#its truly kind of remarkable because ivan is very

[astranauticus]

honestly in any other world i would be drawing so much ivan alnst he is so. but no unfortunately yoohankim has placed a death grip over my output for the past 7 months and also the foreseeable future

[sad-eyed-lady-of-the-paperbacks]

Thoughts on 1.4

This is extremely belated, but here we go!

As usual, if I don't indicate the translation, assume it's my favourite McDuff.

"An early lover of mankind" - This phrase, as noted in the endnotes of both Pevear & Volokhonsky's translation as well as McDuff's, is commonly used in the Orthodox faith as an epithet for Christ. However, McDuff provides the additional context that "during the 19th century, because of overuse by 'progressive' Russian thinkers and journalists, it acquired the character of a cliché.

It is not the religious institution that appeals to Alyosha, nor even necessarily the doctrine in particular. It is this one admirable man, the Elder Zosima, and Alyosha's own desperate striving out of the murk toward the light. He doesn't just admire Zosima, he loves him. And love is a defining characteristic of Alyosha.

Although he treasures his one memory of his mother, it is a very troubling and sad memory. Poor, poor Sofia. And I can't help but wonder if Ivan was also present on this occasion, if he also remembers it. Perhaps he remembers more of the context that surrounded it, and thus the impression it left on him was very different? We'll likely never know, because as private as Alyosha is, Ivan is even more so.

Alyosha seems to have a complete faith and trust in people, and he is quick to forgive, but it's not because he is "either naive or a simpleton" (P&V). He is tolerant and refuses to condemn or judge anyone. He's saddened when he encounters, for example, his father's depraved lifestyle, but this sadness comes without the slightest bit of condemnation or contempt. Reading all of this and also about how readily he forgives and how slow he is to take offense reminded me of the famous description of Love found in 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

(English Standard Version)

That bit about "believes all things, hopes all things" is particularly interesting to me. Believing the best about each person until proven otherwise, continuing to hope the very best of each person even when they have disappointed you before, and not from naïvety or stupidity, but because you truly love them—it is remarkable. The fact that this seems to come rather naturally for Alyosha shows how deeply and sincerely this love must run in his heart. I don't think I really took time to ponder this on my previous readings.

It is no great credit to Fyodor that he loves Alyosha, because everyone loves Alyosha and it's not hard to love someone who shows love to you and doesn't judge you. But it is something. It's the first remotely redeemable thing we've seen about Fyodor so far, so we'll take it.

We learn of another interesting feature that characterises Alyosha: this "savage, frenzied modesty and chastity" (or "wild and frantic", P&V). We've formed a picture of this very pleasant, tolerant, peaceful young man, so to hear that there is anything savage or frenzied about him is quite a surprising juxtaposition. Is this indicative of an inner struggle against the "black smear" indicated in the Karamazov family name? The "darkness of wordly wickedness" (P&V) that his soul is struggling to escape from?

Side note, but in an era where children were being hardcore romanticised as these perfectly pure and angelic beings, and this was heavily reflected in literature, the realism of the way Dostoevsky portrays children is always so surprising and refreshing to me. Through his narrator, Dostoevsky here depicts the reality that children absolutely do talk and joke amongst themselves about shockingly filthy things, and know way more than adults think they do, while at the same time making clear that they are innocent. The fact that both things are true—I'm just impressed by this depth and nuance.

Ivan is hard-working and determined to support himself rather than rely on others, which on the one hand is admirable, but on the other hand comes from a place of self-conscious pride; he is embarrassed and almost resentful of the generosity shown to him. He is focused on himself, and that makes it painful to accept the kindness shown to him. Alyosha is selfless, so it is easy for him both to give and receive generosity and kindness without a thought, and money means nothing to him. He shares this with Mitya, to whom money also means nothing, though Mitya grew up with a certain sense of entitlement that Alyosha lacks. And while Alyosha at times seems not to know how to spend money, that's never a problem for Mitya, and we can absolutely guarantee that when Alyosha does spend his money, it's not on the pursuits Mitya squanders his money on, which Alyosha, without condemning, would definitely blush at and never himself engage in.

Literally everyone loves Alyosha, even Miusov has nice things to say about him!

Another thing Alyosha has in common with Mitya is that he did not complete his studies at gymnasium. No one is surprised that Mitya dropped out after being abandoned and neglected, passed around from relative to relative, and acting out and getting into trouble in the stereotypical-foster-kid way. But Alyosha's reasons are rather more mysterious.

To heap further insult upon all of the insult and injury dealt to poor Sofya Ivanovna in her life, Fyodor Pavlovich doesn't even remember where she's buried. Couldn't even be bothered. In fact, he couldn't even be bothered to give the poor woman any kind of grave marker. If it was up to him, she would be completely forgotten in an unmarked grave. But Grigory—remember Grigory, the servant? The only one in Sofya's entire tragic life who ever stuck up for her and had her back? Grigory shows Alyosha where the grave is, and not only that, but this man paid for her grave marker and inscription with his own surely-meagre funds.

I don't know what to make of the fact that Alyosha never went back to his mother's grave. This seems to lend further weight to the narrator contesting Alyosha's claim that visiting his mother's grave was the sole reason for his visit.

We have some more antisemitism in this chapter, unfortunately, and I'm not going to address that again.

Fyodor Pavlovich was already the worst, but he has somehow managed to get worse? Now he's even more outrageous, insolent, and determined to play the buffoon. His drinking has also worsened, through which Grigory continues to be the real MVP.

Alyosha's resemblance to his mother seems to trouble Fyodor, perhaps even pricking his conscience somewhat. And then, when Alyosha visits the grave, it seems to have possibly moved Fyodor in some way? Fyodor proceeds to donate a thousand roubles (a TON of money!!!) to the monastery, but not in the memory of Alyosha's mother Sofya, but instead, in that of his first wife, Adelaida Ivanovna, Mitya's mother. I'm really not sure what we're to make of this. If he didn't have such affection for Alyosha, I would think he did it on purpose to hurt him (if it was flip-flopped and he'd done it to Mitya, I would absolutely believe that was the case). But even though he afterwards gets drunk and ends up talking crap about the monks to Alyosha, I don't think he would have done that on purpose to hurt him. Our narrator summing this up by saying that "Strange bursts of sudden emotion and sudden ideas are common in such types" feels infuriatingly inadequate, but alas, that's all we're getting!

Fyodor's physical description is so viscerally unpleasant. Props to Dostoevsky for making me feel physically ill.

Fyodor acknowledges himself as deserving to get dragged to hell by hooks, going so far as to insist that justice demands nothing short of this, and that if there weren't hooks they would have to be invented just for him. But this conviction is obviously not enough to get him to change his ways. (Shame, fear, and guilt always being rather poor motivators, after all.) Alyosha's quiet, earnest statement, "But there aren't any hooks there," is, I think, meant to be reassuring, but I also think he sincerely believes it. As the narrator will state in the next chapter, Alyosha is a realist. And we have an indication here that he does not lean into that punitive, condemnatory, fire-and-brimstone style. After all, if there are any hooks, Jesus didn't warn anyone about them, let alone threaten anyone with them.

[racefortheironthrone]

Thoughts on Powers of X #6

It’s Not A Dream If It’s Real:

We start with an extended return to Powers of X #1, which might come off as somewhat self-indulgent if so much of the issue didn’t come down to an exploration of how this encounter between Charles Xavier and Moira X radically transformed Xavier’s life. We need a full page of Xavier walking happily through the forest, in other words, because we are seeing the last truly innocent moment in his life. 

One thing that I find more than a little frustrating is that, given their prominence in the circular framing device that Hickman uses, we’ve seen remarkably little of Rasputin, the Tower, and Cardinal. I’m really hoping they show up again in Dawn of X, although I recognize that it’s early days yet, because I feel like there’s a lot of unexplored potential there. 

One thing that really changes on this read is how we read Moira’s expressions in light of what the current and previous issue/s reveal about her motivations. You can really see that Moira feels way more ambivalent and regretful about what she’s about to do. 

What Happens When Humanity Stops Being Beholden To Its Environment?

But before we get to any of that, it’s time to close the books on our X^3 timeline. And while I’ve been rather critical of the pacing and characterization of this timeline in previous PoX issues, this is a significant improvement.

It begins with the Librarian going off to “feed the animals at the zoo,” confident that he’ll be unharmed because “my augmented brain is far more advenced than yours.” The Librarian’s intellectual arrogance and superiority complex - which (spoilers) will be his ultimate undoing, and quite possibly that of the Phalanx as well - is a running theme throughout this section.

Speaking of which, we get something of a debate where the Libratrian conintues to think of mutants as essentially mindless animals acting in “their nature,” whereas Logan insists on a language of resistance against slavery. Not surprisingly, the Librarian doesn’t have much have time for that kind of debate and instead wants to talk to Moira.

As befits both of their scientific natures, the two of them discuss the tension between “preservation” and “observation” in “controlled habitats” - and I’ll freely admit that I don’t know enough about zoology to have much of an opinion here. 

However, the Librarian really changes tack from the scientific to the reliigous when he lets them know that “the Phalanx will descend and absorb the entirety of our post-human society...what was once our post-human society will exist forever as part of that godhead.” Again, I think it’s majorly counting your chickens to assume you’ll be part of the godhead rather than food for the godhead, but that’s what happens when you really go in for Pascal’s wager in a serious way.

In a surprise no doubt built on eavesdropping on Moira to understand her mutant powers, the Librarian doesn’t want Moira to die before the translation, because he needs to make sure that “if you live past my becoming god, then -- existing beyond space and time -- we will know you, forever. And I think it very likely we would not tolerate something like you having any power over something like us.” Here is the first real threat to Moira since Destiny in Life 3, that for the second time there would be a hostile force that would know about Moira’s past lives who could act against her before she has a chance to prevent it. And the Phalanx/Dominion are way more powerful than just Destiny, which suggests that Moira’s motivations may be driven now by her perception of the ultimate threats to herself and mutantkind.

In a fitting end that pays more than a little homage to the philosophy of identity, the Librarian is undone by his doubts over whether "the universal machine state” is “a fake existence,” because his post-human abilities allow him to perceive material reality on a deeeeeper level, maaaan, so would he be as happy as just an uploaded consciousness, even one that he sees as godlike?

And here we get the link between the transhumanism/singularity stuff and Moira/Krakoa’s mission of preserving mutantkind: can mutants prevent post-humanity from arising, and escape the cage into which science has placed them? I think a lot of Krakoan policy, from the offer of Krakoan pharmaceuticals on down, is aimed at keeping humanity happy in its cage.

At the same time, we shouldn’t feel too bad about the Librarian’s burgeoning existential crisis, because he is still a pseudo-intellectual racial supremacist who’s just as convinced that technology makes him superior to the racial minority he’s holding subordinate as an Victorian or Enlightenment-era phrenologist. 

Let’s start with his argument that “mutants are an evolutionary response to an environment. You are...naturally occurring.” This is only kind of true, depending on which version of mutantcy’s origins one subscribes to. Even still, a reverse naturalistic fallacy is still a fallacy.

The more interesting idea, and it’s one I didn’t quite see coming is that post-humanity won when it used genetic engineering to make themselves superhuman, and used merely mechanical transhumanism - the Sentinels and Nimrods - to give themselves enough of a lead in the race against mutants that they could never catch up. Notably, this is not the scenario that took place in Life 9 - Nimrod the Lesser clearly didn’t have human afvancement in mind - so perhaps this is why humans need to be so careful about the Heller/Faust line.

Another important question that makes me question the rationality of post-humanity - if you have access to widespread genetic engineering, why not end the human/mutant conflict by switching everyone’s X-gene to positive? I feel like with the spread of CRISPR and similar technologies, this is a question that is going to have to be answered. (The answer is that bigotry is irrational by its very nature, but still.)

Proving once again that Monologuing Kills, Logan nails the Librarian to a tree with his claws - which prevents the Librarian’s knowledge from being incorporated into the Phalanx, and then kills Moira, which insures that the timeline reboots then and there, with the Phalanx getting none of post-humanity’s secrets.

Thus ends Moira’s Life 6...and I have to say I’m not really keen on the misdirect. Yes, it was likely that X^3 would be Life 6, since it was the one timeline we haven’t seen yet, but the misdirect requires you to believe that two Nimrods would capture Cylobel in the same way across the two timelines. The only thing that makes it feel less of a cheat is that apparently all the Cylobels look the same (which is something we saw more of in Life 9, so I guess), but that’s still a bit too close to feel satisfying.

Branching Humanity Infographic:

Speaking of infographics definitely written from a mutant perspective, this document really makes its perspective clear when it refers to humanity as an evolutionary dead end. (Which I’m not so sure about from a genetics perspective - we’ve seen before that humans can be carriers without expressing the x-gene, that the X-gene can spontaneously activate without parents who are carriers, that mutants and children can have children without difficulty, and that sometimes mutant-mutant pairings can result in non-mutant offspring, that doesn’t read like speciation to me. 

Homo novissima -is described as a “manufactured branch of humanity not restricted by normal evolutionary constraints,” which really plays into the naturalistic fallacy something hard. Arguably anyone who’s not lactose intolerant can be described as homo novissima under those standards.

The idea that really blew my mind is the idea that there is a “paradigm loop between organic and technological constructs,” such that advances in the one give rise to the other in a leap-frogging way. This is really different from Hickman’s Transhuman and how HoxPoX has depicted the stark divides between Krakoan and ORCHIS technologies. I wonder where Hickman’s new synthesis will lead us?

It’s Not a Complement:

At long last, we actually get to see what it was like for Charles Xavier to “read” not just a thousand plus years of memories, but a thousand years plus years of memories that are devastating to his entire worldview. Given how much this issue talks about Xavier being “broken,” I would count this as the first time.

Moira, who has thrown her “pragmatic” switch all the way into the red to have this conversation,” barely bats an eye at Charles’ existential crisis and instead pivots to her larger message that “hard truths are what’s called for when dealing with radical realignments to old ways of thinking.” 

The exchange that follows is extremely characteristic on both their parts: Moira is deeply pessimistic, stating that it’s not just that “we lose” but that “we always lose” (much more on this later); Charles, despite his initial shock is still a relentless optimist, thinking through scenarios that would allow him to continue his technocratic assimilationist vision of mutant rights.

In a very bittersweet move, Moira lays one on Xavier and lets him know that amidst all the complicated emotions she’s had towards him, “not once in all my lives have you changed...its not a compliment.” It is one of his most frustrating characteristics that Charles Xavier believes that, because he believes himself to be in the right even when he’s not, he’s incredibly resistant to change his mind. 

Hence why Moira believes “I have to break that part of you,” the part that believes “in the goodness of others.” This is a really significant point - Moira identifies Charles’ compassion, not his pride and intellectual arrogance, as his weak point that she will have to go all Ivan Drago on. This is kind of a problem, because Charles’ compassion has always been fighting a pitched battle with his utilitarianism, so stripping that away produces a man who will do anything for the greater good. 

The chief irony - and it’s one I’ve been surprised more people haven’t commented on - is that Moira’s decision here will directly result in what happens at the end of this book, because once you train someone like Charles to be paranoid and suspicious and even more of a utilitarian, he’s absolutely going to apply his new worldview on you. More on this in a bit.

A couple important things that are really worth keeping in the forefront of your mind when we get to the final confrontation: 

First, Moira is dead-on when she describes Erik Lensherr as “your shade,” because the two of them are mirror images and have been for a long, long time.

Second, Moira’s plan includes Xavier and Erik fighting her. 

Moira’s Journal Infographic:

Here we get an fascinating and frustrating infographic, as we get several pages from “Moira’s journal,” although to be honest it’s much more a Jane Goodall-style field notes on her attempts to influence the future by influencing the development of three men. (Which itself is a whole gendered thing, but also very much tied in to her observation and experimentation methodology in her earlier lives.)

Entry 5: “unlike myself, observation has not granted himself perfect recall of my past lives, and as I wil not permit him to read me a second time, he is now dependent on my interpretation of past-life events.” 

As with his mind-reading of Krakoa, despite Xavier being an Alpha-level telepath, he doesn’t quite get the whole of the picture when he reads (unusual?) minds. This is crucial in understanding the power dynamic between them - the only thing that allows Moira to keep the upper hand is that Xavier is temporarily “dependent” on her, and that he hasn’t yet decided to violate her personal boundaries. 

Also, the fact that Moira describes these psychic impressions - so key to Xavier and Magneto’s conversion to the cause - as “my interpretation” really raises the question of whether Moira is an unreliable narrator of her past lives...which is really quite scary given how much the whole enterprise rests on her being right about how things will go. More on that later.

But as I was saying above, one of the downsides of making Xavier even more of a morally grey actor is that it makes it way more likely that “he will even act against type” (and boy is Moira’s understanding of Xavier shown to be flawed by her belief that this would be against type as opposed to absolutely his M.O) by reading her mind without her permission.

All that Moira can hope for is that because she knows that “all he will be looking for is confirmation of suspicions he might already harbor,” she will be able to steer his inquiry away from things she doesn’t want him to know, although she does have a Plan B of coming totally clean.

Finally, as with the redactions, there is very much a running theme here (and throughout HoxPoX) of struggling over control of (imperfect) information at the heart of all conflicts. 

Entry 14: “while we have become romantic, it is becoming clear to me that I am breaking Charles Xavier. And if I do break him, how will he become the man I need him to be in the coming days.” 

Here Moira gets a little bit self-reflective, realizing that one of the downsides of her master plan is that you can’t “manipulate these men into doing what I needed them to do without any repercussions to myself.” Breaking Charles of his hope and idealism doesn’t, it turns out, make him any more controllable, because he’s going to act on his new nature, and Moira can’t guarantee that she won’t be the object of that action.

One interesting question that I’ve seen raised is whether Moira is referring to Onslaught here. How much of his (to be honest, really quite banal and skippable) turn to the dark side was due to repression and how much due to cultivating his worser nature?

Entry 17: “he had the most marvellous idea regarding the potential tandem of several mutants and what they could accomplish if they worked in harmony.”

I find this one particularly fascinating, because it gets at how the collaborative process of creating Krakoa came together. Charles is able to build on “the potential windfall of knowledge I represent regarding mutandom” to get the idea for the Resurrection system and the broader mutant power synergy approach to Krakoan technology; Moira then “used my experience in genetic modification” to figure out how to make the mutants the system required.

At the same time, my god does this entry make Moira and Xavier seem even more cold-blooded and unethical with regards to Proteus and Legion, because rather than those relationships coming as a “moment of weakness” (in Xavier’s case) they were pre-meditated. The only thing that makes this even slightly better is that, according to the timeline docs, Moira didn’t have a relationship with Joseph MacTaggart in her previous lives, so that she didn’t knowingly walk into an abusive relationship to birth a super-mutant. 

Entry 22: “Magneto...with him, loyalty is something that must be constantly earned. He allows for no deviation of intent -- no wavering of belief. The idea that there will not be setbacks, and that his constant anger will remained tamped down, is a fool’s dream.”

Speaking of unethical actions...Moira trying to mess with Magneto’s mind, given what she undertands as his character, strikes me as pretty damn “casual[ly] arrogan[t].”

Likewise, Moira sees it as a “positive thing of note” that she’s managed to “imprin[t] the idea of stronghold in his mind.” While she notes that “it has always been there” - and she’s not wrong that Magneto has a thing for island, asteroid, and other separated bases. At the same time, it does help to explain why Magneto is so particularly gung-ho on the idea of Krakoa, which makes him their biological last line of defense.

Entry 29: “Apocalypse has made himself known to the world. Knowing him the way I do, and having aligned myself already with Xavier and Magneto, recruitment will not be an option until a much later date.”

Moira’s attitude to her ex suggests that the big blue-lipped boy’s Social Darwinist rage is basically the result of him being “in his raw, primal state,” and that he’ll mellow out once he has “f[ou]nd something to build on.” 

We also get confirmation that the conflicts between various X-teams and [A] were quite real - although intended more at “the avoidance of an apocalypse event” than his destruction. More of a managed conflict, if you will.

Given [A]’s interest in recreating his Four Horsemen, I wonder who the Omega-level mutants he might have been looking for instead of the ones he ended up with.

Entry 48: “I have underestimated Xavier’s infatuation with the possibilities of what can be accomplished with mutant genetic material. Without my knowledge -- and against my advice -- both Charles and Magneto have traveled to Bar Sinister and recruited Sinister to our cause.”

This is the crux of the matter when it comes to the double-edged nature of breaking Xavier of his better nature; the more you do this, the more he’s likely to do underhanded stuff like this.

The central irony is that Moira’s complaint (as much as it resonates with women in the fandom as representing their own life experiences) that “what is this thing that men do, where they think they can shape the world to their liking - and bend others to whatever they will” absolutely describes Moira herself as well as Xavier and Magneto. 

One ominous note, re the ongoing theme about timetables and schedules, is that Sinister is already producing chimerae, so merely leaving him alone might not change the outcome.

Entry 52: “We have lost Magneto.”

Speaking of consequences to manipulation, we see Moira’s attempts to reshape Magneto to “help make him a better man” (perhaps someone who would play nicely wrt to the Krakoan project?) backfire horribly during the events of Mutant Genesis.

For a short entry, this actually gives a really good window into Moira’s psyche, in that she’s more than a little bit prone to depression, when we combine her previous comment that “we always lose,” the trauma she experienced in her previous lives, with her immediate reaction that “I am just as bad as they are. If not worse.”

Entry 57: “I have decided to remove myself from the world.”

See what I mean?

This entry ought to remind us about one of the key aspects of Moira’s powerset: Moira’s ability to predict the future is contrained way more than, say, Destiny. The more Moira acts to change variables and try to produce her good ending, the less of a guide her memories of her past lives becomes. More on this in a bit.

it’s also a good reminder that Charles and Moira have been testing out their “husk...backup” system much, much earlier than poor Pyro thinks.

Tea for Three:

There is something wonderfully theatrical about this three-hander scene in that it all revolves around power dynamics and reversals: Moira starts out quite confident, hands-on-hips, reminding Charles and Erik that she doesn’t need them (I wonder which “of mankind’s greatest culinary cities” she has a backdoor to?), which Magneto responds to with a jab at her cynicism towards “the common kindness of others” and “assuming there’s always another shoe to drop.”

This next exchange gives me a real sense that, at least as far as the secret plan to secure Krakoa’s future goes, the Quiet Council are only really there to ensure that they “won’t be a deterrent to our broader plans.” 

At the same timethe surface of collegial conviviality, everyone knows that “we’re all up to something” - note how quickly Moira goes from her confident posture to a more defensive crossing of her arms, even as Magneto shows off his dexterity with his powers, which is a nice visual detail in an otherwise very talky page.

One area of disagreement becomes quite clear: Xavier and Magneto really disagree with Moira about whether “we can do this without” Sinister. Once again I’m frustrated in not knowing what the Plan A was wrt to the genetic database.

But here Xavier really brings down the boom: “We promised to bring Destiny back.” This freezes Moira right up, and shows one of the main tensions in their (joint?) project, the conflict between radical unity and political necessity.

However, there’s a significant question mark about why Moira believes that “there can be no precogs on Krakoa.” On the face of it, Moira’s objection is due to her fear that Destiny might “tell everyone the truth” that “we always lose,” I don’t believe her for a second. I think Moira’s objection stems from their traumatic meeting in Life 3, and because Destiny “has ways of seeing me.” I think Moira is up to something that she doesn’t want Xavier and Magneto, let alone anyone on Genosha to know about, and doesn’t want Destiny letting the cat out of the bag.

Here’s where I think people slightly get things wrong about the state of play wrt to Destiny and the other precogs. While Xavier repeatedly says “we know,” I don’t think they’re actually agreeing with Moira so much as trying to patronizingly soothe her. After all, their final offer is that, while Xavier and Magneto will “put them all off” with “tomorrow, tomorrow, not today,” (paraphrasing a German rhyme from Erik’s childhood) eventually Charles and Erik will ensure that everyone will "know the truth.” This seems quite different from what Moira wants.

A remaining question: when did Charlex and Erik learn the whole truth, as Entry 5 suggested? Did they?

And here we get the core disagreement between Moira and Xavier/Magneto: she sees “the truth” as meaning “we always lose,” they see it as “until now we have always lost.” I have to admit I’m a little curious as to whether Moira really believes her own nihilistic message, because in that case, why go to all this effort, but I do think it’s importatnt that people remember that Moira’s powers at this point only let herself see backwards. The world has changed too much to predict the future.

Speaking of gender and condescension, though, the resolution of this argument is really pointed. On the one hand, Moira given credit for her contributions to Krakoa: “you shaped us into this, you made us into this, we are the perfect tools for an imperfect age.” On the other hand, she is very firmly ushered to the bench, because “now it is time for you step aside and let us do the good work for which we were created.” It does come across a bit like Adam talking to Herr Frankstenstein, as Moira’s manipulations come to bite her in the ass one last time.

And as mutant fireworks thunder overhead, Magneto and Xavier have one last confab, worrying about the future. Krakoa might not be enough to ward off mutantkind’s Ragnarok, but Xavier and Magneto are ready to do “whatever it takes” to see it through. 

AND WE”RE DONE!

[fallen029]

You and Me

"You look awfully sad today," Mirajane remarked as she wiped down the bar. "Master."

The man only grunted still staring down into his mug of ale, his own reflection giving him a voice stare right back. Most everyone was gone by that point, save a few stragglers, but still their voices agitated him. They sounded like distant murmuring over the sound of his music. He could turn it up louder, but then Mirajane's random talking would be drowned out and he didn't want that.

No.

He didn't want that.

"Surely life isn't all bad," the barmaid went on with a bit of a grin. She was waving then, passed him, and at some of the guild members that were leaving. "I mean, Master, the guild's in good shape recently. Since we finished clearing all the damages out from that big brawl too weeks ago. Have the council been getting you down? Or the complaints from villages over their damage? I can't think of anything abnormal recently. Or are you just feeling a bit down right now?"

He didn't answer her, instead only taking a sip from his ale before grunting after downing most of it. She giggled in response, as she always did. Mira considered his antics to be hilarious in most situations.

"It's not for me, anyways," she went on. "Bad. My life is on the up and up, you know. I went on a date last night. I'm glad you gave me time off. Master. It's pretty kind of you. I went out of town, had a drink. Could barely come in this morning, really, it felt like. But I did. Opened a few minutes late, but only Freed was here, that early, to get some paperwork done for you, Master. You really should make him a set of keys to the place. Have you thought about it?"

She hardly paused that time, for an answer, as she began polishing mugs.

"Well, you should. He needs it, if he's going to be your second in command. Lisanna has a set, Kinana, and me. And you, of course, Master. Freed is probably more trustworthy than all of us, with the keys, I bet, at least. Oh, and I guess Master- The old Master, Master Makarov, he probably still has some keys. Freed could have those. If you can get the man to give them up. Or if you can even find them… I always had to make more copies for him. He'd lose them everywhere." Mira paused, just for a moment there, as she thought. "I suppose that there's a chance that, well, everyone has a key. Considering I've made so many copies. I think we might need to actually look into changing the locks, now that I think about it..."

Someone was coming up to close out their tab then and the Master only closed his eyes, wishing he could block them out. All of them. Close couldn't come fast enough. He also wanted to go hide out in his office, but something made him hold off. Just sit there. Deal with it. His headache was worth the payoff.

Or it would be.

If he'd just hang on.

It wasn't that he hated his guild. Or its members. He'd grown a lot since his youth. He actually thought that he had one of the best guilds around. Most everyone did. It was just...sometimes...when he stayed out late the night before, it made mornings difficult…plus the day and night. He wanted to get he bar closed with already so h could get back home.

Mirajane left, after a bit, off to the kitchen area to finish cleaning up in there. It was while she was there though that the last person in the hall left and it was only the two of them then. Him and Mira.

"Oh," she sighed some when she returned to find this. "Just us then? Master?"

He didn't answer as he only finished off his beer. Mira had other things to worry about, anyways, as she collected the money from the register and went off to put it away, in the safe in his office. He waited for a moment, allowing her to do this in peace, before rising to his feet and following.

"Mmmm, Master, you left these files out on your desk," she griped, just a bit, as he came in, coat dangling from his shoulders. "You know, Freed goes through a lot to organize this stuff and then you mess it all up. Every time. He won't complain to you, but he does to me and- M-Master."

He didn't want to hear about Freed. Or the guild. Especially not about files. He hardly wanted to talk or listen or do anything, really, other than what he was doing in that moment. After approaching the barmaid, he only shoved her a bit from behind, up against his desk, wrapping an arm around her middle as he sort of just slumped against her. Tired.

It had been a long day.

"You went on a date last night," he whispered softly against her neck, nuzzling his stubbly face there. "Eh? Mirajane?"

"Yeah, I did, but you know-"

"Did you have fun?"

"The most fun. But Master-"

"I'm not your master."

"You are, Laxus." And she patted at the arm around her waist. "At the guild. Where we are, you know, right now."

"I had a pretty good time last night too, I guess," the slayer went on. "Not enough to go blabbing about it to everyone."

"But enough to be in a bad mood all day?"

"Drank too much," he grumbled softly before he kissed then where he'd nuzzled before. "You're lucky I even came in."

"We can't do this here, Laxus."

"Do what? I'm just holdin' ya, is all."

"If someone saw-"

"We're alone. You know that."

"Laxus..."

"Man can't even appreciate his woman in the privacy of his own office now? What are farce."

Relaxing some into his tough, she whispered, "I just don't want anyone or anything to ever ruin this."

"It won't. They won't." He'd been smelling it all day, the slight scent of her. To be so close now, to be able to smell it so fully, relaxed him instantly. Headache vanquished. "It's only me and you, demon."

"Yeah, dragon," she agreed softly her hand toying with his fingers. "Only you and me."

They had to leave, eventually, and it was for the better anyways. Mirajane was practically falling asleep on him and he wasn't much up for carrying her home. Or spending the night in the guildhall. No. He wanted to get home. To his own place. His own bed. With his own demon.

"I have to," she whispered to him softly as she fell into the couch the second they were in his apartment, "get up early. To open. In the morning. So you can't, you know, keep me up too late."

She'd worn his jacket on their late night walk home, taking the darkened alleyways and steering clear of most, and still had it wrapped around her, now more tightly, watching as the man went around his apartment, looking for something.

"Here it is," he sighed as he came back over to the couch. "I know we didn't look at it the night before, but I really have been reading over it. Before bed. Like you told me to."

"Don't do it because I tell you to, Laxus," she yawned around her closed eyes. "You should do it because-"

"I want to. Right. It's what I meant."

"Mmmm."

"I just struggle with it, sometimes, is all," he explained, cracking open the well-worn tome the woman had gifted him months back now. "Reading it. It's kind of hard to understand. My family… Gramps, Ivan, my...my mother, they weren't into this kinda stuff."

"Yeah," she whispered, "I've noticed."

He smiled at her in reproach, but only shook his head. "I just, uh, you know, struggle with understanding. I'm a smart guy, sure, but symbols and metaphors and stuff just shoot over my head."

"It's okay." She stretched her feet out then, to rest them in his lap. "Everyone has to start somewhere. Also long as you feel good reading it and learning about it, that's all that matters."

He nodded some, the man did, settling into his spot on the couch as well. "Do you want me to just start anywhere? Or is there a verse you want or-"

"Just anything. I like hearing you read. Your voice is very soothing."

He sneered some, to himself. He'd grown tired of it, honestly, his own voice. It brought him more annoyance than it did anything else. Talking. You were constantly doing it as a master. Quickly he'd learned the value in silence.

Mirajane fell asleep out there, on the couch, and Laxus only continued his readings until he felt satisfied in thoroughly mystifying himself. Then he closed the tome, dropped it on the coffeetable, and gently removed her feet from his lip. Getting to his own, he shook her awake as gently as he could, muttering something about needing to get to bed, a true bed, and she followed eventually though it was through yawns and heavy eyelids.

She shed his jacket somewhere along the way as well as her dress and he only stripped down by his bedside before diving under the covers, sliding in just close enough to brush her skin against his.

"Goodnight," he breathed as he stared over at her in the darkness of his bedroom. More than likely, she'd return to her own home the following night, as he wouldn't be at the hall (he had other business to attend to) and therefore not there to convince her. So he enjoyed her warmth there beside him as best he could. "Demon."

"Mmmm," she hummed, eyes shut and already, truly, drifted off. "Goodnight, Master."

Just something soft because it's been a bit.

[parvummalum07]

Inky paths of life 01

First post on Tumblr. Well. I am not a native English speaker so I Really don’t know whether or not I should use simple present tense when my characters are thinking...So, sorry if my shit grammar and very limited vocabulary bother you.

Soulmate AU; John POV; most likely bad ending and major character death. I hope I would actually finish this one hahahaha...

I don’t own these people; they own me, in some way or another. God bless the Beatles.

Nothing is real and nothing is to hung about.

He knew they would come in one way or another; suddenly or slowly, sometimes just under one’s eyes. So it didn’t surprise him that his word chose to came in the most unattractive and mediocre way: it appeared in his dream, without him noticing. And it also didn’t surprise him that it chose to appear across his waist, the position most people have their words. Mediocre, indeed; even its context was rather boring, because there was only one word instead of a sentence that people usually have and really, what kind of boring lover would make the last word she would say to him Johnny? Wouldn’t that unknown person choose to leave a more charming, more romantic remark on her own death?

 Wouldn’t his lover be different than those idiots who would actually call the names of their soulmates when they die?

 Yes, the fucking fate whispered in his ears, I did chose such an unpleasant soulmate for you, because why not? He brushed these dark thoughts away with a sneering bark, but in the dead of night, when he finally got rid of Mimi’s endless remarks on that ‘special person’, and had to face the darkness alone, such thoughts crept up to his spine, leaving an icy trace between his shoulder blades. You are just an ordinary human being, this disembodied voice said to him, just a boy that nobody loves. Your dad left you, your mom left you, no one at school likes you, you are the troublemaker and the stupid one, failing your courses all the time. So why an interesting soulmate?

 And deep down inside, he agreed. Maybe John Lennon doesn’t deserve a unique soulmate, and that’s OK. But still, a part of himself thought of his word as a……sign? Maybe a prophecy? Deep down there was a kind of hope shining like twilight: at least, for now, he surely has a soulmate……he had heard about illnesses—and sometimes, the lack of love—which would deprive a person from having a mark at the age of 15; at least he didn’t belong to them. Maybe, just maybe, there was a soulmate—probably a good-looking one—must be a good-looking one, come on! –right there, waiting for John, and she would love him no matter what.

 Maybe.

   The first time he felt like meeting a soulmate, he realized later on, was the time he met Paul. Of course he didn’t know how it feels, but that was the closest ever feeling compared to his imagination. The earth would not stop turning, there wouldn’t be blinding light flashing everywhere……but there was definitely something going on. Sparks flying. The first time he ever saw that Elvis-looking boy walking into that church, he thought: holy shit.

 Not a decent thing to say in a church, he knew, but still. The scene was shocking.

 Technically speaking it wasn’t the first time he met Paul because he had seen him, had met him on the bus for several times, had saw him waving to the girls alongside the window, smiling as if surprised and embarrassed by the admiration from the other gender. He regarded this gesture as phony, for what kind of girls wouldn’t fall for his looks, with those cherubic cheeks and doe eyes? He knew some guys who would howl at these pair of eyebrows as well; sex appeals, it seems, are not so mutually exclusive. Later on he would alter this belief, admitting that yes, that little Elvis really didn’t expect such attraction, but at that time the stranger on the bus seemed to be the exact kind of people he would normally hate at first sight.

 Except that he wasn’t. That warm voice of his certainly mastered Twenty flight rock well, but the real surprise fell when Elvis and Little Richard came ringing in the hall. John was immediately attracted by that person, and all of a sudden, the world was making a lot more senses to him. It was truly breathtaking.

 “What was your name again?” he asked after the show-off, trying hard to bury his excitement under a cool mask, and that boy smiled triumphantly.

 “Paul,” he responded, his fingertips sliding down the white keys elegantly, “Paul McCartney.”

   Paul, as far as he knew, was the only one who didn’t show around his own words. This wasn’t usually what a Scouse teenager do within the age hierarchy, for you simply highlight your authority to people younger than you by showing off your words. At first he thought that was because his marks were buried deep in his clothes, on a position where only intimate families could see, but later on, when being asked by a mutual friend of theirs, he laughed and explained.

 “I just don’t do it,” he said lightly to Ivan, after a quite successful gig, when everyone around them were drinking and laughing heavily, “not because it is hard to show or something—God bless those who have their word on their butt—but because I simply don’t want to.”

 “How come?” Pete yelled from afar, his booming voice echoing in the unbearable din. Everyone in the pub began yelling to each other, and John was suddenly very, very angry for the fact that the music was on, so fucking loud that if Paul chose this moment to give Ivan a private answer, he wouldn’t be able to know what he had spoken. But Paul simply smiled; he shook his head fondly and leaned on the bar counter, flying John a glance as he shouted out his order to a rather pissed-looking barman.

 “Weird, isn’t he?” Ivan commented, and he hummed his agreement absent-mindedly, watching the dark-haired boy leaning closer to the bar, a flash of sweaty pale skin appearing under his shirt. His mouth suddenly turned very, very dry.

   They didn’t touch upon this topic until much later, when John was sobbing uncontrollably in Paul’s arms, his attempts at speaking failing pathetically because of erupting hiccups and gasps. The pain of losing Julia was suddenly too intense to endure, he didn’t want that part of himself unveiled in front of Paul, but Paul stuck to him, faced his ferocious burst of anger without a blink of his eye, and finally, finally, John allowed himself to collapse under the embrace of the younger boy, his body limp yet for the first time in days relieved. Paul didn’t mutter a single word, just held a death grip on the back of John’s open shirt, and strangely, that was just what John needed at the moment.

 Finally, after burying his nose in Paul’s neck for a long time—he could smell a faint odor of lavender from Paul’s skin, mixed up with sweat and a fresh scent he couldn’t tell, a scent so uniquely Paul’s—he could finally utter a full sentence without sounding teary.

 “How did you survive all that, Macca?” he whispered, “how did you……get used to…losing…her?”

 Paul inhaled deeply. He inhaled so deeply that John could feel his heart beating within his ribcage, under their closely pressed-together skin. “I didn’t,” after a long pause, he said, his beautiful eyes blank, “I couldn’t. You simply bleed and carry on, that’s all.”

 John breathed. In, out, in, out. So simple, yet so hard. Life is fragile, he suddenly realized, for he would be dead so easily if he simply stops doing this.

 “You don’t admire my dad, I know,” Paul whispered, his sound cracking a little at the end of each word, “but I truly respect him……for he could still carry on. It is a miracle he even survived; I couldn’t imagine……”

 He shuddered, and John suddenly knew.

 “Your mom and dad, they are soulmates, right?”

 He couldn’t see his face but he knew somehow that Paul closed his eyes. “He said to her the words when she……passed away.”

 There was a long silence. John would swear to God that he felt warm wetness sinking into the collar of his shirt, but when Paul spoke again, there was no trace of tears in his voice.

 “That was like a kind of fraud, isn’t it?” he commented, his voice fierce and vibrating with emotion, “Knowing a person’s words and say to him or her the exact sentence before that person dies? It……I don’t know how to put it……how the fuck could someone—anyone—believe that it is the end, it is the last time they……How can they be certain? How can they choose to do so? Isn’t it arrogant to assume themselves to be soulmates? Wasn’t it something that should be decided……not by people?”

 John let go of Paul’s shirt, sat up straight, studied him quite closely. He didn’t know where his glasses were, so he couldn’t tell whether Paul cried or not; but intense sorrow and yearning were erupting from under that girlishly handsome face, appearing and disappearing like flashes of shooting star. This bare, intimate display of his most ferocious emotions didn’t contort Paul’s features, but made him—impossibly—even more beautiful; he now held a face of a pained martyr or a constrained saint, a face that suddenly made John too awed to look at.

 “So this is why you didn’t show your marks to anyone, is it?” he whispered, “do you……not expect your wife or someone to be your soulmate?”

 He would never forget Paul’s tone when he answered that question. “I do,” he said calmly, “I just don’t want them to feel obliged to be my soulmate. That would be too heartbroken for them if I die first.”

   Stu held a different opinion. In fact, Stu held too many different opinions; he and Paul were like two ends of a magnet. But somehow, John found them disturbingly alike: both were sensitive and easy to fall into melancholy, both were mature beyond their own age, both were somehow timid when facing the girls, seemingly unaware of the charm and aura they carried around themselves. Stu, however, was built in much less strong material; John would say he was hesitant, unsure about his future and ambition, whereas Paul was nothing but the opposite.

 He never knew why all these conversations about soulmates or words took place inside dark damp gross-smelling pubs, but they did. One night in Hamburg they were hanging around, simply enjoying themselves, and this topic was brought up between large gulps of beer and rude laughter, in the dance hall filled with people so engaged in having fun that they didn’t even want to think about the future. The light was blinding, flashes of colors erupting like firework across people’s faces.

 “Why did you come to Germany anyway?” Someone, maybe Ringo, asked.

 Stu chuckled. He pulled the neck of his shirt, revealing a patch of milky pale skin. A sharp line of dark words was shining under a thin layer of sweat. “German,” he claimed, when people around him hooted and whistled, “you’d believe that it’s easier to find a bird speaking German here, mates.”

 He didn’t know why he brought that up, but: “Do you know Paul never show his marks to anyone?”

 Stu stared at him, then turned to Paul, who froze beside John’s arm. “Not even to you?” he asked suspiciously, taking in this piece of information with difficulty, “How come?”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Paul retorted, suddenly putting all his guards up like a hedgehog hiding his underbelly while facing an attack, “I just……don’t.”

 Stu swallowed. A sincere shade of unease flashed across his delicate features. “But……what if there’s some accident? What if your words are someone’s last words before an accident takes place? You’ve got to know them to prevent an accident, isn’t it? Life is very short, and there’s no time for you to hesitate.”

 They both jumped when Paul suddenly slammed his bottle of beer hard on the bar counter. “That isn’t my case, is it, Stu?” he sneered, “I’m not the one with these words on his chest. Enjoy the night, lads!”

 And in a swirl, he charged out of the pub. Stu and John stared at each other, while an icy atmosphere suddenly fell heavily in their small group of friends. Someone made a joke deliberately, and soon afterward, everyone was laughing again; the eye contact between them, however, didn’t break.

 “I apologize,” John said, a nasty scent of bitterness rising in his throat, “he was—”

 “No,” Stu answered, buttoning his shirt absent-mindedly, his eyes suddenly in tears, “no, I understand.”

 His fingertips brushed across these sharply written German, which, roughly translated into English, would be: Shit, Stu, what the fuck, don’t die, don’t—

TBC

[atrayo]

Jewels of Truth Statements and Favorite Quotes of the Month of May x2

Hello All,

Although I've been under lockdown for the past 10 weeks here in sunny and now rainy Sarasota, FL. The angels are motivating me to post more often on my blog and other social media sites. These three "Jewels of Truth" spiritual wisdom statements were channeled just yesterday taking around an hour and a half to complete. The topics will be on Empowerment, Healer, and Tough Love. Many of the topics at times mirror needs I'm struggling through personally at any given time. 

Since being under lockdown as I said for the past ten weeks in part it has been an Ivory Tower experience with the angels. With other moments like being in a dungeon of my own making of personal torment. Even "Jesus the Christ" had his 40 days and nights in the desert so long ago in antiquity accomplishing his version of soul searching. My version isn't as miraculous yet still, it is sublime at times in whom I connect with spiritually in loving faith. 

May you find today's topics refreshing if not touching to your spirits. Amen. 

Empowerment:

2914) To the one filled with fright feeling alone and withdrawn from the world. Quiet your heart gently by not thinking at all. Just simply be still with your presence for a mindful moment. Do not fight incoming incessant thoughts just send them each affection and let them go. Picture grabbing a wild butterfly insect of a beautiful garden of your very own making. As you catch the butterfly gently in this metaphor you send it love and launch it ever higher away. Treat every intrusive thought in such a manner in becoming the peace that you each seek.

Now focus on your breathing in a calm approach. By placing your one palm of either hand over your chest where your heart resides. Now listen deeply to your life force beating with a rhythm all its native own. Allowing such tenderness to overtake you bringing you at a soothing relaxed state of being true.

Where once before perhaps your thoughts disturbed you here now 5 to 20 minutes later you are gaining your self-composure through gentleness. Now realize that false prior opinion of yourself filled once with fright was merely an incorrect assertion. You only out of ignorance encroached with fear onto your worst self-image that is all. However, now you have taken a different empowered tact of self-fulfilling grace in action through mindful inner focus. Such a simple interactive meditation is all that the soulful doctor of the holiest self has prescribed from within your beautiful divinity.

You may not have the power to fully modify your present surroundings for the best outcome to yield at your behest. But, in due time things can change for the better. You need only to choose to be stronger with health in mind versus weak debilitating thoughts. Causing all manner of unwanted stressors and conjured fears making your heart and mind ache, unfortunately. 

Be the better one when your sense of self has gone astray by strengthening your awareness to arrive at a well-collected mind's eye instead. This is where you can proverbially flip the intended internal light switch to illuminate your entire human soulful being. Taking respect in how you care for yourself with diligence in order to climb out of the pits of elected self-despair. 

Always be the better one since we the Angelic Host truly do appreciate each of your unique graces of God(dess) you each exemplify. Be that again versus the turmoil of the world as a fallacy of the human temporal mindset of fears. Choose better and sooner rather than later you'll be naturally in a greater threshold to overcome the world one kindness of self at a time. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Healer:

2915) All that are natural healers of the inner divine being through life itself have a precious gift of God indeed. This isn't just the healing scientific medical arts we are speaking of in elaborate truth. There are other spiritual modalities of alternative medicines of the living heart, mind, body, and Spirit of God in all lifeforms. 

Those with such a remarkable grace know they may have an inkling of raw talent in the world. Other's yet still have a deep abiding burning instinct to make a vital good difference in this era of time globally. Lastly, there are others further afield still that delicately know what and how they can make a difference. But, lack the fullest courage by motivations and other resources material and so forth to make such a dent of an impact on a regular basis. 

There are many methods as pathways to pursue in the world it only takes the Healer to find his or her first one and evolve from there. The simplest under a spiritual guise can be truly considered as a psychic gift of being an Empath. Being a human vulnerable sponge of everyone's emotions for better or certainly for the worst uncontrollable reasons. This is in its kernel beginning a living lining of a filter of one's sense of self out and about in the world. 

Only by gaining self-respect through wisdom can one begin to function with the strength of viable character as such an entity Soul of God. To encapsulate the power to heal by means of a laser-like mindful focus one's personal misgivings and then others distress. All the while honing there native own truthful godly angelic skills of blessed self-expression. In order to find the thumbprint of God upon your psyche and spirit. Keeping in check avoiding becoming a dysfunctional open loose book allowing others to manipulate you as reckless vandals out of a sense of selfishness. 

What this means is not to become everyone else's muddy doormat as a weak-willed person. That is out of sorts in terms of responsible inner balance without a backbone of necessary convictions. Cultivate the ideals of personal shielding through the spiritual aura of the self. As your metaphysical force field as the output conduit to affect holy wonders upon the needy. Wherever you encounter them with respectful moderation to your temperament and good health. 

The other avenue to realize that one is a spiritual social healer in life at large. It is naturally to have the ability to bounce back from whatever sort of travesty and/or hardship life throws at you. You take your licks and keep on ticking returning back to your native good-natured disposition. Going back to your regular composure akin to a factory default setting of the self sooner than most others. Yes, you may have suffered inadvertently in the process but it didn't knock the stuffing out of you.

This is a tell-tale sign that you are a Healer of the human condition of whatever sort as a blessed Gift of God. Your attitude may also be sunnier than most. When shit happens you roll with it maintaining your rock-solid convictions in check. You stand your ground without reverting into a deranged animal. This is a shining beacon to us the Angelic Host that you are a healer of whatever modality. Whether you consciously consider this an odd discovered talent already. Or you are struggling to entirely cope with a clueless outlook what it may require of you via self-discovery. 

Do not ever please we the Angels implore you to forsake your Holy grace of God(dess) in this world. If you do then the world breaks your spirit sooner rather than later leaving you as a shadow of your former best self. To be angelic in the world includes sacrifices that matter to you and God in a united fashion with harmony for all souls. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Tough Love:

2916) To the person with confidence able to say to others the word "No" for a good reason for and by the calming inner self. Has cultivated a blessing instantly each and every necessary time. In order to accept the burden of knowing what does not belong to them alone. No matter if it frustrates someone else who happens to be ego-prone in their immature sensibilities. This typifies a strength of positive character at work when others out of fear or otherwise poor choices say "Yes" to what they don't want or need. 

When all others can be more so manipulated out of guilt to go against their better interests. A Patsy by any other name is such a person not able to say a required "No" without a much-needed backbone. No matter if this person behaves like a saint outwardly in the world. Internally they are at odds with their personal dignity and are heading eventually to burn out of the psyche be it to one degree or another of a nervous breakdown at its miserable climax. 

Those with a mighty sense of conviction are able to declare by an independent means that "No Means No". As leaders able to make tough choices where others balk or pass the responsibility elsewhere. Haphazardly these individuals are practicing a form of generosity often not spoken of as a blessed form of integrity. To be able to give grace by withholding an action of one sort or another when the moment dictates it. It is a paradoxical twist of fortune often called "Tough Love" in the world. Oft not recognized after the fact and at other times not respected but despised with insults by the receiver who is sick in spirit or otherwise feckless. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Sorrow is how we learn to love. ---Rita Mae Brown.

Knowing that you love the earth changes you, activates you to defend and protect and celebrate. But when you feel that the earth loves you in return, that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond. ---Robin Wall Kimmerer.

We live on the brink of disaster because we do not know how to let life alone. We do not respect the living and fruitful contradictions and paradoxes of which true life is full. ---Thomas Merton.

And suddenly you know; it's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings. ---Meister Eckhart.

It's precisely the people who are considered the least "likely" leaders who end up inspiring others the most. Everyday people and everyday acts of courage eventually change everything. ---Ai-Jen Poo. Ivan "Atrayo" Pozo-Illas, has devoted 25 years of his life to the pursuit of clairvoyant Inspired automatic writing channeling the Angelic host. Ivan is the author of the spiritual wisdom series of "Jewels of Truth" consisting of 3 volumes published to date. He also channels conceptual designs that are multi-faceted for the next society to come that are solutions based as a form of dharmic service. Numerous examples of his work are available at "Atrayo's Oracle" blog site of 15 years plus online. Your welcome to visit his website "Jewelsoftruth.us" for further information or to contact Atrayo directly.

[nefariouscryptid]

Hey there, oc question? We got some vague snippets about Morgan but what kind of person he is, really? His personality, his attitude, life philosophy, values, sexsual orientation etc., these kinds of things. Thanks in advance! :)

Morgan is a very headstrong man. He knows all the awful things his father has contributed to, and what he’s done. He’s afraid of becoming like him, but as time went on he also accepted that he IS just like him. He’s passionate, headstrong, keeps his word (although he doesn’t twist it against others in the end), and he has a vision he plans on getting done. He’s seen how awful the world got after his father was killed and how awful it was even before because of all the shit he’s done. He knows it’s not his fault, how he had nothing to do with it. But he still can’t help but feel bad that he can just lay around as the world burns around him. He’s seen his friends get beaten by the new government patrols, he’s seen public executions, people being separated from their families for defying their new ruler, Ivan. And the whole time he’s done nothing. He has the money, and access over it, even at a young age, he could bribe people if he wanted to in letting people go, or he could have just spoken up. But he, in his eyes, was a coward. No better then anyone else that stood by and watched people’s lives get ruined.

He knows he isn’t perfect. He knows a chunk of his motives in taking down Rosalina is because he wants revenge, revenge on the people who have suffered and revenge on his family. His mother is constantly hiding, his birth father dead, and his new father being hunted by police for being suspected of hiding a wanted criminal. But the revenge feels fake, like a gratification thing. He’s constantly in his own self doubt and afraid that he’s just becoming another evil Durante. And a lot of his motive is just to not be like his father. But he doesn’t realize that no, his main motive is because he wants to help people. He’s genuinely a good person and actually wants to help the world. He also has the problem of pushing everyone that cares about him away, and disregards their problems and thoughts regarding him and instead focuses more on his work. This has damaged a lot of relationships he’s had and leaves him feeling lonely. He kind of has the mentality that no one truly cares about him and rolls his eyes when people are actually concerned about him, because he doesn’t believe it. Which while that’s sad for Morgan, it’s really shitty to everyone that actually does care about him. He also has the tendency to snap at people.

His character is meant to be a near complete opposite of Peter, while also being so much like him. He’s got the drive, charm, and influence of Peter, but he has what Peter lacks: compassion, genuineness, and can feel the joy from helping people. He does what he thinks is right, regardless of what the law says. He thinks for himself and doesn’t let anyone influence him unless he sees it as justifiable or acceptable.

In terms of personality he shows to the people, he doesn’t hold much of a persona. He��s not an open book, he doesn’t show the fear he feels in its raw form, but instead shows it in urgency, and let’s it drive his point across further. His emotions are shown not outright to people, but instead as subtext. This also gives him a harder time of being able to open up to friends and family, always feeling the need to keep the strong face on at all times. He’s charming, kind of bubbly, and sarcastic. He comes off as rude sometimes, throwing quirks and subtle remarks at people, but in general is a compassionate man. He feels remorseful over shit he shouldn’t but he also can control that feeling and not let it control him. For a man in his early 30s, he’s very good at controlling his emotions. Just bad at being genuinely vulnerable. He also has the mentality that he’s so much more then he is. He thinks it’s his job to fix everything cause if he doesn’t for one day everyone around him is gonna get hurt and or die. He doesn’t stop to think that he’s just one man.

His life philosophy is it you have the resources to help people, it is your job to do so. Also things such as don’t do to others you wouldn’t want happening to you unless it’s justified, power doesn’t make you a powerful person ect ect

If you were to ask him his sexuality, he would say straight, but with hesitancy. In reality he’s pretty Bi and he realizes this later on. Also just like his father, he’s got an love triangle thing going on, although he actually loves the girl and the guy...