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shoezuki · 10 months ago

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Dya have any more headcanons for sampard?

Maybe ideas on how they fell for one another. Would you see it as an X fell first but Y fell harder or a flirting for fun but realising you've caught feelings?

Or have ya got an entirely different view on it! :D Oooooo. Do you perhaps have a timeline for how they traverse the "enemies" to friends to lovers stages.

Can you tell I love all your ideas and headcanons T-T

thankyou anon i am ghglg. im in love w u now. yes i have Many Ideas bout these two bastards like i have so many thoughts you cannot believe. like i have a post drafted where i write hcs when im bored and headin to class lkshglhg. heres some hcs

sampo falls in love first. very, very early in when he is new to the planet and is just drawing the attention of the silvermanes. It's not exactly some 'love at first sight' thing its more like the first time gep almost catches him sampo thinks 'oh he's cute' and a few times after that he's like 'wait im enjoying this. a lot.' and its downhill from there

whether sampo Realizes it is another thing tho. i can see him just enjoying the attention and thrill of evading the silvermanes and not realizing his disappointment when gepard isnt there is cuz hes infatuated w gepard.

but he Would realize it. at some point itd hit him like. why he enjoys the chase so much n lets himself Almost get caught. why hes memorized gep's schedule and where he patrols the most. and it hits him n hes like 'oh fuck. what the fuck. holy shit.... well anyways.'

(probably freaks out to seele over drinks but he's too incomprehensible through his tears n she has no clue what hes whining about)

Sampo flirts and teases gepard unabashedly, kisses grenades before throwing them into gep's arms, saying 'woah youre so strong geppie' while gep punches the wall behind him narrowly missing his face, leaves notes with lipstick marks on em at crime scenes, all that stuff.

but for sampo. it isnt supposed to actually Go anywhere. he knows he likes gepard more than he should and its kinda just to scratch that itch in his heart yknow.

sampo very much thinks that. gepard is the captain of the silvermanes, a wellknown and noble person in belobog, and sampo's a slimy secretive conman that just enjoys pushing the captains buttons. theres no hope for anything more so he might as well enjoy flustering the captain right?

gepard on the other hand. doesnt allow himself to really think of sampo as anything else but a criminal. it takes a long Long time for him to realize he even feels anythin for him

gepard does look forward to trying to bust sampo, though, in a sort of frustrated way. sometimes the front lines or patrols are so monotonous and sampo's tendency to appear whenever gep's bored out of his mind is impressive

he is insistant on arresting sampo and 'bringing him to justice' to an obsessive degree, though. he's not even typically assigned to investigating criminal cases but he has basically inserted himself into bein the lead investigator of any sampo related case now

(intelligence officers and detectives and other silvermane's are so used to it now. they could be investigating a house fire or a break in, find a note with lipstick marks on it and curly writing, and they all just sigh and call gepard.)

sometimes other worry that his insistence on arresting sampo and how dedicated to it is concerning. they ask why he hates sampo so much n he just says 'hes the most prolific criminal in belobog and needs to be apprehended'

(he cant say he hates him, though. for some reason. he cant figure out why he thinks about sampo so much. he just figures its to arrest him)

gep finds himself starting to relax when sampo sends him on wild goose chases n they both leave other guards in the dust. its probably not intentional, how sampo always seems to draw him away to somewhere quiet and secluded when his head is killing him or he's stressed or exhausted.

(its intentional)

sampo falls first, but gepard is absolutely the one who initiates.

i imagine it'd take... something for gepard to reconsider sampo and let himself think about sampo outside of his criminal record

during a chase out in the snow plains, just sampo laughing and taunting him as gep tries to hunt him down, they get bombarded by fragmentum monsters

sampo holds his own; he fights with a sort of viciousness gep has never seen from him. his bombs arent just smoke, but powerful explosives that shatter fragmentum. he's insanely fast and doesnt even break a sweat. but as soon as theyre all dead he pretends he's exhausted and that gep needs to carry him back to the city before giggling and vanishing.

gepard realizes that this whole time sampo has been holding back. he realizes that sampo could easily cut through the silvermanes, use his lethal bombs or easily outpace gepard and outrun him.

he starts thinking about other things sampo does; how natasha mentions he delivers medicine to him, how lynx sometimes talks about finding supplies and food in hidden ruins and obvious places around her camp, or the notes sampo leaves and how they sometimes give hidden hints about other criminal operations the silvermanes have been tryin to investigate.

he doesnt know what to make of it, what sampo wants or why he's doing this. the next time sampo sends him running through abandoned streets in belobog he slows down, realizes that sampo also slows to his pace so gepard keeps chasing him.

gepard asks point blank at some point, what in the hell sampo wants from him, why he's doing this. sampo doesnt know how to answer. just shrugs and says hes just trying to have some fun.

from then on gepard and sampo's 'chases' tend to... dissolve. sometimes gepard just sits down and takes a moment to forget about being the captain, to relax. Sampo acts like a skittish, stray cat who's ready to bolt until he eventually relaxes as sits by gepard too.

gepard collects all sampo's notes, all the fragments of his bombs with the hearts painted on metal shells, and keeps them as 'evidence' in his desk.

sampo pushes his luck constantly; as soon as gepard relaxes or gives him any room to get closer, he takes and takes as much as he can get.

gepard catches sampo, entirely on accident, when he's off duty. climbing out of a window or something. and sampo freezes but gepard just says 'hey i'm not working now, i can't arrest you.'

(they both know it's a lie. being out of uniform never stopped gepard before.)

sampo starts just appearing more and more around gepard when he's off duty, showing up walking alongside him like he's been there the whole time, or just 'passing by' when gep is in the florist's shop.

gepard leaves his window open. sampo takes the invitation and crawls in and strange hours when gepard cant sleep. he just sits on the couch or a chair or stands there like he is a foreign intruder. gepard just nods and makes him some tea.

when it would hit gepard, that he's in love with sampo and has been for a while, he'd just blurt it out. 'huh. i think ive fallen in love with you'. and sampo would erupt into flames and kiss him so hard his lips bruise

#sampard #in the bones #anon #do i tag this as other things. sure whatever #honkai star rail #when it comes to ships i usually dig a like. casual undefined relationship #where two people know they care and love each other and just fall into it #like no need for anouncing their feelings or asking to be partners #but i think w these two. gepard would absolutely need to say how he feels #like. sampo fell HARD and so deeply. but doesnt think he can ever have gep #this got very rambly and incomprehensible lahflskhg i have Thoughts

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gothicprep · 11 months ago

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so glad that AI video is here! sort of. kind of. you ever want to see a screensaver that looks like it was designed for windows 2000, where fish are flying through the air across village streets? sora can do that with one easy prompt! you ever wanna see a woman lying in bed, roll over, and watch her arm turn into the comforter? sora can do that too! it's amazing! do you ever want to see a POV of an ant's tunnel that looks like something worse than what you'd see on bbc's planet earth? sora can do that too!

i'm sure we've all seen these videos and many more at this point. the ai evangelists swear that this is a game-changing revolution in its ability to turn simple prompts into movie quality video. assuming that movie quality means a late-stage mcu movie, or madame web, or a direct to video dreamworks knockoff from the early 2000s. really? none of those things. it's not as good as any of those things. and yeah, yeah, i know, "it's going to improve", "this is the worst it's ever gonna look", "it's gonna get more realistic". but there are some who will tell you that this is the beginning of a brave new world. a whole new era! we've got a whole movement that's going to unlock creativity that's been untapped, trapped within people who have no actual talent but, um, some ideas i guess. there's a deep reservoir of those people who society has been wasting for all these years.

let's be real here. more likely, the AI is probably going to be used to much more boring ends than new great works of art when it's not being used for more nefarious ends. on the more boring side of things, you'll have people on the internet say "what if you had batman fight the straw hat pirates from one piece? that's something an ai could do!" fanfic kind of stuff. "what if goku fought superman? who would win? i'll bet ai can show us that!" another thing it can bring to life? sex tapes that you didn't make, but you're going to be starring in! get ready for the future where someone gets mad at you online, and five seconds later, you're in a bondage orgy! have fun at the bondage orgy! that's what ai promises :)

but that's not the worst of it, believe it or not. the real problem with ai is that it's going to give bad actors the ability to create international crises by ginning up phony videos. want to spark a riot in the urban center of a country you don't like? fake a video of a cop killing a kid. it'll go viral and the gas stations will be burning before the city can prove it didn't happen.

wife & i were watching the second season of tokyo vice last night while we were waiting for true detective: night country to come on, and in the premiere episode, there's a video of a sex worker being beaten to death while a gov't minister looks on. when presented with the video, he pulls the shaggy defense and just says "it wasn't me". the denial doesn't wash because the technology at the time couldn't have faked it, but in short order, we're going to be in a future where we won't be able to prove it was or wasn't him. "oh, it was ai". welp. no one will know.

the ability to circulate low-quality, unverified information has real downsides. and if anything, the decades during which i've grown up with the internet prompts me towards a lot more wariness of ai than unbridled enthusiasm. if the best case scenario for ai is what the internet did to the information environment already, we're all fucked. the speed with which things can spread and proliferate is frankly terrifying. the prompts people are using now are dumb, and the programming is not very good, but the ai evangelists are right when they say it's going to get better. and as it gets better, it's going to be more tempting to use it in ways which absolutely are negative for society. i'm sure there are cgi artists working at major studios who will be able to use these things in good ways, but i sit here and i hear people talk about "oh, the great wave of creativity is going to be unleashed by ai!" and i'm just like. what kind of future are you living in, where the technology always works out the way you want, and everyone is happy, and there are flying cars in the sky and rainbows?

#oppenheimer ending but he doesn't understand the ramifications of the nuke so he's just smiling

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these-are-the-first-steps · 1 year ago

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This is radically off-topic, but I wanted to share an observance that perhaps hasn't become reality for some of you yet, but maybe the forewarning will help you in the long run.

One of my favorite singers of all time died very suddenly virtually on stage this past october. He was quite young, considering, at 57, and there was no explanation for it other than Fate snappings its fingers to take him away (it was a sudden brain hemorrhage).

This man, at the heigh of his youth, was, I would argue, one of the most beautiful people to have ever graced this Earth. He was gorgeous. His eyes could stop an entire room in its tracks. While inside he seemed quite shy and retiring, he seemed to not help stepping into a space like he commanded it. When he left us, he was still beautiful- no question- but Time, of course, is obliged to do its damage and he was no exception. Truly, none of us are.

My father spent my childhood reminding me that growing older is a privilege not everybody gets, because the alternative to "not growing up" is being dead. Of course, he's right.

After we lost the singer I loved so much, I've spent a lot of time considering beauty, age, entropy, and death. I have thought about who might be next, and how hard it would hit me- would it be just as awful as losing *him*? Or could it be even worse somehow?

My singer's death was sudden, and getting the news straight from an old friend in Tokyo before I even got out of bed was simultaneously like being hit by a truck and having a comforting balm immediately applied. I wonder now if those who go like that, fade away suddenly in a couple of hours, gain the privilege of preemptively comforting others from the other side once the news gets out. This was my impression anyway.

But others we love from afar, be they other musicians or actors or who knows what, are less likely to exit this world so abruptly. My singer once walked this earth as a living, breathing work of art-made-flesh, and while he lived long enough to wilt just enough under time's heavy burden, we did not have to watch him truly grow old. We, as people far removed who loved him no matter the year, were spared that mental dissonance, but the price was his life.

And so I have spent moments revisiting others I have loved since I was in school. The time has not even been that terribly great, in the grand scheme of things, but I have realized that the effects are inescapable. Not just on them, but also for myself. I look into the latest and rare ungarded photo of another I have loved so dearly and see the same wilting- another who walked and looked like a god and whose beauty we relished and appreciated for the living art he is. And I see the signs. It's around his eyes. The uptick of his mouth. And then I look in the mirror at myself, and I see, despite being so much younger, the same early hints of the price of living start to feather and touch my own body.

God willing he will make it to a far advanced age, but the price is losing human art. He will fade, and all we will have are photographs. But at least we will have photographs!!! What do I have for myself? Very little, if I am honest. I think about this sometimes, and wonder if it's too late.

Obviously looks are not the sum of a person, of course they aren't, and **this is not a post arguing that they are**. But they are the calling card and outward identity by which we recognize and interact with and cling to each other. For good or ill. We all walk this planet as unique pieces of art, and we all have individuals whose artistry we particularly love the most. In essence, that is what this post is about- admiration- and coming to the stark realization that, unlike paintings hanging in a museum, the living works of art we love have an expiration date. For myself, I have come to realize that facing the cognative dissonance of the Change is a jarring experience. Especially when it comes to musicians, we tend to cling to them during our worst times, especially as teenagers. They become Fixed Points in our psyches, and to suddenly become confronted with same-but-not-the-same, and god forbid death.....is this what becoming An Adult(tm) means? Not just having to watch what we love fade before our eyes but to also realize, like being thrown into a pool of ice water, that we are next? And that Time and Entropy have already begun to tee us up for our quickly approaching turn?

And so, as we began to love each other from a distance, god willing we will now age into the abyss together from a distance. I have often wondered if the truly elderly are sometimes happy for their turn to go because it at least means they can be reunited, one way or another, with those they also saw as dazzling paragons at their height who have since faded and gone.

This post is not particularly happy and likely comes off as a bit dark, but this is all to say, with my whole chest--- enjoy the era and the times you find yourself in. Enjoy and cherish and go see with your own two eyes the artists and others you love, now, here, as they currently are, while they are, in your mind, perfect. Time does not stop nor tarry for any of us, so you should not either. Don't wait to be with and look with admiration on others- or be too embarrassed to, either, for that matter- because this moment is so short, and soon this time will have passed and will be just a fond memory that you may wonder one day, just as I have done lately, where the ones you loved have gone. And perhaps you will also, like me, scream and cry and curl your fist at the ruthlessness of a universe that forces all of us into the same room together just so we can watch each other grow old and eventually die.

I wrote a short story once, after my grandfather passed ten years ago, about how life was essentially one big waiting room, not dissimilar to a doctor's office. There are toys to play with, magazines to read, sights to see outside of the window, but eventually the nurse will come in, call your name, and you will exit. I suppose I would add to this motif now the advice to don't forget to look around yourself either. Speak to the person sitting next to you. Admire the child and grandmother alike playing on the other side of the room. Tell the cute guy watching them you think he's hot- you'll likely never encounter him again so why not? Or who knows- maybe it'll go somewhere. After all, we are all stuck in this waiting room together. It may seem initially dull, but don't waste this chance. Admire everything with your whole being. This moment will not come again.

#philosophy #thoughts #long post #i just had to mull this over somewhere and put it onto paper #cherish yourselves as you are now because it will not recur- I need you all to understand this and not squander it #because I have squandered- whether through fear or sorrow or worry or threat #it is hard to overcome these things and Truly Live but we must try

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mamaangiwine · 2 years ago

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Hi, it's me again, i have another dream i thought you'd find cool! If you don't want to interpret it because you've done one for me before it's totally fine! Its just so wild i wanted to share.

I was God, or a God, and i came down to Earth. When i looked at Earth and it's people i didn't see a blue planet, i saw a giant room shaped like a cube filled with randomly placed, basically shaped, columns and platforms which people stood on. People looked like people, but they also looked like simplified shapes. It felt like i was looking at code when i looked at the world and people. I placed myself in an upper middle platform in the bottom left of the cube with some people, and when i did i became more human. I held onto a piller and looked over the edge and said something like "wow thats a scary drop" to which someone behind me responded "yup, I'd hate to be pushed of that ledge" i turned towards him and said "now that you said something im worried!" And we laughed, like a big laugh, and i physically felt my real body giggling and smiling in my sleep. Thats when i realized i was in some weird half asleep half awake stage. I could move and feel my real body but i was dreaming. At somepoint i ate some food that tasted SO good i swore it was real. Then i realized i had powers. Powers like whatever i wanted to happen, happened. Snaping away something in the blink of an eye, moving something with my mind, ect. So i decided to help everyone i could. With my powers i protected and saved people from evil forces. One guy had some evil thing in him and tried running right at me but i froze him in time and exercised the thing inside him. With every interaction i make, i made a joke and made myself laugh in the dream and irl. I was GENUINELY funny but don't remember what i said. Eventually these Spanish speaking people spoke to me and i actually understood them! They said something like "death is coming" i said "don't worry, buenos noches". Then a much bigger evil force started taking over Cube Earth, so i did my best to evacuate people. Thats all i remember of that phase. Next i was looking at tapestries, but they represented human souls, and changed everytime i looked at them even though it was the same soul. Looking at the tapestries gave me such understanding and clairty of that person, i knew them like i knew themselves. I think i was guiding them to the afterlife and said things like "i understand, i know you did your best, its okay" and i woke up all the way.

It may be fair to mention, right before falling asleep i was contemplating the afterlife, and my insomnia meds didn't work for a while so I've been up all night and waking up early so im pretty sleep deprived which might be the cause of the vivid dreams I've had lately. The night before was also a strange dream. One thing they both had in common was they were very vivid and actually very coherent and not just a bunch of random stuff.

Anyways, do whatever you want with this info, hope you have a great day!

Heya,

So, yes. This is very, very cool. The theme of "change" is very present here.

I get this too sometimes, especially if I'm having fitful sleep, lol. Anywho- oof. There are definitely some symbols that I think I would not be able to fit into the space of a single tumblr post.

Like, you know, the whole "God" thing. Too much, dude. Too much, lol.

Anywho, I think it's interesting that you said Earth didn't look like 'Earth' but rather a cube/room. Cubes have four corners. Four, in western occultism, is considered a perfect number because it is the number two repeated. It is a solid number of solid foundation. It also represents knowledge and so it makes sense to me that you would have this sensation of looking at things as though they were data. Four is also the number of the elements, and I find it interesting that you found yourself in the lower left corner because, at least in my rituals, that is the corner in which the element of 'earth' resides.

This makes me wonder if you currently feel as though you are growing more knowledgeable in terms of spirituality, or perhaps you're getting better at navigating your own life- the mechanations of your own "world". That right now you have a good foundation, or if you're on the cusp of that kind of experience.

With that in mind, I feel like the "I'd hate to be pushed off that ledge" then acts as a congratulations, and a gentle warning. This, paired with the element of "earth", makes me feel as though you are/have been approaching this knowledge, and stage of your life, in a very grounded manner. Aware of the "fall" if you are to get ahead of yourself, and careful not to stretch yourself too thin (as seen when we compare the exorcism of one man, in comparison to saving the world from destruction- in the first you are capable of the whole of the task at hand, while in the second you focus on doing what you can).

Regardless, however. There will be a change ("death is coming") and this moment will have to pass into the next, as seen in the ultimate destruction of the world itself. As symbolized by the evacuation, you must take what you can in this "world" and go forward into the next "world". To the next moment. Remain grounded. Remember that, no matter how careful you are, eventually you must fall, and that all things end.

Moving onto the soul aspect of all of this- a tapestry is cloth woven to tell a complex story, but yeah, even that can't capture the complexities of the human soul. It's too stagnant. It would have to change. I particularly like that you are so affirming to these souls that you are directing into the afterlife. For me, it feels like you are capable of taking on that change with an air of understanding and humor, as seen initially with you laughing about falling in the beginning. Knowing that things can't stay the same, that energies must be redirected without negating the beauty of what has already transpired. That the tapestry must shift.

Thanks for sharing this, friend. I know it's been a minute and I really appreciate that you thought of sharing this with me.

#magic #folk magic #spirituality #dream symbolism #dream interpretation #free dream interpretation #free divination #divination #dreams

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not-wholly-unheroic · 4 years ago

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Captain Hook & The History of Prosthetics

From its earliest days on stage to the upcoming Disney live-action film, Peter Pan has provided audiences with one of the most widely recognized amputee characters in media history. The iron claw, now associated with all pirates, is an iconic image...but how realistic would it have been for a captain who lost a hand or arm in battle to find himself wearing a hook? I decided to do some digging to find out.

The earliest known use of a prosthetic hand dates back to the 200s B.C. when Roman general Marcus Sergius lost his right hand during the Second Punic War and had an iron hand fashioned to hold his shield while he fought with his left hand. There isn’t a ton of information on what this replacement “hand” may have looked like (whether it was primarily functional or also cosmetic) but it may have resembled a much later design (c. 1504) worn by German knight Goetz von Berlichingen, also known as “Goetz of the Iron Hand” This hand, though crafted with great detail to look realistic, was also designed to let the wearer grasp a shield, reins, etc. Although the gripping motion required adjusting the device with the remaining natural hand, the design looks surprisingly modern.

Goetz von Berlichingen’s Iron Hand

Around the same time period in the Mediterranean region, Ottoman seaman Oruc Reis--also known as Baba Oruc (”Father Oruc”), later misheard and Westernized as Barbarossa (”Redbeard” in Italian)--lost his left arm in battle, replacing it with a metal prosthetic and earning the privateer the nickname Gumus Kol, meaning “Silver Arm” in Turkish. Much like Marcus Sergius, we don’t have a good idea of this prosthetic’s appearance.

The first major historical figure to use an actual hook in place of a hand was privateer Christopher Newport, who lost an arm while attempting to capture a Spanish galleon in 1590. Newport is also known for helping establish the colony of Jamestown alongside the more popularized John Smith and others in 1607.

Artist’s Rendering of Christopher Newport

Another infamous sailor who lost a limb, Admiral Horatio Nelson, is virtually never depicted with a prosthetic of any sort but is responsible for the development of what would come to be known as “The Nelson Fork,” a combination knife and fork designed to make cutting and eating food easier for those missing a hand. Though Nelson lost his arm in 1797, variations of his cutlery design are still in use today.

A Nelson Fork, or as I like to call it, a “Knork”

During the Victorian Era, some false hands had a very steampunk/cyborg look to them. In fact, they rather resemble Long John Silver’s cyborg arm in Disney’s Treasure Planet. (Fun Fact: While attempting to see if they could seamlessly blend CG with traditional 2D animation, Disney did a test run of some existing footage of Hook with Silver’s cyborg arm.)

A Victorian False Arm (left) and Disney’s Test Footage of Hook with Silver’s Cyborg Arm (right)

Meanwhile, in the U.S., many soldiers were coming home from the Civil War with missing limbs, and the widespread need for practical prosthetics led to the development of a sort of “Swiss Army Knife” prosthetic with detachable parts, including cosmetic false hands, hooks, cutlery, and what appears to be either a brush or a toothbrush.

A Civil War Era Prosthetic with Attachments

In fact, many of these sorts of prosthetic attachments are similar to what we see Hook use in the Disney film and are still used by amputees today.

The Captain’s Case of Hooks (left) and Catalog Images of Modern Prosthetic Attachments (right)

You’ll notice that among the modern attachments featured is--you guessed it!--a hook! In fact, because of its versatility and cost-effectiveness as a prosthetic hand replacement, variations on the concept of a hook became quite popular during the 1800s/1900s and still exist today.

A Collection of Hooks from the 19th and Early 20th Centuries

The modern split hook, first developed in 1912 and popularized in the aftermath of WWI & WWII, is perhaps the most common sort of hook used in modern times. It typically features a sort of harness that goes across the chest/back and over the shoulder opposite the missing limb. This design likely influenced the image of Cyril Ritchard’s two-pronged claw in the 1960s stage version of Peter Pan and Jason Isaacs’ prosthetic apparatus in the 2003 film.

A Modern Split Hook (bottom left), Cyril Ritchard’s Hook (top left), and Jason Isaacs’ Hook (right)

In the aftermath of the World Wars, although technology has allowed for the development of some truly remarkable bionic inventions, the continued need for practical, cost-effective prosthetics has led to the development of a variety of attachments designed for work as well as leisure activities.

Enter Jake and the Neverland Pirates. While the show maintains Hook as a villain, because it is designed for children, he is portrayed more as a bully with low self-esteem than a truly evil, threatening character. We’re meant to like him, and while the audience laughs at his antics and feels sorry for him for many reasons (Dude has some SERIOUS bad luck!), the hook itself isn’t one of them. One thing I love about the show is that it takes the stereotypically “scary amputee villain” and turns him into a sympathetic grump with a collection of really cool hooks that any kid would envy. Some of them are admittedly a bit far-fetched and fanciful (But who DOESN’T want a whirly-hook that lets you fly?)...but surprisingly, many of the attachments are a fairly accurate representation of what’s out there. For example, need to build something or hang a picture on the wall? There’s a hammer hook for that.

A Veteran from One of the World Wars with a Hammer Attachment (left) and Captain Hook’s “Hammer Hook” from Jake and the Neverland Pirates (right)

Or maybe you want to play a game of golf...

A Man Using a Prosthetic Attachment to Hold a Golf Club (left) and Captain Hook’s Golf Club Hook from Jake and the Neverland Pirates (right)

YUP! It’s real! (Okay, so the attachment is made to HOLD a golf club. It’s not a club itself...but the concept is the same.)

So...what’s the verdict? Although the popular vision of pirates wearing hooks is heavily overstated in modern culture, it is historically quite plausible that a captain who lost a hand in battle might replace it with a hook...and if he were still around today, he might even have an attachment that would allow him to spend his retirement years enjoying some time out on the green.

#captain hook #captain james hook #james hook #prosthetics #amputee #history of prosthetics #history #christopher newport #horatio nelson #admiral nelson #barbarossa #split hook #goetz von berlichingen #marcus sergius

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astrologyandlife · 3 years ago

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29° and 0° in astrology

the 29th and 0 degrees are said to be "critical" degrees in astrology, meaning that anything sitting in these degrees have a special influence on its expression and impact on the rest of the chart. so, i thought it would be a good idea to explore these two degrees and what they could mean for you guys!

part i: the 29th degree

the 29th degree is the very last degree of any zodiac sign. it is said to be the anaretic degree. here, the most difficult challenges related to the placement in question are presented, as everything else has been mastered. there is also a sense of inevitability with this placement. this is often marked by a turning point in the individual’s life.

sun – the ego and identity are strong, but there could be external circumstances that don’t allow the individual to express themselves in a completely authentic or transparent way. they must reconcile who they are inside with how they act. at times, they feel like an imposter, or like they are selling out to others. they know who they are, but do other people? this feeling that something is physically blocking them from existing impacts every action they take. they must figure out what is holding them back from complete self-expression and give themselves permission to be themselves in spite of this.

moon – this is where the most complex, desolate emotions a person can feel lie—the kinds of emotions that make you think nobody could possibly understand your experience. as a result, there is a profound sense of isolation and a difficulty integrating their emotional experiences into their self-expression. this only increases the intensity of the emotions, creating many situations of turbulence. sometimes the individual ends up completely blocking their emotions off to cope. only by facing their emotions head-on can they assuage these feelings and achieve a balanced state.

mercury – there is a tendency to get stuck in vicious cycles involving self-doubt and overthinking here. as a result, they sabotage their own efforts to make good decisions and communicate clearly. even a genius can make a fool out of himself. there can be this issue where they overthink sometimes and don’t think enough other times. they have this nagging feeling that they are missing some piece of information that is undiscovered or concealed from them. the final lesson is to trust the knowledge and experience they have to make the right decision.

venus – a profound sense of loneliness is pervasive throughout their life, as though every relationship they could have now would be empty and devoid of true connection. it’s entirely possible for these individuals to have trust issues, fall into unhealthy patterns in their relationships, and avoid intimacy. perhaps there is a part of themselves who feels they are unlovable in some way, or there is this one thing wrong with them, which they must forgive completely, the same way they would forgive and love another person.

mars – a desperation to act conflicts with a lack of confidence in their capability to do so. often this leads to them being frozen in the headlights like a deer, thinking, I have to do something but what if it’s wrong? the balance between too much and too little is blurred, leading to inconsistency and turbulence in their lives. they often end up in situations where they are forced to make snap decisions. re-calibrating their approach to conflict and matching their energy to the situation will relieve this problem.

jupiter – without thinking, these individuals over-indulge and rely on their luck and natural talents in some way. they want more of something, and it’s almost as though there is no satisfaction through receiving it. there is both a sense of hollowness and complacency that permeates as a result, and they forget how to materialize success through their own efforts. to remedy this, they must seek out growth, exploration, and expansion in its purest sense, to open their minds to a higher being or knowledge.

saturn – restrictive patterns are almost always the issue here. these individuals deprive them of something in their lives, not allowing even a moment of pleasure or reprieve from the overwhelming sense of responsibility they feel. external circumstances, especially in early life, have placed an undue burden on them, in some cases leading them to do anything to escape any responsibility placed on them later in life. to fix this, they have to let go of the guilt and fear they feel to give themselves back their agency.

uranus – how can they move forward? where is there to go that hasn’t been gone to before? in the same way that the sun in this degree struggles to find true authenticity in this liminal space, so too do these individuals struggle to find progression. somewhere they got stuck and stopped embracing their own unique qualities, which has made it impossible for them to then accept anything else. the final turning point here is to open their mind completely, to embrace entirely the open possibilities of the world.

neptune — this is the deepest recesses of this planet, where material reality as we know it does not even exist. at its most extreme, these individuals find it hard to live in this world because reality is simply too harsh for them in some way. escapism exists in its most extreme form, and the subconscious is too influential. and so, they need to escape themselves. here, the power has been given to a force that is not the individual, but rather something external to them. the task is to give this power back to the conscious individual, to escape the dream they have created for themselves and return to reality.

pluto — here, the complete death has occurred for the person. they have experienced the transformation, the change, and the end of the cycle. perhaps they have experienced in many times in their life. but the last stage hasn’t occurred yet. they become stuck before the rebirth stage, unable to complete the process. thus, the same situation happens over and over, re-opening wounds. the final turning point is to accept the change and open themselves up completely to renewal, to move on for good. lay it to rest.

part ii: the 0 degree

in contrast, the 0 degree is the very first degree of any zodiac sign. this is where the traits of the sign are most clearly and cohesively expressed, and also where there is the most to learn. you express this placement in a very raw, almost untouched way.

aries – there is a childlike innocence and naivete here, as well as an exaggerated impatience and sense of urgency. they feel that there is no time to wait. strong desire to be first and be a leader, even if they don’t know how to be one. there’s almost like a reckless quality to them. extremely assertive to a point of being hostile when others tell them what to do.

taurus – they are stubborn and fixed to the point of being unable to budge. it’s essentially impossible to stop the momentum once they’ve started, and they’re in it for the long haul. they can get stuck in their thinking and behavior patterns, doing the same thing over and over. absolutely must have stability and security in situations or they won’t commit.

gemini – absolutely no tolerance for boredom or lack of activity. they have to be doing something at all times, and often more than one thing. they’re extremely scattered. their curiosity drives them and they’re always asking questions or trying to learn more. they are constantly taking in information and changing their mind, never able to “settle.”

cancer – sensitive and emotional to the point where they can’t hide their feelings. here, there is someone who is very shy, cautious, and puts a protective shell around themselves. they have an intuition that is spot-on. very needy and moody. plays the role of caregiver and can be seen as a motherly figure. empathy is turned up all the way.

leo – they are completely self-focused and wants to be the center of attention. they want people’s eyes on them at all times, and they know how to light up a room. natural actors and tend toward being extremely dramatic. there is a sense of complete confidence in their abilities and pride in themselves. they refuse to settle for less than what they believe they deserve.

virgo – devoted to the service of others, typically in the form of providing feedback, criticism, and a helping hand. very critical and vocal about imperfections. they have an eye for detail that is unmatched. any form of disorganization or chaos is distressing to them, and they have highly specific routines and rituals. mind is constantly running to analyze and process information.

libra – cannot be alone whatsoever, and they are constantly seeking out connections with others. they are a complete pushover and seek out compromise in every situation. there is a desire to always seem agreeable and likeable. they often find themselves mediating for others, and there is an extreme need for harmony and balance. indecisive to the point of being paralyzed/hurt.

scorpio – the most private you’ll ever meet, and it’s impossible to get information out of them. feels the need to keep everything to themselves. has tons of secrets. they are super obsessive and will latch on to things quickly. needs control or to feel powerful in any situation. constantly on the defensive and trying to psychoanalyze the situation.

sagittarius – have an attitude of “it will all work out, don’t worry” even when they should be worrying. it’s impossible to tie down or get them to settle, because they have an intense need for freedom at all times. blindly faithful and optimistic. have a tendency to do things completely spontaneously. can feel claustrophobic when unable to freely act.

capricorn – absolutely rooted in tradition, even to the point of being narrow-minded. they constantly have to be going after success or achievement. the sense of responsibility is always present, which can lead to feelings of guilt or failure. an old soul from the beginning. a sense of “I have to get this right and prove myself” in anything they do.

aquarius – always has to be moving forward and making progress. extreme quirks are very possible here. highly open-minded and non-judgmental, and almost nothing surprises/shocks them. a savant, genius, or revolutionary. always at odds with figures of authority or traditionalists. a humanitarian to the extreme. they are ahead of their time.

pisces – hyper-sensitive to subtle influences and can be very spiritual or superstitious as a result. there’s an ever-present need to escape in some way, and they usually and have vivid imagination/rich fantasies. there can be a sense of directionlessness or shapelessness. the ultimate chameleon.

sun - feels the need for validation of who they are from others, projects a ton of confidence that they may not really have, very performative and forthright in expression. moon - often blindsided by their emotions, has difficulty realizing their needs and wants, less polished about handling their feelings. mercury - always curious and wants to know more, may present as a know-it-all or assert authority over topics, venus - loves the newness of relationships, craves connection and romance, wants to be well-liked by others, rejection is hard for them. mars - always in "go" mode, lots of energy and motivation, can be quick to anger or rile up, ends up in dangerous situations a lot. saturn - inherently assumes responsibility, has to learn lessons multiple times, tries to be disciplined and fails often. jupiter - lots of faith and optimism, definitely naive at heart, open to new experiences and chances for growth. uranus - has a lot of small quirks, open-minded and progressive, has a mindset of wanting to keep moving forward. neptune - rich imagination and a love for fantasy, feels directionless or like the possibilities are endless. pluto - may struggle with changes or transformations, lots of growth ahead of them, a strong presence that is very raw.

finally, i'd like to link some resources for further reading:

· https://www.astro.com/astrology/aa_article190801_e.htm (my favorite--super in-depth and peer-reviewed/published!)

· https://advanced-astrology.com/anaretic-degree/

· https://www.astrologyweekly.com/blog/29-degrees-the-anaretic-degree/

#other #this one took a couple months to put together due to needed to do heavy research!#astrology #degree theory #degrees #astro #natal chart

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damnesdelamer · 4 years ago

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Recommended reading for leftists

Introduction and disclaimer:

I believe, in leftist praxis (especially online), the sharing of resources, including information, must be foremost. I have often been asked for reading recommendations by comrades; and while I am by no means an expert in leftist theory, I am a lifelong Marxist, and painfully overeducated. This list is far from comprehensive, and each author is worth exploring beyond the individual texts I suggest here. Further, none of these need to be read in full to derive benefit; read what selections from each interest you, and the more you read the better. Many of these texts cannot truly be called leftist either, but I believe all can equip us to confront capitalist hegemony and our place within it. And if one comrade derives the smallest value or insight herefrom, we will all be better for it. After all... La raison tonne en son cratère. Alone we are naught, together may we be all. Solidarity forever.

***

(I have split these into categories for ease of navigation, but there is plenty of overlap. Links included where available.)

Classics of socialist theory

Capital (vol.1) by Karl Marx Marx’s critique of political economy forms the single most significant and vital source for understanding capitalism, both in our present and throughout history. Do not let its breadth daunt you; in general I feel it’s better to read a little theory than none, but nowhere is this truer than with regards to Capital. Better to read 20 pages of Capital than 150 pages of most other leftist literature. This is not a book you need to ‘finish’ in order to benefit from, but rather (like all of Marx’s work) the backbone of theory which you will return to throughout your life. Read a chapter, leave it, read on, read again. https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/download/pdf/Capital-Volume-I.pdf

The Prison Notebooks by Antonio Gramsci In our current epoch of global neoliberal capitalism, Gramsci’s explanation of hegemony is more valuable than much of the economic or outright revolutionary analyses of many otherwise vital theory. Particularly following the coup attempt and election in America, as well as Brexit and abusive government responses to Covid, but the state violence around the world and the advent of fascism reasserts Gramsci as being as pertinent and prophetic now as amidst the first rise of fascism. https://abahlali.org/files/gramsci.pdf

Imperialism: The Highest Stage Of Capitalism by V.I. Lenin Like Marx, for many Lenin’s work is the backbone of socialist theory, particularly in pragmatic terms. In much of his writing Lenin focuses on the practical processes of revolutionary transition from capitalism to communism via socialism and proletarian leadership (sometimes divisively among leftists). Imperialism is perhaps most valuable today for addressing the need for internationalist proletarian support and solidarity in the face of global capitalist hegemony, arguably stronger today than in Lenin’s lifetime. https://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1916/imp-hsc/imperialism.pdf

Socialism: Utopian And Scientific by Friedrich Engels Marx’s partner offers a substantial insight into the material reality of socialism in the post-industrial age, offering further practical guidance and theory to Marx and Engels’ already robust body of work. This highlights the empirical rigour of classical Marxist theory, intended as a popular text accessible to proletarian readers, in order to condense and to some extent explain the density of Capital. Perhaps even more valuable now than at the time it was first published. https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/soc-utop/index.htm

In Defense Of Marxism by Leon Trotsky It has been over a decade since I have read any Trotsky, but this seems like a very good source to get to grips with both classical Marxist thought and to confront contemporary detractors. In many ways, Trotsky can be seen as an uncorrupt symbol of the Leninist dream, and in others his exile might illustrate the dangers of Leninism (Stalinism) when corrupt, so who better to defend the virtues of the system many see as his demise? https://www.marxists.org/archive/trotsky/idom/dm/dom.pdf

The Conquest Of Bread by Pyotr Kropotkin Krapotkin forms the classical backbone of anarchist theory, and emerges from similar material conditions as Marxism. In many ways, ‘the Bread book’ forms a dual attack (on capitalism and authoritarianism of the state) and defence (of the basic rights and needs of every human), the text can be seen as foundational to defining anarchism both in overlap and starkly in contrast with Marxist communism. This is a seminal and eminent text on self-determination, and like Marx, will benefit the reader regardless of orthodox alignment. https://libcom.org/files/Peter%20Kropotkin%20-%20The%20Conquest%20of%20Bread_0.pdf

Leftism of the 20th Century and beyond

Freedom Is A Constant Struggle: Ferguson, Palestine, And The Foundations Of A Movement by Angela Davis This is something of a placeholder for Davis, as everything she has ever put to paper is profoundly valuable to international(ist) struggles against capitalism and it’s highest stage. Indeed, the emphasis on the relationship between American and Israeli racialised state violence highlights the struggles Davis has continually engaged since the late 1960s, that of a united front against imperialist oppression, white supremacists, patriarchal capitalist exploitation, and the carceral state. https://www.docdroid.net/rfDRFWv/freedom-is-a-constant-struggle-pdf#page=6

Postmodernism, Or, The Cultural Logic Of Late Capitalism by Frederic Jameson A frequent criticism of Marxism is the false claim that it is decreasingly relevant. Here, Jameson presents a compelling update of Marxist theory which addresses the hegemonic nature of mass media in the postmodern epoch (how befitting a tumblr post listing leftist literature). Despite being published in the early ‘90s, this analysis of late capitalism becomes all the more pertinent in the age of social media and ‘influencers’ etc., and illustrates just how immortal a science ours really is. https://is.muni.cz/el/1423/jaro2016/SOC757/um/61816962/Jameson_The_cultural_logic.pdf

The Ecology Of Freedom: The Emergence And Dissolution Of Hierarchy by Murray Bookchin I have not read this in depth, and take issue with some of Bookchin’s ideas, but this seems like a very good jumping off point to engage with ecosocialism or red-green theory. Regardless of any schism between Marxist and anarchist thought, the importance of uniting together to stem the unsustainable growth of industrialised capitalism cannot be denied. Climate change is unquestionably a threat faced by us all, but which will disproportionately impact the most disenfranchised on the planet. https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/murray-bookchin-the-ecology-of-freedom.pdf

Why Marx Was Right by Terry Eagleton I’ve only read excerpts of this; I know Eagleton better for his extensive work on Marxist literary criticism, postmodernity, and postcolonial literature, so I’m including this work of his as a means of introducing and engaging directly with Marxism itself, rather than the synthesis of diverse fields of analysis. But Eagleton generally does a very good job of parsing often incredibly dense concepts in an accessible way, so I trust him to explain something so obvious and self-evident as why Marx was right. https://filosoficabiblioteca.files.wordpress.com/2018/12/EAGLETON-Terry-Why-Marx-Was-Right.pdf

By Any Means Necessary by Malcolm X Malcolm X is one of the pre-eminent voices of the revolutionary black power movement, and among the greatest contributors to black/American leftist thought. This is a collection of his speeches and writings, in which he eloquently and charismaticly conveys both his righteous outrage and optimism for the future. Malcolm X’s explicitly Marxist and decolonial rhetoric is often downplayed since his assassination, but even the title and slogan is borrowed from Frantz Fanon.

Feminism and gender theory

Sister Outsider: Essays And Speeches by Audre Lorde The primary thrust of this collection is the inclusion of ‘The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle The Master’s House’, probably Lorde‘s most well known work, but all the contents are eminently worthwhile. Lorde addresses race, capitalist oppression, solidarity, sexuality and gender, in a rigourously rhetorical yet practical way that calls us to empower one another in the face of oppression. Lorde’s poetry is also great. http://images.xhbtr.com/v2/pdfs/1082/Sister_Outsider_Essays_and_Speeches_by_Audre_Lorde.pdf

Feminism Is For Everybody by bell hooks A seminal addition to Third Wave Feminist theory, emphasising the reality that the aim of feminism is to confront and dismantle patriarchal systems which oppress - you guessed it - everybody. This book approaches feminism through the lens of race and capitalism, feeding into the discourse on intersectionality which many of us now take as a central element of 21st Century feminism. https://excoradfeminisms.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/bell_hooks-feminism_is_for_everybody.pdf

Gender Trouble: Feminism And The Subversion Of Identity by Judith Butler Butler and her work form probably the single most significant (especially white) contribution to Third Wave Feminism, as well as queer theory. This may be a somewhat dense, academic work, but the primary hurdle is in deconstructing our existing perceptions of gender and identity, which we are certainly better equipped to do today specifically thanks to Butler. Vitally important stuff for dismantling hegemonic patriarchy. https://selforganizedseminar.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/butler-gender_trouble.pdf

Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink Or Blue by Leslie Feinberg Feinberg is perhaps the foundational voice in trans theory, best known for Stone Butch Blues, but this text seems like a good point to view hir push into mainstream acceptance where ze previously aligned hirself and trans groups more with gay and lesbian subcultures. A central element here is the accessibility and deconstruction of hegemonic gender and expression, but what this really expresses is a call for solidarity and support among marginalised classes, in a fight for our mutual visibility and survival, in the greatest of Marxist feminist traditions.

The Haraway Reader by Donna Haraway Haraway is perhaps better known as a post-humanist than a Marxist feminist, but in all honesty, I am not sure these can be disentangled so easily. My highest recommendation is the essay ‘A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century‘, but it is in many ways concerned more with aesthetics and media criticism than anything practical, and Haraway’s engagement with technology has only become more significant, with the proliferation of smartphones and wifi, to understanding our bodies and ourselves as instruments of resistance. https://monoskop.org/images/5/56/Haraway_Donna_The_Haraway_Reader_2003.pdf

Postcolonialism

The Wretched Of The Earth by Frantz Fanon Perhaps my highest recommendation, this will give you better insight into late stage (postcolonial) capitalism than perhaps anything else. Fanon was a psychologist, and his analyses help us parse the internal workings of both the capitalist and racialised minds. I don’t see this work recommended nearly enough, largely because Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks is a better source for race theory, but The Wretched Of The Earth is the best choice for understanding revolutionary, anti-capitalist, and decolonial ideas. http://abahlali.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Frantz-Fanon-The-Wretched-of-the-Earth-1965.pdf

Orientalism by Edward Said This is probably the best introduction to postcolonial theory, particularly because it focuses on colonial/imperialist abuses in media and art. Said’s later work Culture And Imperialism may actually be a better source for strictly leftist analysis, but this is the groundwork for understanding the field, and will help readers confront and interpret everything from Western military interventionism to racist motifs in Disney films. https://www.eaford.org/site/assets/files/1631/said_edward1977_orientalism.pdf

Decolonisation Is Not A Metaphor by Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang In direct response to Fanon’s call to decolonise (the mind), Tuck and Yang present a compelling assertion that the abstraction of decolonisation paves the way for settler claims of innocence rather than practical rapatriation of land and rights. The relatively short article centres and problematises ongoing complicity in the agenda of settler-colonial hegemony and the material conditions of indigenous groups in the postcolonial epoch. Important stuff for anti-imperialist work and solidarity. https://clas.osu.edu/sites/clas.osu.edu/files/Tuck%20and%20Yang%202012%20Decolonization%20is%20not%20a%20metaphor.pdf

The Coloniser And The Colonised by Albert Memmi Often read in tandem with Fanon, as both are concerned with trauma, violence, and dehumanisation. But further, Memmi addresses both the harm inflicted on the colonised body and the colonisers’ own culture and mind, while also exploring the impetus of practical resistance and dismantling imperialist control structures. This is also of great import to confronting detractors, offering the concrete precedent of Algerian decolonisation. https://cominsitu.files.wordpress.com/2020/05/albert-memmi-the-colonizer-and-the-colonized-1.pdf

Can The Subaltern Speak? by Gayatri Spivak This relatively short (though dense) essay will ideally help us to confront the real struggles of many of the most disenfranchised people on earth, removing us from questions of bourgeois wage-slavery and focusing on the right to education and freedom from sexual assault, not to mention the legacy of colonial genocide. http://abahlali.org/files/Can_the_subaltern_speak.pdf

Wider cultural studies

No Logo by Naomi Klein I have some qualms with Klein, but she nevertheless makes important points regarding the systemic nature of neoliberal global capitalism and hegemony. No Logo addresses consumerism at a macro scale, emphasising the importance of what may be seen as internationalist solidarity and support and calling out corporate scapegoating on consumer markets. I understand that This Changes Everything is perhaps even better for addressing the unreasonable expectations of indefinite and unsustainable growth under capitalist systems, but I haven’t read it and therefore cannot recommend; regardless, this is a good starting point. https://archive.org/stream/fp_Naomi_Klein-No_Logo/Naomi_Klein-No_Logo_djvu.txt

The Black Atlantic: Modernity And Double Consciousness by Paul Gilroy This is an important source for understanding the development of diasporic (particularly black) identities in the wake of the Middle Passage between African and America, but more generally as well. This work can be related to parallel phenomena of racialised violence, genocide, and forced migration more widely, but it is especially useful for engaging with the legacy of slavery, the cultural development of blackness, and forms of everyday resistance. https://dl1.cuni.cz/pluginfile.php/756417/mod_resource/content/1/Gilroy%20Black%20Atlantic.pdf

Imagined Communities: Reflections On The Origin And Spread Of Nationalism by Benedict Anderson This text is important in understanding the nature of both high colonialism and fascism, perhaps now more than ever. Anderson examines the political manipulation and agenda of cultural production, that is the propagandised, artificial act of nation building. This analyses the development of nation states as the norm of political unity in historiographical terms, as symptomatic of old school European imperialism. Today we may see this reflected in Brexit or MAGA, but lebensraum and zionism are just as evident in the analysis. https://is.muni.cz/el/1423/jaro2016/SOC757/um/6181696/Benedict_Anderson_Imagined_Communities.pdf

Discipline And Punish: The Birth Of The Prison by Michel Foucault Honestly, I am not sure if this should be on this list; I would certainly not call it leftist. That said, it is a very important source to inform our perceptions of the nature of institutional power and abuse. It is also unquestionable that many of the pre-eminent left-leaning scholars of the past fifty years have been heavily influenced, willing or not, by Foucault and his post-structuralist ilk. A worthwhile read, especially for queer readers, but take with a liberal (zing!) helping of salt. https://monoskop.org/images/4/43/Foucault_Michel_Discipline_and_Punish_The_Birth_of_the_Prison_1977_1995.pdf

Trouble In Paradise: From The End Of History To The End Of Capitalism by Slavoj Žižek Probably just don’t read this, it amounts to self-torture. Okay but seriously, I wanted to include Žižek (perhaps against my better judgement), but he is probably best seen as a lesson in recognising theorists as fallible, requiring our criticism rather than being followed blindly. I like Žižek, but take him as a kind of clown provocateur who may lead us to explore interesting ideas. He makes good points, but he also... Doesn’t... Watch a couple youtube videos and decide if you can stomach him before diving in.

Additional highly recommended authors (with whom I am not familiar enough to give meaningful descriptions or specific recommended texts) (let me know if you find anything of significant value from among these, as I am likely unaware!):

Theodor Adorno (of the Frankfurt School, which also included Herbert Marcuse, Erich Fromm, and Walter Benjamin, all of whom I’d likewise recommend but with whom I have only passing familiarity) was a sociologist and musicologist whose aesthetic analyses are incredibly rich and insightful, and heavily influential on 20th Century Marxist theory.

Sara Ahmed is a significant voice in Third Wave Feminist criticism, engaging with queer theory, postcoloniality, intersectionality, and identity politics, of particular interest to international praxis.

Mikhail Bakhtin was a critic and scholar whose theories on semiotics, language, and literature heavily guided the development of structuralist thought as well as later Marxist philosophy.

Mikhail Bakunin is perhaps the closest thing to anarchist orthodoxy. Consistently involved with revolutionary action, he is known as a staunch critic of Marxist rhetoric, and a seminal influence on anti-authoritarian movements.

Silvia Federici is a Marxist feminist who has contributed significant work regarding women’s unpaid labour and the capitalist subversion of the commons in historiographical contexts.

Mark Fisher was a leftist critic whose writing on music, film, and pop culture was intimately engaged with postmodernity, structuralist thought, and most importantly Marxist aesthetics.

Che Guevara was a major contributor to revolutionary efforts internationally, most notably and successfully in Cuba. His writing is robustly pragmatic as well as eloquent, and offers practical insight to leftist action.

Hồ Chí Minh was a revolutionary communist leader of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, and a significant contributor to revolutionary communist theory and anti-imperialist practice.

C.L.R. James is a significant voice in 20th Century (especially black) Marxist theory, engaging with and criticising Trotskyist principles and the role of ethnic minorities in revolutionary and democratic political movements.

Joel Kovel was a researcher known as the founder of ecosocialism. His work spans a wide array of subjects, but generally tends to return to deconstructing capitalism in its highest stage.

György Lukács was a critic who contributed heavily to the Western Marxism of the Frankfurt School and engaged with aesthetics and traditions of Marx’s philosophical ideology in contrast with Soviet policy of the time.

Rosa Luxemburg was a revolutionary socialist organiser, publisher, and economist, directly engaged in practical leftist activity internationally for a significant part of the early 20th Century.

Mao Zedong was a revolutionary communist, founder and Chairman of the People’s Republic of China, and a prolific contributor to Marxism-Leninism(-Maoism), which he adapted to the material conditions outside the Western imperial core.

Huey P. Newton was the co-founder of the Black Panther Party and a vital force in the spread and accessibility of communist thought and practical internationalism, not to mention black revolutionary tactics.

Léopold Sédar Senghor was a poet-turned-politician who served as Senegal’s first president and established the basis for African socialism. Also central to postcolonial theory, and a leader of the Négritude movement.

***

I hope this list may be useful. (I would also be interested to see the recommendations of others!) Happy reading, comrades. We have nothing to lose but our chains.

#original #leftism #leftist #Marxist #Marxism #socialist #socialism #literature #reading list #critical theory

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elminx · 3 years ago

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Energy Update: Venus conjunct Pluto and the metamorphosis of the Venus and Mercury retrograde cycles

Today Venus meets up with Pluto at 25° Capricorn - she is deep in her shadow now, she retrogrades in 8 days on the 19th - and this conjunction will play a major role in the 48 days ahead. (We will experience this conjunct three times: today on 12/11, while Venus is retrograde on 12/25, and finally when she moves direct on 03/03 - mark your calendars)

Something has got to die. Some part of us has outlived its welcome. It's time to move on.

This whole year, with its complicated Saturn-Uranus square, has been indicating this and now our Venus retrograde cycle rolls in to finish off the job. She's got a helper, too, as Mercury will also retrograde in relationship to Pluto early in 2022.

There's a lot to unpack here so I want to begin at the beginning (wow, imagine that!) - back in January of 2020, we were exiting a Cancer-Capricorn lunar node cycle (we'd just had our last solar eclipse in Capricorn on 12/26/19) and then the Sun, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn all joined slow-moving Pluto in the sign of Capricorn. It was a lot. You could say (without hyperbole at this point, I think) that it broke the world.

Sometimes change happens from the inside out but not this time - this time, change had to happen from the outside in. The world broke but we all still have to live in it. The past two years have been, undoubtedly, the hardest of most of our lives. We've had to grieve what we have lost, we've had to make sense of where we are, we've had to readjust to where we are going. We've been stopped and turned around so many times that many of us are dizzy and unmoored.

Many of us us have had to accept the very real truth that we have never had control over our lives - not really, not like we wanted to. That life is bigger than us. We've come face to face with our human structures - where they work well as well as where they fail us. We've come face to face with our own coping mechanisms. We've come face to face with our jobs, our living environments, and our relationships. We've seen who we become under the greatest pressures we will likely face in our small human lifetimes.

The planets and their endless cycles have a way of breaking everything down and it can feel like a sucker punch. But there is a deeper truth - if you are on your true path - the one that lights you up inside - the one that is solely and completely meant for you - nothing can lead you astray. Setbacks just slow you down, roadblocks deepen your resolve, and time spent alone is time to plan.

The deep truth that nobody wants to confront is that most of us are not on our true paths. But the even deeper truth is that the planets always spiral around us, they always give us another chance - as long as you are living, you can right your path. You can make the hard choice. You can walk away from what holds you back. You can say "yes" to the scariest thing or "no" to the comfortable thing that keeps you in a place of stasis.

We are about to encounter two major personal planet retrogrades: Venus will retrograde from 26°-11° Capricorn and Mercury will retrograde from 10° Aquarius-24° Capricorn. Look at those numbers, see the interplay there between them - see the beautiful butterfly pattern of change that is about to unfold before us. Now, before this starts - map out what you want to change.

Now is your chance. We are in the calm before the storm.

In ancient astrology, both Capricorn and Aquarius were ruled by our planet of constriction Saturn - it is no coincidence that this is happening under the energy of our last of the squares between Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus, aka, our Immovable Force Paradox. We have had our eyes peeled open, we've been forced to confront what doesn't work - what doesn't work outside of ourselves on the world stage AND what doesn't work inside of us in our own personal lives. So many people have, in the past, used the outside world as a way to escape the problems in their personal lives. Without that crutch, they have found themselves bereft of home or endlessly lonely among the people that were supposed to be theirs.

The planets say, no more. Venus and Mercury are endlessly personal - there is no escaping their influence in our own lives. What they symbolize in our birth charts (by sign, house, and aspect) shows the way that we individualize - when we follow these paths, we open up the light of our Sun signs, we become who we truly are. When we don't, we get more closed down, more anxious, more depressed, we feel unworthy, we feel unwell.

In this way, this pair of butterfly-like retrogrades is a god-send (a planet send? But what are the planets if not gods - can you tell that I'm an animist yet?) - for it is designed to bring us back to our primordial goo. If we give in, if we let them unravel our knots, we might truly find who we are again, we might be reborn - not as we have been told to be, but as we really are.

If you are not Scorpionic by nature, being told to give in to the great undoing and death cycles of Pluto might be absolutely terrifying and I get that. But after these two years, what do you have left to lose? What are you still holding on to? If you've had to hold on that tight, might you, just for a second, let go and just see what happens?

Do you like my work? You can support me by Buying Me A Ko-Fi or by purchasing a Natal Chart Reading.

#witchblr #words #mine #astrology #energy update #retrogrades #retrograde cycles #Venus retrograde #Mercury retrograde #December 2021 #January 2022 #Venus conjunct Pluto #Venus in Capricorn #Venus retrograde in Capricorn #Saturn square Uranus #healing through astrology

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makeitblue · 3 years ago

Note

Here to bug you again, but I'm giving you liberty of who you want to add to this one because I think it'll be fun no matter who is in it. Crowley is making the students put on a play/musical with reader being the lead now the boys are low-key fighting to be the love interest. This is 100% a reference to KnA. You totally can ignore this, but if you do it I hope you have fun writing it. Than you much 💙

Originally, I was going to write with a classic Romeo and Juliet type play in mind, but while I was at work it popped into my head, and I couldn't resist writing the boys putting on a shitty solar system musical. I'm writing this with the assumption their solar system is similar to ours since in their bios they use the same zodiac as we do. I'll only be doing the inner ring of planets for this ask, but if y’all want a part two for some ungodly reason, just hit up my inbox with that request.

Edit: Part 2 is right here! --> (x)

Crowley had somehow gotten the idea of having the students perform a solar system play, and was being unreasonably stubborn about it. Of course, you, as the lovely prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm, was chosen to be one of the two leads in this play looking to make a home on a planet with your significant other. Obviously most students weren’t too pleased or excited about creating a production with a permise that usually wasn’t seen outside elementary schools, but most of them perked up at the prospect of possibly starring alongside you.

Kalim

He got cast as the sun. Honestly, are we even surprised? While he would have liked the second lead role, he’s still super excited to be cast in the play, and eagerly attends rehearsals.

Originally, he wanted to float down onto the stage dramatically on his magic carpet, but Jamil managed to talk him out of it after telling him how dangerous it would be to be flying around in a giant, spherical sun costume. He was a big disappointed his suggestion was shot down, but he bounces back pretty quickly.

He’s one of the few people at NRC that don’t think even for a second that this idea is ridiculous, and because of that, he’s also one of the few people that completely throw themselves into the role. He doesn’t really need to put much effort in, considering his personality is already very sunny, but the extra vigor really helps sell it to the audience.

The sun actually wasn’t originally part of the script, but thanks to a donation that his family made towards the production of the entire play, Crowley graciously wrote him in.

Riddle

He practiced meticulously for the audition. He needed to set a good example for his dormmates, after all. It definitely wasn’t because he was hoping to star alongside you in the second lead role. Alas, despite all his efforts, he was given the role of Mercury.

You can practically hear Floyd’s cackling from across the campus when he found out that Riddle was playing Mercury. Of course Kingyo-chan would be assigned the small, bright red star that zoomed across the night sky.

Floyd’s teasing aside, although he’s a bit disappointed, he allots the necessary time to practicing his lines with you and the other cast members. He’s never late for, never skips, and never leaves early from rehearsal sessions.

Although at first he’s always quick to stop point out when another member has flubbed their lines, he quickly learns its better to just let them continue their line with the small alteration rather than to completely stop the scene.

He’s surprisingly eager, but it makes sense considering he was home schooled as a child. He never got a chance to participate in school productions like this with classmates, so its a new experience for him. A part of him feels a bit childish for being so excited over a silly solar system play, but he convinces himself to push down the feelings of shame and allow himself to enjoy the whole thing.

Vil

He was pretty much expecting that he would be given the second lead. He’s a famous actor, after all. He’s been acting since he was a child, so he’s probably been cast in at least one or two professional productions with a similar premise. All in all, though, he’s still satisfied with being given the role of Venus.

It’s the brightest star in the sky, so obviously, he doesn’t have much to complain about upon receiving his copy of the script.

As expected he takes his casting very seriously. Even if it’s a silly solar system musical, you’re not going to catch him slipping in his performance.

He’s still mildly upset that he didn’t get a lead role, but just as it is in the industry, actors often don’t get to choose the role they play. This does not stop him from voicing his displeasure during rehearsals, but he keeps it to a minimum for the most part, preferring to focus on assisting the other actors so that the production goes smoothly.

Trey

Again, none of us are surprised that one of the most homely boy at NRC ended up being given the role of, Earth (or the Twisted Wonderland equivalent of Earth), the home planet.

The dad/big brother mindset will never turn off for him, so he’s take care of a lot of the other actors between his scene rehearsals. He’s making sure the actors have snacks occasionally and that everyone stays hydrated.

While he’s disappointed he didn’t get to star beside you the entire production, he still puts in a genuine effort for his role. He doesn’t want to let down anyone else after they’ve all worked so hard to practice.

The fact that this is a musical is something that he was a bit nervous about. While he’s a bit stiff, and he’s definitely not the best singer, Vil manages to help him get his performance to at least a presentable level.

Ruggie

He’s honestly a bit surprised he even got a role. Sure its not the lead like he was hoping, but he’s not gonna pass up the chance to screw around a bit and have fun. While he was also hoping to get a lead role, he’s fine with being assigned Mars.

Unlike everyone else on the list, he actually doesn’t put as much effort in as a lot of the other actors would like at first. He has to be reminded that while this is a solar system play, they’re still performing it as representatives of a prestigious school, so there will probably be at least a few important people in the crowd. They can’t afford to have him be so lax in his rehearsals.

Ruggie can’t help laughing when things go wrong during practice, though. He doesn’t really do anything to make it worse, but he’s definitely not doing anything to help either. Can you really blame him, though? Watching Kalim and Riddle chase after Ortho, who somehow lost footing and was now rolling down one of the theater’s ramps is pretty hilarious.

In the end though, when everything comes together, he puts on an adequate performance. It’s not stellar, but he’s at least pleased he managed to get the audience laughing with his scene.

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #ruggie bucchi #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #my writing #jinxed rose

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felassan · 4 years ago

Text

Mass Effect development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

This is the Mass Effect version of this post.

[In case you can’t read it the subtitle in the bottom left logo above is “Guardians of the Citadel”]

Note: Drug use is mentioned.

Cut for length.

Mass Effect 1

ME began its life in a vision document in fall 2003

Codenamed “SFX”

Conceived of by Casey Hudson and a core team from KotOR. Its genesis was the intention to create an epic sci-fi RPG in an original setting that BioWare owned (so they could have full creative control), and in a setting that was conceived of first and foremost as a video game

Initially players could control any squadmate, but they wanted it to be about Shep and for players to be focused on Shep being a battlefield commander, rather than on switching bodies

By the start of 2004 its story was shaping up. Initially humans landed on Mars in 2250 and discovered evidence of an ancient alien race and a powerful substance, Black Sand, which rapidly advanced tech to the point that FTL travel was possible. (My note: obviously now the Prothean artifacts on Mars & associated mass effect force tech enabled this in the final canon, but I wonder if aspects of the ‘Black Sand’ naming-type & powerful substance stuff was rolled into red sand from final canon) Humans were suddenly capable of travel to multiple star systems and made contact with a multitude of other species. At the start of the first game, these species together with humans had a fragile peace, with focus placed on the political center of the galaxy, a hub known as Star City, later renamed the Citadel

Multiplayer was a vision for the series as far back as 2003. The plan was for ME1, an Xbox exclusive at launch, to take advantage of the platform’s online components. Early designs saw players meeting in one of the central hubs to interact and trade items in their otherwise SP adventures

By 2006 it had the name ME and the story was more specific, with the theme of conflict between organic and synthetic lifeforms. The story’s scope now stretched across 3 games and included scope for full co-op MP

They tried to do MP in every game, discussing it from the get-go, but it always just fell by the wayside. “When you’re trying to build something that is a new IP, on a new platform, with a new engine, you’ve got to really focus on the core elements of the game.”

The conversation system prototype was made in Jade Empire, and some of ME’s earliest writing was done in an old JE build. At first there was no conversation wheel. Paragon was “Friendly” and Renegade “Hostile”. In the prototype Shep was a silent unnamed Spectre. Many conversations in the prototype about the player’s choice in smuggling a weapon through Noveria made it into the game

In said prototype a merchant referred to themselves as “this one”, though the word hanar never appeared. The PC in it also had the option to end a conversation with “I should go”. In the prototype also, Harkin was voiced by Mark Meer

An early version of the Mako got used as the krogan truck in ME2

Early concepts of the Citadel were drawn in pencil by CH. A piece of concept art of its final design was painted based on a photo of a sculpture near Aswan, Egypt

As with any new IP naming it was a struggle. They put out a call to all staff for ideas, did polls, made a name generator that combined words that they liked in random ways and made pretend logos of ones they liked in Photoshop to see if they could make themselves love the name or find visual potential in it. (Some of these names are in the pic at the top of this post.) CH liked “Unearthed” as it was a reference to Prothean ruins dug up on Mars and humanity’s ascendance going away from Earth. They knew the game would have a central space station featuring prominently so some of the ideas were based on that - “The Citadel”, “The Optigon”, “The Oculon”. “Element” was another one they had in mind due to the rare substance in the game

CH: “I was a big fan of John Harris’ book Mass, which had epic-scaled sci-fi ideas, so that was a word that came up often. Many of the names came from the idea that the IP featured a fifth fundamental physical force (in addition to the known four of gravitational, electromagnetic, strong nuclear and weak nuclear) so the word ‘effect’ came up pretty often.” Ultimately none of the ideas really felt right. One Monday morning they were going over the names and Greg Zeschuk said he had an idea on the weekend: “Mass Effect!” CH: “I said, ‘I don’t hate it’, which in the naming process is a high compliment. And it stuck!”

CH on Shep’s Prothean vision from the beacon: “It was hard to imagine how we would do this. CG was - and is - really expensive. Instead I wanted to try doing it through photography and video editing. So I went to a local grocery store and bought a few packages of the weirdest looking meat that I could find. Then I set up a little photoshoot in my basement, complete with some electronics parts and some red wine for juicyness.” He used these props to create a video sequence where the photos were rapidly cycled and blurred, along with production paintings, to create the scary vision an organic/machine experiment on the Protheans. These mashups were also used as inspiration for concept artists and level designers who were working on these themes

Tali used to be called Talsi

On the licensing side they often joke that they’re licensing N7 not “Mass Effect” due to N7′s popularity

There was a confidential internal guide to the IP in 2007 to help devs along and summarize/synthesize the vision etc. Some excerpts from it are shown in the book and this is the first time the public have ever seen them

Early versions of Asari had hair

Asari were designed as a nod to classic TV sci-fi (with human actors wearing obvious makeup and prosthetics to play aliens)

The turian design guideline was “we want them to be birds of prey”. They also wanted a range of alien types, some close to human like Asari, while others were to be a lot further away, like turians

BioWare patented the conversation wheel, which was a first for them. CH had been frustrated with reviews of Jade Empire that said that the actioncentric game was too wordy [with its list dialogue]. “I’m like, story is words. [...] What is it about our games that is making people feel like they’re wordy?” Then he thought “In a game you kind of need to feel like you’re continuing to play it. Maybe you should continue feeling like you’re playing it actively into the dialogue.” “[The wheel] kind of gave a new experience with dialogue when you did start to react based on emotion, and that’s ultimately what we’re trying to bring out in our games”

The original krogan concept was based on a bat “with a really wide squidgy face. We just used its face on top of this weird body and it kinda worked”

Geth musculature was based on fiber-optic cables, with flexible plates of armor attached

The vision for the IP was 80s sci-fi inspired space opera

The concept art of Saren lifting Shep by the throat inspired a similar scene in-game. The staging wasn’t planned til designers saw that art

A squadmate with Shepard on the way to meet Ash in an old storyboard was called Carter. Early name of Kaidan or Jenkins?

Bono from U2 was kinda instrumental in bringing us ME lol

Finding the right cover art for ME1 was notably tricky

Matt Rhodes got his start drawing helmets for ME1, including one which would become Shep’s “second face”. He estimates he drew between 250-270 different ones

Some of the sounds in-game were people smashing watermelons with sledgehammers and sticking fists into various goos

The audio team had fun trying to slip the iconic main theme into unexpected places throughout the MET. “We were very aware of how powerful that track was for the fans and it was tempting to overuse it for any moment we wanted to make really emotional”.

The theme was creatively repurposed in ME3: slowed down and reworked as the ambient sound for the SR-2. “If you listen to it for a really long time, just stand in the Normandy and listen, you’ll actually hear the notes change slowly. It doesn’t sound like music, it sounds like a background ambiance, but it’s there.” (My note: Well no wonder the Normandy feels so much like home?? 😭 sneaky..)

Bug report: “Mako Tornado”. There wasn’t enough friction between the tires and the ground, causing testers to lose control of the vehicle and send it spinning into the air like a tornado. “As it turns, the front end comes up, and then it starts spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning faster and faster and faster until it just flies up in the sky” (My note: Sounds like a regular day in the Mako to me)

Cerberus originally had a bigger role in this game. It was cut but they had a whole explorable outpost. “I called it Misery,” says Mac Walters, “It was this planet with a little outpost that said ‘Welcome to Misery’”. Everything on the outpost was shit - dirty worn stuff, no windows, no kitchen, the vehicle bay was open to the elements etc

The Reaper sound is literal garbage. Some audio designers went on a recording trip to a national park. One of them got fixated on a garbage can, “a metal bear-proof receptacle with a heavy lid that creaked horribly when opened”. “It was like, ominous, spooky, tonal and almost musical. I decided to throw a mic into the garbage and record it moving. I didn’t know what it was going to be until later”

They were making lots of noises to record like throwing logs and rocks around. An old couple peered at them through the window of their camper van in the woods and must have called the cops because then the cops showed up, pulled them over and told them to stop. The cops towed their car (the driver’s plates were Cali plates and expired), drove them to Edmonton outskirts and then the audio producer Shauna got a call and had to go pick them up “like three little boys”. “We got a stern talking to”. Once back they were playing around with the garbage sound, editing it etc. Casey heard it and proclaimed “That’s the sound of the Reapers”

Preston Watamaniuk: “There are things I could have done to Mass 1 to make it an infinitely better game with better UIs” and some simple cuts and changes. “But when you’re living with it, it’s very hard to see those things”

BioWare Labs

As social media and smartphone games exploded, BioWare dedicated a small team dedicated to exploring opportunities here - BioWare Labs

Mass Effect: Galaxy used a unique graphic art style and static visual presentation common in visual novels. It has the distinction of being the only iOS game BW have made during their first 25 years

Scrapped ideas were a 3rd person space shooter called Mass Effect: Corsair and 2 DA titles - a strategy game and a top-down dungeon crawler starring young Wynne. (My note: Maybe the corsairs stuff was rolled into Jacob’s backstory in 2, the Alliance Corsairs)

Corsair was a very short-lived project that never got its feet under it. It was a spin-off on Nintendo DS featuring a behind-the-ship perspective and branching dialogue. At one point it had MP. The idea behind it was basically “ME: Freelancer” - fly your ship around, do missions, get credits. It had a limited branching story but was a gameplay-centered experience intended to fill the gap between ME1 and 2. That gap ended up being filled by Galaxy

Galaxy and Corsair’s smaller screen allowed concept artists to use bold colors and a simplistic character design style to help those games stand out from Shep’s story

Nick Thornborrow did some art for Corsair but was worried his art style didn’t fit ME. He moved to DA where he feels his art style fits better

Lots of BioWare VAs and even a lead writer and the VO director are drawn from Edmonton’s local community theater scene, which is vibrant. Think this is how Mark Meer got involved

Mass Effect 2

Player choices carrying over was a first for BW

Dirty Dozen-inspired plot

Its plot is a web of conditionals (see Suicide Mission)

Was more of a shooter than anything BW had made since Shattered Steel

There was 2 camps on the team, those who wanted to push combat and systems forward and redefine the ME experience and those who wanted to make a true sequel, with the same gameplay and systems but a new story. Karin Weekes: “I think it ended up being a good push-pull. It felt like a pretty healthy creative conflict”

“ME2 was a game you could hold up to someone who argues that games aren’t a serious medium and go ‘Oh yeah, then why is Martin Sheen in this?’” Sheen was their first pick for TIM

The idea for TIM came from a mash-up of concepts CH had collected over the years. The name “Illusive” originally came from his pitch for naming DAO’s Eclipse engine, a word inspired by Obi-Wan’s line “It’s not about the mission, Master. It’s something... elsewhere. Elusive”. “I thought, what if we called our next engine 'Elusive', but used an ‘I’, and then it’s like ‘Illusion’. [...] I still really like the word with an ‘I’ and what it conjures”

When ME1 DLC was in production, CH had been watching a lot of CNN, specifically Anderson Cooper. “How is one guy travelling to all these places and never looking tired and always being able to speak with clarity?” CH says it seemed almost superhuman. “What if there was someone who is the absolute maximum of the things you would aspire to be, but also the worst of humanity?” Cooper, though not evil, became an inspiration for TIM down to the gray hair and piercing blue eyes

Inspiration for TIM’s behind-the-scenes role pulling political strings came from Jack Bauer’s brother Graem in 24. Graem “can call up the president and tell him what to do and hang up, because he’s so connected and so influential”. Sheen had played a president and his performance brought gravitas and wisdom to the role. He had quit smoking, but the character smokes. He didn’t want to fake it, but he also didn’t want to smoke, “so he actually asked for a cigarette” to hold so he could stop his words to take drags with natural cadence

Writing was still pushing to write and revise lines hours before VO started. A series of problems like injury and some writers leaving for other opportunities left it so that Karin, Lukas Kristjanson and editor Cookie Everman hand to land the story safely, with PW helping where they could. Lukas: “We took over the writing bug and task list, and I can’t stress enough how much [Karin and Cookie] did to get ME2 out the door. There’s no part of that thing we didn’t touch”. Karin: “That was the most dramatic 2 weeks of my life”

Initial fan reaction when they started promo-ing ME2 was very negative because people didn’t want to know about new chars like Jack and Mordin. “[fans were like] ‘Get them out of here. We want our characters from the first game’. But then when they played them, those became some of the most popular chars [of the series]”

Concept art of Thane has an idea annotation saying “Face can shapeshift?”

At one point when designing Thane concept artists sent multiple variations of him to the team asking them to vote on which was the most attractive

Most of the Normandy crew was written by lead level designer Dusty Everman. Lukas gave him advice in the evenings between bugs

BioWare Montreal made ME2 and 3 cinematics

CC for Shep was based on tools used by char designers to create in-game chars. Under the hood similar tools existed to create aliens

Aliens were much easier to animate than humans. When something is human it’s very difficult to make it look realistic and you can see all the mistakes and everything

Over the holiday period in 2007 CH worked out a diagram on a single piece of paper that would define the entire scope and structure of the game. The diagram is included in the book

Bug report: “I shot a krogan so hard that his textures fell off”. At one point shotgun blast damage was applied to each of the pellets fired, and shot enemies ended up with just the default checkerboard Unreal texture on them after their textures got blown off

Blasto was meant to be 1 step above an Easter egg but his fan popularity prompted them to bring him back in ME3

They rewrote chunks of Jack 2 days before she went to VO. She was the only one they could change because all the other NPCs were recorded. They redesigned her mission by juggling locked NPC lines and changing Shep’s reactions by rewriting text paraphrases to change the context of the already-recorded VO

Lukas snuck obscure nods ito ME2′s distress calls. In the general distress call for the Hugo Gernsback, there’s BW’s initial’s and Edmonton’s phone number backwards. In a fault in a beacon protocol there’s the initials and backward phone number from Tommy Tutone’s “Jenny”. In 2 other general distress calls there’s initials and numbers from Glenn Miller Orchestra’s “Pennsylvania 6-5000″ and initials and numbers from Geddy Lee and Rush’s “2112″ respectively

Mass Effect 3

“The end of an era marks the beginning of another”

ME3 “marked the end of Shep’s story”

Saying bye to Shep was as difficult for devs as it was for players

JHale’s final VO session included Anderson’s death and romanced Garrus’ goodbye. “We were in the session and we both just started crying”, Caroline says. “I couldn’t come on the line to give her notes because I was crying, and she was crying. And so there was just this minute-long pause of like, nothing, nothing, nothing - just silence through the airwaves. And then I came on and just told her that I was crying and she said ‘I’m crying!’” They talked about these anecdotes also here on the N7 Day reunion panel

The Microsoft Kinect voice support required devs to teach Kinect hundreds of commands in a variety of accents across multiple languages. The result was useful but made for some awkward moments. Numerous players accidentally said “geth” or “quarian” while making a particular decision and accidentally killed Tali

MP chars were voiced by cops and military people

The helmet on one of the MP chars was originally designed for cancelled project Revolver

The payload device at the end needed to attach to the Citadel while essentially serving as a giant trigger. “It ended up becoming quite the engineering feet just to visualize how this thing would move and connect to the Citadel”

Concept artists explored creating an anti-team, where Kai Leng was almost an anti-Shepard essentially, with an elite squad to counteract your team. This idea never went beyond concept phase

ME3 Special Edition was released on Nintendo Wii U exclusively. This exclusive version of the game includes Genesis 2 (a sequel to the original Genesis comic) and unique gameplay features that took advantage of the touchscreen GamePad. For years Sonic Chronicles: Dark Brotherhood had had the honor of being BW’s only game made for a Nintendo console

FemShep regrettably didn’t feature in major ME marketing til ME3. Later releases like DAI, MEA and Anthem have taken increasing care not to gender their protagonists in cover art

To capture combat sounds they took a trip to CFB Wainwright, a military base southeast of Edmonton. They got a big tour of it and were allowed to record anything they could find. The tour ended with them getting to drive and shoot tanks (real shells). The force of doing that sent waves through Joel Green, he felt his whole chest compress when it went off; the perfect sound for the Black Widow! After the trip the soldiers let him keep the shell he fired and it’s been passed on like a torch to various devs since

Kakliosaurs began life as a joke in the writers’ room after John Dombrow placed a Grunt figure on a t-rex toy he had on his desk. Lore was brainstormed to justify the mash-up before someone asked, “Why don’t we put this in the game?” They loved it so much Karin had custom coffee mugs made

Bug report: For a while Tali’s final romance scene would fire when she was supposed to be dead

“Balancing combat: how designers in ME3 entered an ‘arms race’” - the solution to players feeling OP vs players feeling frustrated by really strong enemies is to find a good middle ground, but for designers Corey Gaspur and Brenon Holmes, it was war. Brenon designed enemies, Corey designed guns. Corey “was obsessed with bigger, heavier guns. We had this sort of informal competition where he’d make this crazy overturned gun that would just murder all the enemies, and then I tuned some stuff up to compensate”

Brenon had to invent new ways to “stop Corey” and this led to the Phantoms. Corey had in turn designed consumable rockets that could wipe out entire waves of enemies. He must’ve figured this would make short work of Brenon’s space ninjas, but Brenon had other plans: “I had just added the ability for her to cut rockets [when Corey was playing MP and he was watching]. She cut the rocket in half... Corey just turns and looks at me and is like: ‘Really dude? I just shot a rocket at this Phantom and she’s fine? Not even damaged? Zero damage?’”

This friendly rivalry helped elevate ME3′s gameplay. Corey had a knack for making a gun feel so good to fire it had his fellow designers scrambling to keep up. It was his version of balancing. Before Corey sadly passed away he mentored Boldwin Li in all things weapon design and the arms race continued

Corey designed the Arc Pistol. It was causing problems for enemies because it was too powerful. It seemed hell bent on staying that way, Boldwin would tune down all its stats and it was still doing 3x the damage it should have been doing. “I was like ‘What the hell?’, and then I looked closer. It secretly fired 3 bullets for every pull of the trigger! Corey, you sneaky jerk”

The day it launched there were midnight launch parties across North America including one near the BW building. Numerous devs sat at long tables greeting fans and signing autographs as the fans picked up preorders. When midnight struck the line was long enough that it took several hours for some fans to get their game. One particular fan is remembered: “It was 3am. Some guy drove up from Calgary with his friends. He was like one of the last people in line. I think he was sort of tired-drunk. He threw himself across the tables, pulled up his shirt and shouted ‘Guys, sign my abs!’ And like I did, because he waited so long. It felt impolite not to. So I hope he enjoyed his copy of ME3″

For designing Protheans concept artists had free reign to design something that read as ancient

Before the concept art team had the story of the game to work toward, they explored wild ideas of their own including an image of the crew stealing back the Normandy to go after the Reapers

Jen Cheverie was testing scenes and was initially excited to be testing Mordin scenes, til she saw she was testing the Renegade version of his death. “This is even before like all of the audio and everything was in, so you didn’t even have the sad music. I remember sitting at my desk and my hands just went to my face when I saw that the gun Shep pulls on Mordin is the gun he gives Shep in ME2. I burst into tears and was crying for the rest of the day. People are waving to me as they walk by and I’m like, ‘It’s ok, I’m just killing my best friend’”

There’s a segment called “Shepard’s story ends”. Casey on the ending: “There’s a whole bunch of things that come together to make it incredibly tense and emotional for players. I think the biggest one was the sense of finality, that whatever it was that happened in that very last moment... was it.”

Wrapping up the story was a massive feat. In a way all of ME3 is an ending. Its final moments were the players’ last with a char they’d been with all the way from Eden Prime

“And while the critical reception of the game was extremely positive, many fans were unsatisfied with the ending, which became one of the most controversial in the history of games.” CH: “We were, on one hand, at the end of a marathon trying to finish the game and the series. But as devs we also knew that there would be more. We knew that we would continue to tell the story. In retrospect, we didn’t fully appreciate the tremendous sense of finality that it would have for people”. He envisioned an ending that posed new questions, something in the tradition of high sci-fi that left players dreaming about what that particular galaxy’s future could hold. “Frankly, there’s a lot more that we could have and should have done to honor the work players put in, to give them a stronger sense of reward and closure”

AAA games are massive undertakings with a million moving parts. Somehow they come together but even the best-planned projects don’t turn out quite like devs hope. From start to end video game production is a series of compromises. It’s rare if not impossible for devs to ship a game they’re entirely happy with. “I think that people imagine that when you finish a game, it’s exactly the way you wanted it to be. But whether people end up loving or hating the final result, we work hard to finish it the best we can, knowing that there’s a lot we would have wanted to do better. I think that’s true of any creative work”

As the dust settled after the initial reaction to the ending and later its epilogue, meant to show the wide-reaching ripple effects of Shep’s final choice, “players emerged mostly asking for one thing”. CH: “Now, most of what we hear, after both ME3 and MEA, is ‘Hey, just go make more Mass Effect’. And that to me is the most important thing. Knowing that players want to return to the ME universe is what inspires us to press on and imagine what comes next”

Mass Effect: Andromeda

By creating a new ME in a new galaxy the team was challenged to put their own visual stamp on the game while keeping it true to the franchise

Being the first ME game on a new gen of consoles meant for more detail

“Massive transport ships called arks populated with salarians, turians, humans, asari and quarians” made the risky jump to the Cluster

MEA was the first time BW had truly codeveloped across 3 studios: Edmonton, Montreal and Austin. The bulk of the work especially early on was done in Montreal, which was composed of a handful of Edmonton expats and heaps of experienced devs who joined from elsewhere specifically to bring a new ME experience to life. Series vets in Edmonton then came on to contribute writing, cinematics, design and QA, along with leadership from creative director Mac Walters and the core Production team. Austin writers and level designers also joined the fray

“It took a new team to take ME beyond the Milky Way”

Mac: “A lot of people in Montreal joined BW as fans of the franchise, so they just had this passion, and it felt like it was more like the days of Jade Empire, where a smaller younger team gets to do something for the first time. Even though it wasn’t necessarily a new IP for me, it felt fresh and new because of that. The team was just super excited to be working on it”

Early plans had the player exploring hundreds of worlds, procedurally generated, allowing for a nearly infinite variety of experiences. But as development wore on, it became clear that the game narrative required more specific, hand-touched level design on each world to keep the story focused and the experience engaging. “The plan was to give players numerous uncharted worlds to explore. Designers worked hard to come up with procedural elements that would make such planets special. Eventually the team made the difficult decision to abandon procedural planets in favor of more memorable hand-touched alien worlds, each with a specific story to tell”

One challenge was defining what ME meant without Shep. Care was given to include many of the MET’s key species. “Ryder recruited turian, asari, krogan and salarian followers”. Like Shep Ryder represents humanity’s hope for a peaceful coexistence among aliens who had long operated without human contact

Beginning with MEA the team decided that with few exceptions vehicles in ME have 6 wheels. Early Nomad concepts were bulkier. Later ones focused on its ability to move over its ability to protect itself from hostile fire, underlining the themes of exploration

German concept designer and auto-motive futurist Daniel Simon was contracted to create the Nomad and Tempest. The Tempest’s final design took inspo from the Concorde

Concepts for angaran fighter ships have the following notes: “Two doors swing open, wings rotate down to function as landing struts, the landing struts split open. It has a spinning turbine engine

Despite being set a galaxy away and some 600 years after Mordin’s death, there was a time when he had a cameo. It wasn’t cut due to running out of time however, it was cut due to drug references. John Dombrow explains: “One day I had to write a small quest for Kadara. I thought it’d be amusing if these 2 guys living way out on the fringes in a shack were growing plants for uh, medicinal purposes, and needed Ryder’s help with it. It occurred to me, wouldn’t it be amusing if Ryder had the option of actually trying ‘the medicine’ to see what would happen? And I thought, what if it turned into some hallucination that somehow involved SAM - like maybe SAM would sing? But why? How could I motivate that? Then it hit me. Who else in the ME game sings unexpectedly? MORDIN. As a nod to him I wrote SAM singing Modern Major-General. It got even better when our cine designer John Ebenger wanted to take it even further. Bless him, he came in on a Saturday to do a special hallucination showing Mordin himself. It was great. Til the fateful day we were told MEA had already been submitted to the ratings board. That’s when you declare things like drug references in your game. Mordin fell under that category which meant it was a no-go. We were too late”

Ryder’s white AI armor contrasts Shep’s iconic dark armor (intentional design)

Concept art for Ryder involved experiments with cloth (cloaks, ponchos, capes - “Pull here to release cloak”) and asymmetrical design elements

For alien design, there’s a few exceptions but humanoid figures are the ME standard and this persisted into MEA

Kett and angara concepts explored striking lines and textures

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

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tribbetherium · 4 years ago

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The Middle Glaciocene: 115 million years post-establishment

Ascent of Ham: The Dawning Of Sapience

It is 115 million years since the coming of life on HP-02017.

Countless generations of hamsters of all shapes and sizes have since come and gone. The world has changed a lot since the beginning, and new forms have risen to conquer new land and fallen when they could not adapt to changing environments, especially the unpredictable fluctuations of warm and cold climes now as the Glaciocene approaches its end. And here, on the plains of the Arcuterran savannah, one such creature has emerged unlike anything before seen.

It is early morning on the temperate grassland. Beta, hanging high in the sky since last evening, is now joined by the rising of Alpha, with the ruddy glow of Beta-twilight soon giving way to a brilliant orange light. The creatures of the daytime begin to stir, and emerge from their shelters to feed in the sunrise: a sunrise that to some, with nature red in tooth and claw, will be the last one they ever see.

Among these early risers are a large plains ungulope and her young calf: at barely a month old, the youngster is still dependent on its mother. She in turn is quite protective of her infant: as she heads out into the tall grass of the plains to graze, she lets out a few high-pitched whistles to ensure her young stays close by, which the calf responds to with a series of chirps to assure her of its proximity.

But she hears a sound of breaking twigs, the crackle of footsteps, and most tellingly, the smell of fire and smoke, one ignited without lightning, and freezes in high alert. At once she knows right away they are being stalked.

Suddenly the cracking noises are from all directions as plumes of smoke begin rising one after the other from the tall grass: at once both mother and calf panic and begin to flee. The mother ungulope gallops away from the source of the sound, and away from the fire that most living things inherently fear, making a rapid set of chirps to guide her young to her. But the noises disorient it: they are coming from different sources-- multiple assailants having them surrounded-- and it is not long until the calf becomes separated from its mother. Frightened and lost, it bolts from the unseen assailants hidden in the tall grass, as fast as its little hooves can carry it, and away from the flames that have begun to scorch the dry grasses behind it: only to blunder straight into a trap.

A pointed branch, gnawed perfectly into a lethal tip, pierces the ungulope calf's flank, causing it to squeal desperately in pain and terror. Its mother hears its distress, and rushes to its defense-- but another such branch strikes her painfully in the shoulder. And as another one hits her in the flank, she has no choice but to flee: abandoning her wounded calf, who cries vainly out into the distance as it watches its parent bound out of sight, away into the smoldering grasses of the flames that by now have spread. Its desperate cries soon draw the attention of the assailants, who turn to it with eager eyes, and before the wounded calf could muster the last of its strength to struggle to its feet, the hunters fling themselves from the cover of the grass onto their victim, and begin to devour it alive.

A chorus of screams of agony break the morning silence as the ungulope calf struggles uselessly against the pointed claws and tearing teeth slowly stripping it of hide and flesh: and not only by weapons granted by nature's design, but by sharp wooden spears, their ends splintered points that jabbed cruelly into the ungulope calf to further its suffering. Wooden spears that were purposefully crafted with great care and precision, to serve but a single specific purpose-- to be an instrument of dealing death. And some of these sticks smolder with flame, the source of the sudden bushfire, as the attackers have managed to capture and command this primordial force, some of them now using the fire to further taunt the calf, searing its flayed flank to draw more agonized cries, a display met with wild whoops and squeaks from the bloodthirsty audience.

And with each painful squeal the assailants grow ever more excited, hopping up and down and shaking their spears as they joined in the melody of death with ever-more eager shrieks and whistles. The sound of their prey's pain meant food. The suffering of their victim meant life for them. And it was something that brought them twisted joy. For this was no mere, ordinary predator that had claimed this young ungulope, but a species that for the first time was capable of understanding its actions, and even purposefully reveling in them. A species with intention, and the capacity to operate beyond natural limits. A species aware of itself and its world, complex enough to think beyond the scope of a typical animal. A species capable of genuine malice.

A species that, arising 115 million years from an unassuming lineage, was HP-02017's first sapient: the harmster.

Descending from the riplets of five million years prior, the origin of the harmsters goes back to the giant, plodding herbivores known as drundles, which, on the continent of Mesoterra, became small, cursorial bipeds called podotheres. Omnivorous in nature, some of these podotheres increasingly became more carnivorous, with the lineage of the loupgaroos becoming full-fledged predators that hunted living prey. Of these, one genus known as the ripperoos would become vicious, intelligent apex predators on Mesoterra as to eventually displace their smaller descendants, the riplets, to leave the continent via a land bridge. Over time the riplets would develop increased cooperative skills and discover the use of fire, setting the stage for their ascent into the modern harmster.

As evolution is a gradual process slowly accumulating changes over eons, it is impossible to say exactly when the harmsters attained sapience: but undoubtedly by five million years earlier the riplets' discovery of fire had been a catalyst for even faster changes that set a cascade leading to bigger brains and more complex behaviors, ultimately producing a species that crossed the threshhold of self-awareness.

This species would be the common ancestor of four extant harmster species: violent and warmongering as they are, new subspecies arose here and there and were quickly snuffed out of existence by their kin-- at some point, as many as twelve harmster species existed at once, jousting over territory and resources, and their expertise at dealing death made no exception for their own kind, and soon whittled down the number of species to a fraction of those that didn't directly compete with one another: at least, for the time being.

Most abundant are the white-browed savanna harmsters (Atroxicricetosapiens bruteus), hunters of the plains that prefer the use of branches sharpened into spears as their main weapons, while in higher elevated lands of Arcuterra, smaller dwarf mountain harmsters (A. montenanus) make a living, notable among their kind in being less intraspecifically-hostile, and opting the use of tools made from rocks or bones due to the sparser trees of the highlands. In the temperate jungles live the matriarch harmsters (A. hamazoni), distinct by their pronunced sexual dimorphism with the females being larger and much more dominant than the males. And most advanced of them are the tundra harmsters (A. cryorex): not only do they rely on tools available in the environment, but actively craft more complex weaponry such as spears tipped with points of stone or teeth, and it is this species among the four that has begun a more-developed level of cultural growth: and a primitive, militaristic form of government headed by the strongest and fiercest.

Pressured by evolution toward fecundity, ferocity and intelligence, the end result was a species that seemed to be the worst sapience had to offer: a species that appears to combine the most dreadful aspects of some of Earth's cleverest species-- the sadism to their prey exhibited by orcas, the brutal tribalism and amoral warfare displayed by chimpanzees, and most frighteningly the advanced tool use and arrogance disturbingly similar to the very species that had seeded life onto this world untold eons ago-- humans. With all this wrapped up in their hamster-like tendency to breed in great numbers and kill and eat their own kind, the arrival of the harmsters would herald a turning point in this planet's timeline: one that would make this world quite less of a paradise.

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#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

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heliads · 4 years ago

Text

Twinning

Peter Maximoff has just met the most amazing girl on the planet- a mutant with the ability to mimic other people’s faces and powers. However, when a fight ends with Y/N losing her abilities, Peter will have to go after her and convince her to stay.

masterlist

The X-Men have only been here for about ten minutes before Peter Maximoff realizes that things aren’t exactly going to plan. They were dragged out to the middle of nowhere because Professor Xavier was convinced that there was some bedraggled group of mutants that needed saving. He was right, of course, but apparently he didn’t see into enough minds to discover the ambush waiting for them.

Now Peter and his friends are fighting against a large group of soldiers, far larger than they’d anticipated. He dodges a bullet again and again before eventually giving up, speeding over to Jean in the blink of an eye. She startles for a moment when he appears out of nowhere. Peter gives her about half a second to recover from the surprise before yelling something to her over the din of the fight. “Are we supposed to be losing?”

Jean shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember a crushing defeat being listed in the key points of the mission.” Suddenly, an eager grin slips across her face, and she shouts something over to Xavier. “Professor, the situation is dire enough. We have to bring her out.” Xavier sighs. “Are you sure about this?” Jean nods, smiling wickedly. “If we wait any longer, she’ll take a visit herself. Tell the Twin that it’s time to play.”

Peter frowns at Jean. “Who’s the Twin?” Jean casts him a beaming look. “One of the best people you’ll ever meet. Here she comes now.” Peter glances around the battlefield, trying to find whoever Jean is talking about, and then he sees her. There’s a figure making her way across the clearing, darting through soldiers as if they’re nothing more than stalks of grass. Anyone else would have been terrified to find themselves in the middle of a large cluster of enemy fighters, but instead she looks positively delighted.

Just as the Twin reaches Jean and Peter, the soldiers start to rain heavy fire upon the building where the other mutants are being held, the ones the X-Men were sent to rescue. The new girl turns to Jean, a sudden intensity burning behind her eyes. “Give me your hand.” Jean doesn’t hesitate for a second, thrusting out her palm. The Twin flings her own hand onto Jean’s, concentrating hard as if attempting a feat of intense difficulty. For a moment, nothing happens.

Then the girl’s eyes open wide, and Peter stares. They’re glowing with a strange energy, an energy that looks almost like Jean’s. As Peter watches, the energy spreads across her entire body, crackling over her veins. The Twin hovers in the air as she seemingly absorbs the energy, then comes crashing back down to the ground again. Peter reaches out an arm as if to catch her, but the girl has already straightened up once more.

She extends an arm to the sky and a torrent of magical power crashes out of her palm, racing across the battlefield to slam into the enemy guns and take them down. Beside her, Jean continues to use her powers, which look identical to the sudden abilities from the Twin. This girl hasn’t taken Jean’s powers, she just suddenly has the skill to have the exact same abilities.

Peter chuckles softly. “I think I get why they call you the Twin.” The girl turns to Peter, flashing him a grin almost as bright as the magical energy still pouring from her hands. “Nice to meet you too. I’m Y/N.” The enemy soldiers are scrambling back, desperate for a brief respite to fix their crumbling weaponry, and so Peter, Y/N, and Jean are granted a lull in the fighting.

Peter nods. “I’m Peter.” Y/N’s eyes flash. “So I’ve heard. You’re the fast one, aren’t you?” Peter allows himself a cocky grin. “I like the sound of that.” Jean groans next to him. “You two are bad enough by yourselves, don’t make me listen to you two banter. I’m going to give up and just ask the soldiers to shoot me.” Y/N pretends to pout. “And here I thought we were friends. So mean.”

Jean rolls her eyes, but considers Y/N for a second longer. “Is that a new face?” Y/N nods. “Got bored of the hair and changed the face shape. I’m taller now, too. By the way.” Peter frowns. “A new face?” Y/N fires a warning shot at the soldiers brave enough to attempt a second wave, then turns to face him once more. “The Twin thing doesn’t just extend to my powers. I can also change my appearance at will.”

Peter is fascinated. “Just like that?” “Just like that.” Y/N says, screwing up her face in concentration once more. Before Peter’s eyes, her hair seems to leach of its color, turning silver like a river running bright with rainwater. Peter’s eyes widen. “That’s so cool.” Y/N grins, allowing her hair to turn back to another color. “I know, right?” Peter considers this. “It is cool, but it was better when it was silver.” Peter stays just long enough to see an exasperated look start to form in Jean’s eyes and a slight blush on Y/N’s face before he turns, rejoining the fight faster than anyone else can see.

The battle is over soon after that. Now that Y/N’s taken the stage and there are basically two Jeans along with Peter and the rest of the X-Men, a motley group of soldiers with guns can’t stand a chance. Xavier directs them to stay a little longer, making sure the soldiers won’t try anything else before helping the refugee mutants onto the plane and settling into seats themselves. Peter slides into a seat next to Y/N. If he’s going to be stuck on the plane for the next hour or so, he intends to get to know her.

Y/N looks up with a smile. “If it isn’t my second favorite speedster. How are you?” Peter pretends to look affronted. “Am I not your favorite? Who else is there?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, challenging. “I’ll show you if you give me your hand.” Peter holds out his hand, palm facing upwards. Y/N takes it, snapping her eyes shut as she channels his power. There’s a slight pricking sensation, almost like a needle, and then the same rivers of energy seem to flow over Y/N’s body. This time, however, they don’t glow like Jean’s powers. Instead, they’re a bluish silver, like Peter’s abilities.

When Y/N opens her eyes, Peter notices that they’ve changed color again. This time, they’re a warm hazel, the same shade that Peter sees in the mirror every morning. In fact, in the split second it’s taken Peter to realize that she’s imitating his eyes, the rest of her face has changed. It’s like staring at a reflection of himself- every detail, down to the stitching on his jacket, is replicated perfectly on Y/N.

Peter lets out an incredulous laugh. “You know, I’ve heard they say that imitation is the best form of flattery, so I’m going to take this to mean that you think I’m very, very cool.” Y/N rolls her eyes, letting Peter’s face wash away from her again like the swipe of a cloth. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Peter grins. “Why not? You said that this is your favorite speedster, right? That’s technically just me, so all I’m hearing is that you think I’m the best.”

Y/N laughs. “You’re unbelievable, Peter Maximoff.” Peter leans back against the wall of the plane. “Maybe so. What are you going to do about that, Twin?” Y/N thinks about this. “I’m going to go hang out with someone I can stand.” She winks at him, then disappears in a flash. It’s strange seeing his own powers used on someone else, although to be honest, Peter’s not sure that he minds it on her.

Peter must have been staring for a little too long, because Jean takes a seat in the place where Y/N just stood. She raises an eyebrow at him, and Peter has a sudden sensation that he’s a fish about to get eaten by a shark who can sense weakness. “I didn’t think you’d take to Y/N that quickly.” Peter feigns indifference. “It’s a little odd seeing your own face on someone else.” Jean shrugs. “At least she asked you first. She’s never done that with any of the rest of us. We just walk in a room and find out that she’s there because you’re suddenly looking at yourself. It’s nice of her to make a change for you.”

Jean’s looking at him like there’s a second meaning to all that, but Peter is unwilling to look too deeply into it. He just spreads his hands, hoping to come up with some witty retort that will stop Jean from peering at him like she can read his mind. Which she can, he supposes, but that’s not the point. “It’s not your fault, Jean. I’m very endearing to everyone I meet.” Jean scoffs at this, but Peter can sense her backing off on the topic. To be honest, Peter is perfectly fine with that. If he spends any more time thinking about the mutant down the hall named Y/N, he’s fairly sure that Jean might be able to discern some fairly compromising information from his head.

Peter’s known Y/N for about a month when the next attack hits. This time it’s different- the soldiers are back with a vengeance, but they’ve managed to enlist a mutant to turn against Xavier and the rest of the mutants at the school. Peter lines up with the rest of the X-Men to take a stand and defeat the soldiers once and for all. He’s pleasantly surprised to notice Y/N coming to a stop next to him. She’s wearing a different face, one with darker eyes and shorter hair. “What, they’re letting you join the melee early this time?” She grins at him. “Too many risks otherwise. They don’t like the idea of soldiers finding out about me lest they try something like the Sentinel program, but the stakes are high enough that I’m sprung early.”

Peter smiles, casually straightening the collar of her jacket. “Try not to kill anyone unnecessarily. They might send you back.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s always a problem with me.” Peter’s about to laugh and come up with some joking retort, but the rattle of gunfire begins to echo across the field they’re standing in and he turns back to the battle with a sigh. Conversations are over, it’s time to defend the school. Hopefully they can get this wrapped up quickly so he can talk to Y/N again.

Unfortunately, Peter doesn’t see Y/N for the majority of the battle. Xavier sends her over to deal with the rogue mutant, thinking that it would be best if one of his strongest fighters battled what is clearly the crown jewel in the soldiers’ attack plan. He’s not wrong, of course, but Peter wouldn’t mind being able to fight side by side with the Twin. He would most certainly show off, and the only people who can be impressed by that now is Scott. How disappointing.

True to his hopes, the battle ends somewhat quickly. It’s longer than the last one, as they can’t count on Y/N for a Hail Mary to knock out all the soldiers’ guns in one fell swoop while she’s dealing with the enemy mutant, but it’s good enough. Judging by the lack of destruction in the school and the tightly bound, unconscious mutant leaving the premises, Peter assumes that Y/N was able to deal with him easily.

However, when Peter tries to find Y/N and congratulate her on the defeat of the enemy mutant, he can’t find her anywhere. She’s not wandering the battlefield like the rest of them, she’s not in the medical wing, she’s not in any of the rooms. In fact, even hours later, Peter can’t find her at all. Eventually, Peter can’t stand the suspense and he finds Jean, not even bothering to walk at a normal speed in his haste to find Y/N.

Peter skids to a stop in front of Jean. “Have you seen Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere, which is really strange. Do you know where she is?” Belatedly, Peter realizes that she’s not alone but talking to Xavier. Peter moves to step away and let them finish their conversation, but the Professor turns to Peter with a concerned look. “Don’t leave just yet, Peter. You’re right to worry- we can’t find her either. She isn’t on the school grounds.”

Peter stares. “She left the grounds? Is she alright?” Xavier lifts a shoulder. “She is relatively unharmed, yes. No grave danger to her life.” Peter does not feel remotely reassured by this. “But something happened, right? She wouldn’t just leave for no reason.” The Professor shakes his head. “Just before she subdued the rogue mutant, he hit her with a blast of energy. I didn’t know his powers, or I wouldn’t have sent her to deal with him, but- Well, it removed her powers. We think it’s just temporary, but she panicked and fled.”

Peter feels like the roof has come crashing down over his head. “What do you mean, it removed her powers? Is she alright?” Xavier sighs. “I only got a brief glimpse into her head before she left. She was worried, thinking that she was hurt and that’s why she couldn’t use her powers, but she fled the school because she thought we wouldn’t want her there anymore if she wasn’t a mutant.” Peter feels sick. “But that’s not true. Of course we want her!”

The Professor’s voice is chiding. “Yes, we still we want her. The only problem is that Y/N was in a state of intense panic and didn’t believe it herself. We would go after her, but the energy blast removed her powers and made her revert to her original face. No one actually knows what she looks like because she’s been changing her appearance almost every day. We can’t find her because we don’t know who she is anymore.”

Peter stares. “That’s it? You’re not going after her because you can’t remember what she looks like?” Xavier starts to say something, but Peter just shakes his head, something like disgust building up in his throat. “I’m going to go find her.” Jean reaches out an arm, blocking his path. “You don’t know where she is.” Peter looks at her. “Then tell me where you think she is, and I’ll go. I’m not leaving her.” The Professor sighs. “The last time we were able to track her was a brief appearance in the surrounding town. She couldn’t have gotten far, it hasn’t been that long.” Peter nods. “I’ll bring her back. I promise.” Xavier sighs again, although this time something almost like hope is written across his brow. “I know you will.”

Peter dashes away, moving faster than anyone in the school could possibly see. He reaches the surrounding town in a matter of seconds, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of a street. Now that he’s actually left the school, Peter realizes how daunting this task could be. However, Peter has rarely considered the risks of things in his life, and he certainly isn’t about to start now. Not when Y/N’s out here, alone and feeling hopeless.

Peter ends up running again, checking up and down every street. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for- some sign of Y/N in every person he sees, he guesses. After fruitlessly combing every street, Peter stops again, letting himself pause in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare. Most people around him look at him in surprise, as if noticing he was there for the first time, but one doesn’t. One girl, one absolutely beautiful girl who looks hurriedly away as if pretending she didn’t see him at all. Bingo.

Peter jogs up to her, voice catching in his throat. “Y/N?” The girl turns away again. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Peter’s voice is softer now. “Yes, you do. You’re Y/N L/N, and you go to my school.” The girl glances over at him, one eyebrow raised, although she hurriedly looks the other way as if chiding herself for giving him even this brief speck of attention. “That’s a strange way to describe someone.”

Peter, with all the nerves of someone about to take a leap of faith, reaches down and wraps his hand around Y/N’s. She lets her shoulders soften, although when she speaks again her voice is anything but relaxed. “You shouldn’t have come looking for me. I’m useless now.” Peter shakes his head. “You could never be useless. Not now, not ever. You’re more than just your powers, you realize that?” Y/N looks at him, true pain radiating from her eyes. “You can’t say that. Xavier only needs me because I can imitate other people’s powers, and now that I can’t do that anymore he has no need for me.”

Peter grabs her other hand, forcing her to a stop. “And what about me? I need you.” Y/N lets her gaze remain on his. “How did you find me? You don’t know what I look like.” Peter shrugs. “I looked for the cutest girl in town, and I guessed correctly.” Y/N laughs, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. “You’re impossible.” Peter winks at her. “Impossibly charming. Now, are you going to come back with me to the school or do I have to follow you around some more?”

Y/N sighs. “But I don’t-” Peter holds up a hand. “If you’re going to say something about how you don’t have your powers and you shouldn’t return, you’re wrong. Everyone’s worried about you.” Y/N’s gaze seems to cut right through him. “Everyone?” Peter nods. “Everyone. Especially me. Besides, the Professor said that your powers will probably return, and this is just temporary. That being said, I’d want you there, powers or no. I’m here for you, Y/N, not the Twin. You’re way more than that.”

Y/N smiles at him at last. “I suppose so. Okay, I guess I’ll come back.” Peter beams at her. “Excellent. Can I speed up the return journey?” She nods. “Just don’t drop me.” Peter flashes her a grin. “I’d never dream of it.” Moving faster than anyone can see, Peter picks up Y/N in his arms, taking off in the direction of the school. If he presses a kiss to her forehead before he starts to run, well, he’s the only one who would know.

peter maximoff tag list: @awaywiththe, @amourtentiaa, @elaineygrace

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff imagines #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff oneshot #quicksilver #quicksilver imagines #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver oneshot #xmen #xmen imagines #xmen x reader #xmen oneshot #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #marvel oneshot

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fettsvette · 4 years ago

Text

When She Wakes Up

Fatherhood was never something Boba Fett had envisioned for himself, nor had he particularly wanted any part in it. That all changed when he met his daughter for the first time.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Sintas Vel Words: 2.2k Rating: General Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

ke barjurir gar’ade, jagyc’ade kot’la a dalyc’ade kotla’shya - ‘train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger’

ba’buir - grandfather

bu’ad - grandchild

buir - father

ad’ika - little one

kov’nyn - headbutt/forehead press

“I slipped on myself, no help from anyone else

I fell in love

And I was humbled

There she is

Isn't she everything?”

Frank Turner, “There She Is”

She was so kriffing small .

Boba didn’t think he’d ever seen another human being this tiny, this helpless.

Not that he’d been around very many babies in his lifetime.

There had been the infant clones on Kamino during his childhood, of course, but his father had never let him stray too close to the lab facilities. Not that he’d wanted to, anyway. The rows and rows of little bodies, floating suspended in translucent goo, as well as the hundreds upon thousands of children that shared his face, and the men who shared his father’s, had always scared him a bit.

Boba Fett didn’t consider himself to be someone who often felt fear. He could count the times on one hand, most of them occurring during his earliest years, instances of cautiously peering around his father’s leg at strange visitors or waking from imagined terrors in the night, wailing for Jango to come to his rescue from the other room.

But he’d never felt as scared as he did in this moment, right now, gazing down upon this little pink-hued creature wrapped in a blanket of nerf-wool, fast asleep and dreaming. His daughter .

He hadn’t even been this terrified when Sintas had first told him that she was with child, his child, nor when she’d begun to experience violent bouts of nausea every morning, nor when her belly had begun to tellingly swell beneath her clothing. Boba had felt strangely detached from the situation for the entire nine months of the pregnancy, and it was only in hindsight that he realized he had been afraid . He and Sin had only been married a year - barely knew each other, really - and they were both so young. So young. They were hardly more than children themselves. And now they were responsible for another life, this fragile creature curled in a plastene bassinet, gently tinkling mobile of miniature stars and planets hanging overhead.

Sin had said that the name ‘Ailyn’ meant ‘graceful.’ She couldn’t remember in what language, but she’d seen it in a mothering book somewhere, some sickeningly sweet maternal tome she had browsed through in a secondhand shop in town. The child - a little girl, they’d discovered - would take her surname, ‘Vel.’ Boba hadn’t protested when Sintas had made the announcement - yes, that’s what it had been, she hadn’t even asked his opinion - nor had he questioned the decision. It would be safer for the baby, Sin had elaborated, and Boba had agreed. Yes, the baby’s safety. Our baby. Although his wife was just as involved in the bounty hunting trade as he was, Boba had already made quite the name for himself, at only sixteen. He had enemies, heartless barves who wouldn’t hesitate to harm an innocent infant solely to exact their revenge. One of the reasons he’d settled down on Concord Dawn in the first place was to escape that unforgiving life, and bestowing the decidedly infamous name of ‘Fett’ upon a defenseless babe was no way to honor that choice.

So ‘Ailyn Vel’ came to be.

Boba hadn’t been there for the birth. He’d been on duty with his fellow Journeymen, out in the middle of nowhere keeping watch over one of the many agricultural sectors that had fallen victim to pirates as of late. His comlink had crackled to life as he and the squadron under his command had been patrolling the bush, the superior officer on the dispensing end ordering him to get back to base at once; his wife had gone into labor, and it wouldn’t be long now before he became a father. A father . His comrades had congratulated him, pounded him on the back and wished him well.

‘Ke barjurir gar’ade, jagyc’ade kot’la a dalyc’ade kotla’shya!’ one of his fellows had shouted at him as he roared past on the speeder bike that would take him back into the city. ‘Train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger!’

Boba wondered if he was strong enough to raise a daughter, let alone train one.

By the time Boba had arrived at the medcenter, Sin had already given birth. He’d missed it by several hours. The child was healthy, robust, had been squalling like a Kowakian monkey-lizard and waving her tiny fists in the air, seeming almost enraged at having been unceremoniously evicted from her dark, warm home - or so the attending medical droid had claimed. The machine had greeted him in the hall outside of the center’s maternity ward, already aware that he was the husband, the father; whether it was due to information that had been provided upon Sin’s admittance, or because of his noticeably frazzled state when he’d arrived - drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, helmet tucked precariously under his arm - he couldn’t be sure.

Sintas hadn’t stopped bleeding afterwards, the droid had told him, and several medics had to intervene. Sensing Boba’s rising panic, his urge to smash its hydraulics against the wall and force his way into the birthing room beyond, the droid had clarified that she was fine now, recuperating comfortably, but that it was unwise for her to receive visitors at the moment. Yes, that included the husband, but he would be allowed to go in soon. The newborn girl, however, had been whisked away to the medcenter’s nursery to be poked and prodded by the maternity droids, to be bathed and swaddled and left to rest until it was time to be brought back to her mother.

And there Boba found himself, standing in the otherwise empty nursery, gazing at this prone form tucked away in a sterile cradle, sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware of the man peering down at her. Boba allowed himself to exhale a shaky breath. His daughter. Ailyn.

“Would you like to hold her, Master Fett?”

The metallic voice’s inquiring tone jerked him out of his dazed stupor. The droid stood at his side, searching his face with an uncanny mechanical imitation of human compassion. At first Boba stared, not quite understanding what the droid meant, until it stooped and lifted the baby from her cot, holding the swathed infant out to him.

Boba had never held a baby before, and had no idea how to proceed. The droid had anticipated this and shuffled forward, holding the newborn in the crook of one durasteel arm, guiding Boba’s hands - his rough Journeyman’s gloves having been stuffed haphazardly into a pouch in his flight suit - into the proper positioning with its other.

“Support the head; the muscles in the neck are underdeveloped at this early stage of life. Keep one arm under the body, and the back must be kept straight - raise the infant level to your chest, like so. I shall leave you with her momentarily while I confer with our staff on the mother’s condition. Please wait here.”

And suddenly, Boba was alone in the room, his daughter in his arms. Ailyn snuffled at the sudden change of positioning, the sensation of soft human touch versus the cold alloy of the nurse droid. Boba gave a start, expecting her to start shrieking, but she simply let out a soft coo and turned her head to the side, closer to her father, drawn to the warmth radiating from his body. The newborn was small yet compact, a tuft of downy black hair already present atop her head, long lashes framing eyes still tightly squeezed shut, pouty lips pursed, dreaming milk dreams.

Boba stroked the side of a finger along the infant’s rosy cheek, downwards from her closed eyes to the soft bow of her mouth. Soon the little face would be marked on each side by distinct tattoos, three dark stripes arching across her skin, the qukuuf of the Kiffar - her mother’s people. Ailyn already bore the shape of Sin’s face, the high cheekbones and sharp chin. Her nose, however, was a perfect copy of his own - the bridge flattened, and slightly upturned at its tip. Boba found himself musing if this child would also inherit his Concordian accent, the same one he’d acquired from his father. A fierce ache lit a fire in his chest at that thought, and he wished Jango had not been so brutally cut down in his prime, that he could have met his son’s own little one, that he had lived to see himself become a ba’buir, with a bu’ad to fawn over and spoil endlessly . He briefly wondered if this very moment had possibly been mirrored sixteen years prior, between his father and newborn self. Had Jango Fett been nervous before being presented with his baby son, needed help learning to cradle him, worried that he wouldn’t be a good father? Boba found the idea strangely comforting. Shifting his hold on the baby gingerly, Boba hesitantly reached one digit out to poke at a little fist that had freed itself from its swaddlings. He couldn’t believe how tiny the fingers were, curled over as if in deep concentration - the little knuckles, the miniscule fingernails. It was while studying these details, perfect miniatures of his own hands, Boba heard a sniffling grunt, and flicked his view to the baby’s face.

Her eyes were open.

They were her mother’s eyes, Sin’s eyes, bright blue and already alert, and Ailyn was studying him intensely. Slowly, almost as if she was experimenting with the newfound use of her hands, she reached out and grasped Boba’s index finger, clutching with surprising strength for such a small creature, and she blinked up at him slowly.

Boba’s heart seemed to momentarily stop, and his vision instantly blurred over with hot tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, was beginning to think it was no longer within his capabilities. After a moment, he spoke, and he was surprised at the level of emotion in his voice.

“Hello, Ailyn… I’m your buir . I’m going to take care of you. I won’t ever let anything happen to you, I promise you that. I swear it on my life, ad’ika .”

Boba bent to press his lips to the crown of her head, taking in the sweet, clean smell that only newborns seemed to carry. Not wanting to relinquish this feeling just yet, he touched his forehead to hers in a gentle kov’nyn , choosing not to notice the tears that had soaked into the baby’s blanket as he closed his eyes in pure paternal indulgence.

“Master Fett?”

Boba turned at the call, Ailyn cradled in his arms, to regard the medical droid standing in the doorway. He didn’t know how long it had been there, silently observing him and his daughter, but he found that he didn’t really care. He hastily wiped at his eyes with the back of one hand before readjusting his hold on Ailyn, wordlessly regarding the machine.

“My apologies, Master Fett, but I’ve just been informed that Mistress Vel is awake and well enough to receive visitors. I can take you both to her now, if you wish.” The droid offered, extending its arm and bobbling its head subserviently.

Boba looked down at Ailyn - her eyes were shut again, his finger still enclosed within that tiny fist. He had only just met his daughter, but he already knew he would do anything she asked of him, gladly give up his life for her. Was this what fatherhood meant? Was this how his own buir had felt upon being presented with his son, so long ago in Tipoca City? Not taking his eyes off his newborn daughter, Boba nodded silently, and stepped forward to let the droid escort him down the hall, where Sin - his wife, the mother of his child - awaited them.

There was still much that Boba Fett didn’t know about Sintas Vel - their courtship and subsequent marriage had been a whirlwind, and stars … now they were parents - but he knew that she was beautiful, and a crack shot with a blaster, and that he trusted her at a time in his life where he thought he could only trust himself. And he knew that he loved her, and that he loved Ailyn, this incredible new life that they had created together.

Perhaps that was more than enough.

#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #sintas vel #ailyn vel

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