#man of mystery (helix)

[muses-of-the-memory]

Happy 7th Anniversary to ARMS

"Hello everyone! Biff here on ARMS Island with a special announcement!" Biff shouted on the intercom.

"Today is the 7 year Anniversary of ARMS, ARMS, ARMS! So our players here on ARMS Island will be happy to spend some time with their fans." Biff spoke.

It has been 7 years since ARMS came to the Nintendo Switch. So today, I'm making an open roleplay for some of your favorite ARMS characters; from Spring Man to Dr. Coyle.

I also roleplay as my fave females; Lola Pop, Twintelle, Min, Min and Ribbon Girl. So don't be afraid to pop on in.

Open for: @friendlyheartless, @hoshi-neko-hikari, @bluemajingirl, @the-silver-screen-queen, @thesuckerpuncher, @keywcilder

[bekaterrier]

A few other wonderful shows I wanted to shoutout for BIPOCtober, with BIPOC creators and/or leads:

A Ninth World Journal: Based on Numenera, a tabletop roleplaying game, and written, produced and performed by David S. Dear (plus guests). Set one billion years in the future… it’s the story of Januae, a man who randomly teleports to strange and dangerous places with no way of controlling it.

@meteorcitypod: In 2008, a freak meteor shower hit Detroit, killing hundreds and displacing thousands. Hundreds of people were quarantined for radiation exposure. 10 years later, Bianca Diaz, a vlogger returns to tell the stories of the dead, the missing, and the remaining citizens of Detroit, now called Meteor City. Shortly after returning, Bianca realizes that Meteor City, New Detroit, and the people left behind are not what they appear to be...

@witcheverpath: An interactive horror anthology podcast. Their current story is Message in a Bottle. A siren misses what was taken from her, but as she swims out to sea, she discovers a bottle that may change the course of her life.

@radio-outcast: A fantasy-western audio drama. When Helix, the Messenger God of Sound, gets yanked from the 1980s and sent to the 1880s by her abusive ex-lover, the God of Time, she must forge unlikely alliances with two humans: Jesse, a cowboy out for revenge, and Charles, a conman running from his past. The three of them embark on a journey across the American West, each with their own goals and secrets waiting to be revealed

@vegapodcast: A Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast!: In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch...until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet

@noadventurespod: A fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting the Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.

Harlem Queen: A Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, gangster "Numbers Queen" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance (the story takes place around 1926-32). She fought the "big boys" (Lucky Luciano and Dutch Schultz) and won.

@herebedragonspod: When the body of a previously unknown aquatic creature washes up on shore, four women are called together for the expedition of a lifetime. Tasked by the U.S. Government to find and record evidence of this new breed of sea monster, Harper Bennett, Pippa Cambell, Lt. Commander Adrienne Scarlett and Dr. Natalya Atlas set off into the untamed wilds of The Bermuda Triangle.

@unwellpodcast: A Midwestern Gothic Mystery. Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents.

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back: A not-so-romantic comedy about two star wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate.

[hidden-amongst-the-dark]

Uhh… that’s a very good question.. usually i’m just waiting around for a mission or trying to find something to fix. Maybe i’ll go bug evan or rae? If they’re around?

I don’t get much free time with this company anyways, none of us do

After a few hours a package came to the space ship door, it was addressed to Helix Morningstar.

“ Hi Helix!

I’m so glad you wanted a pirate hat, I thought I make it special for you by making a small beaded keychain to match your eye colour. As well as put a bird feather on, I also embroidered your name and a small knife onto the hat. Oh I also made a skeleton necklace with a small knife hanging for you.

One last thing, if Fuble does anything to the hat or necklace or at least tries anything stab em for me will ya?

( Also for the eye colour, I took a guess and thought green would fit nicely for the beaded keychain and feather. )

Yours truly, Sherwood the sleepy skyrate “

OMG!! this is so cool!!

You put so much detail into it!! And the keychain and feather are just epic!!!

AND THE KNIFE!!! I’m so wearing this!!

Also i’ll keep in mind on that request for my dad’s stabbing :)

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ the snake monster mad doctor. ﹚: jìngyí herrera 209 .𖹭 ݁

. . . he can write a bad romance !! 🍒 : “ darling, i have dealt with many hearts, but I've never come across one as pretty as yours. ”

꒰ verse ꒱ 209

꒰ species ꒱ snake monster, grim reaper

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ chinese

꒰ age ꒱ 46

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ estj

꒰ alias ꒱ the doctor, the surgeon, doctor herrera, the heartless, the black plague ( by enigma, the resistance ), snakie-boy, snake-bitch ( by haitāo )

꒰ story ꒱ 

sly grins and skilled yet devilish hands. hidden by kind eyes and serene smiles. how could a gaze like that watch with glee the suffering of experiments?

a mad doctor to match his mad scientist for a husband, experimenting and tormenting enigma and inhumans with the excuse of making a better world. jìngyí herrera designs medicines that no other verse has even seen. so what if it's at the cost of a few souls? it's for the greater good. 

so he'll indulge in his insanity. in his horrid morals and his lust for knowledge, for his twisted sense of justice. all if it means succeeding in all of his ambitions and staying at the side of his beloved.

 

꒰ appearance ꒱

oftentimes seen wearing his deceptively kind smile, fooling even the most skeptical of people when they catch a glimpse of the red painted lips stretched out on his face.

deep amber snake eyes are often hidden by a pair of maroon contacts, hiding away the truth like the rest of his general body language and confident posture.

long, silky black hair that falls past his shoulders, usually put into a half-ponytail or let loose.

is able to unhinge his jaw, putting on display, his forked elongated tongue, rows of sharp teeth and his two snake fangs protruding whenever he yawns

wears a wide range of jewellery, thin gold necklaces and chokers covering his neck and shoulders. while his ears are covered in a pair of standard lobe piercings, along with a helix — right ear covered in a conch and tragus piercing. rings covering his fair toned fingers.

stands at the towering height of 6’7 ft ( 201cm ), with a lean and well toned figure.

androgynous, sharp and soft facial features.

very fluid and elegant in the way he moves and overall looks.

primarily dons the red makeup styles.

extremely vintage styled aesthetic in fashion choice, loves wearing poet shirts and suits.

he has a frenum piercing ( peepee piercing )

 

꒰ personality ꒱

deceivingly kind and serene demeanor hiding the sadism and manipulative intentions and ulterior motives.

he is deceptive in every way and form, his sharp intelligence silencing those who speak against him or try to prevent him from succeeding his goals.

has a silver-tongue riddled with false kindness and care the fools that decide to affiliate themselves with him, bringing them into a sense of comfort and security that never was there to begin with — using their confidence as an advantage

on the inside, you see the sinister, sarcastic and malicious sociopath that is the true part of the so-called “goodhearted” poet.

charming and charismatic words and actions concealing the greedy and sadistic side of him.

prefers silence over loud talk, and maintains his anonymity and mystery due to this factor — getting him to talk is not a possibility, even if you tried by forcing it out of him.

can be sassy and give blunt replies to people he finds himself irritated with.

moodiness is a result of both his snake dna and his traumatic past — or because his husband is not around.

calculative and witty — has a great memory and uses it often to note down the speech patterns, movements and body-languages of the people around him.

his perceptiveness is the next in line to his intelligence, you cannot outlie the master liar and manipulator, he knows your tricks.

hard to anger and irritate, and will applaud you for your audacity and stupidity for trying so.

should this man find himself infatuated with someone, he will put his possessiveness and obsessiveness on display. showing you his yandere tendencies and greedy behaviour around them.

 

꒰ with a lover ꒱

a yandere lover

very sweet. very verbally and physically affectionate. you see the more humane side of him that others do not

he is exceptionally patient with you. always assuring you when you need and comforting you

he loves spoiling you. especially taking you out clothes shopping and letting you try out whatever it is that you may wish. loves seeing you flustered whenever he pulls you into a clothing shop. flustering you whenever he snatches your waist in front of a mirror

always worshipping your skin with kisses. he can barely keep his hands off of you

possessive, but hides it well with his poetic and loving words. he is most definitely a yandere type. willing to do whatever it takes to keep you at his side.

very verbal about how much he obsesses over you, as much as he is clear in his actions that he wants you for himself and no-one else. should anyone look or talk to you in a way he does not like? he will gouge their eyes out, or use them as his newest “patients”

loves teasing you and flirting with you until you have lost your breath from giggling or whining for him to shut up

a very passionate lover and has no problem in showing his passion for you neither. even when it’s in public

pda? what’s that? he’ll pull you into his lap even in a cafe. or kiss you in booths. have his hands on you. anything to show that you are his

if anyone lays a finger on you. . . they are dead.

 

꒰ strengths ꒱

increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

healing factor: an average healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than most

fangs and bite: has a set of snake fangs that can secrete two venoms: a paralytic, which he uses for sedation, and a fatal. he can switch between them. and especially powerful bite

talons & venomous touch: he has talons that secrete high levels of venom. this venom is extracted by thin wired implanted on his wrists that carry his venom to his nails, resulting in venom-induced touches should he use them on someone.

snake physiology: has the flexibility of a snake, therefore his body is able to move in the fluid motion that a serpent would. he is able to dislocate his joints with ease and twist his body in whichever way he prefers. his jaw can unhinge as well.

poison immunity: immune to poisons.

elastic jaw: the ability to unhinge his jaw to drastic measures

hyper climbing and clawing: able to slither up surfaces

seismic sense: able to feel vibrations in a seismic way whenever his limbs touch surfaces. he can feel these from quite awhile ago

enhanced lung capacity: able to hold his breath for longer

stealth: can move around swiftly and quietly

 

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

poison addiction: due to building up a poison resistance by intaking the substances, he is now immune to poison but in turn has grown addicted to the intake of them. he now does it for the fun of it and as a coping mechanism.

abandonment issues: if he is away from the people he loves. this can result in erratic episodes and even have a negative affect on his physical well-being

fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting.

apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

reapers: not much is known of this condition. . . come back later and perhaps you might find out?

apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

oranges: has a bad allergy to oranges.

daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.

d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it. he, especially is affected by this.

extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

 

꒰ relationships ꒱

rishen herrera: husband, business partner, best friend

yuè mèng yáo: mother, deceased

zhào mùchén: father, deceased

zhào hàoyú: younger brother, deceased

zhào haitāo: younger brother, enemy

zhào xīyáng: younger brother, deceased

wèi lìxuě: enemy

liú tàishī: enemy

alessio agresta arias: “rival”, deceased

lorenzo agresta arias: enemy

park tae-hyun: enemy

 

꒰ extra ꒱

he is a doctor and has a clinic on the second floor of valence. he specialises in most areas of anatomy and is a skilled doctor and surgeon.

he is also the co-chairman of valence

he is fluent in asl and csl

he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and spanish ( latin american )

has a cat named Beatrice Herrera Reina the 2nd queen of the abyssal dread

loves old-timey romance movies

as much as he is mature, he does love giving his assistants a good scare every now and then when he thinks they are being lazy. . . and by scare we don’t mean by lighthearted pranks.

likes collecting tea sets.

he sometimes smokes 

[vacantgodling]

#33: Helix Carmine

You were never right after you lost them. The days bled into weeks, into months, into years, perhaps, spent adrift in this hell. Your friends speak of fighting on, but you hardly have any fight left to give. It would be better if you were just a spector; better if you just rotted here. Perhaps when whatever life left clinging to you was gone, the two of you would be together in Cerullius. But still, you put one foot in front of the other; if only for the sake that you know they would not want you to die.

“helix” means particle of a spiral form. “carmine” means garden or crimson; sometimes both so let’s say crimson garden. 

37, nb (he/him), romance: yes, sex: yes, preference: feminine or other nb people

helix is deceptively smaller framed at 5’6”, but it only makes sense given his training was more for agility than muscle mass. his skin is soft and tan, and his eyes are rare but two different colors: green for one eye and yellow for the other. his hair is short and choppy but it frames his face, and is a sandy brown color. 

he was a RANGER in the AGoE before the accident, though in some senses he is still a ranger, though relatively bow-less. along with scouts, rangers are trained at pinella’s pass survivalist school, named for princess pinella of argos (aka the lady of the mists) who perished in a landbridge collapse in that very area after the day of fissures. it was here that helix met who would soon become friends and fellow guildmates: jihi, cameron, and miona. he works with a short bow and tends to shoot multiple arrows at a time, usually coated in posion or paralyzing agents to make it easier for his teammates to disable a foe. he’s only missed a shot once in his life, and that was the shot that cost him everything he held dear.

currently his whereabouts including his team members elodia, charissa, and altair is unknown. they are presumed dead, with jihi being the only “survivor” of their group… but there is more than meets the eye with this mystery that will be explored in plot.

helix is a quiet man, but not because he’s awkward or shy—like most rangers he is simply observant. however, he’s very cheerful (or was before the accident), and always goes out of his way to help others. he’s the romantic kind, but the soft kind of romantic where all of his “flirting” is acts of service, and all of this attention was directed at elodia, their romance only budding when everything occurred. he’s also generally amiable; is perfectly content with not being the center of attention.

3 fun facts about them: helix dabbled in being a bard when growing up and can actually play the lyre passably well; he still does occasionally when inspiration strikes him, or to cheer up someone in a bad mood. despite his short frame, he can actually jump from the ground to about six feet in the air without buildup, which allows him to reach most branches in trees quite quickly if he needs to get up and out of the way midbattle. despite how often he’s up in trees, he actually has a fear of heights, in the sense that his fear is being suspended or falling from a high place. its quite a juxtaposition, so he does his best not to fall out of trees.

[tagedeszorns]

An AU where Fabius is a Hollywood plastic surgeon.

Where this sudden change of heart came from and why - it's better not to ask when luck favours you so much. An interview with Hollywood's most sought-after, exclusive and undoubtedly most reclusive facesculptor! Well, at least initially with his spokesperson? Assistant? No explanation was given and there is nothing on the tasteful, very blank business card. Not even an email address. Or a telephone number. Anyone who has to ask for it hasn't understood how things work around here.

So now this lobby in a building far enough removed from the city to have an undisturbed hill overlooking the Pacific to itself (presumably at the price of the gross national product of a Central American country). A strangely brutalist-beautiful house that looks like a James Bond villain gave Aldo Rossi free rein.

Dr Bile has never before answered an interview request, let alone positively: why now, of all times, and from a magazine that is not exactly Lancet - it is inexplicable!

It is not particularly inviting yet. Two women who could not be more different and yet look equally unreal without flaunting the artificiality of too much plastic surgery stand with the noncommittal vigilance of born bodyguards at the doorway to the deeper interior of the building. One is downright bizarrely tall, her platinum blonde hair in an expensive cut that shows off her facial features, which are not one hundred percent even in just the right way, to their best advantage. She radiates a deadly elegance that makes it clear that even though she wears strangely blocky high heels that almost turn her feet into hooves (they must be shoes!), in a critical situation she would strike with the ruthlessness of a pouncing snake. Like her colleague, she wears a tailored dark suit in the price range called for by the tailors of the Vatican. No logo on the clothes. Of course there isn't. The winged double helix is only present as an isolated pattern in the dark carpet and on the wall. The other woman is clearly smaller, but more compact. Her muscular composure is punctuated by a couple of almost ceremonial-looking, tremendously precise scars that do not disfigure her face but rather indicate her businesslike nature. Something that her pixie cut and broad, sinewy hands emphasise.

"Ah, good afternoon! Welcome to the Consortium!" Perfectly articulated, flawless. Yet a very slight echo of the rounded consonants of Farsi or Pashtu.

The man stepping out of the doorway is not the doctor. Of course he isn't. But our journalist has done his homework. So this is him. His .. Press officer? Assistant? Marketing manager? It was impossible to figure out. But he is what stands between Dr Bile and the world.

His smile is practised and smooth, his olive-dark features regular. As he reaches out, the sleeve of the Desmond Merrion suit slides up just the right distance to expose the beginnings of the fine lines of a calligraphic tattoo. As if he actually deals with visitors every day, he ushers him to the passageway between the two women. A corridor with old copperplate engravings showing the most prominent buildings of various medical faculties. Tastefully dimmed spotlights create a withdrawn atmosphere. Further back, a few more doors can be seen and at the very end, a double door upholstered in leather. "My name is Saqqara Ur-Damak Thresh and today I am here to answer all your questions."

Of course, this is a lie. But perhaps it is possible to draw enough substance from his answers to get closer to the Doctor's mystery.

His office. Not the doctor's study, of course. And "office" is only a very marginal term. There is an empty desk and a very utilitarian seating area. And bookshelves on the walls. On all the walls. Filled with volumes of all sizes and ages, obviously not just placed for decorative purposes.

Not what you would expect. But actually, you can expect nothing and everything here.

The only wall not filled with literature is a floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the conifer-forested hills and driveway. Just before Mr Thresh makes an inviting hand gesture towards the couch, a black Maybach with tinted windows pulls up. Stops in front of the entrance. On the door a gold logo. An eye in a circle of arrows. Ah, of course the clientele here is also special.

On the low table between the two couches is a silver tea set. Mr Thresh pours, quite the good host. Everything here is at once completely ceremonial and absolutely authentic.

"I hope your journey was pleasant. Of course, as always, time is short. But rest assured - for the next hour, my attention is entirely yours!"

-------------------

Okay. So. I am absolutely obsessed with the premises of this AU! I haven't barely scratched the surface (I mean, Saqqara, Savona, Igori and a hint of Abaddon is nothing!) and it's already an entire page of text.

So - if anybody is interested, I will write more about this AU. There are a lot of people who have to make an appearance - especially of course the Doctor himself!

[inportant-spam-rsvp]

WELLHEYWHAT'SUPHELLO-

I do commissions. If you want to request a picture, use the askbox. If you want a particular picture done, message me ^^

Here's my nice, concise list of AUs currently being drawn and built and opened and whatnot!

Chilly Citadel: A world where Peppino is believed to be dead and the mysterious italian count Sabatino is the most feared man in the country.

Bone Tomatoes: Pizza Tower: The Musical

Don't Do War: An ask-open AU where Peppino's life is shown in 4 segments; the jock portion of his life at 16, the times he helped his ma's pizzeria as the deliveryboy at 19, the year before his draft at 23, and his "current" life before the tower at 31.

The Peppino Helix: A magic-ask-open, open-submission AU "daycare" for Fake Peppinos in a facility known as The Helix Stope; thousands of fakinos have been manufactured there, but there is still just one Peppino at the bottom.

Maow Maow Magisghetti: A massive mashup of several Pizza Tower AUs in a magical girl anime-satire where 5 Italians battle the devious Pizza Party against their will!

Duende Dorado (Argentine Noise): An AU exploring Noise's family and life from Argentina as he goes on to become a massive sensation in California.

Style Hour: My AU of a hairdresser "Theodore Noise" named Tito Bígaro vs the evil Mr. Ror.

Delivery Belfry: My other AU of a food truck "Mr. Stick" from Brazil named Reuben Tapas that crashes into an old haunted steeple.

I'll make more elaborate descriptions soon!! Just need to work on some AUs, and I'll release more info ^^

[nicklloydnow]

““The Moviegoer” isn’t really about movies, and yet the title remains unexpectedly apt, just as it was when the novel, published in 1961, became a surprise winner of the National Book Award and made a sudden Southern eminence of its author, Walker Percy, a nonpracticing physician and self-taught philosopher in early middle age. It’s apt because it moves the novel (and our expectations for the novel) out of the South. It intimates that this novel, set in New Orleans, the region’s most storied city, isn’t about history or legacy, isn’t about place at all: it’s about how we see things—a novel of perception and sensibility, dealing with the search for authenticity in a scripted, stylized, mediated world.

Percy’s contemporary Flannery O’Connor characterized the literature of the American South at midcentury as set against the typical. In O’Connor’s view, there was no typical Southern novel, and that was a good thing; for her, the best Southern novel was atypical just as life in the South (in her time, as she saw it) was atypical of American life as a whole. The Southern novel she celebrated takes unusual, extreme, even grotesque, behavior as its starting point. Such a novel is rooted, she explained, in “some experience which we are not accustomed to observe every day, or which the ordinary man may never experience in his ordinary life. . . . Yet the characters have an inner coherence, if not always a coherence to their social framework. Their fictional qualities lean away from typical social patterns, toward mystery and the unexpected.”

“As I Lay Dying,” and “Wise Blood,” and later “A Confederacy of Dunces” and “The Color Purple” and “Fishboy”: these novels are fiercely atypical. But the originality of “The Moviegoer” is more paradoxical than theirs. Unlike the novels of the South that have something of the heightened quality that came to be called gothic, “The Moviegoer” becomes atypical through its scrutiny of the typical. It takes ordinary experience—“everydayness,” Binx calls it—and makes it the subject of fitful philosophical inquiry. It promises a typical moviegoer but delivers the inimitable Binx. It calls literary categories to mind by leaning away from them.

(…)

It’s a Catholic novel (the main action takes place in the days before Ash Wednesday), and yet one whose protagonist considers himself not much of a Catholic at all, but a skeptic whose “unbelief was invincible from the beginning”—who tells us, “I have only to hear the word God and a curtain comes down in my head.”

It’s a distinctly American novel, but one that stands apart from the main line from Hawthorne to Twain to James and Wharton and then to Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and Cather—the double helix of innocents at home and innocents abroad. Its key antecedents are the European existentialists Kierkegaard, Sartre, and Camus—the latter two of whom were also important for Ralph Ellison, who drew inspiration from them a decade before Percy, in writing “Invisible Man.”

It’s a novel of the search—“the pilgrim’s search outside himself, rather than the guru’s search within,” Percy liked to say—but without the usual signposting. There’s no journey to a strange culture, no savvy guide, no sloughing off of one self and the taking on of another; no raft and river, no feasting or fasting, no new world at the end of the journey. There’s just the “everydayness” of Binx’s life in New Orleans and the slight diversion of an overnight train ride.

It’s a coming-of-age novel, but one whose protagonist is nearly twice the age of Huck Finn and Holden Caulfield. Binx is about to turn thirty, an age by which American men of midcentury were expected to have settled into their adult lives. He is a college graduate, a veteran, a stocks-and-bonds broker—and yet his self is “left over,” as Percy put it in an essay. Nearing thirty, Binx is gripped by “the possibility of the search” as if for the first time. The novel was a surprise even to its author. As he wrote it, Percy, like Binx, was forced out of himself and compelled to court, as O’Connor wrote, “mystery and the unexpected” as never before.

(…)

Published in 1961, lightly publicized, little noticed, “The Moviegoer” found its way to A. J. Liebling, The New Yorker writer, who had written a biography of the Louisiana governor Earl Long and was steeped in the culture and flavor of New Orleans. Liebling shared the novel with his wife, the novelist Jean Stafford, who was a judge for the National Book Awards that year, and the novel, not formally nominated, was put up for consideration. It was a strong year for American fiction: J. D. Salinger’s “Franny and Zooey,” Joseph Heller’s “Catch-22,” William Maxwell’s “The Château,” and Isaac Bashevis Singer’s “The Spinoza of Market Street” were all nominated. The award went to “The Moviegoer.” Percy, accepting the prize in New York, framed the novel in terms he had explored in his essays (and which he would develop for the rest of his career): the sickness of modern Western society, the loss of the sense of the self, the role of the writer as diagnostician. Concluding, he made his most vital point indirectly: “In short, the book attempts a modest restatement of the Judeo-Christian notion that man is more than an organism in an environment, more than an integrated personality, more even than a mature and creative individual, as the phrase goes. He is a wayfarer and a pilgrim.”

Percy was a late starter as a novelist, and Binx Bolling is late coming of age, but Percy’s novel of Binx’s coming of age was ahead of its time. With its slack and offhand protagonist, its present-tense narration, its effortless mix of informal speech, images from popular culture, and frank ruminations on the meaning of life, “The Moviegoer” is, in my estimation, the first work of what we call contemporary American fiction, the earliest novel to render a set of circumstances and an outlook that still feel recognizably ours.

Faulkner once characterized his approach to writing as “oratory out of solitude.” Of this approach Percy made a new thing altogether. The solitude of “The Moviegoer” isn’t the solitude of a rebel or an independent, but that of a person who is alone in a crowd—in a movie theatre or on a sidewalk in the French Quarter. The oratory in the book isn’t that of the Bible or of Stoic philosophy or of a Russian novel but of a voice-over—the present-tense monologue of the person who does not tell a story so much as self-consciously offer a running commentary on life as it passes before his eyes.

(…)

And yet for all that, “The Moviegoer” seems to describe the way we live now, for its affectless protagonist observes a society whose every aspect seems mediated, contrived, statistically anticipated, manipulated in advance, so that direct experience of life can seem as elusive as the experience of God.

(…)

Southern, Catholic, ironic, oblique: “The Moviegoer” doesn’t add up, quite. What is it about? What has come of Binx’s search? What has prompted him to settle down with Kate and embrace everydayness with quasi-religious devotion? “It is impossible to say,” Binx remarks in the last line of the novel proper. It is impossible to say. And yet “The Moviegoer,” like its central character, has an inner coherence. Its take on everydayness has the quality of wonder that is the novel’s true subject. It opens out onto some larger mystery, one that we, no less than he, are still trying to solve.”

“Melville began Moby-Dick around the time Blood Meridian is set, in the violent, chaotic years after the United States annexed Texas and invaded Mexico, taking most of its northern territory and bringing its western border to the Pacific Ocean. Both novels trade on the metaphysics of nature, violence, commerce, war, and law. Both, in other words, are parables of the US empire. For McCarthy, like Melville, empire meant movement, an expectation of limitlessness, and both demonstrated a skill at describing men and animals moving through vastness, through landscapes without end.

(…)

But the movement in Blood Meridian is different. McCarthy knows that the United States made and unmade itself not on the water but within the borderlands it shared with Mexico. Unlike the Pequod, Blood Meridian’s scalping Glanton Gang turns in circles. Its men cross and recross the same desert sands; they pass the same bluffs, gullies, rivers, and creosote bushes. Victory over Mexico didn’t, at least for this group of killers, open the world. Rather, the vastness of the West closes in on them. They move east to west, then west to east, and as they do their savagery intensifies, taking on its own momentum detached from the economic logic of bounty hunting, less sadistic than naturalistic, as the men become almost indistinguishable from the landscape.

(…)

McCarthy published Blood Meridian in 1985, when Ronald Reagan, after the horrors of Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, and Indonesia, launched a new round of carnage in Central America, Afghanistan, Mozambique, and Angola. McCarthy mostly guarded his political opinions, though after 9/11 he seemed to have a rather conventional understanding of geopolitics and the United States’ role in the world; he accepted the fact that the War on Terror was a civilizational war.

Whatever his opinions, McCarthy is more unforgiving than Melville when it comes to writing about US empire. The relentless violence in Blood Meridian and his other books—the hacking of limbs, the dead babies, the castrated genitalia—leaves little to the imagination.

There’s an anti-humanism at play in McCarthy, often expressed in the one-dimensionality of his protagonists. In Moby-Dick, Ahab is “possessed by all the fallen angels.” He’s an archetype: Milton’s rebel hurling defiance at the vaults of heaven, Shakespeare’s Macbeth and Lear. His vengeful rebellion against the natural order of things—not least forsaking his economic duty to his masters—can be interpreted in mythological terms, fate punishing his hubris. Yet Melville, anticipating Freud, rakes over his fears, anguishes, and desires, probing Ahab’s “darker, deeper part.” Ahab’s psyche ultimately remains impenetrable (as do all of ours) and his motives subject to debate, yet he’s a very human obsessive.

Not so with his counterpart in Blood Meridian. Judge Holden, or simply “the judge,” is a murderous, erudite, cultured, dancing polyglot and pedophile. He is a character built more from ideas than drives, a mash-up of Nietzsche and Spengler, pre-Freudian, more premise than person. When read with the novel’s setting in mind—as a story of men dispatched by Mexican and Texan officials to kill as many Indigenous people as possible to open the conquered territory to settlement—the judge’s endless speechifying elevates the violence of empire into ideology and weaves the gang’s cruelty into the fabric of existence. “War is the truest form of divination,” the judge intones. “It is the testing of one’s will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of unity of existence. War is god.” Ahab, lost in his mind’s maze, would never say anything so declarative, so detached from his passions. Yet no Shakespearean doubt, no Freudian ambivalence clouds the judge’s certainty, no more than it would the work of the property surveyors who began to transfer Mexican and Native American land to US settlers.

(…)

Hairless, large, fleshy, with dull, tallowed skin: The judge is Marlon Brando’s Kurtz, an intertextual lineage that connects the horrors from the Mexican borderland to Southeast Asia. Apocalypse Now! premiered as McCarthy was writing Blood Meridian, with Chamberlain’s centuries-old description offering an uncanny model for both. The movie, its director Francis Coppola once said, is “not about Vietnam. It is Vietnam…. Little by little we went insane,” the “we” being both the film’s crew running wild in the Philippines (its production location) and the United States running wild in the world.

One could say the same about Blood Meridian: that it isn’t about the terror that followed the United States’ taking of northern Mexico. It is the terror, overwhelming the senses with suppurating images and inflamed language, forcing readers to touch the viscera, to feel the judge’s white-whale flesh, to be disgusted by his depravity as he rapes and murders children. And it is faithful to history, for the historical sources McCarthy based the book on are filled with grotesque scenes of, as one example, a regiment of Arkansas volunteers herding their victims into a cave and “yelling like fiends, while on the rocky floor lay over twenty Mexicans, dead and dying in pools of blood, while women and children were clinging to the knees of the murderers and shrieking for mercy.”

Blood Meridian is often described as an anti-western, an effort to desanctify Manifest Destiny. Still, the novel’s violence makes it hard to mark out where McCarthy’s pessimism ends and the judge’s philosophy begins. McCarthy, we can presume, based on his life and work, distrusted ideologies of progress and the self-regard of American exceptionalism, or what Melville called “vile liberty,” an idea of freedom based on extreme individualism with “reverence” for “naught”: not for nature and not for others. McCarthy too has the Glanton Gang harmonizing the individual and the group, echoing Melville when he writes that its men were “federated” in their work—not cheerily along a keel, but more like prisoners bound tight “with invisible wires of vigilance.” There’s no eros in Blood Meridian. Thanatos rules. Sex is rape, and rape is death.

Melville transmuted death into life in Moby-Dick. He has a coffin save Ishmael, the only survivor of the stoved Pequod. McCarthy, at the end of Blood Meridian, stands that coffin upright and turns it into an outhouse, the scene of a confusingly told finale in which the judge apparently rapes and murders the only character in the novel close to being moral, the kid. By book’s end, the violence, however faithful to real events, has become so omnipotent and omnipresent that it escapes the mundane motives that drive nations to wage war, to expand, to establish control over their hinterlands. The judge has become a supernatural demon, the avatar of a re-mythologized empire. Ahab, all too human, dies. The judge lives on: “He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.”

Between the publication of Moby-Dick and that of Blood Meridian a lot happened to account for the bleakness of McCarthy’s moral landscape. “Mai Lai burns again and again in the map of my mind,” the Bangladeshi poet Shamsur Rahman wrote in 1971, a lament for the Nixon-and-Kissinger-enabled genocide then taking place in his own homeland. McCarthy continued to build on Blood Meridian’s themes in his subsequent border trilogy: All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, and Cities of the Plains. Then, three years after the US invasion of Iraq, McCarthy published The Road. We don’t know the cause of the novel’s apocalypse, whether it was out-of-control technology, fossil fuels, nuclear war, or consumer waste that left only a handful of desperate humans alive. McCarthy doesn’t say, and he doesn’t have to. It’s any and all of those things, expressed in the novel’s disdain for the items capitalism left strewn along the side of the road, “things abandoned long ago by pilgrims enroute to their several and collective deaths.”

McCarthy demonstrated how the frontier wasn’t an incubator of democratic equality but a place of unrelenting pain, cruelty, and suffering. He rubbed away the veneer of Manifest Destiny, revealing US nationalism and empire to be nothing but the right of conquest updated for the democratic age. Let’s admire the wonder of his writing, even though to my ear it often sounded strained, its artifice apparent, unlike the manic, ramshackle Melville, who really did seem to be handpicked by the gods of old—by Milton, Shakespeare, Mary Shelley, and others—to speak for them. McCarthy, though, knew how to name what has been, or will soon be, lost. The last paragraph of The Road, set on an earth stripped of its biomass, is a stunning summation of being and nothingness, of things that once had existed written about as if they still did:

Once there were brook trouts in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.

We should, though, resist McCarthy’s punishing gnostic nihilism, and a pessimism that can only result in moral idiocy, in circle dances that go nowhere, like the Glanton Gang, where existence is original sin and the racial terror inherent in empire building, and the land grubbing that comes with it, is but part of the sublime.”

[ruby-thursda7]

Jack Mcbrayer is SO unexpected but now that it’s in my mind it honestly fits so well I don’t want anyone else to voice Helix, your brain man, your fucking brain-

OK OK so I didn’t think of all of the characters but since you gave all of them I’m gonna think of some right now to match >:)

Helix - Like I said Jack Mcbrayer is a sound choice but if I had to choose my own option I think I would say someone like Zeno Robinson (Hunter from TOH), I feel like his voice is versatile enough

Raven - Now knowing your vision for her I feel so off base with this but honest to God when I first saw her I was like ‘oh this bitch (/lh) talks like Cree Summer (Susie in Rugrats) I know it’ but now I know better!!

Mindy - All ai can see when I look at her is Charlyne Yi (Ruby in SU) although at this point that might be down to typecasting lmao

Bobbie - The moment, the moment you said loud and charming and NY accent I thought of Joan Rivers but OBVIOUSLY we can’t have that so I think Sarah Stiles (Spinel in SU) would be the next best option. I don’t know if her Spinel voice is her genuine accent but even if it’s not I think it’s pretty good!!

Unnamed cats - Hm,,,in second thought maybe Zeno Robinson would work better for the eye-man, I can hear the Intriguing yet Pathetic mystery coming out of their mouth like they wanna draw you in but only so they can show you their Yugioh card collection. Depending on if you wanna go masc or fem for the taller one, I think Madeline Martin (Fionna in Adventure Time) or Justin Briner (Deku in MHA) would work pretty good!!

(Also if you’re looking for names for the last two,,,since the black one is covered in eyes maybe they could be named something like Scophie? It’s like combining Sophie with the idea of scoping about. Also scopophobia which I most certainly know too much about :’D and this one is more of a funny haha but I think Chedder suits the tall one pretty good lmao)

for raven i aubrey plaza rly sums up her personality but i would rather she be voiced by a woc thats what i had in mind when while creating her

DUDE if joan rivers would do a ny accent thatd be 👌 she rly rly does have that liveliness that id want from bobbie

ZENO RONIBSON YES DUDE THATS IT ugh i love him so much and also you 1000% understand what i was going for with that character ahshdhhshdg (also i didnt think about the scopophobia im sorry i can tag that from now on) schophie is rly cute also ajshhdhd

CHEDDERRRRRR and omg fiona from adventure time would be cute

[aspiring-holistic-otaku]

Season 2 Ramble#5 - Mystery, Madness & Mayhem ver. 2

This episode is about mystery, madness and mayhem. And I love this stuff regardless of medium so I pretty much assumed I was gonna be enjoying this month's reads, and even though there weren't as much of certain tastes I was looking forward to there was still much to be enjoyed.

Anyways as I said I love this stuff, definitely the earliest thing I thought I'd want to make a little mini series out of and do continuously, definitely something i’ll be consuming podcast or no podcast. manga or no manga..

Now the setup last time was me giving some definitions of mystery, madness and mayhem then sharing my top 1 manga read in each of those three categories + a grab bag of titles at the end which you can check out below..

This time is pretty much the same but skipping the Google definitions and giving my own "definitions", which you can completely disregard if you so choose tbh, like i know words mean stuff but all stuff is bound to change anyways yk so,,,yh,,, also this time instead of one big grab bag with everything I'm gonna try and split them into their respective categories, loosely ordered from least to most enjoyed. the reads are split the usual way of stuff read this month first then older stuff after.

So definitions quickly:

mystery - the why?

madness - the what?

usually has cast vs some largely unseen thing. can be normal everyday stuff like trying to get a functional ac remote to the paranormal escapades of a microwave scientist fighting assassins through spacetime

usually has cast vs some seen but unbelievable thing. And again can go from normal everyday society™ to the paranormal blood bending psychic mass murderer

mayhem - the everything, everywhere, all at once. To lean on the google definition a bit, chaos.

Just to be clear these aren’t some clear cut genre borders or anything just some themes/motifs i like in my media. and in fact i tend to find where there’s one at least one other follows, so these splits are based on which of each seemed to be the primary focus in the manga.

Getting into it now,, top mystery madness and mayhem read this month go!

Top Mystery:

The decagon house murders (Original Book Author - Yukito Ayatsuji, Manga Adaptation - Hiro Kiyohara | 31 chapters)

This is a mystery story revolving around a club for people who enjoy mystery stories,, visiting an island where a house recently burned down and people died under mysterious circumstances… surprise surprise, play stupid games, win stupid prizes,, but even though it was a classic whodunnit, the cast being all mystery buffs meant they pretty much knew all the dos and don'ts and yet… life comes at you fast…

The title alone was a pull because sacred geometry is really cool to look at and see,, if you don't know what that is don't get sucked in just hail the helix and move on + sacred geometry didn't play any obvious role in this anyways. art was nice, really easy on the eyes, pretty cool cast and as I said they were all mystery buffs so that created this almost cast vs plot situation which was really cool. watching them go back and forth amongst each other trying to figure it all out and avoid tragedy was nice, and it didn't take too long to get started or wrap things up. just 31 chapters as I said.

Didn't see the end coming at all and it's actually really crazy how simple it was,, almost cheating and bordering on cheap… but it was something that the original book author admitted relied heavily on being in a written medium and so was still a challenge to pull off in manga.. all that being said I clearly still dug it as it was my top mystery read this month.

mystery grab bag:

the night fish, another , dead man's questions and thus spoke Rohan kishibe

Top Madness:

Memories of her… (Katsuhiro Otomo | 16 chapters )

This is actually the basis for my favourite Otomo animated work called Memories, a three piece anthology that I will continually highly highly recommend. if the name Katsuhiro Otomo doesn't mean anything to you he's the guy that did Akira… if the name Akira doesn't mean anything to you then check that out and thank him for the bike slide.

This work is also an anthology but with about 10 pieces of varying lengths. manga anthology pieces tend to be short and usually surprisingly good, even when I’m accounting for how good I tend to find them and even though I went in with extra heightened expectations, because Otomo, they were thankfully pretty well met.

Individual anthology pieces tend to be short and impactful in some way. Having now been through a bunch more Otomo stuff since starting this podcast I can honestly say his stuff generally does have that punch, does have that impact and that was thankfully present here. again they're all super short so it doesn't make sense to go into them too much more than that, but what I will say is that the impact of otomo's works, at least for me, comes out of a great balance of dramatic environmental storytelling and thoughtful natural dialogue that makes you look more critically at the world,, even if they're usually packaged with a healthy dash of humour. for the record, Akira is my least favourite animated work by him and though i’ll definitely admit it’s the most famous for its impact in terms of art direction for a reason fr, I still highly recommend checking out his other stuff to really see the range of his greatness outside just the one movie, Akira.

Anyways this had great art nonetheless, pretty much expected from him tbh, pretty much every story held my attention, the only thing is that it was a milder madness so to speak rather than the spicier types I tend to prefer.

Quick examples of each so I'm not just saying words that don't connect, a spicier madness would be like Berserk, Elfen Lied, Tokyo Ghoul, Deadman Wonderland, etc., usually based on some set of perpetually unfortunate events, that drives the cast to take extreme actions.. though I also like when the mc and world is already just like that, like in Dorohedoro how extreme absurdities were just everyday routine. lots of messy spaghetti situations in the spicier types…. a milder madness would be like Goodnight Punpun, Welcome to the NHK or even Serial Experiments Lain The Nightmare of Fabrication, where it's almost as if the existential mundanity of life is deafeningly scratching on a whiteboard and slowly pushing the cast to the brink.

madness grab bag: MPD Psycho, smiley, 6000, world apartment horror, Usuzumi no Hate, denjin n, tekkonkinkreet

Top Mayhem:

As the gods will 2 (Muneyuki Kaneshiro on story and Akeji Fujimura on art | 186 chapters)

This is the sequel which is pretty much death games, death games and more death games. since reading part 1 last year I'd been told that it fell off in part 2 which I definitely agree with but maybe even because of my lowered expectations it held up better than I thought it would.

I read part 1 last year and it was my top 1 new manga l read that combined mystery, madness and mayhem, 21 chapters, I definitely highly recommend.

I say it all the time but survival/death games are simple. what you see is what you get. they're all pretty similar, group of folks find themselves in some inexplicable situations that they can't get out of without completing some usually wild challenges. what really defines one from the other is the nature of the challenges, the more unique and roundabout, usually the better. see squid games hype and the saw series somehow still running to this day, 10th one is dropping this year apparently,, Google it if you think I'm messing with you.

In any case the games were definitely unique, I think I really dug it because the game setups were very whimsical and almost childlike in nature but then it turns out the reason the chicken crossed the road was to kill you… the art was okay, the cast was really enjoyable and felt pretty real and not too contrived for the situation like "oh I'm the smartest guy in the galaxy" or "I'm the girl with a horribly timed bad attitude" etc, it was just folks trying to survive and getting wrecked randomly, such is life and that's what I was there for.

Admittedly the end was weak, and it was petering off a little before but yh the end was definitely weak but not to the point of regretting the read. we finally got an up close look at the mastermind behind the whole thing,, though they themselves were also a little disappointing but again not enough to make me really regret reading,, the final face off was close tho… especially after they went on for so long. like I said last season, part of part 1's charm was hitting the nail on the head with story length and not overstaying its welcome, part 2 only got away because the games were so wacky as obvious as the deadly outcomes were…

mayhem grab bag: as the gods say 0, after god, shibatarian

that's it for stuff this month

now older stuff, a lot of the same names as last time but some shifts in order + the grab bags have a bit more stuff and ofc it's split this time

Old Top Mystery:

Soil vs Billy Bat (really tough call I'm sorry)

spoke on soil properly in season 1 ramble 1, it was my top read for the year of 2021, the closest thing to a pure mystery I think I'll ever read vs the real world paradigm shifting conspiracies of Billy Bat, spoke on for the first time at length in season 1 ramble 11 where I focused on Naoki Urasawa, all I'm saying is Naoki Urasawa is a living legend and the moon landing is dubious at best

Old Mystery grab bag:

20th century boys, pluto, monster (Urasawa in general tbh), acca 13, Eden: it’s an endless world, liar game, junji ito works in general, butterfly storage, toilet bound hanako kun, ptsd radio and the ihon series which tied last episode, summer time rendering

Old Top Madness:

Fire punch

chainsaw man is soft. enough said.

Old Madness grab bag:

homunculus, welcome to the nhk, soul eater, made in abyss, cigarette anthology, hellsing, Alice in borderlands, dolly kill kill, junji ito works in general, shuzo oshimi works in general, inio asano stuff ,shigahime, deadman wonderland, takopi’s original sin, believers, gogo monster, alien 9, tokyo ghoul series, to my dearest self with malice aforethought

Old Top Mayhem

JJBA vs Omniscient Reader

I dare any Jojo fan to deny it's chaotic, I want any non fans to do a double take on that title and this young man's figure and tell me you think there are any normal events in this story (spoiler alert, there are none)

Omniscient reader is actually from just this year season 2 ramble 1 new year new worlds,, an isekai,,, manhwa even,, but my first top new read of this year nonetheless, def got v crazy, for less ramble and more words check out the ramble but also trust and just go read lol

Old Mayhem grab bag:

Chainsaw man, Berserk(rip Miura one time every time), parasyte, jujutsu kaisen, as the gods say pt1,terra formars blood lad,inuyashiki, jackals, junji ito works in general, choujin x ,ajin, magical girl apocalypse, bokurano, tougen anki, jagaaaan, origin, raqiya, ddddd(anime), akumetsu top for last seasons

The peak of all this in my mind though is still dorohedoro…

this is literally the first panel of the manga

and yh... that's the ramble 😅😅, thanks for checking it out this far, hope you find a good read o/

[professor-trevelyan]

✧   ⸻   [  jonathan bailey,  cis man,  he/him  ]     ;     oh, there you are, professor KYLER TREVELYAN! isn’t your DRAGONKIND class supposed to be starting soon ? at THIRTY FIVE years old, and with the notable signet of HYDROKINESIS, you’re a real master at what you do. hopefully your male, GREEN DAGGERTAIL dragon, RYGOR, doesn’t mind biding their time while you’re busy with classes throughout the day. the cadets and the riders really enjoy your COMPASSIONATE and PATIENT tendencies, but the other staff members know just how PARANOID and CYNICAL you can really be. some say you remind them of hot tea with a hint of vanilla & a dash of cinnamon, scars lining his body baring the proof of a long & rigorous journey, and sophisticated attire more suited for balls than war, but it’s hard to say for certain.

pinterest

(tw: death mention)

~The Basics~

Full Name: Kyler Alain Trevelyan Nickname(s): Trevelyan, Professor Age: 35 Date of Birth: March 13th Home: Navarre Current Location: Basgiath War College Gender: Cis Male Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Homosexual Ranking: Staff - Dragonkind Professor Dragon: Rygor - Green Daggertail (male)

~The Appearance~

Face Claim: Jonathan Bailey Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Height: 6′0″ Weight: 173lbs Build: Athletic Piercings: Has a Helix on his right ear and a basic lobe piercing on his left ear Distinguishing Characteristics: Various scars among parts of his entire body

~The Signet~

Signet: Hydrokinesis: The user can create, shape, and manipulate water.

~The Capabilities~

Greater Techniques - (More strenuous on Kyler, therefore, the more exertion on Rygor. Used in moderation and situational.)

Water Wall: Can create walls of water from nothing or by shaping a source of existing water. He can shape these walls into any form, but often remain unchanging and immobile afterwards. Tidal Wave: Can call forth huge waves to crash down on his targets, washing everything and sometimes everyone away in a powerful torrent. Drowning: Can drown almost anything within a sphere of extreme amounts of water. This can include parts of an object or body and in dire situations; the person as a whole.

Lesser Techniques - (Other than the basics and general manipulation of water. Requires less exertion from Kyler and Rygor, though continuous use over time will eventually lead to both tiring out.)

Omnidirectional Waves: Can release minor omnidirectional waves at once in a wide area to dispatch many foes. Water Cutting: Can manipulate water to cut and/or pierce objects or persons. Water Beam: Can control and project water in a compressed state. Then if necessary, can manipulate the beam to scatter into smaller ones.

Weaknesses

*The distance, precision, and mass depends on his knowledge, skill, and strength of the power's natural limitations. *Controlling and manipulating bodies of water over an extended and excessive period of time can and will become dangerously exhausting. *May be unable to create water in a given area if dry, therefore being limited to controlling from already existing sources of water.

~The Biography~

1. The eldest of the Trevelyan boys which obviously makes him the first of his siblings to graduate from the school as a rider. When Kyler was thirty, his middle brother failed to bond with a dragon, resulting in his untimely demise. This infuriated Kyler since time and time again he had prepped and forewarned his brother. After all, he himself had endured his own excruciating training and studies. This is something Kyler holds himself responsible for given he'd been appointed the sole caretake of his brothers after their parent's mysterious deaths. 2. (Wanted Connection) With his younger and now, only brother entering the school as a cadet, Kyler did not hesitate at the opportunity to take up a position amongst the school's staff to better knowledge all those following in whoever's footsteps and whatever drives them, while also taking this is a way to keep an extremely closer eye on his brother. Kyler has had so much lose over the course of his life; he cannot lose the only thing keeping him going. 3. Although he's taken charge of teaching Dragonkind, Kyler is quite literally the epitome of 'don't judge a book by its cover'. Though he had been deemed more of a lover than a fighter by his old class and squad mates, he can and will fuck you up. There is a slight pleasure found in proving those whom underestimate quite wrong.4. Has done about everything it took to get this far given that survival is not guaranteed. A lesson Kyler has learned in more ways than one and he's hoping to push those lessons through his teachings. Eventually his students will learn, whether they take his words to heart or on their own accord will be theirs to decide. He can only hope to nudge them in the right direction.

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: HatrVættr

Sympathy for a devil.

Song: Enemy-Mystery Skulls

@cardwrecks​ @captainbaddecisions​

He was a bramble in the spring thaw, too early to bloom, all soft new leaves and red thorns pointed outward. Approach with caution.

But...

This was what had them all so unsettled? This was the source of such hurt and fear, such concern, such silence? He was barely more than a child.

He was curled in on himself to seem tiny, a tumbleweed of onyx strands ready to blow away, and he looked up at her, the very picture of innocent bewilderment.

Cornflowers blooming on the side of a road, clinging tight to thin soil strewn with litter and salt. Tension tight piano strings, one snap away from sharp notes.

“Who are you?” A weak, warbling clarinet, hollow, lilting, tempting, leading.

“My name is Helix. Have you heard of me?” He shook his raven head. “Well, I'm friends with Swag. And YJ, and Puzzles too. And several other people I suspect we both know.”

There was an unwinding, a spooling out of sinew, a revelation of form. This body was built for strength, grace that showed through even in its crinkled state.

This was not the first body, not the first life. She did not know this shower of garnet and diopside, because he had been dead these past two years, his corner of the Nexus an empty space in the edge of her vision. A face cut out of a photograph.

This being, this Narci, was a wight. A spirit, returned from wherever it had once gone, to make a new place for itself here. All worlds were full of them. They resided in rocks, trees, and homes. They were people, animals, mushroom circles. Free willed entities, possessing their chosen homes through their own agency. He still wore the bracelets she had created to house him while this new body was being built specifically for him, a copy of the one he'd left behind. He was dangerous, a betrayer, untrustworthy, mad. Or so she'd been told.

It was one of the only things she'd been told. The Family had otherwise been strangely quiet about all this. One would think that the return of a lost brother would spark celebrations, joyful reunions. But the men who never shut up, their lips were sewn, like Loki forced to bear the ire of his own cleverness.

They were afraid.

And she had tried; she had gone to the Detective once Puzzles had dropped the news, once everyone had reacted like iron filings to the wrong end of a magnet. They had only said one thing to her.

“Do you know what it is like to truly fail?”

And she could find out no more before Jervis had chased her off. Nash would speak to no one, YJ was all a-fret, but still gave no straight answers. Even Arkham, who simply looked at her, no words needing to be spoken for them to know that they were, and would remain, on opposite sides of this.

She didn't even know what this was yet, but damn him, he was almost certainly right.

So, of course, she had gone to the Question Mark in search of answers.

And was flatly refused.

Startling, to say the least, because Swag never told her 'no'. But the twins had sat there, identical shaking heads, in complete accord for once, in saying no, please, don't you fuckin' dare-in futility, because they also knew she would go anyway.

“Just don't let him get his hands on you.”

That last, a warning from Unswag of all people, a man she knew would have blood up to his elbows that very moment if not for her. A warning from someone who knew.

It was so very wrong to see the Family-her family-in such disarray.

And so she had come, because of course she had come. And she had her chalk, and her tools, and her magic. She had come to assess if this was a problem that she needed to make Go Away.

But he was just a young man.

“You know Puzzles...is that why you're here? To visit him? He's never mentioned you. Do you have permission?”

“I come and go. It's something of an understanding between all of us. And I don't doubt he hasn't mentioned me. I'm not terribly important.”

Despite her role in helping Puzzles get this new body created, he had apparently seen fit to keep her involvement secret. But if Puzzles was as unsettled as the rest of them, neglecting to mention her might be his way of trying to keep her safe. He was complicated like that.

She crouched down to get on eye level, his Xerces blue stare coiled with viper caution. There was little curiosity there, unusual for his 'kind', just a wild, animal instinct to puff up.

“Then why are you here?”

“Personal curiosity. I wanted to assess the situation for myself, and also, I always greet new Riddlers when they show up. And maybe to annoy Puzzles just a bit. Don't tell him, but he's cute when he gets all bratty. But it's all right, I don't think he-”

“Don't talk about him like that!” the piano string snapped, its metaphorical twang mirrored by the hand that whipped out after her neck. The fingers met her shields, not with a crash, but with a simple cessation of forward movement. She could see him pushing, straining against the force that solidified the atoms around his hand, see him eventually give in and draw back.

“Oh my.” she said quietly. “You're really going to have to get a handle on that. But I guess I get it. You owe him a solid, right? For helping you out.”

“What are you? How did you do that?” the woodwind lilt was even meeker than before, as if he hadn't just tried to tear her throat out.

“I didn't come into this situation with nothing, darling. It's just that my weapons and armor are not as visible as most.”

“Then...I can't hurt you?”

She shrugged.

“It would take more than I think you can currently muster. Do you want to hurt me?”

“N-no. Not really. Just...just don't talk about him like that. He's better than us.”

She tilted her head. Us? She knew most Riddlers considered themselves to be on a higher level than everyone else, but this was the first time one had not considered themselves among that number.

“Than you? Are you not a Riddler too?”

“No! I mean...yes. But not really. I never earned it. I don't deserve it. They're perfect. I'm...broken.”

“Oh honey, are you really? It's okay, I might be broken too.”

“Broken and entering more like.” Puzzles said from the doorway, and she only jumped a little. “No, that was awful, I'm trying that again.”

“Good evening, Puzzles. As you can see, I was just-”

“Just doing what you do, I know. It's not that I haven't been expecting you to pop by, it's just that I'd thought this time you might wait for an escort. Don't know why I thought that, it's not as if you've ever shown an ounce of caution, but this might be, I don't know, a mitigating circumstance?”

You see, she mouthed to Narci, who scowled and reached out for her again.

“Narci.” Puzzles warned sharply. He drew back instantly.

“She's a liar.” he sulked. “She said she had permission to be here. And she called you a brat.”

Puzzles glanced down at her, lips pursed, and she lifted an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. He stepped closer to them, interposing himself to where he could get between them if necessary, crouching down to be on their level.

“She does have permission to be in my home. Mostly because no one seems to have any way of keeping her out. She is, however, a...friend. This is Helix, and I would like you to treat her nicely. She's...” He searched for a proper description. “Family-adjacent. She's one of those things that happened while you were gone.”

“I can't hurt her.” Narci said, still pouting a bit.

“That's the spirit.” Puzzles praised.

“No, I mean I can't. I really can't.”

Puzzles fixed Helix with a quizzical stare.

“Uh, well, he might have tried to touch me earlier. And found out he was unable to do so. So it's all fine! Nothing to worry about.”

Emerald eyes bored into her. Curiosity flavored the more or less good-natured irritation, and she knew this time she wouldn't be getting away without an explanation. Though not cruel by nature, Puzzles was a Riddler and, in his way, he'd draw the information out like a winkle from its shell.

And maybe it was about time he came to understand better what she was.

“Well...Don't try it again. She might not exactly be one of us, but she's earned a place. For instance...Do you remember Unswag?”

Helix frowned. Why would he bring that up? She still had very mixed feelings over what had happened there. Narci nodded, looking deeply uncomfortable. Unswag was one of those contentious topics, or at least, he had been once. Terribly dangerous, until she'd forced him to become something else. She hadn't meant for that to happen, but she couldn't change it now.

“Well,” Puzzles said. “She defeated him.”

“It was an accident.” she muttered, and Puzzles elbowed her as Narci's eyes went wide with awe.

“Yeah.” he continued. “Bested him so decisively that he doesn't even look the same anymore. Just remember that. She might not look like much-”

“Hey!”

“-but she's got the respect of the proper people.”

Narci still stared up at her like she was something unexpectedly amazing. He held his hands out, in supplication rather than aggression. Something, some little spark of his desperation reminded her so much of how lost she had once been. She dropped her magic shields and, ignoring Puzzles swift intake of breath, drew Narci into a careful embrace.

The boy froze for a moment, entirely unsure what to do, thawing slowly, his hands ghosting over her sides until they came to her hips. His fingers dug in suddenly, then he jerked, flinging her away into Puzzles waiting arms, and crumpled to the floor begging forgiveness. “I think he likes you.” Puzzles murmured into her ear. “Now get out.”

He shoved her into the hall and grabbed the doorknob.

“Wait!” Narci cried. “Can she stop me? If I...Can she stop me?”

Puzzles uncertain gaze flicked to the hall where he'd pushed her. She smiled gently back.

Artist: me

Artist: @miasmacaron​

Artist: @cardwrecks​

[magdalene-spirit]

Quotes

* Divination is one of man's oldest spiritual technologies, its origins lost…

* From a framework of mythic events and divination - literally readings of the divine - came language, which evolved over time into written forms based on the original symbolic elements.

* “Language,” Fulcanelli tells us…, “the instrument of the spirit, has a life of its own - even though it is only a reflection of the universal Idea.” This Gnostic meta-linguistic mysticism is the core it seems of illumination itself.

* The language of light emitted and received by the DNA may be the original of all languages, the ultimate language of initiation.

* This Ur-language, Fulcanelli insists, is the common language of initiation and illumination behind cultural expressions as different as the Christian, the Inca, the medieval troubadours and the ancient Greeks. And traces of it can be found in the dialects of Picardy and Provence, and most important of all, in the language of the Gypsies.

* And, to top it off, he told us that traces of it can be found in the language of the Gypsies, a fairly obvious reference to the Tarot, long held to be a Gypsy invention.

* Could it be possible, by looking at the structure of DNA, to reconstruct this dragon's speech, this green language of light's syntax, grammar and vocabulary? And could it be, as Fulcanelli suggests, that fragments of that original language of light can be found in the divinatory systems used by all nautes, shaman and initiates?

* The increment of change between the pairs described the rhythmic structure of that elusive quality the now or the everchanging present.

* How this actually worked was a mystery until recently. Carl Jung's study of the I Ching led to his theory of synchronicity as an acausal connecting principle, but he was unable to see how the flow of archetypes formed meaningful structures in an acausal manner. Synchronicity could be defined as a psychological event, the projection of meaning onto a background of randomness, but Jung left unanswered the question of meaning itself. Does this temporal universe inhabited by biological entities truly have a “meaning?”

* It is no accident, given the light sensitive nature of DNA that eclipse cycles, sunspot cycles and the informational structure of DNA should all be based on the same ratios and proportions.

* From this we can see that the structure of the I Ching and the DNA code contains both local solar system time orchestrated by the permutations of sun, moon, eclipses and sunspot cycles, and the larger cycles of precessional time. Counting by turns and triplets reveals that a macrocosmic framework of precessional numbers supports the microcosm. The movement of the spring equinox backward through the zodiac due to the tilt of the earth's axis is measured at the rate of one degree every 72 years, therefore 12 triplets, 1 and 1/5th turns of the helix equals 1/6 of a degree of precessional motion, or 12 years. Given that there billions of turns and millions of triplets in a single strand of DNA, then the entire history of the universe, from beginning to end, could be coded into our DNA.

Reading the Green Language of Light

by Vincent Bridges

Divination is one of man's oldest spiritual technologies, its origins lost…

From a framework of mythic events and divination - literally readings of the divine - came language, which evolved over time into written forms based on the original symbolic elements.

“Language,” Fulcanelli tells us…, “the instrument of the spirit, has a life of its own - even though it is only a reflection of the universal Idea.” This Gnostic meta-linguistic mysticism is the core it seems of illumination itself.

The language of light emitted and received by the DNA may be the original of all languages, the ultimate language of initiation.

This Ur-language, Fulcanelli insists, is the common language of initiation and illumination behind cultural expressions as different as the Christian, the Inca, the medieval troubadours and the ancient Greeks. And traces of it can be found in the dialects of Picardy and Provence, and most important of all, in the language of the Gypsies.

And, to top it off, he told us that traces of it can be found in the language of the Gypsies, a fairly obvious reference to the Tarot, long held to be a Gypsy invention.

Could it be possible, by looking at the structure of DNA, to reconstruct this dragon's speech, this green language of light's syntax, grammar and vocabulary? And could it be, as Fulcanelli suggests, that fragments of that original language of light can be found in the divinatory systems used by all nautes, shaman and initiates?

The increment of change between the pairs described the rhythmic structure of that elusive quality the now or the everchanging present.

How this actually worked was a mystery until recently. Carl Jung's study of the I Ching led to his theory of synchronicity as an acausal connecting principle, but he was unable to see how the flow of archetypes formed meaningful structures in an acausal manner. Synchronicity could be defined as a psychological event, the projection of meaning onto a background of randomness, but Jung left unanswered the question of meaning itself. Does this temporal universe inhabited by biological entities truly have a “meaning?”

It is no accident, given the light sensitive nature of DNA that eclipse cycles, sunspot cycles and the informational structure of DNA should all be based on the same ratios and proportions.

[valentine-cafe]

˚◞♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒊 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒂 209 — the snake-hybrid mad doctor◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “ darling, i have dealt with many hearts, but I've never come across one as pretty as yours, ” ꒱

. ˚◞꒰verse꒱ 209

. ˚◞꒰face claim refs꒱ ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

. ˚◞꒰species꒱ grim reaper, snake hybrid

. ˚◞꒰ethnicity꒱ chinese

. ˚◞꒰age꒱ 46

. ˚◞꒰gender꒱ male

. ˚◞꒰mbti꒱estj

. ˚◞꒰aliases꒱ the doctor, the surgeon, doctor herrera, the heartless, the black plague ( by enigma, the resistance ), snakie-boy, snake-bitch ( by haitao )

. ˚◞꒰appearance꒱

𖹭. oftentimes seen wearing his deceptively kind smile, fooling even the most skeptical of people when they catch a glimpse of the red painted lips stretched out on his face.

𖹭. deep amber snake eyes are often hidden by a pair of maroon contacts, hiding away the truth like the rest of his general body language and confident posture.

𖹭. long, silky black hair that falls past his shoulders, usually put into a half-ponytail or let loose.

𖹭. is able to unhinge his jaw, putting on display, his forked elongated tongue, rows of sharp teeth and his two snake fangs protruding whenever he yawns

𖹭. wears a wide range of jewellery, thin gold necklaces and chokers covering his neck and shoulders. while his ears are covered in a pair of standard lobe piercings, along with a helix — right ear covered in a conch and tragus piercing. rings covering his fair toned fingers.

𖹭. stands at the towering height of 6’7 ft ( 201cm ), with a lean and well toned figure.

𖹭. androgynous, sharp and soft facial features.

𖹭. very fluid and elegant in the way he moves and overall looks.

𖹭. primarily dons the red makeup styles.

𖹭. extremely vintage styled aesthetic in fashion choice, loves wearing poet shirts and suits.

𖹭. he has a frenum piercing ( peepee piercing )

. ˚◞꒰personality꒱

𖹭. deceivingly kind and serene demeanor hiding the sadism and manipulative intentions and ulterior motives.

𖹭. he is deceptive in every way and form, his sharp intelligence silencing those who speak against him or try to prevent him from succeeding his goals.

𖹭. has a silver-tongue riddled with false kindness and care the fools that decide to affiliate themselves with him, bringing them into a sense of comfort and security that never was there to begin with — using their confidence as an advantage

𖹭. on the inside, you see the sinister, sarcastic and malicious sociopath that is the true part of the so-called “goodhearted” poet.

𖹭. charming and charismatic words and actions concealing the greedy and sadistic side of him.

𖹭. prefers silence over loud talk, and maintains his anonymity and mystery due to this factor — getting him to talk is not a possibility, even if you tried by forcing it out of him.

𖹭. can be sassy and give blunt replies to people he finds himself irritated with.

𖹭. moodiness is a result of both his snake dna and his traumatic past — or because his husband is not around.

𖹭. calculative and witty — has a great memory and uses it often to note down the speech patterns, movements and body-languages of the people around him.

𖹭. his perceptiveness is the next in line to his intelligence, you cannot outlie the master liar and manipulator, he knows your tricks.

𖹭. hard to anger and irritate, and will applaud you for your audacity and stupidity for trying so.

𖹭. should this man find himself infatuated with someone, he will put his possessiveness and obsessiveness on display. showing you his yandere tendencies and greedy behaviour around them.

. ˚◞꒰with a lover꒱

𖹭. very sweet. very verbally and physically affectionate. you see the more humane side of him that others do not

𖹭. he is exceptionally patient with you. always assuring you when you need and comforting you

𖹭. he loves spoiling you. especially taking you out clothes shopping and letting you try out whatever it is that you may wish. loves seeing you flustered whenever he pulls you into a clothing shop. flustering you whenever he snatches your waist in front of a mirror

𖹭. always worshipping your skin with kisses. he can barely keep his hands off of you

𖹭. possessive, but hides it well with his poetic and loving words. he is most definitely a yandere type. willing to do whatever it takes to keep you at his side.

𖹭. very verbal about how much he obsesses over you, as much as he is clear in his actions that he wants you for himself and no-one else. should anyone look or talk to you in a way he does not like? he will gouge their eyes out, or use them as his newest “patients”

𖹭. loves teasing you and flirting with you until you have lost your breath from giggling or whining for him to shut up

𖹭. a very passionate lover and has no problem in showing his passion for you neither. even when it’s in public

𖹭. pda? what’s that? he’ll pull you into his lap even in a cafe. or kiss you in booths. have his hands on you. anything to show that you are his

𖹭. if anyone lays a finger on you. . . they are dead.

. ˚◞꒰strengths꒱

𖹭. increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

𖹭. heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

𖹭. healing factor: an average healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than most

𖹭. fangs and bite: has a set of snake fangs that can secrete two venoms: a paralytic, which he uses for sedation, and a fatal. he can switch between them. and especially powerful bite

𖹭. talons & venomous touch: he has talons that secrete high levels of venom. this venom is extracted by thin wired implanted on his wrists that carry his venom to his nails, resulting in venom-induced touches should he use them on someone.

𖹭. snake physiology: has the flexibility of a snake, therefore his body is able to move in the fluid motion that a serpent would. he is able to dislocate his joints with ease and twist his body in whichever way he prefers. his jaw can unhinge as well.

𖹭. poison immunity: immune to poisons.

𖹭. elastic jaw: the ability to unhinge his jaw to drastic measures

𖹭. hyper climbing and clawing: able to slither up surfaces

𖹭. seismic sense: able to feel vibrations in a seismic way whenever his limbs touch surfaces. he can feel these from quite awhile ago

𖹭. enhanced lung capacity: able to hold his breath for longer

𖹭. stealth: can move around swiftly and quietly

. ˚◞꒰weaknesses꒱

𖹭. poison addiction: due to building up a poison resistance by intaking the substances, he is now immune to poison but in turn has grown addicted to the intake of them. he now does it for the fun of it and as a coping mechanism.

𖹭. abandonment issues: if he is away from the people he loves. this can result in erratic episodes and even have a negative affect on his physical well-being

𖹭. fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting.

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. reapers: not much is known of this condition. . . come back later and perhaps you might find out?

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. oranges: has a bad allergy to oranges.

𖹭. daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.

𖹭. d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it. he, especially is affected by this.

𖹭. extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

. ˚◞꒰relationships꒱

𖹭. rishen herrera: husband, business partner, best friend

𖹭. yuè mèng yáo: mother, deceased

𖹭. zhào mùchén: father, deceased

𖹭. zhào hàoyú: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. zhào haitāo: younger brother, enemy

𖹭. zhào xīyáng: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. wèi lìxuě: enemy

𖹭. liú tàishī: enemy

𖹭. alessio agresta arias: “rival”, deceased

𖹭. lorenzo agresta arias: enemy

𖹭. park tae-hyun: enemy

. ˚◞꒰story꒱

sly grins and skilled yet devilish hands. hidden by kind eyes and serene smiles. how could a gaze like that watch with glee the suffering of experiments?

a mad doctor to match his mad scientist for a husband, experimenting and tormenting enigma and inhumans with the excuse of making a better world. jingyi herrera designs medicines that no other verse has even seen. so what if it's at the cost of a few souls? it's for the greater good. 

so he'll indulge in his insanity. in his horrid morals and his lust for knowledge, for his twisted sense of justice. all if it means succeeding in all of his ambitions and staying at the side of his beloved.

. ˚◞꒰extra꒱

𖹭. he is a doctor and has a clinic on the second floor of valence. he specialises in most areas of anatomy and is a skilled doctor and surgeon.

𖹭. he is also the co-chairman of valence

𖹭. he is fluent in asl and csl

𖹭. he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and spanish ( latin american )

𖹭. has a cat named Beatrice Herrera Reina the 2nd queen of the abyssal dread

𖹭. loves old-timey romance movies

𖹭. as much as he is mature, he does love giving his assistants a good scare every now and then when he thinks they are being lazy. . . and by scare we don’t mean by lighthearted pranks.

𖹭. likes collecting tea sets.

𖹭. he sometimes smokes

[writerinturmoil]

section 1

As Declan entered the venue, a tingling sensation coursed through his veins, his heart beat faster, and sweat slicked his brow. He took in the sign above the bar: Bottom Lounge. Each letter bulged and surged. At any moment, he expected them to explode off the three neon tubes to which they were attached.

His gaze then drifted to the various tin signs underneath. A dizzying array of words and colors and textures and graphics assaulted his wandering eyes. Amid the helix of shapes and colors, random words would periodically pop out of the foreground: blue and beer and Newcastle and knob. Occasionally, an image would clarify and become high resolution: a pink elephant in need of a hug, a wild turkey with its head raised high, an alligator poking its head out of the water. 

His attention then focused on a four color traffic light. He’d never seen one before. Never knew they existed. Only had he ever seen three color traffic lights: red, yellow, and green. What could the fourth color be? Since the traffic light upon the wall remained inoperative, he couldn’t obtain the information he sought from it. He would need to obtain the information from elsewhere.

He turned to his companions. “Look, a four color traffic light. What color would the fourth one be?”

Archer had his attention focused solely on the console in his hand, and Ashley and Damien simply shrugged their shoulders, but Twister’s eyes lit up in glee. “Wow! Never seen one of those before. Let me look it up.”

Ashley looked at Twister and then at Declan. “Are they your long lost brother?”

At first, Declan took the question at face value. He looked down at his darker than night hands and then at Twister’s milky ones as they tapped frantically at the screen of their smartphone. How would any sane person think them related, let alone brothers? And just as he opened his mouth to respond in the negative, understanding came to him like a sudden bolt of lightning from a clear sky. Oh, she meant it in the rhetorical. He laughed. “I don’t act anything like him.”

Damien shook his head in the negative. “Yes, you do. You’re just quieter.”

“Orange!” Twister swayed back and forth. “That there be my favorite color. Not enough orange in the world in my humble opinion.”

“You like the color orange?” Declan smiled as a fuzzy image of his living room painted a pastel orange briefly surfaced in his mind. “I love the color orange.” 

“Yeah, three cheers for the color orange!” Twister waved their flag at the traffic light. “Rock out!” 

“See?” Ashley smiled and nodded her head. “You two are brothers.”

“Folks!” The harried, young man bustled to the front of the room. “Get into a line. One person behind the other.” As he spoke these words, people began to acquiesce to his demand. “That’s right.”

Declan queued behind a woman who wore a black corset on the top and a black lacy ballerina skirt on the bottom. This she had paired with black fishnet stockings and black combat army boots. Her purple hair spiked in every direction. Periodically, she would laugh and giggle at something the person ahead of her said. Since she stood nearly a foot taller than him, he couldn’t see this mysterious person with whom she conversed.

Twister leapt behind him. “Oh, I’m so nervous.”

Declan turned to face them. From their sneakers all the way up to the top of their head, they shook like a leaf dancing in a light summer breeze. “Hey, why are you nervous?” He gave them what he hoped a reassuring smile. “They’re no different than you or me.”

  “I know.” Twister feebly waved their flag. “It’s just Manny. He’s so gorgeous, and I’m gonna make a damn fool of myself.”

“Imagine a big, hairy wart on his nose.” Declan had suggested this to Silas when they went to a book signing last summer. Silas had a massive crush on YouTuber and author Dogem Raines. As they waited in line to meet him, Silas nearly passed out from the anticipation and excitement. After the meeting had come and gone, Silas told him that his suggestion had worked wonders; although, he did have to suppress an urge to laugh. 

“Does that really work?” Twister looked at him skeptically.

“This suggestion did help someone special once.” Declan could feel the pressure build up behind his eyeballs once more. Don’t think of him. Don’t think of him. Just think happy thoughts. I’m going to meet the Rat Brigade. I’m going to meet Finn, the one who helped me with my transition.

“Guess I could try…” Twister was interrupted by the young man.

“Good! That’s good.” The young man took off his rain poncho and placed it on a stool to the left of these two black metal doors with a push bar in the center. “I will allow four people in at a time. As you pass by me, I will give you a VIP pass that you must wear until general admission is let in.” He took in a large gulp of air. “You will then meet the band. You can get a picture taken with them if you want. You can access the pictures on the band’s website. The passcode will be on the back of your passes.” He picked up a small cardboard box from a table hugging the left wall. “OK, let’s begin.”

Seven people stood in front of Declan, which meant that he’d be separated from his charge. “Perhaps he’ll let us go in together.”

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout me none.” Twister bounced on the balls of their feet. “Next month, I turn fifteen. I can right look after myself.”

Declan saw a hazy image of the woman who had placed her trust in him to look after her nephew. A shiver coursed down his spine. “I don’t…”

“Besides, Ashley and Damien will mind me.” Twister turned to face the latter. “Right?”

“That’s right.” Ashley couldn’t be seen over Damien’s bulk, but her voice rang out loud and clear. “If they give us any smack, we’ll give them a right talking to. If they try to take off, we’ll track them down.” She laughed. 

“Like a bloodhound.” Damien quipped. 

“See, they’ll mind me proper.” Twister waved their flag in reassurance. “Now, stop worrying ‘bout me and go enjoy yourself.” 

The line moved forward as the first four VIPs were allowed entrance into the concert hall. Despite having some misgivings, Declan agreed that Ashley and Damien could look after his charge. With that matter settled, he focused on the event soon to take place. The meeting of the Rat Brigade.

What to say? He hadn’t prepared a social script ahead of time because he never thought in a million years he’d have the opportunity to meet them. To Manny, he could complement his bass skills. Thank him for being an ally to the queer community. 

To Carlos, he could express his interest in learning the drums. He had started lessons at nine but had never really kept them up. He couldn’t remember the last time he picked up a drum stick. Did he even still have his old kit? When he got home, he had to look. Perhaps, he should take up drumming again. Get really good at it.

Alright, but what should he say to Finn? Every muscle in his body tensed. What could one say? He’s the one who helped him figure out his identity. The one who helped him navigate the treacherous road that many trans people travel upon. The one whom he looked up to as one would a mentor or guardian figure. Should he mention all of this to him? After some deliberation, he decided in the negative. His videos had helped him, but his music had helped him much more.

‘Wing it.’ A malicious voice in his head crooned. Wing it? What a mental thing to think. On the verge of dismissing the voice, reason came to him. It didn’t matter if his autism made him come across as awkward or weird because Finn was autistic as well. Finn probably experienced the same or similar problems that he experienced. Struggled with the same or similar social difficulties that he struggled with. In addition, Finn had ADHD. Something that, fortunately, he didn’t have.

With this realization, his muscles relaxed. ‘I’ve got this.’ He didn’t need to wear a mask in the presence of his favorite band, for he knew that they wouldn’t judge him. They weren’t like those in his everyday life who acted nice to his face, only to laugh at him behind his back. He knew that they would be understanding and kind. 

“Next four.” The young man handed him a pass.

With numbness spreading over the surface of his skin, Declan took the pass from the young man. With trembling hands, he put the lanyard over his head. He looked down at his chest and saw the pass dangling there. Rat Brigade VIP was written on the surface in jagged Courier font. Each letter looked sharp and dangerous.

The young man opened the rightmost door and ushered them inside. 

Upon entering, Declan felt overwhelmed by the large open space that greeted him, so he took the room in sections. To the right, he saw a mini bar. To the right of this mini bar, he saw a raised platform that constituted the stage. To the right of this stage, he saw a black metal door with a push bar. To the right of this door, he saw a section of wall. Leaning against this section of wall, he saw Larry. Upon locking eyes with the man, he smiled and gave him a wave. It wasn’t a conscious response. Just one drilled into him since a young child.

The man squinted. Upon recognizing a friendly face, he smiled. “Hi, again!” The man’s voice boomed in the open space. He waddled over to him. “Good to know that Javier actually listens to me.”

“Hey!” Declan felt a bit uneasy about the man approaching him, so he continued his survey of the room. To the right of the wall, he saw a short hallway with bathrooms on the right and a merch table to the left. To the right of the hallway, he saw them: all three members of the Rat Brigade. His heart sped up. He couldn’t handle seeing them so suddenly in person, so he shifted his focus onto the man only two steps away from him. He needed a bit more time to process the situation. “Doing good?”

“Yes!” The man stopped his forward progression and stuck his hands into his pockets. “I no longer feel like a wet duck!”

“I’m glad.” Upon mention of the word “wet”, Declan become hyperaware of his damp jeans and squishy sneakers. His feet felt a bit damp, cold, and clammy. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to sit in front of a nice, toasty bonfire. The thought of choking on the smoke and gaging on the woody odor briefly popped into his mind. Scratch that. Perhaps instead of a bonfire, one of those space heaters with an image of logs burning in an old timey fireplace. No smoke, no odor. “Mayhap, by the time the concert starts, I’ll no longer feel like a wet duck myself.” 

The man laughed. “Umm…” He rocked back and forth. “I whittled you something.” 

“Me?” Declan felt his body dissociate. Why would Finn’s dad whittle him something?

“Yes.” From one of the pockets, he took out a birch figurine in the shape of a rat nibbling on a triangular piece of cheese. “I thought to give you something to decorate your desk. For the kids to admire.”

With a shaky hand, Declan took the tiny figurine. The details were exquisite and realistic. He could almost see the rat move. Could almost feel the rat breath. “I don’t know what to say.” He pressed the rat close to his chest. “Thank you!” He could feel the pressure increase behind his eyes. “Thank you so much!”

“No, thank you.” The man stuck his hand back into his pocket. “Well, I took up enough of your time.” He nodded his head in the direction of the Rat Brigade. “You’re next.”

“Huh?” Declan turned around, and saw the woman with the purple hair wave “goodbye” to the band. “Oh, no!” He had a deep seated fear about arriving late to places or being the cause of an unnecessary delay. “Bye, it was nice meeting you.”

He focused his sights on the nearest band member and made straight for him. “Sorry.” As he hurried over to his destination, he noticed a person standing next to a Nikon camera situated atop a tripod. The man had black curly hair and even darker eyes. His pace slowed a bit as he tried to puzzle out why the man looked so familiar, but given his state of rush, he didn’t have the time to figure it out. “Coming.” Besides, it wasn’t that important. He forced his gaze away from the man and back towards the intended target. “Here I be!”

Within a few seconds, he found himself standing next to the drummer. He looked Carlos up and down. His burnished skin contrasted with his green eyes and ginger hair. “Hi?” His voice came out shaky and raw.

“Hola.” Carlos’ voice reverberated deep in his chest. He stuck out a muscular hand. The veins nearly popping out of his skin.

“Oh.” Declan looked at the rat in his hand. He needed something for the man to sign. “One sec.” He took out the flag Rose had given him and stored the rat safely in his backpack. “Sorry.” He gave the flag to the drummer.   

“Never lose hope.” Carlos read out each word slowly and deliberately. “I like it.” He scribbled upon the flag. His signature looked as indecipherable as Hittite cuneiform. “Where did you get it?”

“From a woman on the train.” Declan took the flag back. Everything around him felt ethereal and unreal. Like it had been submerged in water. “She volunteers at Beacon of Hope. They help trans kids and their families.”

“I need to remember that.” Carlos smiled warmly. “Beacon of Hope.”

“Um…” Declan didn’t have the foggiest idea what else he should say to him. “Thanks.” He stepped over to the next member: the bassist.

Manny had the same burnished complexion as his bother but different colored hair and eyes. His brown eyes and hair matched that of soft caramel. “Hola.” He took the flag. “You from Chicago?” His voice wavered slightly.

“No.” Declan felt relieved that the bassist was just as nervous to meet him as he was to meet the bassist. “I live in Zion. Just north of here.” He handed him the flag.

“Cool.” Manny signed his name slow and deliberate. His signature looked spiky and jagged. Just like the letters on the VIP pass. “Much to do in Zion?”

“Not really.” Declan tried to absorb this moment and store every second in his memory, but he couldn’t. He felt odd and uncomfortable. Never would he enjoy meeting people whom he didn’t know. Even people who comprised his favorite band. “We do have a pretty beach though.”

“Cool.” Manny handed him back the flag. “Thanks for supporting our music.”

Then Declan found himself face to face with Finn. It felt odd that a computer screen didn’t separate them. That he could reach out and touch him if he so chose. “Hi.” He handed him the flag.

Finn took it. “You the one who helped out me dad?” He had eyes bluer than the richest sapphire. From a distance, his muddy brown hair muted them, but up close, they blinded any who gazed upon them. 

“Huh?” Declan took in the words but couldn’t make meaning of them. They might as well have been spoken in some Hurrian language last spoken in Anatolia centuries ago. 

“Saw you talking to me dad.” His words tripped and stumbled over each other like a pack of puppies at play.

“Oh, yes.” Declan felt the blood seep into his cheeks. “Found him on the corner of Clinton and Lake looking mighty distressed.” 

“Sounds like me dad alright.” He signed his name in bold strokes. “He’s terrible at giving directions. Could get lost in the smallest Sainsbury’s, he could.” 

Declan had no clue what a Sainsbury’s was. Instead of admitting his ignorance, he just smiled and nodded. “He whittled me a rat.”

“Did he now?” For the first time during their interaction, Finn made brief eye contact with him. “He must like you.” 

Declan didn’t know how to feel about this piece of information, so he ripped a page from Manny’s social dialogue. “Cool.”

“Do you want a picture with us?” Finn handed him back the flag. His signature stood bold and proud upon it like a hardened commander leading his troops into battle. Forever ready to strike any and all foes who stood in his path. Transphobes and bigots beware! 

Usually, Declan avoided getting his picture taken like one would avoid a plague, but he didn’t want to come off as rude. Not in front of one who meant so much to him. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Stand on the x.” Finn pointed to an x on the floor. An x made from the brightest pink duck tape he’d ever seen in his life.

As instructed, Declan stood on the x. He felt like he did during the first day of a new school year. Nervous and exited to meet his new batch of students. His stomach sloshed from side to side, and a slight ache began behind his temples. Finn stood to the right of him, Manny and Carlos to the left. They all faced the Nikon camera.

“Okay, everyone say stinky cheese after three.” Said the man behind the camera. “One…two…three…”

In unison, they yelled, “Stinky cheese!” 

Next:

section 6

[thethirdgenesisbooks]

Aeons: Vessels of the Will of the One

Have you not heard those prophecies yet? I’m sorry. Seers often tell of the coming of people who are Vessels for the Will of the One. They are called ‘Aeons.’

-Hava, former archon of Kernun, current agent of the Rebellion

While many on the world of Ymir have come to understand that the gods who have long ruled over them are false, there are some who still hold faith in some higher power. As such, several “cults” have formed on the world of Ymir, and inquisitors loyal to the gods hunt all these heretical sects.

The sect that has proven the most resilient in the face of such persecution is The Cult of the One, or, as they prefer to be called, the Path of the One (or, in some circles, the Way of the One). These people believe in a single deity who is above the false gods, and who will one day judge the pantheon of Empyrean for all the evil they’ve done. Seers are usually the authors of the holy texts of this faith, and many of those holy texts speak of encounters with the mysterious beings called “Aeons.”

Aeons have usually appeared to seers but have also made themselves known to various truth-seeking individuals, coaxing them onto the Path of the One. Aeons have demonstrated magical abilities that even the greatest casters of Ymir cannot replicate. They often appear out of nowhere and vanish just as suddenly. They know things that, even with magic, they should not be able to know. They can pause time itself to teach important lessons to lost and weary souls.

Each Aeon clings to a certain color. Animus, the Aeon in Red, for example, wears a long red coat and has matching hair and eyes. The Aeons claim to be “Vessels for the Will of the One,” and when they act, they usually do so to protect those on the Path. Yet, for all their power, their interference in the affairs of the people of Ymir is minimal.

This has led skeptics who scoff at the One to say that the Aeons are nothing more than charlatans who know more about magic than most people. Just more false gods looking for pious servants. The Aeons usually counter this by saying the reason for their relative non-involvement is because they have no intention of becoming tyrants, and if they were to interfere too much, that would surely become their path.

At this time in Ymir’s history, not all of the Aeons have been revealed. Here are those who are currently known:

The Aeon in Red

Animus first appeared during the Second Age. He appears as a young man wearing a long, red coat with matching hair and eyes on a pale, freckled face. He usually carries with him a staff that looks like a twisted double helix. Animus is said to embody justice.

The Aeon in Green

Like Animus, Ra’hamim first appeared in the Second Age. Hunters described following their game deep into the woods and finding in a lone grove a woman who was one with a gathering of banyan trees. She demonstrated a deep connection with the forest itself, as well as with all plants. Time and again, she has guided the lost out of danger. She is said to embody mercy.

The Aeon in Blue

The first records of Eidolon’s existence come from the Third Age. The Aeon in Blue typically appears wearing a vibrant, blue robe, with hair, eyes, and skin to match. An azure mist often accompanies him, and he always floats just inches off the ground. According to the holy texts of the Path, the first encounter with Eidolon happened in an ancient adonium mine called “The Godsthroat.” For a time, Eidolon was claiming to be a god, Enlil the All-Father reborn. That was, until the Aeon in Red arrived and humbled him. After that, he joined the ranks of the Aeons, and built the city of Civitas Dei as a safe haven for truly gentle, peaceful souls. He is said to embody knowledge.

The Aeon in Black

Sonia is the most recent Aeon to appear, first making herself known in the Fourth Age. She appears as a little girl with black hair wearing an equally black dress. Often, she is seen playing with dolls, though the way she speaks suggests wisdom far beyond that of a child. Those who’ve encountered her have described the experience as “unsettling,” “frightening,” and sometimes “harrowing.” She is said to embody remorse.

The Aeon in White

Currently, her name is unknown, but some have taken to calling her “The Starlit Empress” or “The Future Queen.” Seers have had encounters with the Aeon in White since the First Age, but most sages of the One teach that she is yet to be born. Some sages have also suggested that when the prophesied Third Genesis comes to pass, the Aeon in White will be the ruler of all Ymir, a benevolent monarch installed by the One. Just what virtue she embodies is unknown, though some have suggested wisdom, purpose, or compassion.

As the story of the world of Ymir continues to unfold, we will surely learn more about the Aeons, the One, and the promised future they all seek.