips to join in a playful giggly kiss which is broken up by a smug remark. ‘And warriors are not so easily bound to a master. You told me even Beowulf reluctantly helped a king, only to settle his father’s debt. 

‘Although,’ the train of thought is easily altered by hooking a digit under the silver necklace that was given as a birthday present, pulling the tease in yet holding off from melting into another kiss by backing away to continue the battle of wits and enjoy the small adorable whine of disagreement, ‘with the right trainer, I suppose I could make a deal.’

‘I plan on winning all gym badges and make myself worthy of the wolf.’

‘You will still have to win in that final fight. Until then, think you can take me on?’ Brows furrow in a suddenly hard-fought battle for concentrated control. Funnily contradicting oneself, the domestic koala shifts positions to hover over the coy soul who was able to tame the beast beneath the roof, faces inches apart and the Switch tucked in the small space between bodies.  

Which becomes noticeably narrower when transforming Innocence into Sensuality by creating the image of what might be given after testing out the waters of victory and win in a Pokémon battle. ‘I have more than enough times in this bed.’

To make up for the victory and erase any negative unspoken feelings. 

Though the soft growling suggests impatience, unwilling to be kept on a leash any longer. ‘Don’t change the subject. You’re fighting unfairly.’

‘Am I?’ The device is put aside on the bedside table, ankles hooking behind the waist to coax a hard shape into the warmth between the thighs as hands rest on broad shoulders. A much-appreciated action evidently, breath taken away by the friction between two concealed forms of wanting and nails digging into the skin beneath the comfy black printed fleece vest.

And the chest now making escape entirely impossible, hearts racing in harmony. ‘Yes. You’re distracting me.’

‘Says the person who’s distracting me from gaining those badges.’ Enough coherency lingers to remain cheeky. Bashful enough to lean in and utter a final double-sided statement of defiance. ‘I bet I can easily best you.’

But two can play that game, apparently. 

‘I think you’re wrong, babygirl. Or do I need to remind you of how good I am?’

‘Grab your Switch and bring it on.’ The challenge is accepted with a scoff which clearly started having different expectations in regards to the order of events. Fortunately, a sweet quick peck cures most of the shallow grumpiness as Chris is dismissed from the sheets. ‘And give me all you’ve got.’

‘Oh, I will. I always do.’

As became apparent in the few battles between teams.

The wolfish actions that followed unspoken hard feelings unhappy with the outcomes of the fights.

And a broken headboard in the morning.

[inspector-montoya-fox]

#7 - The Black Chateau

Setting: this is surprisingly one of my favourite hubs from the game. this is Paris at its prime: the music, the details, the cafes in the street, the little boats, the whole aesthetic is a mood. yeah, there’s danger around every corner, but it’s still the most romantic city in the world and we get to explore it. even its nightclub aspects give it that turn of the millennium, euro club let’s do coke in the bathroom scene. the interiors in this episode give me life, honestly. stoney, candle-lit underground tunnels that are connected to the nightclub is so Scooby-Doo but also France, and the theatre-related interiors showcase a certain grandeur and stand out on their own. i’ll also remind you that this is Sly’s home. we never get a definitive reason or backstory on the gang’s switching from railroad car to that huge safehouse they couldn’t possibly pay rent for, but this new version makes an appearance in Sly 3, so it’s safe to say that this is the gang’s home (although the concept art indicates that SP had plans for something else: https://inspector-montoya-fox.tumblr.com/post/182678860237/inspector-montoya-fox-cool-concept-art-for-band). anyway, having the first proper episode take place in Paris is perfect for the tutorials because there’s the comfort of failing whilst being at home. and this is what The Black Chateau truly is: a tutorial. as jam-packed with action and bedazzlement! as it is, it’s a crash course. and it works because it’s a perfect hub for learning the ropes with Bentley and Murray gameplay. other than that, i’d like to add that Sly 2 takes a new approach with its hubs. instead of having Sly make his way to the baddies by literally blasting himself to their lairs via canons or rockets (...), the gang tries to lure the baddies outside. you’ll notice that Dimitri, Rajan, the Contessa, Jean Bison and Neyla all make appearances before their bossfights, the former 3 also coming into close contact with us within the hub (eavesdropping, following, pickpocketing). this all being said, the gang’s way of luring the baddies outside is altering the hubs and the peacock’s collapse kicks it all off majestically (we then move on to bridge bombings, shooting planes, demolishing dams, etc.). amazing stuff.

Characters: i won’t be referring to Sly and the gang like i did with Sly 1 except if they have a turning point/revelation, so the Characters section will mostly be reserved for the baddies and Neyla or Carm. nonetheless, i would like to acknowledge Matt Olsen’s voice acting because he perfectly captures Bentley’s anxiety when out in the field. and now..... Dimitri. where to fucking start? the lizard is a star. his sleazy posture, how he’s a gay heterosexual, how strongly i’m able to imagine his scent of cheap cologne and Marlboro Golds. and the crime of using a demonic, robot owl’s tailfeathers to print counterfit cash suits him perfectly. he might not be your favourite character, but you have to admit the pimp is as well fleshed out as Mz Ruby, and that’s all because of the dialogue and the voice acting. fucking perfection. the dialogue is so well written, full of his nonsensical phrases and mannerisms, he literally engraves his mark onto the player’s brain, like i can hear him talking about clocks or whatever at will. having him go first was such a good choice because he makes a lasting impression whilst keeping it very ‘neighborhood crime’ with the counterfeit, in comparison to global drug networking. as we’ll find out by the end of the game, he too played a part in the Klaww Gang’s plans, but having his own counterfeit sidegig (which he prioritised, surely) is so him. however, what never made sense to me is his power, that static shock he shoots during his bossfight? is he a mutant lizard? like, Rajan controlling lightning i get, Contessa mastering hypnosis i get, but this is..... what?? i’ll let it slide because of his sick dj mix but still..... and then there’s Neyla. she retains her mystique even if she gives us a reason behind her assistance. the whole thing hits different when you know what she’s up to because lines like ‘Now, legally I can't enter Dimitri's nightclub without a warrant... but I happened to have obtained a key to his backdoor... which a person like yourself can use however he pleases.’ come across as seductive and evil, and we watch Sly fall for it (all of it) because she knows how to pamper his ego. prior to her big reveal (the first one at least), the way with which she moves and handles herself has us think that she’s Sly’s female counterpart, and therefore competition for Carmelita (as outdated as that sounds...). Carmelita’s presence in The Black Chateau is muted, almost non-existent. she only pops up at the end cutscene and SP masterfully uses her absence in order to play up Neyla as a potential ally and girlfriend, despite my thoughts on Carmelita having a bigger presence in the Monaco extension which was scrapped.

Themes: the theme of duality, first and foremost. Dimitri is complete and utter gutter trash, but is supposedly a high-class artist as well. he’ll scream and screech but is also one heck of a host, even if the world perceives him as a washed out artist. the level’s interiors are separated into two categories: underground and non-underground. the underground parts represent Dimitri’s true nature, a sleazebag and a crook, whereas the theatre and the club present him as a pristine pimp and professional nightclub owner. the two clash because of their nature, stoney and shady rooms for crime vs grand and majestic rooms for art. duality can also be seen in the Sly and Neyla partnership, the birth of a (short-lived) alliance. Paris as a theme instead of a location, because of such a dominant presence. this is not just any city we’re in. SP respects Paris and this is further proven by the fact that it’s the beginning and the end of the game. the fact that it’s a catalyst belongs in the final episode’s analysis, but in The Black Chateau the city is also a theme because it embodies humble beginnings, the warm comfort of going through trial error whilst at home. and it’s not exaggerated and pushed into kitsch, à la Sly 3′s Holland where the cheese acted as trampolines... what i mean by Paris as a theme is the emphasis on art and charm, showcasing Europe (because Prague is also a European city but is used as a basis for the trademark spooky level). nighttime and pleasure are two that go together. nighttime is used differently in every episode, or location. you’ll notice that this is the only episode in the game where the night sky is the traditional navy, dark blue (instead of purple, green, red or baby blue as seen in later episodes). it’s a traditional night for a heist, nothing out of the ordinary. it goes together with the theme of pleasure because Dimitri’s establishment is a nightclub and defines the episode to a certain degree. pleasure is interpreted as danger disguised as oblivious fun. the nightclub isn’t the common criminal base and the funky pink walls and disco balls come into contrast with the threat of the Klaww Gang’s operation. even the gang falls for it, trusting Neyla without second thought and failing to pick up on the greater scope of things. they think of it as easy fun, joking around while on the job. lastly, the motif of lights. Paris is known as the city of lights and all of the hubs (interiors included) capture this. the opening cutscene even mentions ‘the flashing lights’. it circles back to the pleasure theme because it can be seen as a distraction and a malicious trap to fall into oblivion (yes, i’m a writer).

What I Like: i freakin love Paris. everything about the setting’s execution, its detailing, the music and the hubs. all of it. i love how the hub is a circle, allowing you to run around in an endless loop, the rat guards striped shirts and red berets, that water tower Bentley enters. everything is just so European and petite and cute, like a well constructed Playmobil set.

What I Don’t Like: hmmmm............... although i love the title’s enigma, i’d really like to fucking know what the ‘Black Chateau’ represents or is connected to??? also, i wish we could explore more of the nightclub? like while it’s open? the episode’s strength lies in its interior missions, the best of the bunch being Theater Pickpocketing, where we get to explore the stage, the balconies, backstage, the dressing rooms, etc. i fucking love that mission and wish we could get more, instead of Murray throwing rats at those annoying security alarm machines that just happen to be violet.....

Quote: either Behold the majesty of gravity and inertia! or I have no idea what you're saying. And your suit sucks or anything Dimitri says because... Dimitri

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, but I still just have... so much rage and grief and utter, bone-deep bafflement and exasperation and more rage and more heartbreak over this whole thing that I feel like I have to throw at ye olde blue hellsite before I try to sleep. Because half of me can’t believe that this could have happened to Notre Dame of all places, and the other half of me absolutely can.

There are various well-meant posts in circulation trying to assure everyone that everything’s not gone and can be rebuilt to some degree, and I appreciate the intent behind those, but... we don’t even know the scale of the damage yet. The entire interior of the cathedral could be a loss, along with the roof, countless artworks unaccounted for, at least one of the major rose windows, and who knows what else. For all of us to discover that Notre Dame -- one of the global cultural institutions that you’d figure was pretty much untouchable -- had to literally beg for funding once actual pieces of it started falling on people -- has made us wonder, or at least it’s certainly made me wonder, how much more of this we can possibly sustain. My earlier post pointed out that as a species, we have money for one $13 billion dollar warship (and for the 500 super-rich trillionaires wrecking the planet), but apparently we don’t have a pennies-by-comparison €6.8 million to save an 850-year-old icon of art, history, religion, science, literature, and culture. I know Notre Dame had been allowed to fall into disrepair before. I know other beautiful and important things have been destroyed or lost through sheer carelessness or unavoidable tragedy or simple accident. I know tragedies and senseless losses are part of every historical era. But the context in which this one happened is what’s particularly upsetting.

First, this also happened last year with the National Museum of Brazil, which burned to the ground and lost centuries of irreplaceable artifacts after its funding was slashed to nothingness. That was possibly “easier” for people to disregard, because it happened in Latin America, in a non-Anglophone country, and not in what is generally recognised as the “West.” But if the West had any remaining delusions about what it’s left for itself after years and years of defunding the arts, mocking humanities as “worthless” and asking why people don’t get real jobs or degrees, and promoting a ludicrously fictionalised history that gets increasingly spouted as the Word of God by Twitter experts everywhere, it....well. Shouldn’t have those anymore. I’m sure it does, because its denial appears to be impermeable and irrecoverable. I recognise that nothing lasts, that beautiful things are destroyed, that the overall arc of human history is one of loss and rebuilding and resilience. There are beautiful messages to be had from all that. They’re important. And yet.

This did not have to happen.

We are, objectively, the richest and most prosperous and most technologically advanced we have ever been as a species, in any number of ways. We have never had as much information at our very fingertips as is available to anyone with a smartphone. And yet. The shared feeling of everyone in my generation (the 18-34-year-olds) is that this is a breaking point. We are facing essentially the make-or-break for Western civilization and the future of the planet in about.... the next two decades. We have no money, no sense of what, if anything, awaits us, and an increasingly grim realisation of just how badly late-stage capitalism is failing right when we’re trying to start careers or find jobs. We all have anxiety, morbid-humor coping mechanisms, and the awareness that there’s a less-than-zero chance that civilization collapses in our lifetimes. Many of us won’t have children because we can’t countenance giving them this broken world to inherit. We are so worried about not having enough time. The knowledge that we could work as hard as we can and just....watch it all burn, as we watched Notre Dame burn tonight, is inescapable. Millennials know that feeling. We live it all the time.

As other commentators have pointed out, we have seen art and history destroyed and disregarded, the return of rampant nationalism and xenophobia, anti-intellectualism, facts that are tailored to what you want to believe about the world, misogyny, fake news, Actual Nazis, a cultural discourse of capitalism that values you solely by your earning potential, and so forth. The knowledge that not even a seemingly untouchable place like Notre Dame is safe is just.... terrifying. If Notre Dame isn’t important enough to be saved or to be uncontroversially funded, what is? If Notre Dame is regarded as acceptable collateral damage, then.... where does it stop? What goes next? What do we lose now?

I am obviously a medieval historian and someone who tries to teach people about the importance of the past (and somehow still hope I can actually get paid to do that, which seems.... increasingly absurd by the day?) I have bewailed the fact that kids come into my classes apparently pre-installed with beliefs about Ye Olde Bad Medieval Times (tm) and I just... do not know where they get them from. So I am heartbroken on a personal level to see Notre Dame destroyed, due to the irreparable loss to history (we don’t even know how to make stained glass the same way they did!!!!) But when this plays into my struggle to make people understand where we came from and what we’ve done and how modernity has so many comforting lies about itself that render it completely incapable of confronting humanity’s worst traits and most terrible habits, because of some smug belief in “progress” and “superiority” and so on...

It just makes me wonder if anything I’m doing matters, if anything that my colleagues are doing matters. I know we care. It might be easier if we didn’t, but we do. But if it’s just us out on our island, shouting warnings at people who won’t listen to us, who sometimes take deliberate pride in not doing that, it’s hard to pick yourself up and do it all again. We will, and we need to do it, and I am deeply passionate about it, but I’m.... pretty knocked for six right now.

Notre Dame is burning because we, collectively, decided it was not important enough to save. I haven’t been there (and had always wanted to go), but I have been to other cathedrals in France and Europe. I don’t have to agree with the institutional Catholic Church on anything (and I don’t) to recognise the value and beauty and history of those places. If Notre Dame can fall victim to apathy, ignorance, derision, and the sheer staggering ability of humanity to not give a fuck about anything except its greediest impulses -- anything can.

If you’re worried about what else could go next: Good. You should be.

[lapeaudelamemoire]

Not American but have from here and there noticed that almost all the stuff about Bernie Sanders seems to have died down and that suddenly Joe Biden is a thing now?

I’ll be sorry if Sanders loses the race this time. I know very little about it but it seems to me that the majority of the Democratic party itself has never much supported him themselves or really believed in him as a presidential candidate and were just sort of allowing it while waiting for someone else to show up that they liked better. It looks also to me like Warren’s dropping out was also due to a lack of support from their own party; both of them don’t seem to be generally or widely representative of or, conversely, represented by, the Democratic party.

Biden on the other hand is a tried-and-tested, ‘true blue’ Democrat that garners support from the Democratic party at large, unlike Sanders and Warren, whom I gather to feel too radical for the party. Biden is a very ‘safe’ candidate demographically and that, I suspect, generates a sense of comfortable security - he’s affable enough, has been in the party a long time with I would imagine a good in-party track record, a range of and deep connections, and adheres to its standards very well - he was the former vice president in very recent memory during the just pre-Trump presidency - and is most importantly, I would guess, what people expect or imagine an American president to be: an old and charismatic white man. I also suspect his support from black voters has something to do with his association with Obama.

To me, an outsider, Sanders has always looked like something of an outlier. It doesn’t help that - but makes complete sense in context and explaining things - that American politics skew so right-wing in comparison to the rest of the Western world.

This [positing] could of course all be complete bullshit by someone who knows nothing about American politics, but from what I’ve heard - limited and of course very possibly skewed - on here, Sanders’ push for universal healthcare and Biden’s contribution to the racking up of student debt should, by all the issues people in America have to contend with and deal with which are deemed horrific by most everyone else and which they complain about most rightfully anyway, make Sanders the obvious nominee in a race between the two of them; and it’s very disappointing that, at least on those points alone, it isn’t.

I want to say that this is none of my business, but it’s just - frustratingly and very annoyingly - simply not true that American politics don’t have an influence on people not living in America, or who are not Americans. It doesn’t ‘really’ affect me personally, but the stance of the American president has historically had rather a significant impact on many other parts of the world; not to mention the obvious upward trend in racism and xenophobia that the Trump presidency has really instigated, which follows with and is in concert with their global rise. I’m also particularly surprised that I haven’t heard more about these candidates’ takes on what they would do about the current immigration abuses that Trump has put in place.

Obviously in the end - still vote blue, no matter who, but it would be a shame for Sanders to lose after all that in 2016 and now again, although I understand the idea behind Biden being a ‘better’ candidate to beat Trump.

[bryonysimcox]

The internal battle of forced monotony: Week 13, Spain

The negative emotions associated with isolation have reared their ugly heads this week. Amid tales of homemade ramen, torrential rain and a new film we’re working on, this post also reflects on the less positive moods that lockdown has gifted us.

Life feels more surreal as each week passes. The end of our sixth week in lockdown also marks a quarter of a year since we set off from England in our freshly converted campervan. When I frame it like that, our overland adventure to date both stretches back into eternity and only feels like a couple of days ago. Little did we know that ‘life on the road’ would entail confinement indoors and restrictions on all kinds of activities, like going to a cafe, seeing friends, making videos and driving through Europe.

There’s certainly something deep within me that is inherently optimistic. Even though if I was realistic about it, I knew that the ‘State of Alarm’ here in Spain would likely extend beyond the date of 26th April (which had already been extended twice), I had sort of psyched myself up towards regaining some of our freedom on that date. So when one morning this week, I flicked my phone onto the website for EL Pais (a major Spanish newspaper) and Pedro Sánchez had announced he was set to ask congress for another extension until the 9th May, my heart sank.

If there’s one thing I’ve wanted this weekly blog to be, it’s authentic. I’ve wanted to use it as a record of where I’ve been - not only geographically, but emotionally, and that means reflecting on the lows as well as the highs.

It’s hard putting into words the feeling of being so helpless in your own life - the feeling I’m experiencing now in lockdown. I guess one way that this helplessness has taken effect is in my increased empathy and consideration for people who live much larger parts of their lives facing uncertainty and helplessness - whether that be living under an unstable dictatorship, drought and famine, civil war or poverty. It’s not that I’ve only just started caring about these people, but in experiencing a fraction of the emotions that they must be going through, my sympathy deepens into something much more.

I’m so used to being in control. I trust that I will wake up tomorrow and night will turn to day; that I will put my keys in the ignition and the van will start; that I will be safe from persecution and oppression and that I will be able to access food and water. Even the element of my life which is the most uncertain as we undertake this overland adventure, which is money, is usually tempered by the knowledge that George and I have the skills and resources to find work, even if it has to be something we don’t particularly like. And yet now, life has thrown us a curveball. Coronavirus has left us spinning out of control.

Not feeling in control of my life has sapped my motivation. I still manage to get out of bed, and get various things done for our film channel Broaden or just general life admin, and I still eat well and exercise where possible. But things have lost their shiny glow, and I lose the energy to focus on a task for long.

It’s not like every waking moment I’ve spent has been devoid of positive energy. Back at the start of the week we ventured out to the supermarket on foot which was a welcome change of scene, I sat out in the sun and bleached my hair with lemon juice, and George learnt to eat crisps in a handstand. We laugh, we have fun and we create little activities like this to pass the time. But somehow, even investing in positivity like this can be tiring. You spend one day trying really hard to be grateful for what you’ve got in this time of crisis, and focus on celebrating the silver linings of copious free time, only to wake up the next day with your energy reserves run dry. Is anyone feeling this too? I know I’m not alone. 

(images, left to right) Bleaching my hair with lemon juice, filming snippets for our upcoming ‘Place Portraits’ video and learning to eat crisps in a handstand.

Meanwhile, frontline workers continue to fight for us all. To save our lives.

The juxtaposition of the chilling images we see on the news about Covid-19 against the confines of the little cottage we’re currently staying in is bizarre. Each day I read new statistics about people dying, articles about PPE shortages and quotes from global health authorities telling us the worst is yet to come.The boredom and helplessness I’m feeling shrink in comparison to the intensity of this global pandemic. My emotions seem petty and mundane, perhaps even pathetic. And yet, something tells me these emotions are still legitimate. That all of our emotions are legitimate, as we each attempt to process the situation and what it could mean for the future.

The future is no longer a thing which feels predictable. We have stepped over the cliff edge, and as each day that the pandemic unfolds, we are in new territory. Of course, one of the opportunities presented by such an enormous global event is the chance to reassess how we live on this planet, redefining the new ‘normal’. 

I have always been interested in the study of the future, and using different approaches to imagine how it may play out. And yet whilst there are opportunities amid the crisis, right now, I’m terrified by what I see. Yes, there are clues and behaviour changes that we can use to project future scenarios, but most of what is in front of us is completely unknown. We don’t know how long we have to work from home, furlough our staff, keep our children educated and occupied indoors or talk to loved ones through a screen. We don’t know what horrors tomorrow’s headlines will bring.

It feels like the world is staring into a dark abyss, reaching out for something to hold onto.

From a selfish perspective, not having any control over the future is a huge spanner in the works. Driving across Europe in a van and working as freelance videographers is the least ‘essential activity’ there could be, and we are conscious that governments have much more to focus on than two British travellers running out of money and desperate to continue their adventure. But it’s still so disheartening to be at the whim of something, something bigger and greater than you, particularly in light of the arduous year we spent preparing for this trip. There have certainly been a few tears here this week, and waves of the same emotions I felt when building the van and knowing there was a chance we would have to give up.

The weather really hasn’t helped lift the mood either. This region of Spain faced endless days of torrential rain this week which rendered the garden inundated and the road flooded. We couldn’t even get out to the supermarket and even worse, a leak developed in the roof of our van! It all felt rather doom and gloom.

(images, left to right) Torrential rain turned the road into a river, the point where we had to reverse all the way back home and couldn’t get to the supermarket, and a neighbouring lane which is closed off by Police.

One of the other realisations that brought me crashing down this week was sussing out that we’ll still be in lockdown for George’s thirtieth birthday. He’s not even someone who cares much for birthdays, but it had always been such an important milestone in my head and I was really looking forward to doing something nice together - going to a restaurant or watching live music or mooching around a city. Hilariously, back when we left Sydney we made a plan with our friends to have a reunion for George’s 30th… in Goa, India! It’s actually quite amusing to see how monumentally wrong we were in predicting the future, as we are thousands of miles off India right now.

All that said, George has been a cornerstone. Not just to comfort me about his birthday, but to be there through this all. We sort of balance one another out, ready with a positive mindset and hug when the other one is feeling super low.

If there’s one thing life in lockdown has strengthened, it’s our relationship.

On a lighter note, George embarked on a grand mission to make the best homemade ramen on Sunday. It all started with the broth, inspired by a zany French chef he follows on YouTube, and by mid-morning the cottage was filled with the smell of this incredible broth combining vegetable peelings with burnt garlic, ginger, miso paste and soy. What started as a broth-making test unfolded across the day, and saw him make handmade noodles, a sticky garlic and sesame sauce, soy soaked eggs and grilled tomatoes. Needless to say, watching George’s ramen odyssey was definitely the most entertainment I had all day!

(images, left to right) George’s homemade noodles (as food stocks were running low), the finished ramen, and the delicious oily and fatty broth in progress.

The two of us have also been working on a new video that will be released on the Broaden YouTube this Saturday (25th April). It’s a far cry from ‘The Hundred Miler’, but hopefully will be well-received nonetheless. It’s called ‘Place Portraits’, and we filmed it back in Paris, in the first week on the road back when temperatures lingered around zero degrees. Whilst we haven’t been as excited about making videos as we usually would be, I continue to be grateful to have a creative focus amid the pandemic, and being stuck inside is forcing me to get inventive with ideas for upcoming projects.

I also love seeing things that people have baked, sung, written, built and performed across the world each day online. The internet can be an incredible place.

As I write this, I reflect on a rocky week battling the internal voices and contradictory emotions of lockdown.

It’s a strangely tiring combination: of not knowing what the future looks like and trying to make sense of a world devoid of human contact or normal routines. Each day, let alone this whole week, has been filled with so many highs and lows that by the evening, I’m left feeling exhausted and churned up inside. 

But we made it. We made it another week in lockdown and I’m so glad I have this blog as a place to reflect. I hope it’s also a place where my honesty (and in this week’s post, my negativity) makes you not feel so alone in your emotions.

As if she knew I needed her right now, Mother Nature has finally blessed us with glorious sunshine and I can already feel my mood lifting. Perhaps the pain associated with this period is also signifying something else: growth. As we face this together, and all of the ugly emotions that come along with it, we learn more about ourselves and human nature, and in doing so, we grow. 

p.s. apologies if this week’s post was all doom and gloom! If it was, may I redirect you to last week’s ‘photo essay’ as a soothing antidote.

[split-n-splice]

A chapter in which Drakken is a purveyor of human suffering and Shego is a bad apple. owo

[Chapter Guide]

5. Enabler – 2

Shego couldn’t help scrutinizing the twitchy man as he pulled out a small leather-bound notebook from under his newspaper and flipped it open to a blank page. He held out an expectant hand, but she just stared at it suspiciously, her glower asking a question she didn’t have to say out loud, which he read even with his dorky magnifying goggles on.

“You’re getting an upgrade,” he claimed. It did little to alleviate her suspicions.

She was reluctant to humor him, but offered up a single glove nonetheless and watched him carefully. The curious man examined the meager article of clothing, looking it over inside and out. He hem-hawed.

From a distance, there was nothing unusual about her gloves – they were just gloves. She’d been heckled by villains before that they looked like dishwashing gloves. Shego knew her own gear well though, and knew they were more than what met the eye, as Dr. Drakken was surely finding out now as he studied the clusters of pin-holes dotting the hefty fabric, the palms and fingers laced with tiny eyelets. At a glance, the pattern might appear to be for grip, but Drakken wasn’t so quick to dismiss them.

“These holes, they’re for…breathability?” he guessed.

“Doy,” was as eloquent a confirmation as he was going to get. He was too distracted to snip at her for the attitude though, and her guard slowly lowered as she studied him. The thought of an upgrade was both tempting and laughable, but she wasn’t laughing. “The gloves hold me back. I don’t even know why I bother with them,” she admitted.

Demonstrating on impulse, she held both hands over the countertop, palm up, and watched as Dr. Drakken flinched back when they flared with her bubbling green plasma. The glow radiating from her covered hand was noticeably dampened, physically rather than drug-induced, by restricting the amount that could escape.

She wasn’t proud as she explained, “GJ designed them to keep me from going overboard on the firepower. I got carried away sometimes. So they did everything they could to keep me dialed back without making me useless to them.” She shrugged meekly. Even without full power, she could serve a hell of a sucker punch and leave second-degree burns, though the whole point of being a hero was to help more than harm.

“I see,” muttered Drakken.

He relaxed when she snuffed out her glow and pulled her hands out of sight behind the counter, tucked safely between her knees.

The blue man began jotting down notes on the pad. “Your hands still need protection though, so an upgrade is in order. These are getting worn out anyway.” He tapped his pen on his chin, humming. “Subduing you won’t do. I’d rather amplify this glow of yours if possible.” When he caught a glimpse of her piqued interest, he smirked. “I’m sure I can find something to conduct it.”

Fixing her face with mask of indifference, she refused comment. As the blue man sketched and scribbled nonsense across two pages of his notebook, Shego began to shift uncomfortably across from him. She sipped her soda, unsure if she was free to go yet. After a couple minutes, she was about to slip off the barstool and leave him with the glove, but he spoke up again.

“Can you produce this energy from anywhere else?” he wondered without lifting his attention from the notebook.

That was an invasive question if she’d ever heard one.

Shego narrowed her eyes at him, leery once more. The deep-rooted fear of becoming a lab rat and subjected to studies reared its ugly head, but she beat it back. This guy had been bullied out of the driver’s seat earlier and could be pressured doing her bidding with stupid threats like breaking the seals on his hoard of pickles if he didn’t drive her to Cow-n-Chow. So if he thought he could turn her into a test subject, he had another thing coming.

In any case, if she was hoping to make anything of this stint with the rogue doctor, then complying could work in her favor. Especially if he was willing to engineer custom gear for her.

She swore she’d spat fire at him before, a long time ago, but she couldn’t be sure. She was tempted to try coughing up plasma-laced phlegm to see if that would jog his memory or at least answer his question, but she resisted. If nothing else, the spoken truth would have to serve as a warning that her fists weren’t her only weapons.

“I can,” she said vaguely, and held out her bare hand again to show him her palm, sans glow. “My hands are just convenient.” Channeling the energy to her hands was second nature to her now, and over the years they had become the only area completely desensitized to the fire aspects. Although she still had all her nerves intact, and she still felt it when he reached out for her hand. She fought the impulse to jerk it back as she let him have a closer look, unsure what he expected to find.

His mouth twisted into a frown as he inspected her smooth fingertips and palms, much more interested in the faint old scars and lack of identifying fingerprints than her freshly-painted nails. “Does it hurt?” he ventured. “The glow, I mean.”

She was becoming increasingly aware how rough his hands really were in comparison.

Shego shrugged. “Used to. Now it kinda just tingles. But I mean, the first time it happened – that was yow.” She laughed a little nervously at the recollection of blacking out from searing pain and the bandages she’d worn for some time afterwards. Discovering her power in a hospital ward in Global Justice’s custody wasn’t a fond childhood memory. “It took time for my body to adapt, but I got used to it.”

The rogue doctor gave another thoughtful hum. “How did you even acquire this glow?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Her smile was brittle and crumbled away even as she quipped, “Y’know, you’d know all of this if you’d stopped to read my file.” She otherwise refused to answer.

The geeky man must have realized by now that she wasn’t so open to talking about it, because he mumbled a sheepish apology for prying and released her hand he’d probably only just realized as well that he’d hung onto for way too long. He quickly shifted his attention away in favor of her glove and the notebook.

It was another moment before Shego spoke again. “So, you’re gonna upgrade my gloves?” she asked carefully, and when he nodded, she willingly forfeited the other. Folding her arms over the counter, she leaned forward and chewed on her lip as she watched him compare them briefly for any differences beyond color.

Shego couldn’t help smirking. “You could have just asked for the specs,” she snickered lightly, and tapped on the notebook where he was brainstorming some gibberish in the tiny illegible scrawl of a doctor. She hummed wistfully after another moment, musing, “I used to think it would be totally rad to have, like…claws. But it didn’t fly with big brother.”

“Claws,” Drakken echoed in disbelief, looking back up at her finally. “Isn’t that…I don’t know, a little tacky?”

“Says you. Those goggles and that polo shirt? Yeesh.”

Drakken grunted. His face was tinged with a funny shade of purple. “You want claws, I’ll make you claws,” he sighed agreeably.

“Seriously?” She considered telling him it was a joke, but was curious now if he’d deliver. A smirk quirked her lips. The whole thing was probably a huge waste of his time, but it might be fun to see how much of his time she could waste.

“Sure,” he groaned, and removed the magnifying goggles to rub his eyes and push his usual glasses back on.

As the man squinted down at his notebook, Shego caught herself staring, inwardly musing that he might be more intimidating without his nerdy spectacles – but that was only logical. The small accessory advertised a form of weakness, however trivial and necessary, which wasn’t conducive to aspirations of being feared and respected. “You should lose the glasses,” she announced flippantly, and acted before she could think twice about snatching them off his face.

“Excuse you!” he barked, reaching across the counter for them, but she held them out of range. “I need those. They aren’t a toy.”

“I’m tellin’ ya,” she twittered as she inspected the snatched eyeglasses and then him. “You’d look badass without them. It shows off your scar better.” As she slipped them on herself, she wondered inwardly if it was the same warped and clouded vision he experienced without them. She peeked over the rim at him squinting peevishly at her.

“I’d say you look cute, but I can’t be sure,” retorted Dr. Drakken dryly, as if it were meant to be offensive. “Unfortunately, I still need them, so fork them over.” He held out a hand, fingers beckoning for the return of his glasses.

She obliged reluctantly, and he finished a couple more notes before peering back up at her, his inquiring gaze lingering a little too long for comfort while she sipped on root beer. “How long have you been like this, anyway? How did it happen?” he wondered, though it felt more like idle chitchat now. She almost answered until he added, “Team Go sprang up just a few years ago and it was short lived, but—”

Guard shooting back up, Shego snatched her gloves back and fixed the startled man in a heated glare. “Where you snooping?” she accused, paranoia rising.

“Easy, Shego, easy. I wasn’t snooping,” Dr. Drakken defended calmly, hands up in peace. “It was on the news. I’m entitled to watch the news.”

It took a long moment balancing on the precipice of distrust before she backed away from that ledge. He had a point there. She couldn’t hold it against him, no matter how much she detested the thought of him knowing anymore about her than she was willing to share herself. It was information the general populace of Go City already knew anyway.

Shego set the gloves back down and breathed deep, but still didn’t answer his question.

Thankfully, Dr. Drakken didn’t press it. “I was only making small talk,” he muttered, and it seemed he was ready to drop the subject altogether now because he was tucking his notebook into the pocket of his trousers and circling around the kitchen island to rummage around in the freezer.

Shego relaxed slightly, sitting back down and swiveling in her barstool to watch his back and sip her soda as the quiet blue man tasked himself with preparing a TV dinner. Looking to the favored frying pan gathering dust up on the wall with all the others, she wondered when he’d last cooked a real meal for himself. Not that she was about to do it for him.

Watching him ignore her, she considered a bargain long and hard before she finally spoke up again. “I’ll tell you,” she called over. It wasn’t like that information hadn’t already been leaked anyway. Nonetheless, Drakken glanced over his shoulder inquisitively. “If you tell me what your deal is with the all the blue.” And if he tried to tell her it was because he had the blues, so help him, she might just hit him with plasma.

He turned to face her fully and just stared curiously for a moment. “You want to know why I’m blue?” he asked dumbly, as if no one had ever asked the obvious before.

She gave a halfhearted shrug in confirmation.

The man leaned back on the counter and frowned, rubbing his neck as if the subject was a sore spot, but he chewed it over and took a deep breath before giving her the gist of it. “Classic tale of an experiment gone wrong,” he said with a moody huff. “It wasn’t even mine. I was an intern at a research lab owned by some big shot, Gemini. Some damn top-secret experiment malfunctioned, I got caught in the crossfire, and there you have it. I’ve been reduced to just the blue freak ever since.”

“Gemini?” Shego uttered, blinking at him. Hearing that familiar name shouldn’t have been so surprising. Still, it was unexpected. She tilted her head questioningly. “Did he have a personal vendetta against the director of Global Justice?”

“Bingo.” He shot a finger gun at her. “How many Gemini do you think there are?”

Shego eyed him suspiciously for another moment, until the man began to shift uncomfortably. She racked her brains, connecting the dots, and took a wild guess as to the picture it formed. “You don’t happen to have superstrength, do you?” she asked with a small incredulous laugh, but Dr. Drakken only gave her a funny look. She took that as a negative. “Do you know what he was trying to do?”

The man’s brow furrowed at her, as if he was the one ill at ease now. Good. “Not a clue,” he said slowly. “It wasn’t my post. Why?”

She only smirked and waved dismissively. “Nothing.” She didn’t need any more details anyway to convince her that the whacked-out twin brother of Global Justice’s head honcho had been trying to recreate Team Go. Had Gemini ever succeeded, she was sure she’d have known about it.

Dr. Drakken made a pleading sort of whine and tapped a foot irritably, and he didn’t need words to convey he was displeased that she clearly knew something about his condition that he didn’t.

She denied an explanation though, instead scoffing to herself and shaking her head in amazement. She might share her suspicions later, if she was feeling nice. “Small world, that’s all,” she mumbled.

“Indeed,” grumbled Dr. Drakken. He spun around and slumped over the counter to watch the microwave, as if there was really something of interest was going on in there. “Your turn, Shego.”

But Shego smirked wryly, leaning back on the counter and crossing her legs, giving her foot a bounce. “I said I’d tell you. I never said when I’d tell you,” she teased.

Drakken groaned. “Of course.” He hung his weary head, though it was counterproductive in trying to rake his hair back as he ran his hand through it. He waved dismissively at her, ordering, “Be gone, then. Dementor is bound to want payback, so go watch the surveillance or something.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” she said, hopping off her barstool and leaving her gloves and a smashed soda can behind. She had more engaging company to track down.

Shego had to mindfully keep her pace in check until she was out of Dr. Drakken’s personal living quarters, and from there she all but skipped through his workshop and down the twisting flight of stairs. She didn’t even pause to check the surveillance feed, taking the shortcut through the office to hit up the rec room in henchmen’s forbidden domain.

She’d found a routine over the course of the first week, the scenario quickly becoming part of her daily ritual. Dr. Drakken would unwittingly put her on surveillance watch, and while he was busy tinkering in his lab or vanished into the depths of the lair, Shego might order some pushover henchman to the CCTV desk in her place while she occupied herself with the rest.

They were all threatened to keep her prohibited visits on the down low, though she sensed threats of knuckle sandwiches weren’t what kept them quiet. More likely, the thugs just didn’t want her ban being reinforced. She was fine with that, to an extent.

It was unfortunate she wouldn’t have the enjoyment of breaking the tantalizing rule of don’t mingle with the henchmen for much longer. By day, she made it her business in the lab to annoy Dr. Drakken at regular intervals with trivial things like mocking how creepily engrossed he’d become over a stupid pair of gloves, or by refusing to budge from his cushioned computer chair when she was ordered to come test the effectiveness of new adjustments. He would be sick of her by evening and tell her off, usually shooing her down to the office, when she could slack off and go join the guys.

Eventually, she was caught red-handed.

++X++

The special order had been a welcomed distraction from the monotony of constructing power staves of a short life expectancy and shorter warranty for a villainous client. After several days of several scrapped prototypes to give him grief, Dr. Drakken at last finalized what he hoped would the last set of custom gloves he slaved over for a while.

Just as he applied the finishing touches, something missing began to nag at him. He poured over a mental checklist and looked over the new-and-improved gear, but that wasn’t it.

He was ready to proudly present the polished product of his handiwork when he discovered he was alone.

Which shouldn’t have been so damn disheartening.

Over the past couple weeks, he’d begun to get used to not being the only soul in the lab, whether he liked it or not. If it weren’t for the aloof subordinate’s nitpicking or devotion to being a nuisance, he might say he enjoyed the company, even if she wasn’t much for conversation. There was something relieving about having someone other than himself to divulge his process to at least, even if it did go in one ear and out the other with an occasional scoff or snarky remark he had to decipher as feedback.

So when Drakken turned around to call for her, the name died on the way out as he scanned the hollow cavern of his lab. He pulled back his sleeve to check his watch, brow furrowing. It wasn’t even noon yet, and he couldn’t recall dismissing her. The subordinate wasn’t duty-bound to stay by his side though, so he shook off the undue disappointment.

He checked his living quarters, expecting to find her scrounging up a lunch in his kitchen or lounging on his couch watching television. When he didn’t find her there, he prowled across the lair to her bedroom and rapped on the door, ready snip at her if he found she was napping, but he received no response. Boss or not, he grudgingly accepted the potential for repercussion if he were to invade the volatile woman’s privacy by simply opening her door to steal a peek.

His next course of action was to stalk down the hall and to his office to scan the surveillance feed in hopes of pinpointing where the elusive woman had strayed off to.

When he did find her, he was none too pleased with where.

Skipping the intercom, he set off at once, winding deep into the lair, to order her back to the lab in person. It was good to show his face to rest of his subordinates once in a while anyway – to at least remind them who the boss was around here.

Drakken stepped out on the catwalk that ran through a spacious man-made cavern serving as the gym, and glared harshly down at the scene below him. His frown quickly dissolved as he stared, puzzled.

For a minute, Dr. Drakken wasn’t sure if he was watching interpretive dance or a genuine quarrel among the four involved below. The swings and kicks of the henchmen held a very real force behind them, but the former superhero ducked and dodged with fluid movements and feline grace. She must have had the situation under control, because when she held up her hands to signal for a timeout, the men froze and allowed her to go along physically manipulating stances and chiding them before they resumed at her goading – or order? – to come at her like they meant it.

By the bruises and welts blemishing their faces, Drakken surmised that this wasn’t the first time they’d had such a session, but what began as a sparring exercise escalated as the men became increasingly frustrated with the newcomer continuously besting them. Drakken watched as their demeanor began to slowly change as their tempers rose, and he gripped the guard rail as he waited with baited breath for some sign it was time to intervene.

In a maneuver that made Drakken wince, he watched as Shego dove at one goon and flipped him over, pulling a backbend to slam the brute on his head. She proceeded to bounce away in time to evade another henchman charging at her with his fists flying. She laughed meanly as he stumbled over his fallen comrade, and she turned to try catching the third to attempt the move again, perhaps to test if the bumbling idiots would fall for the same trick twice. This one had wizened up and avoided her hold, but while she was dodging his punches and kicks, she managed to slip behind him, and even Drakken was surprised when she seized him by his belt and wife-beater, hoisting the thug clear over her head to toss him into another.

Even without her glow to aid her, she was stronger than she looked. She must have a touch of superhuman strength too, Drakken decided as he studied the woman jeering as his men, coaxing them onto their feet to attack her again. The sparring carried on for a few more minutes, the newcomer smiling and laughing in delight every time she got the better of the henchmen she toyed with.

Shego was rather enjoying herself. The henchmen, not so much.

And strange as it was, Drakken might have been enjoying it a little bit too, because he folded his arms on the rail to loiter, watching the show with profound interest. True, there was some shame seeing his men defeated with such ease, but he still smirked at the flicker of glee to have someone better than them on his team.

Some minutes later, two men still left standing managed to get the best of her. While one distracted her, the other swept a leg under her heels from behind, her reaction time just an instant too slow. As she fell back with a startled yelp, the men closed in, one of them snatching her arms so she couldn’t catch herself and bounce back up, and the other grappled for her ankles. Her smile was replaced with a disgusted sneer. Shego’s amusement had vanished as they fought to pin her down while she writhed and gnashed her teeth at them as she swore orders to let her go.

One henchman on the sideline nursing a black eye shouted at the active players to watch out for her hands, but the fools didn’t heed his warning as they scrapped with her on the floor.

Drakken couldn’t believe their impudence as the henchmen’s objective became crystal clear. One kept a secure grip on her wrists and the other fought past her thrashing legs to her belt. She was clearly not enjoying the roughhousing anymore as she spat a final warning at them to back off or else. Orbs of plasma were charging up in her hands when Drakken whistled sharply for attention.

Everything halted, if only for a split second.

The startled men released her and backed off abruptly when they finally realized they were being watched, and Shego hastily leapt to her feet, stumbling as she whirled on the men to discharge her plasma blasts at them as they scrambled out of the way. By the shouts of alarm, the two oafs having a go at her hadn’t known about her superhuman gifts.

The livid young woman turned her back to all, her head down and mane of hair sparing her from having to look at anyone for a moment while she fixed her belt and checked her zippers. She took a moment to calm own, heaving and visibly reigning herself in as she flexed her fingers, glow flickering erratically until it ceased.

She didn’t thank Dr. Drakken for the intervention, oh no. Instead she glared at him up on the bridge above, her lips pulled back over her teeth in displeasure as if he were the one in the wrong here. “I didn’t need you calling off your dogs!” she snapped indignantly up at him. She spat in their direction for good measure as she retreated up the staircase to join him, the steel rattling with each hasty stomp.

“Oh, I know you could destroy them if you wanted,” Dr. Drakken said airily, hoping to let it go for the moment. Though it did give him an idea for cruel and unusual punishment. He glared down to the henchmen returning to their exercises, but they didn’t look terribly shamefaced for attempting to assault the new recruit. Something about the grins the two instigators exchanged was enough for Drakken to go with his gut and write them off.

“Don’t disappear on me,” Drakken called to the newcomer’s back as she made for the exit ahead of him. “I need you in the lab.”

“Whatever,” she snorted.

Drakken almost snipped at her to watch her tone when speaking to him, but thought better of it.

On the way back to the upper level, the woman slowed her stomp. She combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed down her uniform, and double-checked her belt to be sure everything was in perfect order. Finally she threw a glare over to Dr. Drakken as they entered his office, and he knew the elephant in the room hadn’t disappeared just because they’d left the henchmen back in the gym.

“Here’s the deal, Doc,” she ground out bitterly. “If you wanna keep me around, you’ll get rid of them.”

He blinked over at the tense scowling woman stalking alongside him. He might have already planned their dismissal on impulse, but the subordinate’s command still surprised him and elicited an obstinate reaction. “What makes you think you’re more valuable than them?” he retorted in reflex, not especially happy to be bossed around to such degree.

Shego scoffed. “Because they’re a bunch of Henchschool dropouts and have to tag team for more than an hour just to wear me out enough to knock me down,” she answered, following him up the stairwell. “I’m not working with sex offenders that are gonna try pulling some sleazy shit on me. That goes for you too.”

“Understandable,” Drakken grudgingly grumbled, and he swore he could feel the daggers gouging into the back of his head. He’d have to brush up on everyone’s records. “Whatever happened to them being a bunch of pansies? I thought you wanted to hang around hardened criminals and lowlifes.” If it had been an attempt to lighten the mood, he’d failed miserably, quickly realizing she didn’t find his teasing humorous when he peeked back.

The woman snorted again and sneered, “Not the kind that are gonna turn on me like animals.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “It comes with the territory, Shego. If you had stayed away from my men like you’ve been told, they wouldn’t be a problem,” he argued weakly, but suddenly she was a step above him, looking down at him as she poked him hard in the chest, her glare burning into him. She could push him down the stairwell to his demise if she wished. It was pretty steep, and he was suddenly all too aware he’d never had a handrail installed.

“It’s me or them, Dr. Drakken,” she seethed venomously. “This is nonnegotiable. I mean it. They go or I go. What’s it gonna be?”

Dr. Drakken held up his hands in peace. “Okay, you,” he hastily agreed before he could overthink it. “I choose you. Henchschool dropouts, as you put them, are dime a dozen, but there’s only one of you. I’ll review staff tonight, if it makes you happy.”

“Good,” Shego said arrogantly, and turned back up the stairs, leaving him to tug his collar and hope she hadn’t seen the sweat on his brow. “You know, if you didn’t have that kind of criminal on your team, maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about them acting out of line.”

“What can I say? They’re cheap,” Drakken admitted unhappily behind her. “It was never an issue before.” It wasn’t like there was a foolproof way of weeding out such seedy fellows, but he wasn’t about to argue the matter here on the staircase, no matter how tall the order.

Shego peered back at him with a withering glance that told him she would be holding him to his word, but for now that was the end of the discussion.

++X++

Back up in the nerdy tech lab littered with scrap fabric and half-built staves, the rogue doctor wasted no time in handing over the new and improved pair of gloves.

The old pair from Global Justice was looking rather shabby in comparison, fiber frayed around the knuckles, and signs of wear around the palms as well. Shego was happy to toss them aside. Inwardly thrilled that the self-proclaimed mad scientist had actually come through for her, she kept a lid on her eagerness as she pulled on the brand new custom pair.

The new set looked slightly less like dishwashing gloves, with lightly padded knuckles, and sleek and slim-fitted over the fingers for dexterity. Seamlessly incorporated into the tough specialized fabric at the fingertips were the so-called claws she’d requested in jest and had tried to tell him so repeatedly. Though she was sure he’d added them to remind her to be careful what she wished for, she was still pleased by the surprisingly natural feel of the unobtrusive extensions.

More importantly, the hand protection didn’t hinder her glow at all – and most shockingly of all, her glow was indeed amplified to some degree, just as promised though she wasn’t even sure how he’d managed the feat. It only took one flare up to find out that much.

The new set of gloves fit like a dream to boot, but she knew that much from earlier prototypes. It was still something else to see it all come together in a finished product.

Depending how they held up, she might have to finagle more out of him.

Shego’s smile fell and she jumped when the blue man cleared his throat behind her. Wearing a strange sneer that almost passed as a smirk, he suggested she take the new gear out back to put them to the test. She hadn’t been outside in days, not even for a smoke break, and the thought of fresh air – along with releasing pent-up energy and getting a feel for what her new liberating gloves were capable of – was effective in bringing the smile back to her face.

She expected Dr. Drakken alone to accompany her. She was wrong.

He stopped before he could exit the lab with her, humming as a thoughtful look crossed his face, and turned back. She was told to wait outside for a surprise.

She wasn’t sure if she liked the prospect of a surprise, but she wasn’t kept waiting or guessing for long. As much as she itched to blast something while she waited, she resisted taking it out on the parched pines climbing up the slope beyond the expanse of blacktop wrapping around side of the oversized garage.

When he joined her, she was sure she didn’t like the surprise, whatever it was. Not keen on being made an exhibition, it had her frozen with a sort of stage fright as his crew of henchmen marched out from the side-door of the garage after him. Approximately a dozen rugged men – she didn’t stare long enough to count – congregated, all in red jumpsuits. The masks that usually concealed the better half of their faces were removed, but the broken dress code was the least of Shego’s concerns.

Dr. Drakken came to stand beside her, giving her a wry smirk, and motioned for the gangliest of his crew. The youngest henchman scurried out hastily to set up a row of plywood dummies for target practice and retreated back to the audience just as quickly. The rogue doctor then gave Shego’s back a small push and curt words of encouragement, “Go on. Show them.”

Her fists balled at her sides. She wasn’t so sure about being put on display like this. She’d spent enough of her life being a spectacle.

The chief must have read her hesitation, because he frowned at her and then turned to address his crewmen with biting authority, pacing like a drill sergeant with hands gripped behind his back. “There seems to be some confusion lately. It seems some of you think our newest addition is a secretary, or here to be your plaything,” he barked at his crew, dripping with derision as he issued a warning. “Make no mistake. A lovely little thing she may be, Shego here is your superior, and may God have mercy on the next man to lay a hand on her.”

The booming tone of his reproach was jarring compared to the softer indoor voice used whenever he wasn’t worked up or hollering across the lair. It surprised her for a second, but she reminded herself he was an aspiring villain after all, and most had to put on a mean show if they wanted to be taken seriously, especially by a bunch of thugs as underpaid henchmen tended to be.

“Flatterer,” she hissed under her breath. Her face was hot. It was an underhanded way of goading her on, even if superior sounded nice. She took it with a grain of salt though.

Returning to her, Dr. Drakken narrowed his eyes and impatiently ground out through his teeth, “Hurry up and light some fire under their asses, Shego. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her reservations aside, Shego swallowed and nodded despite the onlookers watching her back. As she had so often in Go City, she tried to pretend they weren’t there as she let her clenched fists ignite. Four throws was all it took to reduce four dummies to a mess of splinters and flaming debris. It was overkill. Without her medication and old gloves, it was too easy to overcharge the blows, but the gloves held up. She’d really have to practice discipline now, she realized.

Nonetheless, she took a deep steadying breath and stared in wonder at her own hands. Her lips quirked into a smile, which Dr. Drakken caught and mirrored tenfold.

The man got his grin under control as he came to stand perhaps a little too close and fearlessly considering he’d just watched her obliterate targets with ease. “Well?” he pressed, lowering his voice to keep it between them. “How’s it feel?”

It was a stupid question when the answer was written on her face already. Between the new liberating gloves and having prescribed suppressant out of her system, she felt glee bubble up and escape in a small laugh. “Amazing,” she confirmed a little too happily. If she weren’t suddenly aware they were being watched by an audience, she just might have hugged the man for making such freedom possible – but she quickly locked that notion away. Such gratitude would be unbecoming of her now.

He was sidestepping away anyway, clearing his throat. He fixed the crew in a deep scowl. “Any questions?” he called out brusquely, but the crew remained silent. He stroked his chin as he paced along the row, and picked out two men from the crowd, beckoning them forward with a finger rather than by name. Either of the men could have flattened Drakken if they so wished, yet they humored him with hateful glares he appeared to willingly overlook.

Shego’s stomach lurched as she glared back at the loathsome men who’d made an attempt to rough her up mere minutes ago. Sure, she still burned with malice, but she couldn’t help flicking a disconcerted glance to the blue man presenting them to her as if they were gifts. Dr. Drakken’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he raised his brow expectantly as he nodded to them.

She had a hunch what was coming, but she was done. Demonstrating her capability on wooden dummies for the ignorant crew was enough. Still she had the gut-wrenching suspicion he had every intention of pushing it further. There was no reason to push it further, and yet—

And yet, Dr. Drakken was speaking loud and clear again. “Since they thought they could have their way with you, why don’t you return the favor and have your way with them, hm?”

Both humiliated and put on the spot, her skin crawled as she studied the grave mask of malevolence Dr. Drakken wore as he shoved the larger of the two men roughly toward where the incinerated targets had stood.

Shego stared at the new dummies standing rigid in their place. Live dummies.

Even if they deserved a lashing and she had reason enough to bear a grudge against the men, she wasn’t sure about raising a hand to them as they were. She would have wailed on them in the gym minutes ago had Drakken not interrupted, but now they were just standing there among the cinders and ash, doing nothing more offensive than giving her ugly looks.

Shego glanced to Dr. Drakken again, waiting for him to laugh and say it was all a twisted joke, but the stoic man stood to the side with his hands behind his back, reminiscent of a bailiff watching men on trial.

She was frozen like a deer in the headlights, stunned with disbelief at what was expected of her and entirely unsure how to proceed with dishing out punishment. Her fists curled as she weighed how badly she wanted to see them hurt.

After another moment, Dr. Drakken stalked back to her, shaking his head in exasperation, and grabbed her roughly by the arm. She almost twisted away. “Shego,” he hissed quietly. “You’re making me look bad. Show me you can be merciless.”

“But—,” but she was interrupted before she could articulate an excuse.

“Need I remind you, had you been any ordinary girl, these men would have hurt you. Horrendously. So punish them already and get it over with. Kill them if you want. They’re expendable.”

“Kill?” she uttered in surprise. She’d been at least partially responsible for deaths before – by mistake – in the heat of the moment – but it couldn’t be proven she was to blame for the casualties. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see the goons on display pay after what they’d tried, but murder might have been a touch too severe.

Suddenly one of the men on trial made the dire mistake of calling the bluff, and not in a particularly clever way. “Pussy,” the thug coughed under his breath. The man was cracking. The moron must have decided to let his mouth go unchecked if he was on death row for a little misconduct. “What’s wrong, boss? You sore the mistress is a slut?”

Like she hadn’t been called names before.

Before Shego could roll her eyes, the crack of a gunshot split the air and the offender jumped, crashing into the other at the spark of a bullet striking the asphalt where he’d stood a moment before.

“Do something to them, Shego, or I will,” Dr. Drakken snarled over to her, only lowering his revolver slightly. She recognized it. So it wasn’t just for show.

“I thought you were above using those,” Shego snapped, stepping back from him. She could understand now why the henchmen avoided stepping out of line.

Dr. Drakken waved the gun in a dangerously flippant manner. “Well sorry if it’s tactless!” he drawled bitterly. “It’s effective, and this isn’t the time to argue about villain tradition. Show these men you are not to be reckoned with, Shego. That’s an order.”

“What do you expect?” shouted the moron who was lucky to still have toes at the moment. “You hired a hero!”

Nasty names she could handle. Nastier idiots mistaking her for an easy target she could handle.

But like a magic word, it was that accusation that set her off, and she didn’t need any more encouragement than that. If the vile thug wanted a fight, he could have it. She’d show them just how much of a hero she was.

Letting a furious scream rip, Shego lunged into action to make an example of the offender before Drakken could shoot the fired henchman himself. Hand blazing hot – too, too hot – she let the swipe come down before the goon could dodge, connecting with the man’s torso with enough power to shred through his overalls and carve into the unthinkable beneath. A hot knuckle sandwich and the heel of her boot weren’t the taste of her they’d wanted, but it was what they got as they tried and failed to fight her off. One tried to flee, but he didn’t get far – as one plasma shot to the back and he was down for the count. He was the luckier of the two.

This time there was no intervention in the brawl, not that it lasted long enough for anyone to try.

Her brothers were thousands of miles away, but in her head, she could hear them screaming at her to stop over the roar of blood and her own scream in her ears.

Once the men were down, her fury died as quickly as it had been kindled. In no time at all, she’d overdone it, and she didn’t stop to wonder how many teeth she’d knocked out as she leapt back from the whimpering bloody pulp she’d been laying into.

Shego left the battered men sprawled on the ground as she abandoned the brutal scene without a glance back. She examined her knuckles as she went. The new gloves were sullied and in need of a good wash, but otherwise they had held up well, and the sharpened tips served a function after all, though she didn’t want to think too hard about it or that Hugo had been right that they weren’t too conducive to hero work.

Dr. Drakken barked an order for the offenders to be taken care of, and then he wasn’t far behind her, although he kept his distance.

[and-then-there-were-n0ne]

As machine learning and robotics improve in the coming decades, hundreds of millions of jobs are likely to disappear, disrupting the economies and trade networks of the entire world. The Industrial Revolution created the urban working class, and much of the social and political history of the 20th century revolved around its problems. Similarly, the artificial intelligence revolution might create a new “unworking class,” whose hopes and fears will shape the history of the 21st century.

The social and economic models we have inherited from the previous century are inadequate for dealing with this new era. For example, socialism assumed that the working class was vital for the economy, and socialist thinkers tried to teach the proletariat how to translate its immense economic power into political clout. These teachings might become utterly irrelevant in coming decades, as the masses lose their economic value.

In order to cope with such unprecedented technological and economic disruptions, we probably need completely new models. One that is gaining increasing attention and popularity is universal basic income.

UBI suggests that some institution - most likely a government - will tax the billionaires and corporations controlling the algorithms and robots, and use the money to provide every person with a stipend covering basic needs. The hope is that this will cushion the poor against job loss and economic dislocation, while protecting the rich from populist rage.

[…] Yet the formula of universal basic income suffers from several problems. In particular, it is unclear what “universal” and “basic” mean.

When people speak about universal basic income they usually mean national basic income. For example, both Elon Musk and former President Barack Obama have spoken about the need to consider some kinds of UBI schemes. But when Musk said that “There’s a pretty good chance we end up with a universal basic income […] due to automation,” and when Obama said that “whether a universal income is the right model […] that’s a debate that we’ll be having over the next 10 or 20 years,” it is unclear who “we” are. The American people? The human race?

Hitherto, all UBI initiatives were strictly national or municipal. In January, Finland began a two-year experiment, providing 2,000 unemployed Finns with $630 a month, irrespective of whether they find work or not. Similar projects are underway in Ontario, Holland and Livorno, Italy. Last year, Switzerland held a referendum on instituting a national basic income scheme, but voters rejected the idea.

In the U.S, Representative Ro Khanna, a California Democrat, proposes to greatly expand the Earned Income Tax Credit program, boosting the income of poor Americans by about $1 trillion. Though the plan does not promise any stipends to the unemployed, it is seen as a first step towards instituting national basic income.

The problem with such national and municipal schemes, however, is that the main victims of automation may not live in Finland, Amsterdam or the U.S. Globalization has made people in one country dependent on markets in other countries, but automatization might unravel large parts of this global trade network with disastrous consequences for the weakest links.

In the 20th century, developing countries made economic progress mainly by exporting raw materials or by selling the cheap labor of their workers and service personnel. Today, millions of Bangladeshis make a living by producing shirts that are sold to customers in the U.S., while people in Bangalore, India, earn their keep answering the complaints of American customers.

Yet with the rise of AI, robots and 3-D printers, cheap labor will become far less important, and demand for raw materials might also drop. Instead of manufacturing a shirt in Dhaka and shipping it all the way to New York, you could buy the shirt’s code online from Amazon and print it in Manhattan. Zara and Prada stores could be replaced by 3-D printing centers, and some people might even have such printers at home.

Simultaneously, instead of calling customer services in Bangalore to complain about your printer, you could talk with an AI representative in the Google Cloud. The newly unemployed workers and call center operators in Dhaka and Bangalore don’t have the education necessary to switch to designing fashionable shirts or writing computer code - so how will they survive?

Under this scenario, the revenue that previously flowed to South Asia will now fill the coffers of a few tech giants in California, leading to huge strain on developing economies. American voters might conceivably agree that taxes paid by Amazon.com Inc. and Alphabet Inc. be used to give stipends to unemployed coal miners in Pennsylvania and jobless taxi-drivers in New York. However, does anyone think American voters would also agree that part of these taxes should be sent to Bangladesh to cover the basic needs of the unemployed masses there?

Another major difficulty is that there is no accepted definition for “basic” needs. From a purely biological perspective, the only thing a Homo sapiens needs for survival is about 2,500 calories of food per day. Over and above this biological poverty line, every culture in history defined additional basic needs, which change over time.

In Medieval Europe, access to church services was seen as even more important than food, because it took care of your eternal soul rather than of your ephemeral body. In today’s Europe, decent education and health care services are considered basic human needs, and some argue that even access to the internet is now essential for every man, woman and child.

So if in 2050 the United World Government agrees to tax Google, Amazon, Baidu Inc. and Tencent Holdings Ltd. in order to provide a basic income for every human being on earth, from Dhaka to Detroit, how will it define “basic”?

For example, will universal basic income cover education? And if so, what would these services include: just reading and writing, or also composing computer code? Just six years of elementary school, or everything up to Ph.D.?

And what about health care? If by 2050 medical advances make it possible to slow down aging processes and significantly extend human lifespans, will the new treatments be available to all 10 billion humans on the planet, or just to a few billionaires? If biotechnology enables parents to “upgrade” their children, would this be considered a basic human need, or would we see humankind splitting into different biological castes, with rich super-humans enjoying abilities that far surpass those of poor Homo sapiens?

Whichever way you choose to define basic human needs, once you provide them to everyone free of charge, they will be taken for granted, and then fierce social competitions and political struggles will focus on non-basic luxuries - be they fancy self-driving cars, access to virtual-reality parks, or enhanced bioengineered bodies. Yet if the unemployed masses command no economic assets, it is hard to see how they could ever hope to obtain such luxuries. Consequently, the gap between the rich (Tencent managers and Google shareholders) and the poor (those dependent on universal basic income) might become bigger and more rigid than ever.

Hence, even if universal basic income means that poor people in 2050 will enjoy much better medical care and education than today, they might still feel that the system is rigged against them, that the government serves only the super-rich, and that the future will be even worse for them and their children.

People usually compare themselves to their more fortunate contemporaries rather than to their ill-fated ancestors. If in 2017 you tell a poor American in an impoverished Detroit neighborhood that she has access to much better health care than her great-grandparents did in the age before antibiotics, it is unlikely to cheer her up. Indeed, such talk will sound terribly smug and condescending. “Why should I compare myself to nineteenth-century peasants?” she might retort. “I want to live like the rich people on television, or at least like the folks in the affluent suburbs.”

Similarly, if in 2050 you tell the useless class that they enjoy better health care than in 2017, it might be very cold comfort to them, because they would be comparing themselves to the upgraded super-humans who dominate the world.

Modern communication systems make such comparisons almost inevitable. A man living in a small village 5,000 years ago measured himself against the other 50 men in the settlement. Compared to them, he probably looked pretty hot. Today, a man living in a small village compares himself to the 50 most gorgeous hunks on the planet, whom he sees everyday on TV screens and giant billboards. Our modern villager is likely to be far less happy with the way he looks.  Will universal basic income include plastic surgery for everyone?

Homo sapiens is just not built for satisfaction. Human happiness depends less on objective conditions and more on our own expectations. Expectations, however, tend to adapt to conditions, including to the condition of other people. When things improve, expectations balloon, and consequently, even dramatic improvements in conditions might leave us as dissatisfied as before.

If universal basic income is aimed to improve the objective conditions of the average person in 2050, it has a fair chance of succeeding. But if it is aimed to make people subjectively more satisfied with their lot in order to prevent social discontent, it is likely to fail.

- Yuval Noah Harari, 21 lessons for the 21st century