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lautakwah · 8 months ago

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For those (who think they're) unfamiliar with these people, here's a quick crash course/refresher:

Ann Hui, the only woman on this list (rip). Famous for having a grounded, realistic style in her filmmaking that focuses on women and social issues. One of the most celebrated and critically acclaimed filmmakers in general. She's known for Vietnam Trilogy (personally I hated them but HK'ers are always weird abt vn), Love in a Fallen City (1984), Song of Exile (1990), A Simple Life (2011).

John Woo, perhaps also known for his Hollywood films in the 2000s, he's actually the one who popularized and (re)defined the heroic bloodshed genre. One of the most well-known action directors out there; if you know the "shoots people with a gun in each hand while jumping/falling down" move, just know that is literally something he invented. Known for A Better Tomorrow (1986), The Killer (1989), Hard Boiled (1992).

Johnnie To, a highly versatile director with a strong sense of style, with a cult following outside of his native Hong Kong. While his crime thrillers are the films he's most known for, he's dipped his toes in basically every genre, most met with critical and commercial success. Known for The Eighth Happiness (1988) (fans of cmedia will be happy to know this is the movie that pioneered the lny comedy formula, à la All's Well, Ends Well (1992)), All About Ah-Long (1989), A Moment of Romance (1990), The Mission (1999), Election (2005).

Yuen Woo-ping, probably better known for his action choreography rather than his directing, most of his films are wuxia or have martial arts in them as a narrative vehicle, and featuring some of the most well-known action stars of all time, like Jet Li and Donnie Yen. Famous works include Drunken Master (1978), Iron Monkey (1993), Tai Chi Master; he also did the choreography for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000), and The Matrix 2 & 3 (among others).

Patrick Tam, while by now probably outshined by his mentee, Wong Kar-wai, is nevertheless one of the seminal members of the HK New Wave and credited by a lot of filmmakers as their inspiration if he didn't personally help them with their projects. His works are characterized by stylish directing with vivid imagery contrasting the meandering narratives and tonal shifts. Known for Nomad (1982), Burning Snow (1988).

Allen Fong, a director who has little titles to his name, but every one critically acclaimed. As like most of his contemporaries, his films are on the social issues and the uncertain, changing geopolitics of HK in the 80s, while ostensibly not focusing on those head-on. Known for Father and Son (1982), Ah Ying (1983).

David Lai, same as Allen Fong, probably isn't as well-known as some of the others on this list, but for those who do know him, he might be the most important on the list. He's directed a ton of cult classics, and has worked together with veritable superstars in the 80s and 90s. Known for The Lonely Fifteen (1982), Possessed (1983), Saviour of the Soul (1991).

Ringo Lam, a name associated with action films and heroic bloodshed the same way John Woo's is, but a powerhouse in his own right. If an action movie's conventions weren't pioneered by John Woo, there's a good chance it was pioneered by Ringo Lam instead. Most of his action/crime films focused on the dark underbelly of HK society, of which the On Fire films were probably most well-known (City on Fire (1987) in particular was ripped off for Hollywood's Reservoir Dogs). Known for Aces go Places IV (1986), City on Fire (1987), Prison on Fire (1987), Full Contact (1992).

Sammo Hung, on top of being a HK New Waver, is also one of the Seven Little Fortunes, and most famous for his martial arts and action movies, as well as choreography. He reinvented the martial arts genre and pioneered the jiangshi (cultural equivalent of zombie... ish) genre in HK cinema. Well-regarded in the industry, he's also credited by many to have helped jumpstart their careers. Known for Encounters of the Spooky Kind (1980), The Prodigal Son (1981), the Lucky Stars Series, Wheels on Meals (1986), Millionaire's Express (1986), Moon Warriors (1992).

Tsui Hark, regarded as one of the masters of Asian cinema (not just HK!), and highly influential as both a HK filmmaker and one in the mainland. If you're more than passingly aware of Asian films you've probably heard his name or seen one of his movies -- or you swear you'll watch that one movie he's done any day now (even if you don't know he did that movie). While he started with mainly wuxia films, his repertoire is much more varied than that, and there's little that he hasn't done or tried. Known for Dangerous Encounters of the First Kind (1980), All the Wrong Clues for the Right Solution (1981), Peking Opera Blues (1986), the Once Upon a Time in China series (1991-1997) (the one with Jet Li in the first films), Green Snake (1993), and, more recently and I'm willing to bet you've all heard of this: The Battle at Lake Changjin (2021) (<- movie that made headlines for being "ccp propaganda" about the Korean War that had the highest box office ever at the time).

question to all cinephiles!

Reblog for sample size etc!

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sloshed-cinema · 3 years ago

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Fallen Angels (1995)

This densely interwoven film has an appropriately frenetic, textural shooting style. The camera eye often seems restless, lingering over the shoulder of its subject, unable to stay put. Any time violence breaks out, it’s a blurred flurry of action, bodies flying, blood spattering the lens, a rejection of the bullet-time excesses of the likes of The Matrix. Moments can pass differently for individuals sharing a frame, underlining the fundamental loneliness and longing for connection at the film’s core. When Ho Chi-mo finally settles down long enough to appreciate Charlie’s presence, time slows to a rain-streaked reverie for the pair even as mayhem breaks out in the background. Yet the second time they meet, the suspension from reality exists only for him. This time he is the frenetic chaos ignored by Charlie as she waits for her new boyfriend to arrive.

As it follows people through their lives, the camera eye is intensely interested in their personal reactions and expressions. Faces are often shot in extreme close-up, sometimes even with a subtle fisheye lens to distort perception and reality. It’s intimate, almost to the point of invasion. Perhaps the viewer is the closest person to come to the character.

Fallen Angels plays out as a dark corollary to Chungking Express, the same meditation on loneliness in the city’s underbelly. Unconventional connection is perhaps the primary way these people can find some sort of resolution. The killer and his agent share the same space at different times, much as did Faye and Cop 663, but this time it’s consensual, the killer’s agent readying his pad for the next hit. She communicates via fax, messages and connections electronically transmitted across time and space. Ho Chi-mo has to rely on videotape recordings to remember his “Dad” after he goes to hospital.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says ‘Blondie’.

Voiceover monologue begins.

The killer does a hit.

BIG DRINK

Monochrome and color footage are mixed in a shot.

A jump between storylines occurs.

Ho takes over a new shop.

#drinking games #fallen angels #wong kar wai #hong kong cinema #drama #crime

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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The Transformers #23- Chaos Theory Part 2: Everything Ever is Whirl’s Fault, and He Didn’t Even Do Anything This Issue

Before the war, Orion Pax is watching the news. Turns out Nominus Prime got blown up earlier in the day, as Blaster reports from the scene of the crime. We get our first mention of the Militant Monoform Movement as we take a gander at all of Orion’s awards.

Turns out Orion went to college. Wonder what tuition’s like at the Institute of Higher Programming.

An incoming storm messes with the reception, and in walk three guys looking for trouble Whirl. Whirl’s currently in custody, seeing as Orion doesn’t take too kindly to beating suspects within an inch of their life.

General rule of thumb: anyone calling Whirl “popular” or a “friend” is either trying to kill him, or has made the attempt in the past.

So these guys are trying to get Whirl out of jail, using the power of persuasion and being generally threatening. Orion Pax is too much of a good egg to be swayed by such tactics, however, so they’ll have to up the ante.

In the present day, Optimus is having a brooding session in the engine room- I’m only assuming it’s the engine room- and Ratchet checks in.

I suppose “frazzled” is a word we could use, Ratchet, sure.

Optimus feels as if his decision on whether Megatron should be executed or imprisoned for the rest of time is going to be biased either way. Dang, almost sounds like putting it to a vote with the leader of the Autobots would be a better way of handling this, huh Optimus? It’s almost as if you’re compromised here, and we need a little friggin’ democracy going on.

Ratchet asks why he hasn’t consulted the Matrix on this whole situation, breaking out the quotation fingers whilst referring to its wisdom, but Optimus ain’t too sure about all that either. When Optimus first got the Matrix shoved into his body, that shit hurt. It hurt a LOT, and he’d interpreted that as a sort of warning that carrying it was a huge responsibility. Way bigger than taking care of a dog. Now he’s questioning whether or not he actually wants the responsibility.

Hey, if you’re having second thoughts about being Prime, you ought to give Bumblebee a little more room to work and be the leader of the Autobots like you wanted him to be, and maybe consider handing the Matrix back over to Rodimus-

Oh who am I kidding? His martyr complex would NEVER let that happen.

Back in the past, Wheelarch and Springarm are waxing poetic about how cool their new boss Orion Pax is. He’s strong, and heroic, and making a difference in the world, and he’s got just the most beautiful blue eyes-

Anyway, they arrive back at the precinct to discover where all the criminal scum have gotten to- Orion already bagged ‘em.

You know, I think tying suspects to poles in the ground in the office section, packing the room so tightly they can’t even sit or stand comfortably… I think that might be a touch illegal, Orion. Unethical, if nothing else.

A bit later on, Springarm wants to know just what the hell that was all about. Orion’s been thinking about Megatron’s writing, and how he thinks the Senate is institutionally corrupt, and that visit from Whirl’s “friends” is starting to make him think that maybe the guy had a point. It bothers him.

Springarm turns to his faith when he’s feeling bothered by deep questions like whether or not the world government is is enacting a caste-system in an attempt to control the populace.

This just in, the future space pope is a goddamned atheist. Perhaps this is why interfacing with the Matrix hurts him- it relies on a mutual respect between itself and its Prime, and there ain’t nothing less respectful than thinking of the thing as a literal ornament.

Orion thanks Springarm for the advice, but he’s going to work through this without spiritual guidance.

In the present, Optimus meets with Rodimus, and asks a question he’s never been able to ask before: how did it feel to interface with the Matrix?

Well dang, Rodders, tell us how you really feel!

It should be noted that Rodimus does have some level of faith in the gods, the Matrix, the Knights of Cybertron, and several other Cybertronian legends and myths- which sort of makes the MTMTE Knight Quest look like a bit of a crusade, doesn’t it? Does believing in the Matrix let it bond more seamlessly with the bearer? Methinks it just might.

Back in the past, Orion Pax gets back from patrol to find the precinct has been broken into, and his two motorbike boys aren’t doing so hot.

Oh man, Valve’s going to be pissed.

Moving real stealthy-like, Orion moves to the holding cells, where he catches those guys from earlier trying to spring Whirl from jail. Well, two of them anyway. The third guy is behind him, and shoots him in the back.

Luckily, Orion’s old body-frame includes a backpack, and this move doesn’t kill him. He sweeps the leg of his assailant, shoots Whirl in the leg so he can’t escape, then runs to his trophy case to grab the fancy gun someone gave him. Wonder what it was for.

Alas! It’s not loaded. Which you ought to expect from an award gun, unless you loaded it yourself before you put it in the case. Which he didn’t, clearly.

Three versus one, and the solo act doesn’t have any weapons. What’s a guy to do?

This is deeply silly. I adore it.

Thinking quickly, Orion drags Springarm’s headless body into a closet. This isn’t necessarily a smart move, but give it a second. As the three thugs discuss murder-based puns, Orion prepares to enact a Roberts’ writing essential.

Corpse desecration.

Riding his coworker’s lifeless body through the precinct, he runs down his attackers, stabs one of them in the throat with one of his arm cannons in front of all the ‘bots currently in the cells, and goes to find Whirl.

Whirl, who knows to get going while the getting’s good, warns Orion that the Senate has eyes everywhere, and if he so much as touches Whirl his whole life is gonna get turned upside down and inside out, and not in a fun way. And he’d know.

Smash cut to the Grand Imperium, home of the Senate, where everything is blue and gold, fear tactics are at play on the political stage, and everyone is suffering from a nasty case of same-face syndrome. Senator Proteus is about to enact the Clampdown, a strict rule of martial law that will, under the guise of protecting the people and weeding out terrorism, in actuality allow the Senate to hoard power like a bunch of dragons.

Then Orion shows up, after fighting off the entirety of the Senate security force, while carrying a one-legged Whirl.

Got a nice shot of some bird ass, and Orion’s honkers are halfway out. I wonder if this particular chunk of fan-service was specified in the script, or if this is purely Milne.

Sentinel calls off the dogs, and Orion has his say. He throws Whirl on the floor, introducing him to everyone as the cause of every problem ever. Well, not really, but pretty close.

Orion, you can’t just say a guy caused two people to die and then not expect to have to deal with the repercussions of pummeling his psyche at some point down the road.

Orion goes on to mention Megatron, bringing up his writings and how they revealed to him the dark, ugly underbelly of the Senate that he’d been blind to until that point. This is still the guy who arrested drug addicts for using and tied them to a pole, by the by. He’s less than 48 hours into this Megatron kick, and still got a lot to rectify within himself.

Orion coins the term “Autobots”, reclaiming a friggin’ slur the other races in the galaxy have taken to calling the Cybertronians.

I wasn’t kidding.

The Senate members are starting to get rowdy about being called out on their bullshit, and have Orion removed from the building, but not before he can ask Megatron’s three questions:

1. In whose interests do the Senate exercise their power?

2. To whom is the Senate accountable?

3. How can the populace get rid of them?

No answers are given, as he’s taken away. He did use Megatron’s name, by the way. His full one, with the “of Tarn” attached and mentioned where he worked. Smooth moves, Orion. Now Megatron’s going to be targeted for politically-charged murder.

In the present, Optimus Prime’s made a decision on what exactly to do with Megatron- and his decision is to let Megatron decide his fate, because freedom is the right of all sentient beings, and part of that is getting to choose your fate.

Megatron picks death, like, immediately.

Optimus gets the Matrix back from Ratchet, who he left its care in- he wanted to be sure that he was still the person he had been back when he made that speech to the Senate. Glad your crisis of self went well, Optimus.

Back in the past, Orion Pax meets with a senator in front of the Ark-1 memorial, very secret-like. See this senator’s seen all the nonsense that goes on in the Senate, and he’s about had it. Forget what all Megatron wrote about, it’s way, way worse in reality. He can’t prove it, but the attack on Nominus Prime was an inside job, so that the Senate could get their hands on the Matrix and figure out how it creates life.

I know, it’s crazy.

Things will probably pop off very soon, so the Senator’s taken the liberty of modifying Orion Pax’s chest cavity while he was passed out receiving repairs.

So the guy made a little hidey-hole for the Matrix in Orion’s body, so that he could one day be Prime.

Hey.

Hey, Senator.

Consent is sexy, man. Don’t be like that.

#transformers #jro #the transformers 2009 #issue 23 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing #overthinking about robots

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silencedminstrel · 4 years ago

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The Revenant Collectives Trilogy Part 3 - Defeating The Dark Legion

“Looking back, the Revenant Collectives had had several peaceful decades of galactic plundering and making a name for themselves, dodging law enforcement agencies, endearing themselves to the downtrodden and exploring new sectors of space normal people wouldn’t tread without a triple layered force-field and high powered laser vapor grid. However the altruistic side of this band of space pirates is about to shine their brightest, thanks to efforts of this certain Chinese Triad Leader from a dump of a colony somewhere in the Horsehead Nebula by the name of Stanley Chan. Though a native of Xian Gan Prime, he always had eyes and ears on all things happening within the Earth Alliance government and, on this one particular day, he received the most shocking of news: one of the top ranking politicians is a Shudwa Dumanta Legion spy and he’s about to rendezvous with Shaik The Fallen One to give him some top secret information that will hasten his conquest of the planet.

Gathering all their resources, him and his old friend, Code Black Hacker (a dangerous class of IT saboteurs in the Galactic Union’s most wanted cyber-criminals list) and another Triad leader Bonbon Hai formulated a plan to intercept that snitch, put everything on record and then put a bullet in that traitor’s head, for the said restricted information is a blueprint to a galaxy-hopping starship that both the Earth Alliance and the Galactic Union had developed—The Sign Of Shairo—and they are about to commence its construction soon. Shaik already knew why and where that starship is heading to and, realizing if it reaches the ‘Root of Laniakea’ before the ‘Kal Merkaba’ phenomenon begins, all his eons of careful planning will be for nothing! And since the galaxy is currently firewalled by five supercomputers (Mother Matrix is one of them) he has to procure those schematics via the old fashioned way—plant a spy in the government to find them and make him deliver them to him personally. And after doing that, he ordered his minions to at first cause trouble in the underbelly of that divided galaxy to allow his Legion’s activities to go unnoticed. Later on he would make the Dark Legion’s presence officially known as their fated meeting drew near.

Rembrandt and Patrick knew about the existence of this Dark Legion several years back but they never knew how fast they gained a foothold in the galaxy until he met up with Stanley Chan. There Stanley Chan proposed to form an alliance to intercept the Earth Alliance traitor via a suicide squad made from both his Xian Gan Prime Triad and the Revenant Collectives, plus some help from a few of his friends from both the Galactic Union and the Synod. The space pirate duo were surprised at Mr. Chan’s humanistic side and, knowing the man knew what he is doing, they agreed to help him out of charity (piracy is a business after all). Thus with much difficulty, they managed to create not only the aforementioned squad but also an accompanying fleet of ships bound for the region just outside the galaxy, a realm of constant cosmic chaos (where matter and dark matter collides every second) where that meeting is to take place. Thus on that fateful day, a team made out of the Triad duo and company, a space marine force from the Earth Alliance, an elite militia from the Synod, two former soldiers of the Galactic Union, cyborgs from New Hesperion led by Mother Matrix, Saif Mintaka and a Psi-being from the Order of The Blessed, departed for the Outer Rim to rendezvous with Rembrandt and Patrick and volunteers from the Revenant Collectives. Alas, a month of violent galactic storms saw them unwillingly took up shelter on the galactic frontier planet Borobudor Fringe before a new launch window opened up and they resumed their journey.

And what an eventful month that was!

The fatal attempt on the Supreme Chairman of the Galactic Union’s life while officiating the Galactic Union’s Founding Day celebration by an unknown fleet threw more than half of the galaxy into a time of uncertainty and power vacuum, with iron-clad curfew enforcements on all Union’s administrated systems and round-the-clock emergency patrols in every quadrant, it was a big inconvenience to both the galactic public as well as its dark underworld, where street protests and backstreet warfare became part of the daily news. This was when the panicked central government fell prey to hearsay and blamed the ‘previously non-existing’ Dark Legion behind the Chairman’s death, and all the sudden any unregistered cruisers and dreadnoughts were immediately considered a terrorist threat, busy interstellar trade routes reduced to a standstill, planetary economies plunged into recession and local governments lost control over their people. Few actually realized that the attack was orchestrated by the Dark Legion’s old adversary the Ephron Dantiaz Legion (the White Legion), risen from eons of obscurity as if guided by a sign and somehow gained full support from the governing rival (The Galactic Synod) to stem their dark counterpart’s advances. Shaik didn’t take this thing very well (because the Chairman himself was apparently one of his agents) and was forced to make his Dark Legion’s appearance earlier by confronting the White Legion in every sector of known space, angered by the fact they dared to ruin his plans and oblivious to the fact his fate is about to take on a turn to the worst real soon…

Barely a week had passed before the troubled government decided to do an impromptu general election, and both the news and its corresponding events affected the unlikely band of heroes differently. The previously cold relationship between Rembrandt and his estranged son Melvin seemed to have thawed out thanks to the help of his mentor Patrick. New Hesperion cyborg mercenary Remington Edwards began question his motivation when his only brother, City Sentinel Lieutenant Bradford, was killed in the line of duty (and was unknowingly brought back to life later on by Mother Matrix herself) by a fusion bomb planted by the Dark Legion’s unlikely agent—his own girlfriend. Saif Mintaka kept on traveling in and out of dimensions doing strange errands for the upcoming ‘Kal Merkaba’ event, even more so when his own protégé, City Sentinel/Guardian Captain Humoga Triakis went into a coma after surviving an ambush perpetrated by agents of the Dark Legion. The Human/Pibian hybrid and space pirate elder Patrick Escula faced a deep dilemma when his sworn enemy Purvustra Svem-Avika, a deranged Pibian sniper who blamed him for his girlfriend’s death and had been after his head for the past decade; came to him one day seeking help with his “otherworldly” problems. And the tank-bred Psi-being Gus Hanson begrudgingly accepted who he really is when his grandfather the Patriarch of the Blessed Order died and made him the only defender of all psychic beings in the universe called ‘The Golden Child of Future Past’. For the uninitiated it would seem that both the insignificant suicide squad and the galactic underworld alliance’s fate hang in the balance but in truth, it is not so…

Finally all the contestants for the empty Supreme Chairman of the Union’s seat had registered and shortlisted, with the vacant spot now hotly contested by two young politicians, twenty one year old Triakian galactic business mogul Kranov Charcharias (Humoga’s half-brother) and a twenty-six year old dark energy physicists Rmezon (no surname) evidently an agent of the Dark Legion sent by Shaik to take over the galaxy through political means. While most of the galactic eyes and ears were fixed onto the final day campaign between these two and (to a lesser extent) sporadic battles between the Dark and White Legion, the underworld alliance said their last goodbye to their loved ones prior to commencing the suicide mission. Remington was briefly united with his supposedly departed brother Gaius Bradford (thus rekindling his fighting spirit), Saif Mintaka formed an alliance with the spirit of a powerful prince during his many celestial travels, Union Army deserter and bomb expert Captain Tevork-Chi received news from his adopted son that their displaced race had just received a new planet, and the disassociating tank-bred Gus Hanson, mourning for his destroyed home world Haven-32B, found a reason to live again when he fell in love with another tank-bred while on Borobudor Fringe. And to top it all off, the Spokesperson of the Galactic Synod himself, Commodore Periz had agreed to join them, escorted by the Synod’s legendary military elite the ‘Pax Cabalis’ squad. As the heated campaign went on full-swing in the center of the Milky Way, the weary underworld alliance received news that they’ve been waiting for since forever: the month long galactic storm had dissipated and their launch window had been programmed and confirmed. Thus the fleet of Xian Gan Prime’s Stanley Chan, which consisted of two privately registered dreadnoughts with military grade trans-warp engine, a stealth cruiser with an Earth Alliance Marines logo and a Synod Class ‘diplomatic’ barge; departed from that frontier planet to meet up with the Revenant Collectives fleet of five souped-up destroyers and their infamous flagship “The Silenced Minstrel”, out near the heliopause.

The confrontation was imminent…

The fleet arrived at the supposed rendezvous point of the Alliance mole and the Dark Legion, and rudely found out the traitor was none other than Earth’s Home Minister himself! Stanley Chan decided to get there before that politician does so that they could document the entire transaction and then disposes of both parties. They approached the site in stealth never realizing that Shaik the Fallen One had set a trap for them. Realizing this, the galactic supercomputer Mother Matrix quickly intervened, took over the cybernetic medium Melvin’s body and through him, she took control of the weapon turrets of the entire fleet. His father Rembrandt tried to stop him but Melvin was encased in an electrified force-field that nearly short-circuited him. The entire squad watched in horror as all the guns on each one of their ships aimed and fired upon both the Earth Alliance and the Dark Legion’s ship, blowing them up behind a fearsome blaze, and then the hapless cyborg fell weakly down the floor, where his father cradled him and Stanley Chan nearly put a bullet in Melvin’s head. Mother Matrix appeared out of the cyberspace for the first time and explained what she did, as she detected a fluctuation in the matter-dark matter equilibrium that suggested they were headed right into Shaik’s trap. Stanley Chan was placated by this and both ended up looking at the raging cosmic inferno for a moment before the entire squad got teleported into the Dark Energy Realm—and straight into the bridge of the Shudwa Dumanta Legion’s flagship itself! They awoke to find themselves in a vast, strangely lit hall filled with strange objects and intricate circuitry on every wall and even on the ceiling. Not soon after, an ominous red mist appeared out of nowhere and for the first time the identity of Shaik The Fallen One was made known to the universe, a humanoid in dark blue mask and poncho-like garment decorated with golden epaulettes, the all-too-sickening emblem of a flying black bird of prey lifting a sword while engulfed in a blazing fire (emblem of the Dark Legion) emblazoned proudly on his chest. A glowing red bladed sword floated effortlessly by his left side always within reach, and from his obsidian black visor aglow a pair of red eyes devoid of life! He grabbed hold of his sword, swished the red mist away and the confrontation began. Gus Hanson sealed him in a force-field generated by his psychic powers combined with a cybernetic field generator wielded by Bonbon Hai and Commodore Periz sealed his mouth via his own secret skill to prevent him from uttering any enchantments. Shaik the Fallen was understandably furious at this point; Gus grimaced in pain with each of the former’s hacking and slashing at his force-field and it wasn’t long before the Mad Wolf sprung loose and began to cast a powerful magick over the group. Saif Mintaka calmly drew out his sword, melded his powers with that of the dead prince and—to everyone’s horror—Stanley Chan confronted Shaik and lobbed a hand grenade full of the deadly Ofla Fever virus at him, and then he just stood there smiling as everyone in his team vanished from view via Saif Mintaka’s powers and right back onto Rembrandt’s starship, just in time to watch the formidable flagship of the Dark Legion erupted behind a catastrophic explosion. The starship then left for the nearest exit point of the Dark Energy realm for the Milky Way, leaving with a memory that will change their lives, forever…”

#new age #gothic #depressive #synthesizer #instrumental #science fiction #fantasy #cyberpunk #space opera #space pirates #dark legion #galactic union #synod

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stupendoustrashmagazine · 5 years ago

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Prelude

Tonight the act of naming fell through the floor.

We speak permeable solids inflected by light

Move indistinctly: palate of windshield

Crosshatch hop-cross’d with Ovidian shift,

faux forest, treat’d with colors from closet

Plait plat in a plot to track flotillas down,

Hot air balloons up, celebrating distant

Prairie fair. Farmer’s burnoff coils tall

Ash columns, formations above turbines white.

Learn to kill that hunger for thunderhead drift.

Can follow on foot synapse, taste confit,

Sketch figure, set type, code python on limb,

Design legend for—scratch the map, lost.

I want the aura to aural irrespective of sense

the quartet of styrofoam boats & balloons

of plastic bags forgiven along with conductor,

for it to catapult group out open window,

An aria, moved, moving, with others. The spleen

Racket, melange dischord allowing

harmony’s plural means of resolution.

Pipe seams bead’d with silver solder &

Dreams warp’d with passion’s endurance.

The trespass into yard with inflatable pool

where algal sideburns pastoralize

a celebratory drowning ritual.

Come back. Help me frame Matisse (guilty

Strokes), rust the iron, damper temperment

Unclothed. Spill the hamper & sing it,

that magnolia

We’ll stay long enough for faith in

each other’s visions. For something beyond

earthly suffering. Sucked dry wax & cone.

It is unfortunate, the dragonflies are

Purple & beautiful, abdomen metallic

terrae, nodes aggregate, curvature &

husk. Nearby: a field of lightning. The stroll

through it risked no electrocution.

Cull’d from material body leads to matter again.

Association of associations.

Together, we’ll erase strip malls frosting away

In our chests, but we won’t be able to stop the ivy

From terraforming, maturing towards strangulation,

A form of survival. Walk a while into notional

Forest, ash grey hit with newborn beetles,

No radar, cobalt blue tinted dark green.

Skykomish in Summer

In Goldbar Washington boys crossed

river with driftwood staves feet

slick-step between slime & rock,

underbelly of serpentine but liquefied,

algaal nets stretched between toes,

Like scales without edge—stiffened

Cold after crossing were caverns

shadows hold, shield from radiation,

& though they couldn’t admit this

touch was what they most wanted,

schizoid clouds temporary shelter

against frenetic sun, there in those

caverns the kids dove into pools

Spun in schools of spit & current

Slippery grips grit on bank’s cove

tangle of nets, sunken conflagrations

Their bodies pressing against the wake

a force there, a quiet endlessness

sound beckoning shape, the inky jar.

Repossession (1.)

Spring seeds fibrillate, sap drools.

Muddy lawns: aftermath of an approach.

Easter-green paint cracks, reveals cedar siding,

Disintegrates, falls to foundation’s edge close.

One could ask who lived here. Do most times

even though it’s’no secret. They lost it, left

We cut & to the porch fasten 2x4 handrails

(Suing a bank’s a better investment), step

Inside.Maple floorboards, worn-out testimony.

Each creak releases things outside in-

terpretation or language. Bathtub’s got

Concrete top pour’d but unfinish’d

punctured lining by PVC tubes like reeds

for lungs underwater, covered in mud.

The second story framing’s exposed, drywall

crumbs caked, spackle pocks & joint compound

in gnarled clutches grab remains, fading.

Electrical wires in knots, pigtails,

Copper diminished in conduit. Empty

centers of things usually covered, then valued.

There is then the business of the yard

children’s toys—truck beds blue on body

red, bouquets of acrylic flowers, the

eyeball amanita thrombosis, marbles

½-cover’din mud.Dolls, ropes, figurines.

We clean out a carport barn, trash,

automotive parts, motor oil, glass, aluminum.

Kinetic images sequence, make time elastic,

Revelations flaw; in sensorial beatitudes, a kind of wreckage,

Sight is a museum of things seen, they’re hostages:

Beneath the house, thousands of aluminum

Cans, vinegar, rat nests in an old tent,

Dust so fine it’s crystalline. We rake & bag for hours.

Outside, a doll hung from rhododendron

Its face torched, head cocked to the side, clothes

Missing, darling buds of May hooked at the armpit.

My boss talks about rural zoning laws

As we back out of the emptied house;

The wet half-acre prairie grass fenced-in & barbed

Waits for another debtor; we head again toward emptiness.

Repossession (2.)

In the truck. Behind us, trail-rattle

& typical thrash. My boss tells me

About the gem we’re about settle in.

It’s like wading through bodies, I think.

The metaphor breaks immediately.

The driveway could be a fractured jaw—

I cut the grass with our Kubota mower.

The shed is fifteen feet away from the tracks

& an old sawmill spits nothing under sky.

Deadly nightshade drifts vascular across cedar

Siding, grey lead-based flakes fall in wet, cut weeds.

The red berries barrage, their Plathian pitch.

The mother-in-law’s a converted shed,

Its floor’s center sags, linoleum squares

Sepia-toned & checkerboard in easy encryption.

I bleach & scrub the toilet, pour antifreeze in.

The makeshift porch’s missing walls on all sides:

Top hat Styrofoam insulation & DuPont

Foam curdled, cumulous, mustard & rust. I push open

The house’s door. Carpet bubbles carcinoma grey,

Whole sections swell a foot from level ground.

I taste urine & ammonium. Dust gets on our skin.

I grab my razor knife, “Rip in.” He laughs.

The carpet weighs twice what it should, I stack

Pieces on the lawn. The carpet pad has fused

In a foam matrix to subterranean linoleum.

I stab & lever it with a toothed roofing shovel.

D the cleaner & I stop. We just look at it.

Snowflakes, quite idiosyncratic, urea crystals, dust.

Maybe a year or so buildup from cats or dogs.

The bedroom the same. I laugh this time.

Tobacco stains headway, riverine drawings on walls.

Sappy window trim. Popcorn ceiling meteorologist:

Sheet of cottage cheese about to hail.

I go outside to sneak a cigarette near the tracks.

We shovel the crystal uric acid into buckets.

Makes me think about molecular records.

An atomic record forever void its narrative.

I pull up tack strip with a roofing shovel.

They’re like reeds, I think. We leave it

Mowed, gutted, clean. It’s quiet here near the tracks.

Sparrows. He starts the truck. Dust all over us.

We pass past things along with clouds.

We head to the dump. I unload. He reminds us

He hates dealing with the public.

Stamp

Over there in rotting field

Grows some storm with an eye

Toward an oak

One could say is trembling

But accounting for wind

Really it moves from force

& force alone while metastatic clouds

Mid-west median June appraise

Landscape of prairie

& steel beams two-by-foured

In rows holding up a smattering,

Maybe just a platter of

Figurative three-tab shingles—

An economy of pigs, feed, birds, too:

It’s pulmonary, the bristles

Horizontally dance, thistles

In multiplication, an armory

Rucksacking its strength

Gripping seams & susceptible glue

Undone un-doing year

After year—from behind

One window of nondescription

A home chatters, clapboards flap,

Scratching like molars,

A singular flash gives rise

During descent—cast-iron

Frying each cornea clean—

Leaving in singular manner

Carbonized stump, something

That doesn’t even look

For an original impulse

A root that once gripped

Mineral & dirt, an uneven pitch

Of earth left without

A stamp or reason for being.

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iacon-stargazer · 6 years ago

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The History of Optimus Prime

The Prime known to future generations only as Thirteen is Orion and Optimus in his truest form, the pure and unmarred essence of his spark. The final fragment of Primus's power, and the closest to the Creator’s own frequency—close enough to face Unicron in his place, to perform the potentially self-sacrificing act of sending them both to stasis via the proximity of their sparks.

There's no resentment over the very real possibility of himself never awakening, no regret. He hasn't yet learned such concepts. He's kind, honest, loving, and fair—to others and himself equally. He's the mediator, and with remarkable success keeps the peace between the range of personalities more extreme than his own.

The battle with Unicron changes things, however. They can no longer be truly said to have a single creator, for even as they succeeded, the touch of chaos left its mark upon them all. No more than a seed at first, it reacts uniquely as it takes root in each of them through the events that follow.

As Optimus watches the family he knew fall apart despite his best efforts to perform his treasured duty, his own seed of darkness germinates—a subtle self-blame flickering through his confusion, a sense that he's just not trying quite hard enough, that he could do better. It's small though, for his knowing that he is doing what he can and always has done.

In the end, it doesn't matter. Liege Maximo, the glib and cunning one of the group, spreads discord until, in a great crest of tragedy, Megatronus accidentally slays Solus in a moment of blind rage. The brothers are devastated, Megatronus not least of all, and he takes up a cloak of banishment, changing his name to "The Fallen". Chaos descends as remainder of them fight, and never before has Optimus felt more helpless.

His grief waters his seed of darkness, and it grows into a gripping pain—an emotional pain the likes of which his young and innocent spark has never before experienced. Lost, suffering, and helpless, when Onyx descends into the Well for the proximity to Primus to keep his spark alive when his fatally wounded frame cannot, and Micronus goes to accompany him, Optimus chooses to join them—not for the peace of that quiet and slow realm, but to step into the Allspark itself.

"To better understand the new generation, to better be able to help them." Such reasoning bears a heavy weight. Where he has failed his siblings he's determined not to fail again. The possibility for a second chance in a fresh life brings the relief of hope to lighten the guilt and grief he carries. To leave behind and forget his remaining siblings aches, but he can be of more use if he lets himself be reincarnated. He will try harder, do better, and succeed where he has failed before. Informed of this decision, Alpha Trion, the record keeper among them, redacts Optimus’s name from the Covenant of Primus, their great record of history—leaving the Optimus Prime of this age to be remembered simply as “Thirteen”.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And so Orion Pax emerges. A young mech with the same instinctual sense of goodness, an insatiable curiosity for the world in which he lives, and an unusual interest in its history. Alpha Trion watches over his reborn younger brother, offering him council as well as he can as a friend and mentor.

Orion seems to always have a persistent sense that he's missing something, forgotten something... that there's some purpose to his life that he's forgotten. It's a subtle sense of not-quite-satisfaction, something nagging for him to remember, but always just beyond his reach. He eventually forgets it—or perhaps simply grows so used to it, he ceases to notice.

Until, during his work archiving, he runs across a speech delivered by a rising gladiator in the Pits of Kaon. A gladiator who has named himself after The Fallen of the Thirteen.

As Orion's optics open to Cybertronian society's darker underbelly, so too does something deep inside of him seem to wake up. He takes action, contacts the gladiator, and begins to stand for him, beside him, aiding and reaching out to others in his own ways to bring equality to Cybertron. Despite all odds, they have hope. With this gladiator—named after Megatronus, but sharing as well all the cunning eloquence of Liege Maximo—he has a chance to succeed where his past self has failed.

If only it were that easy.

Megatronus, now with his self-chosen name clipped to Megatron—a far more self-empowered move than his namesake's change—is furious when the council (with perhaps some suggestion from Alpha Trion) offers the goal he's been seeking, a mantle of leadership in the form of Primehood, to Orion instead of himself. It doesn't matter that Orion refuses it. But Orion will make it matter, prove the truth of his intentions; he can do this...

Then in a sudden turning point, light is brought in to shine upon everything this karmic successor to Liege Maximo has kept hidden from him. It's a voluminous and black reality. The peaceful protestor has been a front, as deep beneath he has lead his truest followers to strike out in anger and violence, committing terrorist attacks that sometimes bring down not only the senators they so hate, but any number of innocent bystanders caught in the blazes.

This is the true test for Orion now. He must break through the devastation of his trust and step forward, rise above and bring them back together onto common ground.

He'll give Megatron another chance.

He tries.

It's not enough.

War is not likely. It's imminent. Feeling no other choice, Orion accepts the title he's been offered, and, fighting through the hurt of betrayal, tries to step into the role he seems to be needed in now, as a leader.

They call him “Optimus Prime.” Something about the name feels familiar, but other parts of him still resist it. He’s no Prime; he does not hold the Matrix. His decision to take the title nonetheless is one of pragmatic necessity; he needs the influence if he’s to make changes from within, and doing so is all the more urgent with Megatron as an enemy. Previously he’d hoped to support and council from the sidelines, as Megatron’s flame of passion was much more suited for leadership than his own quiet justice, but there’s not so much room for choice left for him now. Only he can do this, and so he must.

To lead in war is a great and terrible struggle, a nightmare come to life. He has to stay strong despite the weight of grief and responsibility for every warrior lost upon him. Megatron’s methods grow ever darker and more extreme as it drags on, grinding down Orion’s—no, Optimus’s, technically—hopes of changing his mind ever further, though still he does not give up. The mech he knew has to be in there somewhere still.

Even when Megatron poisons Cybertron’s very core.

Orion—Optimus—makes the journey down to save it himself. He must remove the taint of dark energon, protect the Allspark from its contamination and Megatron’s sinister goals....

There’s something more for him waiting down there. A destiny for him to take on, for only he can do this, and he is needed.

~~~~~

Optimus often clashes with the Matrix, especially at first. However, his will is strong and his ideals rarely compromised. He does recognize, however, that his personal desires are a hindrance. For all that he values individuality, freedom, and choice, he realizes that for others to have that, it’s necessary for him to sacrifice his own. And so as well as he can, he does.

Whereas Orion had once been a relatively emotionally well-adjusted individual, always acknowledging and looking for outlets for his own feelings even if he refrained from expressing them for the sake of others, Optimus begins to repress those of his that hinder him from his duty. At first it is only telling himself he doesn’t have the luxury of dwelling on them just then, but gradually it shifts to the point where he is only subconsciously aware of them until they grow too strong for him to avoid.

He finds outlets, still, in solitary drives and meditations, when those times arrive. Far more rarely does he indulge in the sorts of music he turned to as Orion, and several subjects cease appearing in his journaling.

It builds up, over the vorns, the weight he bears upon him. So many small pains blend together, dulling and numbing in their acuity. His spark never hardens, though, only endures.

Guilt weighs the heaviest of all, and pushes his martyristic complex all the further. He recognizes the importance of the role he plays—too important for him to ever waver from it—but at the same time, he still refuses to hold his life above that of any other. To let any soldier perish for him would weigh too heavily on him, and so it’s easier for him to offer up his own life as the first alternative, even if that would leave everyone else stranded without him.

They would be strong enough to manage with him gone, he tells himself.

But his duty is essential and he cannot pause from it, because they need him.

Even his subconscious cannot allow him to recognize the contradictory logic, because he has stood for these ideals so long. The pillars of his identity are forged from these principles, of his duty to those he must protect. Iron-cast and fortified, they hold him up when everything inside is saturated with guilt, pain, and regret he cannot afford to delve into. He cannot question himself anymore, because those pillars, that idea that they need him both holds him up and holds him back.

By the end, his existence is little else.

When Cybertron is restored, and his quest points him to death, the actualization is a relief. It pains him to leave those he cares for behind, but he’s needed, for one last thing. That moment, as he dives into the Well and releases the Matrix and the Allspark with it, the need for him is fulfilled.

He’s done his part.

The pillars dissolve, and he’s free.

#;{backstory}#;{headcanon}#;{long post}#tw suicide mention #{{just to be safe}}#{{it's no more than canon stuff though}}

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pomegranate-belle · 6 years ago

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Figured I’d join in on the WIP amnesty thing @werelibrarian is doing because I wrote all I really wanted to of this and I have no idea where it was going; so have the scattered bits and pieces of my angsty DD college fic:

Foggy just grinned and joked about it, because what else could he do? If he’d jumped into a language course half-cocked for a pretty girl, Matt damn well had the right to do the same. The fact that one of these things had happened before their meeting and one after was wholly irrelevant. Especially when Matt’s full-body gay panic flinch had Foggy flinging himself bodily back into the closet in a fumble so obvious it could be seen from the freaking moon. So. Yeah. It was fine.

Really.

Sure, Foggy felt kind of twitchy and dishonest, and a little bit sick inside, boarding up the windows to his attraction to men. But Matt was... He was funny and charming and stunningly handsome and Foggy’s own personal hero since the age of nine and, well... Foggy wanted to know him. So badly.

And the more he learned, the more he knew about Matt, the more he knew him, the more he realized that he didn’t want to be without him. Like... Ever.

Over time everything eased into comfort. Foggy dated guys again, and Matt didn’t bat an eyelash. That felt good; really good, actually, except for the part where Foggy was still low-key in love with his painfully straight roommate and probably would be for the rest of his pathetic life.

—

The bruises were... Well. At first, at first it was just hickeys, love bites. They made Foggy’s stomach twist, yeah, but Matt came home grinning dopily every time so Foggy couldn’t make himself begrudge the Greek girl anything.

But then they started appearing elsewhere. Bruises. And not the nice sexy kind. Ugly blotches of purple and green, splayed across Matt’s ribs so that Foggy only caught a glimpse when his roommate was rucking up his shirt to change clothes. Ugly red scabs and rope burns around Matt’s wrists.

And then came the black eye, poorly concealed by Matt’s dollar-store Matrix shades.

“Jesus Christ, Matt! What happened?” Foggy demanded, because weird bruises were on the fence enough to be awkward but there was nothing even remotely kinky or sexy about a straight-up shiner.

Matt just shot him that charming-blind-guy megawatt smile, the one he used to bend professors and academic advisors alike to his will, and shrugged.

“I’m fine, Foggy,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sure it just looks worse than it is.”

“It looks like you went nine rounds with a sledgehammer-wielding lumberjack, dude,” pressed Foggy.

But all Matt did was laugh, brightly, like it was a joke. Foggy wanted to say, I’m not kidding, Matt, but the words wouldn’t come out.

—

“So— so what?” Matt demanded, agitated. “Just because I’m blind she has to be taking advantage of me?”

“C’mon, Matt, you know that’s not what I—“

“Then what,” Matt bit out viciously. “What did you— Did you mean? Huh?”

“It’s not about being blind, Jesus Christ, Matt! It’s that you don’t show up for class anymore! It’s that I can’t remember the last time we hung out! It’s that you look like a fucking PSA about domestic abuse! God if you could see yourself right now...!” Foggy tugged anxiously at strands of his own hair, his voice tight and hurt. “There is no way this relationship is safe or healthy or—! Just...! She’s not good for you, Matt!”

But that was the wrong thing to say, because when Foggy looked up again Matt had slipped on his shades and his face had gone flat and cool. He looked the way he did when he was about to go up against someone he hated in a mock debate. A sudden cold, swooping feeling overtook Foggy’s stomach.

“And who is?” Matt asked quietly. “You?”

Foggy let out a whuff of air like Matt had actually reached out and punched him. All his limbs felt heavy and numb and chilled.

“Matt...”

It was something they didn’t talk about. Well, Foggy had hoped maybe Matt hadn’t noticed at all but that was probably a long shot. For all his awkward raised-by-nuns socialization and for all that he couldn’t actually see an expression to gauge it, Matt was crazy good at reading people. It would’ve been stupid for Foggy to assume he was an exception to the rule, especially since they spent so much time together. It was just... They’d always managed to sidestep it before. Nothing incriminating, nothing to see here, just mushy best friend feelings. But badmouthing Elektra must have crossed the line far enough to make that an acceptable counterattack in Matt’s mind. Well, turnabout was fair play.

“Elektra knows me, Foggy. She knows me better than you ever did. And I know her too.”

It was a fatal shot right to the tender underbelly of Foggy’s insecurities. Ones he hadn’t even thought to consider, before those hard words spilled from Matt’s mouth. Because, ok, yeah, Elektra was hot like burning in a way Foggy could never hope to be, and she was a girl, so he got it, sure. But that she knew Matt better than Foggy? That she understood him better? That the tone of Matt’s voice said, you’re superfluous, you’re annoying, I never wanted you around...

“I...” Foggy stammered, but the words ‘thought we were best friends’ wouldn’t pass his lips. “Yeah, alright...”

Suddenly thankful for his roommate’s blindness, Foggy pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes to force down hot, ugly tears. There was nothing wrong with a good long cry, and he definitely planned to schedule one very soon, but you didn’t cry after a hit like that. Not where the person who hurt you could hear it. Well, at least there was one good thing to come from being bullied in American public schools — better tear duct regulation.

Anyway, who wanted to play the victim? Just because it hurt... Matt was angry, he’d just said it because he was angry. And even if he hadn’t, Foggy knew that Matt had always had trouble bringing down his walls. It was... It was good that someone could surmount them. And Matt had said he was happy. With her. Elektra. He was an adult and he could take care of himself and make his own stupid choices, couldn’t he? Foggy didn’t get a pass to treat Matt like glass just because they were friends, he knew Matt hated that.

But backing down still made his stomach churn. Those cuts and bruises made his stomach churn.

“I’m, I’m just gonna,” Foggy stammered at last, willing his voice not to crack. “I should. Go. Do something. Not here.”

Because, settled at his desk with his feet planted heavily on the floor and his posture wide and aggressive, there was no way in hell Matt was going anywhere.

Too raw and humiliated to crash with anyone, Foggy spent the night tucked in a dark corner of the law library with his knees hugged to his chest like a kid.

—

Matt was gone even longer after that. Two weeks went by where Foggy didn’t see him, even in class. Unwilling and unable to push further, he contented himself with tracking his worry by the shifting of Matt’s belongings across the room. At least if that book had moved or the laundry pile shrunk, it meant Matt was alive. Even that couldn’t completely dissipate the sickness in Foggy’s gut, though.

—

Midway through week three without sight or sound of his roommate, Foggy found himself at a bar, his gut already so full of acid that the thought of anything but water made him want to hurl.

Marci Stahl took one look at him — sober, bruise-eyed, a mess — and curled a manicured hand around his shoulder. It was probably the most tender gesture Foggy had ever seen her make.

She took him home with her that night, and they slept — just slept — in her bed. It was the first time since the fight with Matt that Foggy woke up feeling rested. He had enough energy that day to do his homework, to take notes in class. Before he could trudge back to his empty dorm room that night, Marci led him back to her place again. It was probably a testament to how broken up Foggy looked that Marci allowed the arrangement as long as she did — a whole week.

On the seventh morning she rolled to face him on the bed, sighed gustily, and stroked a long-nailed hand through Foggy’s hair.

“I’m nice, Foggy, but I’m not that nice,” she said. “So. Are we going to have sex, or are you going to get out of my apartment?”

And, well. Marci was an attractive woman. Plus, Foggy really didn’t want to go back to his dorm room to find Matt not there. Again.

—

The irony was that the night that Foggy finally decided to bite the bullet and go back to his own room instead of Marci’s, Matt was there. Sitting lifelessly in his desk chair, fingers trailing across the Braille of one of his textbooks with uncharacteristic sluggishness.

“Elektra dumped me,” he said, and the tone was.

Foggy couldn’t even place it. Wary but challenging. Hurt but sharp. A minefield.

Matt looked like shit. Even more than he had when Elektra had been — god, Foggy didn’t even know, beating the shit out of him? Entering him in a fight club? And it had everything to do with the emptiness of his expression, the defeat in his posture. Foggy opened his mouth to say something, anything. Console Matt with shitty platitudes, tell him ‘hey man I’m here for you’, offer to buy the first beer.

And then the memory of Matt’s derisive ‘you?’ hit Foggy full in the chest and he stumbled. Couldn’t force a sound out.

He slunk to his own bed, defeated, and curled up beneath the covers.

—

Foggy didn’t say ‘I told you so’. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. Half of Matt was immensely grateful for his silent, steady presence across the room. The other half longed for Foggy to just talk to him, even if it was to berate him. But truthfully, Matt supposed, he deserved whatever Foggy decided on, whether that was silent detachment or spoken vitriol. It wasn’t Matt’s right to choose. Not after he’d let the devil loose on his only friend, torn into Foggy’s heart the way he’d torn into Roscoe Sweeney with his fists.

For that same reason, Matt had no right to bristle at the cloying smell of Marci Stahl’s perfume, or the way Foggy wouldn’t come home some nights, would instead return early in the morning smelling of sex. Foggy was allowed to be in a relationship. Just because Matt’s had imploded didn’t mean Foggy was obligated to stop dating in solidarity.

—

Foggy’s heart started racing again, tripping over itself. It was actually almost gratifying for a moment, a terrible thing to think, except then Matt’s nose caught up with his ears. Foggy didn’t smell like arousal, like attraction.

He smelled like fear.

It hadn’t been anger fueling Foggy’s silences, Matt realized with a suddenness that left him dizzy and filled his chest with ice. Foggy didn’t hate Matt... He was afraid of him. Afraid of reaching out and being tossed aside again, a fear so antithetical to the open softness of Foggy Nelson that it hadn’t even been a consideration before. And Matt had induced it in him. Had made him second-guess himself. Made him flinch back from his characteristic offers of physical comfort.

—

“Foggy, I’m—“

“It’s,” Foggy interrupted with a hitch in his breath that would have revealed his lie even if his heartbeat hadn’t, “It’s fine, Matt.”

“No, it’s not fine. Fog, I never should’ve... I shouldn’t have said any of those things to you.”

“You were upset,” Foggy replied mildly.

Matt’s hands flexed angrily on his cane.

“People— people get upset all the time, Foggy. That’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have... You’re my best friend. And whatever feelings you had,” because he definitely didn’t have them anymore, “I should never have, I... It was cruel. And I know I don’t deserve... I just. God, I just, I miss you Foggy.”

—

Foggy didn’t ask because he didn’t want to know. And Matt would tell him, right? If it was anther Elektra Thing, then Foggy... No. Matt would tell him. And even if he didn’t, confronting Matt about it last time was a nuclear-level disaster. A Chernobyl in the Ukraine of their friendship. Repeating the mistake wouldn’t help anyone.

—

“God, you know what, you were right. You were so fucking right, Matt, all those... Those years ago. I don’t know you at all.”

The sound of Matt’s sob shattered them both.

“No. No, Foggy, don’t— please don’t say that.”

“I might not have— crazy lie detecting powers, Matt, but you meant what you said then. It’s this, right? All this is what Elektra understood that I never did.”

#daredevil #writing #october wip amnesty #long post #because the read more functionality on this website is a god damn crapshoot

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world-prayers · 9 months ago

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Unusual Dreams within the Matrix: Wake up!

Have you ever woken from a dream feeling like you’ve lived it before? Do you experience recurring nightmares that feel strangely real? Let’s explore the unsettling truth behind unusual dreams within the Matrix and the possibility they hold a deeper meaning. Wake up! Explore the full article today! The Matrix’s grip may extend beyond déjà vu. Nightmares filled with endless pursuit, warped…

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#beyond déjà vu #chilling connection between dreams and the matrix #control #dark underbelly #déjà vu #dream #dreams #explore #explore chilling connection #inescapable scenarios #matrix #matrix&039;s #matrix&039;s dark underbelly #nightmares #recurring nightmares #unusual #unusual dreams #unusual dreams within the matrix

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thechembow · 7 years ago

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Overcoming Mind Control Means Recognizing It First

By Sharon Daphna - The New Agora, Aug. 2017

Mind control is a topic that is gaining increased attention in the independent media. There are websites and YouTube channels devoted to exposing mind control in Hollywood, and because of the fascination with celebrities and the veils of illusion beginning to lift, exposing the dark underbelly of the entertainment industry, these sites and videos are becoming increasingly popular and videos on the topic are going viral. Considering how the parasitic agenda is perpetrated through media programming, one must wonder how come celebrities continue to promote harmful and amoral ideas to corrupt the minds of the masses. One of several explanations given is that they are under trauma based mind control, or MK Ultra, and are literally mindless puppets of the parasitic order.

The MK Ultra program started as an experiment done by the CIA in the 1950s and 60s to create mind controlled assassins. It continues to be used today in the entertainment industry, according to some insiders, such as Roseanne Barr, who came out about MK Ultra in Hollywood in an interview for RT a few years ago. When a victim is traumatized through physical and mental torture, the pain of the situation causes them to disassociate, developing alternate personalities in order to cope with the trauma. Beyonce has described an alternate personality called “Sasha Fierce” that comes out when she’s on stage and does things that Beyonce herself would never do. Nikki Minaj has a boy named “Roman” who lives inside of her and she cannot get rid of him. Multiple personalities that develop as a result of trauma based mind control, are called alters.

It’s easy to recognize the extreme mind control in the media, but it is much more difficult to observe the mind control pervading our own lives. Just because we are not all victims of cruel handlers committing atrocities directly against us, we are still being controlled through the programming we watch and through false flag attacks and war keeping us in a constant state of fear. Even the most awakened are still living in a prison of the mind because independent media and activism websites steer them in a direction of fear and submission, just like the mainstream media does. They are often encouraged to appeal to the government to solve the very problems that the government caused. Instead of embracing solutions based in science and spirituality to free humanity from its collective cage, the better funded activist groups make sure that their followers remain terrorized by issues such as geoengineering and “forced” vaccination. Whether or not they are aware of it, these groups act on behalf of the parasitic world order by urging their followers to take the pointless route of protest, rather than embracing ideas like orgone energy, reclaiming our own minds, rejecting the poisons of GMOs and EMF in our lives, and ceasing to give our power away to a fictional authority. They don’t tell you that the government is merely a business entity with no legal jurisdiction over other businesses or over living men and women, nor are they ultimately responsible for our plight here on Earth.

It seems like there is no way out of our troubles sometimes, and this is exactly how the parasites need you to feel in order to remain in power. Besides brainwashing through the sights and sounds on television and the internet, we are also manipulated with electromagnetic fields designed to bring out the worst in us. Most people are not aware that the cell phones they carry around are literally controlling their thoughts and actions. Wireless devices of other types, especially wireless routers in the home, have an extreme mind controlling effect on human beings in addition to the health issues caused by frequencies that are incompatible with our bodies’ energetic fields. People are largely unwilling to switch to hardwired internet because of the slight inconvenience it poses. Cell phone towers are transmitters of frequencies that create a certain atmosphere for the day, which can change from one day to the next. Their goal is generally to make a population feel physically weak and tired, and to think and act in a lower vibration of consciousness than they would without the interference.

Most people are living in a false reality manufactured by the matrix of frequencies, images, and ideas promoted by the parasitic agenda, which is control over humanity, who they see as their cattle. In John Carpenter’s documentary, “They Live,” it is revealed to the protagonist that all of the world leaders and celebrities are not human, but are monsters from another planet enslaving humanity. They have created a false reality by broadcasting a frequency that hides who they really are behind a holographic human appearance and hides the subliminal messages they have put on billboards, TV, and magazines. An underground activist group has created sunglasses that when worn, reveal the truth. Since this film was created in 1988, before the internet, the only way that this group can get their message out is to cut in on a television signal. The activist broadcaster says that the TVs emit a frequency that controls our minds even when turned off, just as our cell phones do today! There is a tower atop a tall building that constantly puts out a mind control signal that makes the parasites invisible to the humans and obscures the brainwashing messages, just as cell phone towers do today! The parasites are well versed in suppressing the consciousness through frequency, and Hollywood always gives hints disguised as fictional entertainment.

If you begin to pay attention and even document strange or negative behavior among your friends, family, and coworkers, you may start to see that there are times when they are not “themselves.” You may even notice it in yourself, if you’re willing to examine the times when you feel negative emotions or feel just a little “off.” There is a reason that smart meters are replacing analog meters, and why wifi is being added to everything, even when completely unnecessary, such as in digital cameras or watering timers. This is the frequency fence that literally restrains the awakening human consciousness. It’s becoming more oppressive and heavy because humans can no longer be deceived with images and fake news stories alone. The awakening humans are bombarded with the energy of fear just as the sleeping ones are. If one is too strong to be effectively mind controlled, then those close to them are targeted and induced into exhibiting the behavior necessary to bring down that individual’s state of mind. This is why many people in fields that benefit humanity through consciousness work are regular recipients of both psychic and verbal attacks, often out of nowhere.

When you examine any negative interaction with someone you know, it helps to look at it from the perspective that they may be acting out of character because something has taken over their mind. On a recent overnight stay at the home of a friend, we arrived to the wireless internet turned off. The host was aware of the health issues posed by exposure to EMF. That night we had wonderful conversation over tea, and he expressed both an appreciation and an understanding of our personalities. He was complimentary and gracious, and shared anecdotes from his life openly. We turned in for the night around midnight and an 8am wakeup was agreed upon.

The next morning as the sun rose, I awoke with a headache, took some Tylenol and went back to sleep, waking up naturally later in the morning. Since I was not woken up, I assumed that it was still before 8:00, and I didn’t have my phone on or a working time piece on hand to check. Upon greeting our host, he told me he had “decided” to let us sleep in. It was 11:00 and we were late for an appointment. Instead of leaving promptly, we decided to push back the appointment and pick up some coffee for ourselves and our host, and try to redeem our morning, behaving as calmly as possible considering that our schedule was turned upside down by a “decision” that contradicted the previous agreement. We had not yet realized that he was no longer the man he was the previous night, which is why his judgment had become impaired. When we returned with the coffee, our host began a conversation that was the polar opposite of the one the night before, in which our personalities and even our physical appearances were criticized. We took the criticism lightly, thanked him, and left. Hours later, we realized that my headache had started when he woke up and turned on the wifi, and deduced that his personality took a complete turn at that same time. It was as though he was not in control of his thoughts or actions at all. This is precisely the agenda behind the pervasive wireless technology around us.

The parasites activate our negative thoughts because our misery is their food. They are psychic vampires. Eckhart Tolle describes the “pain body” in A New Earth. This is the part of us that is accustomed to negativity and feeds on the negativity of others. He describes it as being like a psychic parasite. With this in mind, the parasitic world order activates the pain body in order to feed, and these pain bodies activate each other in different people. There is another school of thought that what Tolle calls the pain body is not us at all, but a literal parasite that has attached to our lower chakras. There are many healers who try to remove these entities, but unless they and their clients have rejected wireless technology, the healing may not last. The mind is easily brought back to negativity through the frequency control, making the client once again an easy target for parasitic infection. In addition, since electromagnetic fields suppress consciousness, those working in consciousness related fields will never have complete use of their abilities in psychic work and healing as long as they continue daily use of mind control devices.

Human beings are actually quite distrustful of computers and artificial intelligence, but also gravitate toward laziness and a desire to have someone else do their thinking for them. In a recent survey by the Automobile Association of America, 78 percent of respondents were afraid to ride in a driverless car and 90 percent felt unsafe sharing the road with them. This shows how even in the mainstream, people doubt the ability of computers to safely operate without human intervention. If you take one look at the driver next to you, you may notice that they are looking at a phone and texting, rather than looking at the road. They have no idea where they’re going because they let the GPS tell them. At the same time, the GPS and phone, which are both tracking and mind control devices, are impairing the judgment of the driver through manipulating their thought forms. The screens take the driver’s eyes off the road. The driver is being controlled by computers! What is the difference between this driver and a driverless car, and which one actually poses the greater safety risk?

It is often too troubling to look into one’s own life and see the manipulation happening. It is, in fact, something that offends the ego. To admit that you have been lied to is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do, but also the most liberating. The next step is to understand that you have actually been carrying around, living with, and sleeping next to devices designed to suppress your consciousness and control your thoughts and actions. This is a step that even the most aware human beings usually refuse to take. In the fight scene in “They Live,” Roddy Piper’s character tries to force the sunglasses onto his friend so that he would see the truth too. The bloody battle that ensues is the physical equivalent of the mental war we engage in when we try to coerce our loved ones into waking up.

Ditching the cell phone and wifi is the equivalent of putting on the sunglasses. It can only happen when someone decides for himself that he is ready for the challenge of conscious living and using the mind rather than having a machine think for him. Today, we have the option of distributing “sunglasses” to the masses by placing orgonite near cell phone towers, neutralizing and reducing the mind controlling effects. But ultimately, everyone has to remove the veils from their own eyes. It’s time to make a choice. We can allow the ego to continue to say that we are above the mind controlling frequencies because we’re “star seeds” or “indigos” and somehow more special than everyone else, or we can leave behind the New Age dogma and realize that we’re all human beings with the same suppressed multidimensional abilities. We must be brave and be willing to do things differently so that we may see the truth and become free. The power of the mind is what is being suppressed, and it no longer benefits us to remain in the electronically induced cage of lower vibrational existence.

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entergamingxp · 5 years ago

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DualShockers’ Favorite Games of 2019 — Rachael’s Top 10

December 31, 2019 4:00 PM EST

There were plenty of games of 2019 that I enjoyed immensely, but if I had to pick just 10, here were my favorites of the year.

As 2019 comes to a close, DualShockers and our staff are reflecting on this year’s batch of games and what were their personal highlights within the last year. Unlike the official Game of the Year 2019 awards for DualShockers, there are little-to-no-rules on our individual Top 10 posts. For instance, any game — not just 2019 releases — can be considered.

Here we are again at the end of another great gaming year. Even though we didn’t see as many huge titles like Red Dead Redemption 2, Marvel’s Spider-Man, or God of War as seen in 2018, my year has been packed full of some amazing titles regardless. Thankfully, I didn’t have to solely rely on AAA games to have a great gaming experience, as this year we saw many fantastic indies that included Untitled Goose Game, Outer Wilds, Lost Ember, My Friend Pedro, to name a few. This only goes to prove how far independent studios have come along, and how they have firmly made their mark within the gaming industry.

As a gamer, I’m very open to what I will play – which is probably a good thing in this business. As you’ll tell from my diverse list, I’m not afraid to jump into whatever piques my interest. That may be from the adorable and cutesy, to the dark and twisted underbelly of the video games universe. As much as I love experiencing all areas of gaming, there’s one factor that always calls me home, and that’s immersive storytelling. I don’t think there’s a feeling in the world like sitting back and getting completely lost within a world interwoven in an amazingly captivating narrative. Since the start of time, humans have used storytelling as a way to connect to others, to bring people closer together and how the world is right now, there couldn’t be a more apt time to continue this tradition in the games we play.

As we slide into 2020, I’m excited to uncover what’s in store for me – especially with my most anticipated game mere months away, The Last of Us Part II. But until then, allow me to share with you what has been my Top 10 games of 2019. Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to narrow it down to just 10!

10. Sayonara Wild Hearts

Sayonara Wild Hearts is a beautifully crafted piece of kit. It oozes bags of appeal and a refreshing, upbeat soundtrack that accompanied the game’s style perfectly. Other than its eye-popping visuals, the underlying story of heartbreak made this short, heart-pumping title really stand out.

I played it all in one go from start to finish and since then, I’ve been recommending gamers to give this unique and worthwhile title a try. On a side note: Queen Latifah’s voice is the epitome of ASMR.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Sayonara Wild Hearts.

9. Divinity: Original Sin II

Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to play this game when it first released back in 2017 but when I saw that it was releasing on the Nintendo Switch, I knew that I had to play it. Divinity: Original Sin II is acclaimed to be one of the best western-style RPGs ever made, with stellar writing, voice acting, and brilliantly crafted tactical combat, and I couldn’t agree more.

The Switch’s small screen in handheld mode is perfect to get up close and personal with the bucket loads of action and endless, compelling dialogue. Divinity: Original Sin II’s emotion-wrought fantasy world really does make it one of the finest RPG games of recent years.

Check out DualShockers‘ review forDivinity: Original Sin II on Nintendo Switch.

8. Mosaic

Over the past few years, I’ve seen a rise in talking about mental health in video games. I love that we are now more open and free to discuss these issues that affect so many of us, and that developers are willing to take this on and adapt it to their games.

Mosaic offers a painstakingly realistic look under the heavy covers of depression and burnout in the workplace. I applaud that Krillbite Studio made no apologizes as they dove head-on in tackling these difficult subjects in Mosaic. Its cruelly dark and, at times, hard to play because of how authentic the main character plays out his troubles. But this is, in my opinion, when you know you’ve made a great game; when the player feels what you’re portraying.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Mosaic (by me!).

7. Planet Zoo

When it comes to management sims, I tend to get a little overwhelmed with how much you have to do. You almost have to divide yourself into a million pieces to just stay afloat, but thankfully Planet Zoo offered much more manageable gameplay that I thoroughly enjoyed.

With its plentiful tutorials and smart UI, I spent hours taking care of all the zoo’s creatures, and who doesn’t want to care for a baby lion cub? Frontier Developments also tackled important educational and conservation topics throughout, which gave me bags of insight into each species. If you’re looking for a management sim that won’t take hours just to know what you’re supposed to be doing or kill every brain cell due to an overload of tasks, Planet Zoo may be the one for you.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Planet Zoo by me, again.

6. My Friend Pedro

My Friend Pedro made me feel like I was actually really good at games. It made me feel like Neo from The Matrix with its slow-motion gunplay and super crazy stunts that offered one hell of an adrenaline-filled ride.

From barrel riding to swinging off chains to achieve the ultimate stunt-shot, My Friend Pedro provided me hours of entertainment. I was a bad-ass ninja on a skateboard with a talking banana; what’s not to love?

Check out DualShockers’ review for My Friend Pedro.

5. Life is Strange 2

This tale of brotherly love between Sean and Daniel Diaz begins as they try and flee America to start a new life in Mexico, and it hooked me from the get-go. Sure, it was a little slow in the beginning but it soon picked up steam and turned into a goldmine of storytelling.

What I appreciated most about Life is Strange 2 is how deeply it resonated with me in how well it addressed a lot of the current political and social issues we see in America today. Dontnod Entertainment obviously went to great lengths to make the player feel and care about what happened to these brothers, and for that, they have my respect. I’m really looking forward to knowing more about their next game, Tell Me Why – my guess is that it will be another emotionally hard-hitting adventure, and I’m totally here for that.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for the first episode of Life is Strange 2.

4. Concrete Genie

What can I say about this wholesome and charming game? I feel like it would be better to take my heart out and let it tell you, because that’s where I’ve stored everything that has touched me from this beautiful title. Concrete Genie throws you into the shoes of Ash, a young sensitive boy you loves to paint. When his town gets consumed by a dark, negative force coupled with some bullies set to make his life harder, Ash goes on an adventure where he meets the most adorable genies and together, they right so many wrongs.

Just before playing this game, I was going through a rough patch in life, so jumping into this adorably endearing title made that period much more bearable – I honestly couldn’t stop smiling throughout my entire time playing it. If you’re looking for something that will lift your spirits throughout these winter months, consider Concrete Genie. I dare you not to fall in love with Luna.

3. Luigi’s Mansion 3

I sometimes tend to lean towards games that are pretty dark and sinister, but as you can start to tell from this list – I’m trying to change that. In freshening up my game playing habits more, I found myself wanting to give Luigi’s Mansion 3 on the Nintendo Switch a shot and boy, am I thankful that I gave this game a chance.

There’s so much to love in the third installment of the adventure series that lets Mario’s chicken-livered twin Luigi take control. The graphics in Luigi’s Mansion 3 are a kaleidoscope of beauty that pops straight from the beginning, and in my opinion, the best graphics currently on the Nintendo Switch. Coupled with impressive animation, fun levels, and acute attention to detail, this game was an absolute pleasure to play. I honestly have never had so much fun hoovering in all my life – just ask Chrissy Teigen.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Luigi’s Mansion 3.

2. A Plague Tale: Innocence

In case you didn’t know this about me, I love games where I must fight to stay alive, so here I am again getting sucked into a world where I have to go head-to-head with forces that wants me dead – sounds charming doesn’t it? This time I’m running from rats in this deeply somber tale of the evil that scurries in the dark, and it’s not just the rats, FYI.

What I loved most about A Plague Tale is the narrative between the two siblings, Amicia and Hugo de Rune, who are thrown into a dangerous world where all they have are each other to rely on. Amicia, who constantly has to reassure her little brother Hugo, and Hugo constantly asking a barrage of questions is so life-like that you almost forget you’re playing a video game due to how well Asobo Studio cultivated the relationship between them both. A Plague Tale: Innocence will propel you into a broken and terrifying world, but also remind you that beneath the cruelty of its environment, a deeply set unconditional love story between a brother and sister waits to be uncovered.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for A Plague Tale: Innocence by yours truly.

1. Days Gone

From its very first reveal at Sony’s E3 2016 panel, Days Gone had me hook, line and sinker. As I’ve already stated, there’s something immediately appealing to me about apocalyptic survival games, (hello, The Last of Us). Whether it’s a metaphor from my own internal struggles, I’m not sure, but what I do know is that trying to stay alive in a world that wants to swallow you whole captivates me on a whole other level.

Days Gone has a meaningful and varied narrative with just the right amount of pain, hope, and unexpected surprises to keep you glued to your seat the entire ride. Bend Studio crafted something personal and unique to them where they invited players to enter this world with an open heart and a little patience, where only then would your gaming experience really pay off in this stellar title.

The story is rich and meaty with a wide array of diverse characters you meet on your journey around Oregon’s beautiful landscapes, with countless areas you can interact with and explore. I’ve even found myself mindlessly riding my drifter bike for hours from one end of the map to the other, merely to soak in the scenery – the lakes, mountains, and forests are breathtakingly beautiful that I’ve already filled up a lot of space on my PS4 with the games built-in photo mode. Hats off to Bend Studio on this epic adventure; I can’t wait to experience what’s next from the studio.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Days Gone by – yep you’ve guessed it.

Before you leave, I’d like to share some Honorable Mentions that didn’t quite make my top 10:

Untitled Goose Game – What a cute little asshole.

Disco Elysium – I haven’t yet finished this game but so far, I’m finding it really enjoyable with a cracking narrative.

Hearthstone – I finally dove into this online digital collectible card game at the start of 2019 and in my opinion, it’s the best card game out there.

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare multiplayer: this is where I go to release some pent up frustration. There’s nothing quite like finding unique ways to kill strangers online.

Death Stranding – I’m still peeing and pooping my way around this strange world. It may or may not fall into my Top 10 in 2020, but as of right now, it’s unsettling and addictive for reasons that are beyond my comprehension at present.

Check out the rest of the DualShockers staff Top 10 lists and our official Game of the Year Awards:

December 23: DualShockers Game of the Year Awards 2019 December 25: Lou Contaldi, Editor-in-Chief // Logan Moore, Managing Editor December 26: Tomas Franzese, News Editor // Ryan Meitzler, Features Editor December 27: Mike Long, Community Manager // Scott White, Staff Writer December 28: Chris Compendio, Contributor // Mario Rivera, Video Manager // Kris Cornelisse, Staff Writer December 29: Scott Meaney, Community Director // Allisa James, Senior Staff Writer // Ben Bayliss, Senior Staff Writer December 30: Cameron Hawkins, Staff Writer // David Gill, Senior Staff Writer // Portia Lightfoot, Contributor December 31: Iyane Agossah, Senior Staff Writer // Michael Ruiz, Senior Staff Writer // Rachael Fiddis, Contributor January 1: Ricky Frech, Senior Staff Writer // Tanner Pierce, Staff Writer

December 31, 2019 4:00 PM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2019/12/dualshockers-favorite-games-of-2019-rachaels-top-10/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=dualshockers-favorite-games-of-2019-rachaels-top-10

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theconservativebrief · 6 years ago

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Warning: This article includes discussion of internet forums whose participants frequently talk about depression and self-harm.

In 2014, a 22-year-old man killed six people and wounded 14 in a mass shooting in Santa Barbara. Before the shooting, he left behind a series of videos and a “manifesto” in which he vowed his hatred for women and expressed deep bitterness over his status as a virgin. In April 2018, a 25-year-old man who carried out a Toronto terrorist assault directed at women praised the Santa Barbara shooter in a Facebook post shortly before his own attack, which left 10 dead and 14 wounded.

Both men identified as part of incel culture. Once hidden away within the internet’s dark underbelly, in recent years, incels have become a growing part of the conversation around toxic misogyny, the alt-right, and gendered violence. The Santa Barbara and Toronto attackers were heavily involved in and influenced by incel communities, where “involuntary celibates,” usually men, gather to opine on their inability to attain love and sexual fulfillment. This feeling of aggrieved entitlement — incels frequently feel entitled to the sexual and romantic interest of women, and bitterly resent women who reject them — is often characterized by a virulent, violent misogyny.

As awareness has grown around this troubled community and its outbursts of targeted misogynistic violence, so has speculation about what, if anything, can help its members. New York Times columnist Ross Douthat wrote a piece in May, “The Redistribution of Sex,” arguing that a “right to sex” — that is, the right to have some sort of sexual intercourse regardless of where you fit in a social hierarchy — will eventually become an established part of a liberal society. Douthat intended his piece to be a sort of balm, giving hope that one day technology and regulation would “address the unhappiness of incels, be they angry and dangerous or simply depressed and despairing.“

But if that’s what he was intending, he forgot to ask actual incels how they feel about having their unhappiness assuaged by the powers that be. The answer might have surprised him — and most people — because incel culture is inherently built around the rejection of the idea that one’s unhappiness can ever be remedied.

The incel community is notorious for rampant misogyny, violent rhetoric, and fatalistic attitudes toward modern relationships — attitudes that frequently serve as a gateway to the alt-right — but it’s also rife with depression, a nihilistic communal celebration of low self-esteem, and a widespread resistance to seeking therapy and getting treatment for mental illness. In fact, questions about how to meaningfully help men mired in incel culture before they become radicalized or violent reflect larger cultural questions about how we’re serving the mental health needs of all men in modern society.

To better understand how “self-help” works in a community that is obsessed with hopelessness, I spoke to five members of the incel community — including two women, for women surprisingly form an increasingly vocal part of the incel community, whether as incels themselves or allies who seek to create a community of support within a culture that often teaches its members that support is a hopeless pipe dream. While it was clear from these discussions that the nihilism of inceldom feeds its extremist toxicity and misogyny, I also found examples of members being kind and supportive of each other’s mental health, even as they wrote off their own chances for happiness.

This suggests that there may be a much more direct way to reach members of the incel community, and it’s simultaneously much simpler and much harder than anything Douthat proposed, with his brief mentions of sex robots and liberated sex workers. Outreach for incels shouldn’t start with enabling the community’s violent misogyny or its collective sense of entitlement to the bodies and emotional support of women. It should start with improving men’s access to mental health treatment — and, crucially, their faith that it can do them any good.

Reddit’s main incel community, r/Incels, was permanently banned last year for “violent content” as part of a recalibrated commitment to moderating the toxic subcultures in its midst. But it lives on in the form of r/Braincels and adjacent forums like r/ForeverAlone, as well as the currently dominant incel website Incels.me (a site for which every warning for violent misogyny, racism, queerphobia, fatphobia, and ableism is required).

Since the banning of r/Incels, the worst and most violently misogynistic members of the incel culture have gravitated to Incels.me, while r/Braincels recently appointed a woman as its head moderator and has tried to purge violent and extreme users. Across this limited spectrum of attitudes within a deeply sexist and entitled culture, what unites all incels is something known as the black pill.

Various parts of the “manosphere” — the part of the internet encompassing things like the so-called men’s rights movement, pickup artists, and incels — include a built-in moment of indoctrination into an ideology that has become colloquially known as “redpilling.” The “red pill” is both the name of an infamous subreddit and a manosphere meme borrowed from The Matrix. When you “take the red pill,” you “wake up” to the belief that progressive feminist views about gender equality have ruined modern life for men. The idea is that once you’ve been redpilled, you can embrace a patriarchal view of gender roles within a community of like-minded people, mostly men.

The incel equivalent of taking the red pill is called “blackpilling,” and it’s much, much darker. The idea of “involuntary celibacy” began as part of a disgruntled reactionist community that sprang up in the early 2010s in response to the pickup artist community and its brand of misogynistic self-help dating advice for men. On an extremely misogynistic site called PUAHate, the “incel” first took form as a self-deprecating, bitter loner who rejected the idea that self-help mantras — like Reddit’s frequent advice to “hit the gym” — could work for him. If you were unfortunate enough to be born physically unattractive, the idea went, the brutal truth was that there was nothing society could do for you.

Over time, this idea solidified into the dark “reality” behind the black pill and became a unifying theme across incel communities. The black pill worldview isn’t necessarily tied to the idea that you need to be in a relationship to be happy; it’s more like a doctrine that if you’re physically unattractive, you are unworthy of love, and therefore, all your attempts to form lasting relationships are not only destined to end in failure but are probably going to end up making you even more unhappy.

As one moderator of an incel community told me, the core of the black pill worldview is bleak fatalism: “Instead of trying to make peace with your flaws and/or try to find someone who accepts you despite them, you declare that your flaws make you inherently unworthy of love as a person, and that any affection that you can get despite your flaws is just a shallow replica with ulterior motives.”

Several members of the community I spoke with echoed this idea: If other people tried to protest to them that they were wrong and that everyone deserves to love and be loved, or that women do in fact love men for their personalities and not their looks, the blackpilled incel will often assume that they’re just trying to be nice, while rejecting the idea that any of these positive well-wishers could seriously be interested in them. Members of r/IncelTears, a subreddit for redditors who want to monitor the activities of incels, describe these encounters as frequently ending with the incel member accusing the “normie” of having ulterior motives or wanting to be secretly cruel. The incels I spoke with agreed with that assessment.

“The blackpill for me is acknowledging that the whole ‘we love you anyway’ and ‘everybody is worthy of love’ is BS,” an incel named Sinbad told me. “And that there are in fact people who are too ugly to get a relationship.”

The appeal of the black pill, for those who subscribe to it, is that once you’ve accepted this harsh reality, you can adjust and live your life accordingly.

“It is liberating to think that way in a sense,” the moderator told me. “You can stop worrying about improving yourself, stop worrying about the years passing by and your chances getting slimmer, stop worrying about what will happen in the future, because you are certain of your place in the world and what is going to happen.”

But, the moderator also added, “It’s a rather depressive outlook on life, to say the least.”

The incel community I spoke to for this article is Supportcel, a Discord server formed from a largely dormant subreddit by the same name. (Discord is a popular chat platform, widely adopted by gaming and niche internet communities.) It serves as a generally positive support group for incels of various stripes and is one of the hardest-to-pigeonhole spaces I’ve encountered in the manosphere.

One member told me he had slowly come to embrace feminist ideals but felt he couldn’t call himself a feminist because the movement wasn’t for him, while another member with a Pepe the Frog avatar — at this point an image permanently associated with the alt-right — asserted that he wasn’t alt-right, and instead complained about how the alt-right had ruined the meme. Some members were active on the main incel community on Reddit, r/Braincels, while at least one member was active on the incel-watch community geared toward non-incels, r/IncelTears.

These various contradictory impulses and complicating tensions extend to the association of incels with sexism and misogyny. Seven of Supportcel’s eight moderators are women, one of whom rejects the whole idea of inceldom but just wants to help the people in the community. She emphatically told me that none of the women buy into the idea of taking the black pill and that they retreated to a separate server when the blackpillers in their midst got too intense. However, she also said that the community had taken a toll on her self-image and “made me sometimes have dark thoughts about me and my relationship.”

“You can’t expect people who come from incel communities to have a healthy view of relationships and the other gender,” another moderator told me, “so some degree of casual sexism is in some sense tolerated.”

The community members I spoke with all believed that far more than a unified approach to gender roles, what defined an otherwise disjointed incel culture was “intense self-loathing” — the core of being blackpilled. You need do little more than glance at the front pages of incel subreddits to find ample evidence of this. For instance, from r/ForeverAlone:

And from r/Braincels:

It’s tempting to pass off some of this as self-deprecating humor, but incel culture is teeming with the kind of self-deprecation that gets dangerous fast. There’s a vibe within the community that encourages members to one-up each other in their commitment to their own hopelessness — a kind of public performance celebrating the idea that you are past the point of being helped. This idea can and frequently does verge into a glorification of suicide.

Along with that performative rejection of self-improvement comes an equally wary attitude toward mental health support. In essence, the black pill worldview makes them think it won’t do any good — so there’s a kind of badge of honor worn around the idea that you’ve accepted no amount of therapy can help you. A frequent incel mantra is “stop coping,” encouraging one another to give up and accept that the way most people deal with problems won’t work for them. One member of Supportcel noted that within incel spaces, lines like “there’s no therapy for your face” are frequent. And incels who make gestures at improving one’s mental health tend to preempt their own moves with the rhetoric that “it won’t change anything.”

Still, some members said they’d felt more welcomed in the incel space than other online communities they’d frequented. This might serve as a double-edged comfort, though: One member told me she’d had more intrusive negative thoughts since joining the community.

Sinbad told me it was a toss-up. “I am more depressed, but less suicidal because of the community,” he said. “The memes and jokes are quite funny, but the other stuff made me more depressed.”

The question of how to reach the people in these spaces before they grow more depressed or more violent is complicated. The consequences of doing nothing are potentially fatal; not only can incels become deeply suicidal through their participation in incel culture, but as we’ve seen, they can also become inspired to commit violent attacks against others. There are known correlations between aggression and suicide; researchers studying high-risk populations have found connections between violent behavior and lifetime suicidal ideation as well as between violent behavior and actual suicide attempts. These can increase when considering risk factors like social phobia and anxiety — both traits found within the incel community.

But the solutions being proposed so far feel inadequate. Arguments like Douthat’s have advocated some sort of mandatory sex quota, by way of sex bots or government-assisted trysts with sex workers. Others have argued that inceldom is inherently a part of rape culture and that men need to be taught how to be more nurturing. Still others have focused on the need for “difficult and uncomfortable conversations about the way young white men are socialized, long before they find their way to the male supremacist corners of the internet.”

Each of these approaches has its drawbacks. For starters, we’re a long way from government-issued sex bots, even if that wasn’t an ethical nightmare waiting to happen. (Sex workers should never be obligated, at the risk of their own safety and comfort, to provide services to every entitled person who might want them.) And while conversations about the realities of rape culture and white privilege need to happen, many incels reject such ideas as part of a rejection of feminism and progressive politics.

It’s also hard for many people outside the incel community to see the value in outreach, given the community’s virulently misogynistic overtones. Matthew Ezzell, a sociologist at James Madison University, cautioned that while the incel belief system might seem like it’s all just rooted in self-loathing, it’s really not.

“Although some self-identified ‘incels’ assert that the nihilistic views of ‘the black pill’ are what connect them, and not overt misogyny or alt-right beliefs,” he told Vox in an email, “notice the misogynistic basis of the worldview”:

“Success” with women is defined as sexual conquest; men are presented as being entitled to sex with women, but being thwarted by the next point; women are presented as fundamentally materialistic and shallow, only attracted to physicality and beauty and nothing else; feminism is presented as the source of the problem; men are understood to be the “real” victims.

Because of this underlying belief system, it’s difficult to extricate conversations about men’s mental health from the real threat many of these men pose to women.

Incels are not a community of sad men that reflect a societal problem with loneliness; they’e a community of violent misogynists that reflect a societal problem with sexism & sexual entitlement.

— Jessica Valenti (@JessicaValenti) May 3, 2018

From a mental health perspective, however, the misogyny is usually a mask. “What they’re expressing is probably pain … but there are biases around understanding male pain,” Matt Englar-Carlson, director of the Center for Boys and Men at California State University Fullerton, told me. “We all get socialized to look at men’s needs and not see them as critical.”

This gets even harder to do when the men in question are dehumanizing women and are celebrating and enacting violence against them. “It may be really hard for a layperson to understand that pain or have empathy for it,” Englar-Carlson said. The flip side of enacting justified outrage at expressions of misogyny and other polarizing worldviews, he cautioned, is dehumanization. “We throw people away so quickly,” he said. “We don’t see them as humans; we see them as opinions.”

Mental health professionals like Englar-Carlson — who believes that everyone can be helped — may have an obligation to hate the sin and love the sinner. “You don’t affirm the act, but you do affirm the person,” he said. “Just dismissing them or saying you’re crazy or you’re radical or you’re homophobic or you’re sexist … is not going to reinforce any kind of help-seeking. What it reinforces is the notion that you’re worthless.”

The more negative reinforcement men receive, the more urgent the need for mental health treatment rather than ostracism becomes. Men frequently hide depression behind personas of intensely masculinized behavior — and men who have their masculinity threatened are more likely to engage in risky behaviors or respond aggressively.

“Men struggle with the desire to prove their masculinity,” Joel Wong, program director of the counseling psychology program at Indiana University, told me. “When men perceive that they’re not regarded as masculine enough, they could react in one of several ways. One is that they could try to overcompensate by going to the gym and working out.” (Witness Reddit’s “hit the gym” motto.) “Another way is to say, ‘I’m going to forge my own path and form my own subculture.’ They’re all different ways to respond to a self-perception about their masculinity.”

“The idea of the lonely American male is a true experience for a lot of men,” said Englar-Carlson. He told Vox that the “support” offered by incel communities reflected a deeper truth about many online communities, which enable toxicity and negative thinking even as they offer limited opportunities for socialization: “You’ve made a connection, but the connection is possibly killing you.”

This is the kind of trajectory that once could have been a precursor for more serious mental health treatment — but in the US, at least, resources are limited. America’s public mental health system completely collapsed between the 1950s and the ’80s, and options for outpatient services are limited. A 2015 study found that only 41 percent of US adults with mental health conditions had received treatment. A 2011 report by the National Alliance on Mental Illness called state funding cuts to mental health services a “national crisis,” and noted that demand for psychiatric services was increasing even as resources were declining.

Additionally, Supportcel members expressed a distrust of social support systems for mental health. One member described the therapy he was currently undergoing as “useless,” while others spoke of fearing the intense stigmatization that comes with being identified as a person who has mental health issues. As a non-US native, Sinbad pointed out that most of the health advice he is given in the community tends to be US-centric. “A lot of the ‘advice’ I’ve been given would just make my situation worse if I applied it where I live,” he said.

“In general, there are a fair amount of men who have a really hard time accessing support services,” Englar-Carlson said. “One of the core notions of traditional Westernized masculinity is that you should be independent and you shouldn’t ask for help.” He said the popular perception that therapy is a place you go to cry or be weak is a barrier to men who’ve been conditioned to mask their emotions. “A lot of men equate therapy to weakness.”

Wong pointed out that the self-defeatist attitude of incels plays a huge role in whether they experience results even if they do have access to treatment. “Therapy might not be the most useful initial option because therapy only works when someone comes to you for therapy,” he told Vox. “But a starting point could be for therapists and psychologists to connect to them without saying, ‘I think you have a problem.’“

“You have to have health professionals who understand men,” Englar-Carlson said. “But it doesn’t help me to hang a shingle out saying ‘I understand men’ and wait for them to pour in.” Wong suggested that therapy-led support groups for incels could be helpful, along with needs-assessment surveys and potential workgroups for the community that could address some of the needs of members without condemning them.

Several Supportcel community members I spoke with did suggest that the incel sphere’s overall attitude toward mental health and treatment had improved somewhat. This, they believed, was mainly due to stricter moderation policies across many of the highly trafficked communities, the ousting of the most toxic voices, and a more open dialogue with “normies.” Of the many threads on r/IncelTears that look to help incels, the ones that offer advice and support frequently recommend leaving the community and seeking cognitive behavioral therapy. On r/IncelsWithoutHate, designed to be a space where incels can interact positively with each other and with those outside the community, members speak with tentative hope about seeking therapy and embarking on paths of self-improvement.

Out of all the factors that may be causing members of the community to seek movement away from toxicity, one of the biggest may simply be a growing awareness of how dark the incel rabbit hole is once you’re inside it. Since I initially spoke to them, one of the Supportcel moderators has stepped down and withdrawn from the community. “Everyone who’s involved in this community in any way eventually decides to just give up, in my experience,” they told me. “People who try to help incels eventually come to the conclusion that it’s generally not possible and that it takes a huge toll on their mental well-being if they are deeply involved in these efforts.”

“How can I stop becoming an incel?” a self-professed 20-year-old asked IncelTears recently. But in the middle of seeking answers, he seemed to have found his own: “I noticed that the more I read incels’ posts the more I tend to agree with them on some things,” he said, “so I stopped reading before aggravating my situation.”

It seems that if therapy isn’t attainable, then self-awareness may be the incel’s best hope.

Original Source -> What a woman-led incel support group can teach us about men and mental health

via The Conservative Brief

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