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booksofkingdomsandcourts · 3 years ago

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Nessian Week: AU Day

I work well with deadlines so even though this is just a run-of-the-mill Modern!AU, I thought I’d post this drabble that’s been knocking around in my head for a few weeks today! It has a little part two that I’m hoping to post later tonight :)

Cassian could tell something was on Nesta’s mind all through dinner. He could tell as soon as he got home from work, really. It wasn’t about him, he didn’t think, since she’d kissed him welcome home and let him squeeze her ass. No, there was just…something. Something that made her eyes a little vacant and her words a little quiet. But during dinner she just let him talk about work, nodding and answering, and if there was one thing Cassian had learned about Nesta, it was to give her space. He would give it a little longer, and then he would ask.

After dinner they watched an episode of the Netflix show they were working their way through and then got ready for bed. Even though it was only eight thirty, their rigid commitment to mornings at the gym meant they were always early to bed, early to rise.

As they crawled under the covers, Cassian finally poked Nesta’s side and said, “Hey. Something you want to talk about?”

He had long since learned that “what’s wrong” and “talk to me” didn’t work on Nesta. He had learned to just ask if she wanted to talk, and that sometimes, the answer was no. That was okay. He had also often assured her that one of the reasons he kept his chest so big was for ample cuddle room, if that was all she wanted instead.

But tonight, Nesta sighed and looked at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts. Cassian propped himself up on one elbow, waiting.

“I’ve been thinking about trying for law school again,” Nesta said at last.

“Oh,” Cassian said, surprised but not unpleasantly so. When everything had gone to shit and their father had died, Nesta had withdrawn what Cassian was told was a very promising and competitive law school application. That had been over two years ago now, and Cassian had found himself wondering more than once if she missed no longer being on that path, or if it was something she had ever wanted for herself at all.

“Yeah,” she agreed, then continued, “I just don’t think the sugar baby lifestyle suits me as well as it suits Feyre, you know?” Cassian laughed. “Seriously! She just lives in a big house and paints all day and is going to give Rhys as many babies as he wants, and I’m really happy for her.”

“He really loves her,” Cassian said, feeling a need to defend his brother. It was maybe undeniable that Rhysand technically qualified as Feyre’s sugar daddy given their age gap, but the implication that he just wanted her for baby making, even though Cassian knew Nesta didn’t mean it like that, riled him just a little.

“I know,” Nesta said, unfazed. “I said I was happy for her. I just don’t know that that’s for me, you know? I want to do something. I want to have a career and something that I am outside of just us.” If Cassian was not used to Nesta’s bluntness, he might have been offended. But she turned to look at him with her crystal-blue eyes unusually wide and vulnerable, and he knew this was really something that had been weighing on her for a while.

“Okay, hell yeah,” Cassian said. “My Nesta, girlbossing it up. I’m all for it, whatever you want to do. Law school, business mogul, dean—you’ll kick ass no matter what.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but Cassian could see her cheeks had turned slightly pink. “Don’t ever call me girlboss again.”

“No promises.”

Nesta rolled her eyes again, and Cassian grinned wider. For a moment, Nesta picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, and then she said, “Or if none of them work out, I guess I could lean into the sugar baby lifestyle and start an OnlyFans.”

Cassian suppressed a groan, imagining Nesta’s OnlyFans. The amount of money he would have paid for that if she wasn’t his…. “And I’d be your top supporter,” he promised.

She gave him an exasperated look. “Anything I’d post on OnlyFans you get for free.”

“But I’m going to support your endeavors, no matter what they are,” Cassian said. “You could try a new career every year for the rest of our lives and I’d be right there by your side. You’ll be the best at whatever you do, baby, you and I both know that.”

“That’s actually a good point,” she said, pointing at him. “If I get in you’re not allowed to pay my tuition. And neither is Rhysand.”

“What?” Cassian exclaimed. “Of course I am!”

“You are not,” Nesta said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “This is my career, my path. I’ll get myself through and pay off the loans on my own.”

It was a shame there was no talking Nesta into taking charity. If she had decided it would wound her pride to have Cassian pay her tuition, there would be no changing her mind. But he understood—if she wanted this to be something that was hers, it didn’t make sense to have him tied to it so intrinsically. He could accept that. Sort of.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m still paying rent and buying groceries and bringing you really big, sugary coffees when you have a hard day of studying. No argument.”

That earned him another eye roll, but this time with a small smile. “Fine.” She scooted closer so she could snuggle against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close.

Something in him relaxed just having her so close, but there was still tension in her arms, in her fingers on his back, so he just stroked her hair and waited. Finally, she whispered, “Did you mean it?”

“About the sugary coffees? Of course. I know we try to eat right, but—”

“No,” Nesta interrupted. “About…every year, for the rest of our lives. You being by my side.” She tightened her arms and fingers like she was clinging to him.

For the first time tonight, Cassian was totally taken aback. That was what had thrown her? Wasn’t it obvious? Wasn’t it…what she wanted? “Yeah,” he said, ignoring a cold wash of fear in his stomach. “You don’t think I’m going anywhere, do you? Like I could ever even look at another woman now that I’ve loved you? This is it for me, Ness. Honestly you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

He half expected her to shoot back about stalking or restraining orders or the like, but instead she squeezed him so tight even he almost had the wind knocked out of him. She moved her face from his chest to bury it against his neck, and though he didn’t feel the wet heat of tears, her ragged breaths sounded like she was trying not to cry. “Nesta,” he whispered softly. “Don’t tell me you want a career because you think I might leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t just want it because of that,” she managed, voice choked. “But you can’t know. You can’t know you won’t get sick of me.”

“How could I possibly get sick of you? You have ruined me for all other women, Ness, I mean that. And I don’t just mean about sex, though the sex I have with you is absolutely the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, no contest.” She let out a choked laugh against his chest. He could feel her tears now. “I am genuinely excited to see you chase your dreams, Nesta. I’m excited to bring you sugary coffees, and take you out for nice dinners after your big exams, and watch you kick the ass of every other attorney who is unfortunate enough to go up against you. You’re my everything. I don’t want you to spend any more time doubting that.”

“I know,” Nesta whispered. “I know. You’re my everything too. I’ve never cared about anything as much as I care about you. That’s what’s so scary.”

Cassian had known almost from the moment he met her that she was the woman he was going to marry. In his mind, however, it was such an inevitability that he hadn’t felt the need to rush. He thought of them as the type to just be together until one day they’d look at each other and say “hey, we should probably get married, huh?” But sometimes he forgot that there was a lot of insecurity under Nesta’s kickass physique and haughty stares. Maybe she needed that promise set in stone (a very expensive, very shiny stone) more than he had realized. He didn’t think she was hounding for a rock, but if she was worried that his lack of commitment was because he was leaving himself a doorway out, he needed to show her that she couldn’t be more wrong.

As she rolled onto her back and invited him to have some of that life-changing sex, he thought to himself that maybe it was time he went and got a ring.

@nessianweek

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #modern au #nessian fanfic #nessianweek2021 #my writing #jumping on the modern nesta is a lawyer train because I like that for her

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xyliane · 4 years ago

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AU-gust 2: college au

PROMPT THE SECOND: COLLEGE AU (one of these days I’m actually going to draft a story out of my own tales of undergrad into chaos, mayhem, and jumping out of windows cuz the class was boring. instead today, you get the aftereffects of being a TA and also seeing this post on twitter and jumping a few dozen steps to the right. hxh again, zushi pov)

0o0o0o0o0o

It’s 3am, Zushi has a paper due in the morning, and he is bouncing impatiently from foot to foot outside of the RA’s door in shorts and an old shirt that should have fallen apart months ago. It’s not fair, really. He could have had this done days ago, all he needs is the translation for some final key conclusions, but his partner on the Artomatic forums fell off the map, Professor Palm absolutely refuses to help, and Zushi still doesn’t read Greek in any form, let alone whatever form of it is going on in this tome he’d scavenged out of the dusty corners of the old art wing library.

Zushi’s an engineering major. He has a whole internship lined up after this, working with Wing and Dr. Krueger on practical applications of Da Vinci’s wing sketches. This art class is the last humanities section he ever needs to take. Why does he need ancient Greek just to understand a fresco made thousands of years ago depicting a bunch of naked people breaking vases--

He pounds on the RA’s door again, just as the flimsy wood creaks open. Killua, to no surprise, is still awake, white hair casually tousled and blue eyes a little red from whatever he’s using to stay conscious. He looks like any other time Zushi’s seen him, save for the chocorobo-print pajamas. He blinks a little, like he’s not used to looking up at someone taller than him. “Oh, hey Zushi. What’s up?”

Zushi all but launches the tome at Killua (and it is a tome, leather-bound and heavy as a whole weightlifting rack and smelling of dead dust). The RA catches it in his chest with an oomph fuck. “I heard you...” Killua raises an eyebrow, and Zushi swallows heavily. “I heard you can read ancient Greek?” he asks the chocorobos covering Killua’s knees.

When he doesn’t get an immediate response, Zushi knows he’s screwed. He’ll take the F on the term paper, the absolute mess it will do to his overall GPA, Wing will just look disappointed--

And Killua lets out a little chuckle. “Haven’t got that in awhile. You bring your phone?” At Zushi’s stare, he adds, a little sharper, “For the translation.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Killua sighs, and steps into his room as though expecting Zushi to follow. They’re friends, Zushi thinks, or at least friendly--Killua’s a good RA as far as making sure everyone’s forms are in on time and not enforcing the rules when he thinks they don’t make sense. But he’s never been in here before.

It looks like any other single, but with a private bath. Maybe a little neater than most, a teetering tower of textbooks threatening to consume most of the desk. Zushi doesn’t know what he expected.

Fortunately, Zushi has had the fresco’s page marked for ages now, so it’s easy to find and point out the troublesome scrawl. At the sight, Killua seems to brighten, some of the everpresent uni student exhaustion lifting as he traces a finger along the photocopied brushstrokes. He looks absolutely thrilled at whatever it is he’s found, words boxy and stark against the naturalistic forms.

Zushi coughs a little too loudly, and Killua’s head snaps up, white curls bouncing a little. He grins a little sheepishly. “Where did you find this?” he asks. “When I was--I know some people who would kill for a look at this.”

Killua’s previous major is a source of much debate amongst the freshmen--what gives someone fluency in at least three languages, a solid basis in at least calc 3, and way too many opinions about world leaders?--but Zushi doesn’t care right now. He just wants to get this done. “Can you read it?” he asks. “Please?”

Killua shrugs. “Sure, as long as I can borrow this when you’re done. Pronunciation first.”

And Killua begins to read. Zushi has no idea what he’s saying, but the words seem to flow musically, one into the other, until it’s hard to tell if Killua is reading or singing. When the phrases finish, they don’t so much end as echo, vibrating around the shabby college dorm as though aching to sink in and create a place worthy of their sound.

Zushi doesn’t realize he’s stopped breathing until Killua takes a deep breath himself. He’s pale, paler than usual, and his hands are white-knuckled around the edges of the pages. “Well. That was...” He glances up, seeming to remember Zushi is there, and rolls out his shoulders. “Now, to translate--”

And the ground erupts in light.

When Zushi’s eyes clear, it’s still nighttime, but he’s laying on well-used cobblestone, and an infinite array of stars stretches out in front of his eyes. He doesn’t remember laying down. He doesn’t remember the outside. And he certainly doesn’t remember such colorful statues towering overhead, not unless you count Captain Biggs’s much-defaced figure outside of the gym.

A brown-skinned young man with wind-swept black hair stares at him, brown eyes dancing as he yells something across the stone--a plaza maybe? a courtyard?

By the time the young man’s helped Zushi sit up and offered a small sip of what tastes like wine, Killua’s back, now dressed in something out of a toga party with a smile practically splitting his face, wider and wilder than Zushi has ever seen. “Cool, you made it. Did you know you found one of the last remaining active frescoes? Because I didn’t, and if I had I wouldn’t have read it out loud.”

Zushi shakes his head. “I don’t read Greek,” he says.

Killua says, “You’d better get good quick. We’re in Athens until our friend here--” The young man says something, voice a question even if his expression is still laughing, and Killua shakes his head. “--Gon, can help us find the original.”

“The original...”

Killua kicks him gently with a bare foot. “You’re an engineering major. You’re not that stupid.”

Zushi can all but feel the wheels creaking in his head, splitting away from logic and reforming into some new, illogical, impossible set of gears. “Th-that’s not--we’re in Greece???”

“Circa 4th or 5th century BCE, if I’m getting my dates right,” Killua agrees cheerfully. He holds out a hand and tugs Gon to his feet, their grip and Killua’s eyes lingering just a little too long before offering the same to Zushi.

Zushi takes a few deep breaths, then one more for good measure. He can deal with this. He’s shit at language, but this is a problem, and there will be a solution, and he will find it before he has to turn in that miserable paper.

“Okay,” he says, and lets Killua help him up. “Okay. And your new boyfriend will get me clothes, too?”

Killua’s grin turns smug in a way that Zushi really, really does not want to know. “When in Rome, right?”

“We’re in ancient Greece!” Zushi squawks.

(AUgust prompts)

#AUgust2020 #my writing #hxh #zushi #killua zoldyck #look I don't know #I'm sorry to my art history profs who made sure I knew about black figure and red figure #the ancient greeks didn't really do inscriptions like this but fuck it magic book #using my art history degree here for the only thing it's actually useful for

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akaashirabu · 4 years ago

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volleyballs and photographs • shirabu kenjirou (Pt. 8)

"FN-chan, can you please fix the lighting?" she heard the head photographer say.

"Hai, senpai."

F/N has been busy with her internship in the photo studio and it has been very fulfilling for her. She was overwhelmed by how she got to do what she love and gain experience at the same time.

"Okay, 20 minutes break for everyone." her senpai announced.

F/N went to her table and grab her phone. For the past few weeks, Shirabu and herself have been exchanging messages.

to: shirasuuken fr: f/n "We're on a break. What are you up to? (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)"

Back at Shiratorizawa Gakuen VB Gym, the team just finished their practice.

You can hear everyone's loud sigh as they walk towards to locker room.

"I feel like dying...Washijo kantoku's trainings are ten times harder than before." Goshiki groans.

"You've been complaining too much. I guess that's the result of you becoming our team's ace." Shirabu says to his fellow bowl cut teammate.

The said bowl cut whines. "That's not true!"

The locker room was filled with laughter and groans as the other players continue to tease Goshiki.

Shirabu on the other hand was busy changing his clothes when his phone buzzed. He immediately had a smile on his face when he saw the sender of the message.

fr: f/n ✧ to: shirasuuken "We're on a break. What are you up to? (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)"

Shirabu's smile grew wider when he saw her cute emoji and immediately replied.

to: f/n ✧ fr: shirasuuken "Practice just ended. Trainings have been extra hard since us third years will graduate soon. I'm a bit tired but it's fine. How are you?"

Not even a minute passing, his phone buzzed again.

fr: f/n ✧ to: shirasuuken "Aww go take some rest okay? don't want the captain to get sick. (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡" "Oh and I'm great. We took some photos of kids today and they are so cute, I want to keep them in my pocket."

He was grinning widely. Ah, he wanted to see her right now.

"Hey who are you texting Shirabu senpai?" black haired bowl cut asked.

"Of course it's L/N, look at how much he'd been smiling..." Kawanishi stated as a matter of fact.

"Oh right, only L/N-san can make him smile like an idiot..." Goshiki snickers.

Shirabu glared at them. "Shut up."

He stomped his way out of the locker room before he gets super annoyed with the two.

to: f/n ✧ fr: shirasuuken "I'm glad you're enjoying your internship. I'm on my way home now. What time are you gonna finish? Can we hangout today?"

fr: f/n ✧ to: shirasuuken "Ah sorry we're finishing late today so I'm afraid we can't but we'll be seeing each other in school though."

to: f/n ✧ fr: shirasuuken "Oh, okay. Take care when you get home later."

Shirabu sighed. He really did want to see her today. True enough they see each other in school but they'd just greet each other in the hallways or the cafeteria since she was busy with her club too because of the yearbook. He understands her though because she needs it for her portfolio that will be a big help for her at university.

"But I miss you..." he mumbled.

He already typed it and was about to hit send but decided on deleting it in the end. He didn't want to be a bother.

A few more weeks have passed. Oh how Shirabu dreaded these past weeks. He hasn't been talking with F/N since she was so busy. She would send her short messages and that was it. He was really frustrated. He wanted to be selfish and just spend some more time with her but at the same time he didn't want to sound so clingy. Besides, what he's actually frustrated about is that he still hadn't asked her to be his girlfriend.

"Uhhh Shi-Shirabu-srnpai, someone is looking for you." a second year pinch server stutters as he asks. Poor kouhai was afraid his captain would be mad at him since he had been scowling since earlier.

"Who is it?" Shirabu answered with a groan.

The innocent kouhai shivered at his captain's answer. "Su-sumimasen...he's from the Journalism Club...s-senpai."

Shirabu's scowl was immediately gone from his face upon hearing the words Journalism Club.

But it was soon back on when he didn't saw the person he wanted to see.

The person who was there though awkwardly approached the scowling captain. "Excuse me, uhm Shirabu-san? I'm Akari Ryo from the Journalism Club. I'm here to take photos of the graduating players of the team."

Shirabu sighed and kept his composure back. He lead the photographer boy and introduced him to the team.

He took some photos and Shirabu tried to look decent in every single one of them despite being in a bad mood.

"Shirabu-san, can you please smile for this one photo?" Akari asked.

Shirabu stiffens.

*Ushijma-san, can you please smile for this one photo?*

Right, F/N was the one who took the senpais' photos before. Oh how Shirabu wish she was the one taking his photo right now.

His thoughts were interrupted by Goshiki and the other kouhais who were trying hard not to laugh loudly.

"I don't smile." he says with a straight face.

The rest of the team went silent. They were used to their captain being this serious but he was more scary when he's in a bad mood like this.

Shirabu hurriedly packed his things, nodded at the team as a sign that he's going before them.

Might as well just go back and study since he's not really in a good mood.

Meanwhile, F/N was running her way to the gyms, hoping to see the setter captain.

Looking around at the gym, she spotted his bowl cut kouhai instead.

"Goshiki!" she called.

"Oh LN-senpai what brings you here?" he asked.

"Is Shirabu still here?"

"Oh Shirabu-senpai went out already. Didn't say where he's going though."

"Ahh, I see...okay thanks Goshiki."

She gave the kid a pat on the shoulder and was on her way to find his setter captain.

"Oh and L/N-senpai, he's in a pretty bad mood since earlier!" he called out to her but the girl had already disappeared and didn't heard what he just said.

Where would he be going? She thought and went to every place she could think of inside the Shiratorizawa grounds.

He may be at the dorms? But she can't exactly go to the boys' dorms.

She also looked at the library since he might thought of studying but he wasn't there. F/N was about to give up on looking for him when she caught a glimpse of his copper bowl cut at the tree nearby the field.

"Shirabu-san!" she called.

He looked back as he heard his name being called.

She stopped right infront of him, catching her breath.

"I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Have you?" he mumbles but loud enough for her to hear.

She took a sit next to him.

"Yes and Oh I have some——" she stopped mid-sentence when she noticed that Shirabu has a frown on his face.

"Hey, is there something wrong?" she asks, worry evident in her voice.

"It's nothing..."

"Are you sure?" "I mean if there's something bothering you, you can always tell me and I——"

"No, I'm fine." he says, his voice surprising F/N.

She didn't say anything and was just silent, so is he.

"Are you...mad at me?" she asked softly.

He didn't answer.

She frowned. "Oh, so you are mad at me."

He looked at her with wide eyes. "No, it's not——"

"I don't really know what I did but I'm sorry..." she says, wiping the tears that fell on her face. She hurriedly got up and left him.

"F/N...wait I——" He called out but she was already far away from him.

Shirabu slapped his face. He didn't intend to upset her. He was just so frustrated about graduating and leaving the volleyball team, studying for college applications and not seeing her. But now he just made her cry for being a salty ass bastard.

Maybe he just wasn't fated to ask her to be his...maybe it wasn't time.

—

part [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]... also posted in my wattpad account @akaashirabu.

#shirabu kenjirou #shirabuxreader #shirabukenjirouxreader #shirabu #kenjirou #haikyuu #Haikyu!!#haikyuufanfiction #haikyuuxreader #shiratorizawa #pretty setter squad #haikyuu!!

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gigageekmag · 4 years ago

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Comic Book Review: Calico

CALICO ISSUE #1

Welcome back GiGa Community; as you all know, at fifteen years old, in 1992, I had an opportunity and pleasure of interning at Marvel Comics in Manhattan, New York; Spider-man office to be exact. It was during that year that I had delved into the comic book industry, soaking it all in, down to my very fabric of my soul. I loved all of the intellectual properties, their stories, and the craft; I knew I wanted Comics to be a part of my future life story. I was a fan of some characters, and ambivalent to others, but never the less, just like family I loved them all (Some more than others of course); the environment moved my soul. To this day, I still find being an artist to be one of my first loves, and comic books satisfied that yearning. The culmination of efforts between a writer, penciler, inker, letterer, colorist, and editor was to me, an amalgamation of geniuses at work. I love and respect the craft.

Sigma Comics

GiGa: GeekMagazine was contacted by Sigma Comics asking for an honest review of their newly released comic series, Calico. I was unsure of who this new IP was that was entering the competitive arena, so I did superficial research, watched an interview, and a review; it seemed to be worth the read. The first complimentary comic came and as busy as I am, I opened it and felt the cover art seemed acceptable for a comic book in 2021, but I didn’t have a peaceful undisturbed moment to read it, so I left it on my desk to be ready for the day I found a free opportunity to read it, then write a review. My family and I left the house for a few hours, and when I returned I went straight to my office and hadn’t realized the comic was no longer on my desk. A few seconds after I sat down, my daughter calls me, “Papi, look what Ivi did”!

Ivi Snow knew She really did it this time.

Ivi Snow is one of my two white German Shepherds, she is 1½ years old, so I am accustomed to finding “surprises” when we come back home; I thought it was poop again. A minute later my daughter comes to my office holding my complimentary issue of Calico in shreds. Needless to say I was peeved and Ivi knew it. Then I remembered what the premise of the comic was. “NYC HAS A NEW ANTI–HERO. Every day millions of animals are abused and killed. Animal rights groups and charities try to help, yet the savagery continues.” Sigma Comics appears to be committed to fighting animal abuse. I laughed at the irony of this moment and took a picture of her with the destroyed comic, apparently, she enjoyed the comic. I couldn’t read it, as a substantial part of the first few pages were now gone. With that above picture attached to an email to Sigma comics, I humbly apologized and requested another review copy, I was willing to pay for it at this point, but the great people at Sigma found humor in the event as well and sent me another. When the next copy arrived I kept it in my safe this time, and that night when I was done with work, I read it before I went to bed. I opened the cover and this time, I was able to really absorb the content. I applauded the first impression, it was transparent in showing their allegiance to the cause, “American Humane”, as a parent to two German Shepherds, I was sold.

The first page was gripping, showing an example of the atrocities committed upon animals and the visualization was almost too tough to bear, but I was roped in, I had to read on. We get our first glimpse into the soul of our Anti-Hero on page two, with tears running from angry eyes, the penciler, inker, and colorist nailed the conviction this character was driven by, and we’re then introduced to Calico “A one-man arsenal of destruction in constant pursuit of justice for the smallest and weakest among us…”

In his apartment he works his frustration on a double end bag, his thoughts speak poignant commentary as to the nature of life being nothing but conflict in every facet of existence and we see where his psychological state dwells; he’s scared and/or resentful of life and bitterly expresses this in his own twisted way. The Boxing Gym advertisement on page 5 could easily be dismissed as fictitious until a little research clarified that it is indeed a real business; as an ex-fighter boxer, martial artist, and ex-body guard myself, I respected that blurring between fantasy and reality as it was perfectly in line with the tale that I was uploading to my brain.

The writer then takes the reader on a journey through the life of Calico, recalling childhood memories of being bullied. This alludes to post traumatic damage; he hates bullies and had long since made the decision to suffer them no longer. We next accompany the protagonist from his apartment to a local boxing gym where he trains and prepares for an upcoming tournament, and while there, he loses himself in the art of combat. His thoughts become louder than spoken words; he’s a fighter with unfortunate luck, struggling skill, and lots of animosity. Here is where the reader learns this character has no reservation about the thought of condemning the abuser to death and that animals were his only friends since his youth.

Page 8 we’re given a full frontal nude of the hero in the shower after leaving the gym, even in the shower he’s consumed by antipathy as conveyed by more flashbacks of the same bully from his youth; he’s never recovered from those years. This memory was different, ironically, it was in this recollection where he was impressed by an alley-cat that scared off the bully and his dog, which serves as a perfect transition into revealing his super-hero outfit emblazoned with a black cat’s profile in front of what appears to be a moon. He also has a flying robotic AI assistant named Bumble that is a metallic sphere with one camera eye. Then, we’re back to his childhood memories, this time he evokes the very first time he inflicted pain by punching that bully in the face before fleeing the scene. Page 13 is where things escalate quickly, so I won’t spoil it for interested readers.

So here’s my honest review and rating:

Comic book Production: I feel the writing could have been more impacting and/or expansive; a name would have been nice to have, but it served its purpose; The art is what communicated the story the most. Lettering was great, the penciling and inking were acceptable as well, but gets a little hard to understand what’s happening during the murder scene.

The Character: His real name is never revealed, but from how Calico was insultingly called a “Dominican York” translated from Spanish, he is likely Latino. I think the character is less anti-hero and more of a deranged, sociopathic, villain with post-traumatic stress. He’s fed a list of targets by an unknown accomplice, he intends to kill, (and/or violate) which to me is the modus operandi of a serial killer. I couldn’t see the word “Hero” being applicable to this guy in anyway.

The full frontal nude, to me, was unnecessary, but being a student at the Art Institute of Atlanta I’ve drawn male nudes before, so I respect the art, 100%. That scene only became awkward after the second penis comment. Which helped me to get a better understanding of the mind of the protagonist as portrayed and communicated by the writer. I think the outfit really is too similar to Black Panther.

As per the multiple male phallus related comments and insults, along with, what I found to be excessive homo-erotic language, it seemed in my humble opinion, as if there’s other unresolved issues besides being bullied that Calico has never addressed. In one scene, I had to look at one scene under better light to understand that Calico actually violates or rapes his victim with a red hot pipe, all while making references to size; he says to his victim, “Relax! It’s only one-inch thick pipe. In penis size its only four-inch girth. You got this”. the last unnecessary thing I read that really nailed the coffin shut for me was the statement, “F*** em. Hard. in the @ss. With no vaseline”.

Concept: I personally, don’t think the character could have longevity, and if so possibly as a novelty act; appropriate for an 8-Issue Series. He possibly may develop a fan base, but with a very niche market. He is not a “Deadpool” type of anti-hero, I’d say this brooding character is damaged psychologically which easily could bleed over into villainy. I couldn’t see the Dark Knight tolerating this character, or working with him in any way, and would probably bring him to justice. In comparison to other anti-heroes, such as Hulk, Ghost Rider, Blade, or the Punisher, I’d say even Frank Castle wouldn’t see his motivations, means, or ends as acceptable. I see a more deviant sociopathic “Joker” kind of weirdness from Calico minus the smiles and laughing.

Conclusion: It’s a comic book, it fits the criteria. I wasn’t left feeling like I want to read more, but I am only one man, with one opinion worth 2 cents. I endeavor to say it could have been written for a broader appeal to a wider audience; for me, I feel the niche-aspect will leave some put off or uninterested. But somehow, I’m sure this will pull the targeted audience it was meant for. In the end, Sigma successfully this debut is a great accomplishment for the creators and production team and for that I salute and respect their creative vision, hard work, and love for the craft. I’d give it 3 out 5 Stars ★★★☆☆ ~Jack~

Image Sources: > https://sigmacomics.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/sigma-comics-large.jpg > https://prnewswire2-a.akamaihd.net/p/1893751/sp/189375100/thumbnail/entry_id/1_gapzb7c1/def_height/800/def_width/520/version/100011/type/1

Comic Book Review: Calico was originally published on GIGA: GeekMagazine

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ruadhdubh · 4 years ago

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Capitalist Realism vs Virus Realism

Logic is often linked with reason. Where reason is the motivation behind an action, the reason why one does something, logic is a series of reasons that limit one another to form a suite of actions, or a general behaviour. It is a set of principles that underlies the general thinking behind that general behaviour. Logic, as with reason, is not universal. This tends to be generally understood of reason. For example, I might have a reason to want to leave work early while my manager has a competing reason for me to stay. This, however, is less understood of logic, which can also be said for rationality, also often linked with reason. But a rationale is just the consistent application of reason, and logic, as I already mentioned, is the sequence of reasons alongside and limiting one another. If a man accuses a woman of being irrational, it is more likely that that man simply fails to understand the logic underlying the reason for that woman’s behaviour. Logics compete, just as reasons do.

Returning to the situation between myself and my manager, it is not necessarily the case that our competing reasons belie competing logics. We might both wholeheartedly agree with the logic that to work hard at our company will benefit us both, and it’s just a deadly sunny day and I need to get out of the office in that given moment. It is more likely, however, that a manager, who will be on a higher pay scale than me-who needs to be managed, is operating from a different logic. The reason they want me to stay to work is informed by the logic of management in a capitalist enterprise. That is; ‘if I sit here and make sure he doesn’t move, he will eventually produce the service required by my manager, so that I might pass it along and continue receiving my sweet salary.’ Whereas my reason for wanting to leave early is more likely informed by an altogether different logic, such as: ‘this is such a menial shitty load of bollox of a job. There is literally no point in me staying here to produce this service because, as bad as it is, it would be even worse to eventually get that eejit’s job, despite the better pay.’

So if I get up and leave for the door and the manager jumps up, startled, and demands to know where I’m off to, and I tell him I don’t care about the job, that I’ve just got to go, he might try to explain the situation to me, according to his logic: ‘you must stay! I implore you! Who will produce this service if you’re not here for me to supervise you? You’re acting entirely irrational!’ This is of course wholly antithetical to the logic informing my reasoning. The conversation doesn’t get very far, as we bump heads until eventually my manager, failing to grasp my logic and in need of a higher rate of compliance for his logic to be seen through, fires me and I get to leave early. There is no universal logic. Logics can compete.

On March the 4th of this year, Italy had just closed its schools and universities due to having become the European epicentre of the coronavirus Covid-19 pandemic. With 87 known cases in the UK, the Prime Minister Boris Johnson had just told the nation that, as long as they were washing their hands for 20 seconds, people could greet others however they liked. During the weeks that followed confusion ensued with some baffled that the government hadn’t adopted Italy’s policies before the spread of the virus got much worse, and others keen to focus on the ‘it’ll be grand’ aspect of Johnson’s message. Johnson assured the nation that more stringent measures were not necessary as the science was sound, that the virus would spread through the population and only kill off the weak, while everyone else built up a natural immunity. On March 16th, the science reported in an online article on the Hoover Institute’s website that the standard model of spread was a gross overestimation, and that we should also be concerning ourselves with the impending economic shock.

But then, on March 18th, the science again reported, this time through a research paper published by the Imperial College London, that things were going to get very bad. In response, Johnson finally closes the schools. Two days later, pubs, restaurants and gyms are also ordered to close. A furlough scheme, allowing companies to temporarily lay off staff so they could stay home and the government would pay 80% of their wages, was announced. Then, on March 23rd, Johnson tells the nation to stay home, to only leave for food, medical reasons, essential work if it cannot be done from home, and for one hour’s daily exercise. In this five day period the world, for those living in the UK, changed dramatically. 43 people were reported to have died, but the figure stood at 11 000 in the wider world. The reality of the virus for the vast majority of people living in the UK was a vague and ambiguous puzzle playing out on their screens. It was largely happening elsewhere. There was, for at least some I guess, a sense that an enemy was imminent, and this feeling was, for me anyway, made even more surreal by Johnson’s u-turn with respect to policy.

It was as if the Prime Minister began employing a different logic to the one that informed his previous ‘herd immunity’ policy. In contrast to the stark Virus Realism of a policy of lockdown, many in the financial press were clamouring for us to consider the economy. On March 19th, the Wall Street Journal published a report highlighting the human cost of job losses, claiming that this cost would grow by the hour. It warned that 10 million jobs would be lost but, in case the reader wasn’t sufficiently tugged by their heart strings, the article counted this cost in lost dreams. This sentiment was ramified when, on March 23rd, the same day that Johnson delivered Virus Realism to the UK, the leader of the free world, Donal Trump announced to the business class that the cure cannot be worse than the problem, and that the US would be out of lockdown sooner rather than later.

On March 24th the Washington Post reported that Trump was coming under increasing pressure from business leaders, Republican lawmakers and conservative economists to reopen the economy. It also reported that Dr. Fauci, a lead member of the administration’s coronavirus taskforce, disagreed with this direction. Competing logics. Capitalist logic determines that today’s investments must be valorised tomorrow. That is, if I make an investment on March 22nd I require economic activity so that the economy grows and I can eventually cash out, having made a gain on my investment, otherwise known as profit. If, however, Boris Johnson effectively shuts down a large economic hub, otherwise know as the UK, on March 23rd, then the chances of valorisation become limited. Yes, I can read in the news that some people are ill and a few of them are dying, but if my capital doesn’t valorise, my competitors might outflank and then sink me. This is the logic of capitalism, the logic underlying the reasoning behind Trump’s plans to reopen the economy.

The logic of Covid-19, however, goes something along the lines of: ‘this host is literally killing itself to get rid of me. Perhaps I should try that eejit over there? Nope, just as hostile. Oh, they’re now dead. Ah, here’s their neighbour to check on them…’, and so on. This logic, or, the one derived from it that goes something like: ‘we must stop this virus from spreading and killing its hosts’, appears to be in direct competition with the logic of capitalism. On March 25th an article published by the Financial Times declared that shutting industry could inflict lasting damage on economies. On March 31st another Financial Times article reminded everyone that the UK’s gross domestic product would shrink £6 billion during each month of lockdown. And on the same day the BBC relayed the message from the World Bank that the 24 million people they projected to escape poverty now would not. From this two week snapshot of various policies and reactions in the media we get a sense of the competition between these two logics.

Another two weeks on and, on April 14th, the same day the IMF released their Global Financial Stability Report, (the same day, incidentally, that Johnson was released from hospital after having succumbed to the virus two and a half weeks earlier), the UK’s office for budgetary responsibility asked the British chancellor of the exchequer, Rishi Sunak, to begin reminding everyone of the primacy, after all, of the capitalist logic. Sunak, in his statement to the nation, declared that it was important to be honest with people about what was happening to the economy, stating that he would outline such before turning to the health figures. So, before turning to those health figures, Sunak took the time to assure the UK nation that the government had the economy in hand, and that it would be getting everyone back to work as quickly as possible, as soon as restrictions changed, to get business moving again and recover the economy. Then, on pivoting toward the health figures, Sunak gave us a direct glimpse down to the bone of the logic by saying the single most important thing we can do for the health of the economy is to protect the health of our people.

Remember, a logic is a sequence of inter-limiting reasons. In Sunak’s sequence of reasons why the government should act, the economy here comes first, as if people serve the economy, rather than that the economy serves people. Four weeks have since passed and, on May 10th, Johnson eased the lockdown to allow more people to travel to work, suggesting also that schools would soon re-open. This policy of easing lockdown comes at a time when Virus Realism appears to be subsiding. The rate of death linked with Covid-19 is reportedly lowering. The curve seems to have been flattened and the National Health Service managed not to collapse under the weight of its peak. It would appear then, that the government is now aware of what sort of numbers the health system is capable of, and must be confident it can maximise economic activity within the parameter of cases the country featured over the past two months.

I cannot say for sure that this is a conscious policy, of course, but given the virus logic, it at least does not appear to seek to minimise the death rate. And, given the logic of capitalism, the government is technically now aware of how to manage the case load for the NHS. When numbers rise once the economy restarts, the government will know when to cap this second wave and introduce lockdown measures again. The inevitable re-increase of the death rate will be a collateral factor to the continuation of the logic of capitalism and the need to valorise investments. It just so happens that, for those business leaders and conservative economists lobbying on behalf of the logic of capitalism, the virus logic affects them least of all. On May 1st a report was published on the Poverty and Social Exclusion website by the Office of National Statistics that displayed that the distribution of deaths linked with Covid-19 lay increasingly with those from the most deprived areas of England and Wales.

Irrespective of the logic of the virus, this is always the logic of capitalism. This distribution pattern is not too dissimilar for deaths not linked to the virus also. And this is an important point, but bear with me for a moment. A few days after the lockdown measures were announced, the NHS put out a call for volunteers. In the first 24 hours they received over half a million applicants. Mutual aid groups were quickly established across the country, and a poll, published on April 9th, stated that the British public valued the health and lives of its older population over even long-term economic considerations. Despite a government bent over the lap of the business lobby (as if they weren’t thoroughly involved in business themselves!) and thus operating under the logic of capitalism, these moments of selflessness illustrate an alternative reasoning among that government’s constituents. From this glimpse of reason, we cannot say what logic underlies it but what we can say, however, is that it doesn’t appear to be concerned too much with the logic of capitalism.

Why, though, was this not as blatantly apparent before the Covid-19 crisis? As above, the country’s death rate is dramatically asymmetrical in its distribution along degrees of deprivation, virus or no virus. Why in this moment do people suddenly seem motivated by human vulnerability? I would guess that this is perhaps because for a moment human vulnerability was honestly depicted in the mainstream media during the early phase of the crisis. Society’s comparable endemic vulnerabilities that existed before, and will exist long after unless things change, will not be sufficiently newsworthy as to inspire such levels of social solidarity once this is over. The mediated experience of the world people generally consume cannot help but affect profoundly the underlying logic to the reasons anyone does anything. This alongside, of course, the imposition of the logic of capitalism on most people to perform waged labour for most their lives just to survive.

It is not the case that people were indifferent and now they have suddenly found their calling. Its that the logic of capitalism determines what makes the headlines as investors in media require that the company they invested in experiences share price growth continuously. This pressure requires the company to opt for the sort of news that incites passion in the consumer, allows them to feel things, to sense life. It must be sensational. Constantly. If a media company was to report continuously on the sort of human vulnerability that might inspire social solidarity, its readership will flag, leading investors to cash-in and invest elsewhere. This competitive drive is the essence of the logic of capitalism, and in this way, one of many, it determines so much of our society.

Returning now to the articles mentioned above, published between March 19th and March 31st. In particular, the Wall Street Journal’s projection that 10 million will lose their jobs and their ability to realise dreams; Trump’s tweet that the cure cannot be worse than the problem; the Financial Times claim that shutting industry could inflict lasting damage on the economy; and the World Bank’s warning that the 24 million people they predicted would escape poverty this year, will no longer do so. The elements involved here are people and wealth, the relationship between them is determined by processes. Under capitalist logic the processes is: the people will slowly attain a share of the wealth by engaging in the economy (the economy that is served by people, not the one that serves people, as highlighted by Chancellor Sunak. This is the capitalist economy – the free market). Under competition with virus logic this logic comes to reason that: the people will not attain a share of the wealth as lockdown will disturb the free market. The elements remain unchanged: under lockdown or otherwise, the people exist; the wealth exists. Its just the interplay of logics that determine the relationship between them.

Under the competition imposed by virus logic, the transfer of wealth to the poor can no longer be achieved under capitalist logic because the prime value or reason determining the process that manages that relationship is the free market. In a capitalist economy the industry mentioned in the Financial Times article has developed an organic network of production, directed by free market price signals. In shutting industry down, the lasting damage the Financial Times alludes to is in the relationships between nodal points in that network, who, after some time, will have failed to perform that relationship and may no longer do so once the possibility arises once more. The quality of these relationships is based on the conditions of competition, the ones I mentioned previously that deliver such quality media companies. The extended logic, then, is that we cannot simply place element wealth alongside element people as this will disturb the free market as I just outlined it. To do so is illogical. But now, Virus Realism is disturbing this process and the poor people will have to suffer under the totality of that logic, as if this manner of distributing wealth is the best humanity could possible come up with.

In sum then, the quality of industrial relations, as we have seen, are not that brilliant. The process is so feeble that it is unable to withstand lockdown. Its ability to distribute wealth is negligent – why is everyone so poor to begin with? So why do we uphold its logic and the prime value of the free market economy? Because the class with power in society has invested in the process and they demand a return on it in both the near future and further down the line. Competing logics. What if instead of valuing the free market, instead of valuing the expansion of the economy that valorises invested capital, we swapped it for a new prime value? That of, not expansion, but distribution. We could outline an economy that serves people, rather than the other way round. We could build a production chain robust enough to adapt to crises such as this pandemic, so long as it relied on social rather than capital relations. It would no longer be an illogical act to simply place the existing wealth beside the people who need it.

Under this logic, if under it we had an actually free press, headlines would instead read ‘the 24 million people capitalists decided would gradually escape poverty this year will no longer do so as those capitalists have instead decided to withdraw their wealth from circulation because the government has suggested that people’s welfare is slightly more pressing than this economic nonsense’; or ‘people’s dreams shattered as capital is withdrawn from the economy due to fear and greed by the capitalist class’. There is no scarcity of wealth. There is no reason that we cannot distribute wealth evenly in society, where it is needed. There is no reason for this, other than the logic of capitalism.

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spoonielivingfree · 5 years ago

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2019. What was that? 2019 was a year of many many tears but also so much joy and triumph. It was also something of a blur. The fact that we are now at the end of 2019 is incredible and honestly I haven’t taken enough time this year to just stop and breathe and reflect. Hence why Christmas has been full of binging Netflix and youtube because I just don’t have the energy and I am very much feeling like I need a cognitive break. (I.e a break from applications and all that fun stuff).

2019 was a year of many, many, many rejections. From grad schemes, from law jobs. I think the year actually started with me making a youtube video about being rejected from the faststream. It now has more views than I could have imagined it to get. There were tears but actually it was a necessary rejection to get. And I think it has prepared me for when I get that far with a training contract application. Which hopefully 2020 will bring!

I had to deal with some of the worst pain flares in my life but also had managed to get my pain under more control than ever. It was months of tapering up medication, which made me really anxious and paranoid. I would spend nights awake writing my dissertation because it felt more productive than laying in bed, in the dark – having panic attacks.

Why my medication did that to me when I was tapering up but it doesn’t now, I have no idea but it lead to a v off sleep pattern and meant that come exams I had to completely retrain my body – as all of my exams were morning exams.

Despite all this – the stress, tears, pain and anxiety. I seemed to find more balance in 2019 – especially through studying than ever before. Yes I still studied ridiculous hours more days than not and it got me more than what I wanted but I started trying to run again and although it caused me to crash for a week at a time and aggravated my ankles it gave me a necessary break from the stress of revision and dissertation work.

2019 was also a year of theatre. I must have gone 10 times in 2019 and I saw some amazing shows, I also not only went to my first west end first preview (come from away) but also went to my first west end opening night (&Juliet). Theatre is something that will be left behind a little in 2020 just because of where I live and because if my body can hack it I want to really dedicate myself to climbing. These theatre trips were unforgettable experiences and I definitely recommend &Juliet because it was the most fun theatre trip I’ve had of 2019. I think come from away is the best musical I saw in the year though and I saw it twice! Play wise, I only saw two – mousetrap and the curious incident of the dog in the night-time and highly recommend both of them depending on what you want, although I think curious incident gets the edge.

Everything from final exam on was blissful, and incredible but also challenging in both expected and unexpected ways.

I struggled with not having a job, although I had the offer for my current job by then and was just waiting for it to start. What a wait that was. That struggle lead me to take on a job which I wasn’t well enough to do. I don’t know what I was thinking or whether I just convinced myself I was well enough. I must have because otherwise I wouldn’t have taken it.

It lasted two weeks and I was blissfully happy although I knew my body was struggling by the end of the first week. I stupidly pushed on, scared that if I didn’t my body would give up. Hilariously despite all the adrenaline in the world, a week later my body then did give up. The job ended in me on the carpark floor for two hours. I can’t thank the people who ignored the stubborn me, weakly saying not to phone 111 and did so anyway enough. Or the people who stayed by my side for the whole two hours. I also can’t thank the person who came to the hospital with me (even though it was her job). Although I knew it was just the terrifying realities of ME, having people there made such a difference and showed me that there is humanity in this world.

This experience, and the aftermath also taught me about the importance of pacing. Now I do still push and crash. But I am slowly learning to pace enough to not crash like that again. Or atleast I think I am.

Over the summer (before this event) I went to Berlin on my own and graduated top of my class. Winning four academic awards. Berlin was blissful until the end where I experienced a trauma that although nothing happened – has taken a while to get over and it’s still not something I feel comfortable talking about. Graduation was completely unexpected. I never expected to do so well. I went in for a first and I exceeded all expectations.

I went to London for law events, went to my first pride and started my first office job. Although I could hardly walk around the house for two weeks, I was really living my best life.

Between August and November I worked full time and lived with my fam. I was kind of working in family law and honestly I miss it. Although it was quite a boring job and there wasn’t much work to be done, I miss family law. Or maybe it’s just law I miss. I’m not sure. It also taught me that you need to be hella emotionally strong to work in family law, and I did know that before but I didn’t really understand how much until I was dealing with it every day.

In November I moved to the other end of the country, which has been a rollercoaster and a half even within the same day sometimes. I’ve realised how much energy living with my family takes from me – which sounds bad but it’s the extra stimulation. I went through 50 shades of stress and tears with wifi, work, doctors and medication. But I also started climbing again as I’m sure my last few posts would have you gather.

I have no new climbing snaps but I have done so much more than I ever thought I would. I started like “lets just do greens” on my first session back. Inevitably ended up realising many of them were too easy and challenged myself a little more. (Like up to V1). By my second session I had got a few V2s and potentially a V3. The year ended with me getting my first V4 in 3-4 years. I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again. I sincerely lack muscle. So it’s not as easy for me as it was 3-4 years ago. And certainly not as it was back when I was 16 and could do pullups on four finger crimps.

Technique really is all I have. Although I think the strength is building and will build as 2020 goes on. My first bouldering session of 2020 will be anti-style V1s. I.e the V1 oranges in the gym that are still up when I go and that I can’t do yet. Now these are V1s that are as anti-style as we can get. Often combining many anti-styles as I’ve not just been working slabby slabs! I’ve been doing a much wider variety of problem since coming back into the sport.

It will be a mentally challenging session, what with worrying that people in the gym think I’m useless. I tend to crumble under pressure. It’s not good. My best moments in climbing are never seen. But it is a necessary step to becoming a more well rounded boulderer. My goal for 2020 is to be back up to the V5s but to be more consistent with them. Now absolute anti-style V5s may be a stretch but a consistent good variety of V5s is what I’m aiming for and maybe we’ll surpass that.

That’s all I have to say for now. I hope you all have an enjoyable, productive and transformative 2020. There will be challenges, as in every year but none that cannot be faced.

2019 in review

2019. What was that? 2019 was a year of many many tears but also so much joy and triumph.

2019 in review 2019. What was that? 2019 was a year of many many tears but also so much joy and triumph.

#2019 #fibromyalgia #Health #Life #ME #ME/CFS #spoonie #spooniesister

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biofunmy · 5 years ago

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Polyamory Works for Them – The New York Times

The Look

Having multiple partners can mean more pleasure, but it’s not always easy.

Photographs by Yael Malka

Text by Alice Hines

Produced by Eve Lyons

Through a half-century of sexual upheaval, monogamy has been a curious stalwart.

The tradition of having a single sexual partner is among the only sexual practices liberals and conservatives rarely disagree about. Its blandness belies mysterious origins: Scientists have yet to conclude why prairie voles, much less people, prefer to bond in long-term pairs.

Yet in certain concrete burrows, monogamy’s inverse is on the rise. Jade Marks, a 26-year-old artist and herbalist in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn, recalled a recent post by a friend on Instagram: “Are there any other queers out there who are monogamous?”

That feeling may have something to do with the immediate environment. Most weekends in New York, a smattering of events cater to the non-monogamous. There are lecture series, workshops and discussion groups. There are cocktail hours and meet-and-greets. And there are, of course, parties.

On a recent Saturday night in Crown Heights, an angelic gatekeeper in a pastel harness did her best to assure a reporter that she wouldn’t be a total buzz kill at a private party of 200 mostly straight, mostly non-monogamous New Yorkers. “Just watching is O.K.!” she said outside the site, a loft lit like an infrared sauna. “Have a good time! Stay hydrated! And always ask for consent!”

Inside were some of the happiest-looking sober adults ever seen after 2 a.m. “It’s like ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ meets a Gaspar Noé film,” said a Scandinavian digital artist and recent Brooklyn transplant. He and his girlfriend were attending for the first time; they had read about the party, called NSFW, on the internet.

NSFW caters to the 25-to-35 age bracket, has an all-black dress code and is made up of 60 percent women, according to its founder, Daniel Saynt. Its application for membership requires a social media profile link (“It’s very curated,” Mr. Saynt said) and responses to open-ended and check-box questions (“ultimate fantasy” is a short answer; optional boxes to check include “hedonist,” “daddy” and “label-less”). That may sound like the precursor to a job interview, but the point is to ensure that the needs of attendees are met. Wouldn’t it be nice if other clubs worked that way?

“I don’t think that polyamory is somehow more evolved than monogamy,” said Zhana Vrangalova, a sex researcher who will teach an online course for couples and individuals seeking to open their relationships this fall. “But it should be an option. People should have more options.”

That was a maxim for the two dozen non-monogamous people interviewed for this article. The subjects, who represent a range of ethnicities, sexual orientations, gender identities and professions, agreed on this: For them, more partners means more exploration and more pleasure.

Consensual or ethical non-monogamy is an umbrella term that encompasses various relationship models, including polyamory, open relationships, sexual encounters with more than two people and swinging. Polyamorists are interested in exploring long-term relationships with multiple people. Swingers tend to be older couples opening their marriages recreationally.

According to a 2014 Chapman University survey, 5 percent of American relationships identify themselves as non-monogamous. In a more recent survey of single adults in the United States, in 2017, one-fifth of respondents said they would try some form of non-monogamy at some point in their lifetime.

In major cities, there are plenty of ways for non-monogamous and polycurious people to meet, among them apps, dinners, friends, blind dates and parties. In New York, organized sex parties include Chemistry, which requires a Q. and A. application and photo, but doesn’t screen for a particular look; NYC Inferno, a gay play party that mostly attracts cisgender men but is open to queer, trans and nonbinary people (Playhouse, a spinoff event, revolves around trans guys); Skirt Club, a members-only club for bisexual women; and Wonderland, which welcomes everyone as long as they bring a buddy who will vouch for them, and are committed to fantastical dress codes (“Ancients vs. Aliens,” “Dungeons and Drag Queens”).

Now a cottage industry of coaches and educators has cropped up to help polyamorous partners strive for compersion, the happy-for-you alternative to jealousy. Effy Blue, a relationship coach in Brooklyn, works with all of the following: triads, or three people in a committed relationship together; individuals seeking to transparently date multiple lovers simultaneously; partners who each have intimate friends, all of whom are close; and clients cultivating long-term relationships with someone who already has a primary partner.

“There is no single model that suits everyone,” Ms. Blue said. She also wrote a book on play-party etiquette. “Consent is the cornerstone of any well-produced, healthy and fun sex party,” she said. “This makes it safer and more fun than an average nightclub on any given day.”

Ella Quinlan, a 27-year-old event planner, said she knows hundreds of peers on the East and West Coasts practicing their own flavors of non-monogamy. In her own relationship with Lawrence Blume, a 55-year-old tech investor, Ms. Quinlan’s goal is to enhance what is conventionally beloved about monogamy, she said.

“We want to show people that it’s actually possible to be in a long-term, healthy, satisfying, deeply rooted and connected emotional relationship with somebody — and do this,” Mr. Blume said.

It’s not always easy. “There’s a lot of talking, and it takes a lot of work,” said Jade Marks. When Jade began exploring non-monogamy with Tourmaline, Jade’s primary partner, the pair quickly realized they had different expectations: Jade wanted casual encounters, while Tourmaline preferred sustained relationships with multiple people.

It took a lengthy negotiating period. Boundaries helped: Jade and Tourmaline established safe sex guidelines, and a rule of not bringing any partners to the apartment they share, though Jade said they have “a clause” for unexpected encounters.

Some emotions come with the territory. “A lot of us grew up with few of examples of what supportive queer, trans or non-monogamous relationships look like,” Tourmaline said. Among the couple’s queer and trans peers, non-monogamy can sometimes seem compulsory. “It’s O.K. to feel jealous,” Jade said. “It’s O.K. for this to be hard.”

Karen Ambert, 35, met Kenneth Play, a 38-year-old sex educator, three years ago on an art bus that was touring their neighborhood of Bushwick. Two years later, Mr. Play introduced Ms. Ambert, an emergency-room physician, to the man who became her second boyfriend, Geronimo Frias, the co-owner of a parkour gym.

It’s not technically a triad, but a V, as the relationship configuration is known in the poly community. Mr. Play and Mr. Frias don’t date each other, but they do date other people. (Mr. Play employs an assistant, in part to help book his rotating cast.)

Polyamorous for most of her adult life, Ms. Ambert hid it from her colleagues in medical school and residency. “I was always worrying about the next step. How will this impact my education and career?” she said. But recently she has grown more comfortable in her professional standing, and felt ready to come out about her love life too.

Mr. Frias was sitting on a couch at the home of Mr. Play with Ms. Ambert wedged in the middle, basking in the gaze of four adoring eyes.

Sexual repression is at the root of the wider public stigma about non-monogamy, said Narjesi Tragic, an environmental science student in Queens.

But that’s rapidly changing along with “tolerance of different kinds of lifestyles, traditions, religions,” said Orion Starbreeze, Narjesi’s metamour (both date Tiana North, a professional dominatrix and dog trainer, but not each other).

“We’re returning to that nomadic sharing of partners and resources,” Ms. North said. “There’s ride shares, there’s house shares, bike shares — we’re in a sharing generation now.”

Which, for some, is easier to intellectualize than practice. “The biggest obstacle to free love is the emotion we call jealousy,” the sex educators Janet W. Hardy and Dossie Easton write in the 1997 edition of their book “The Ethical Slut,” which introduced many Americans to the concept of non-monogamy.

One morning, I Skyped with Na’Im Najieb, a 33-year-old author, and Tyomi Morgan, 31, who is a sexuality coach. The two of them have been in an open marriage for a year and a half, and they recommend the use of mindfulness techniques to overcome jealousy.

“Is this really my partner separating from me?” Ms. Morgan said she asks herself when feelings of insecurity arise. “Or am I struggling my own abandonment issues, and needing to clearly express to Na’Im what affirmation I need to receive?”

Instead of jealousy, Ms. Morgan said she tries to think about gratitude and send messages like, “I was thinking about how much I appreciate you,” rather than, “Where are you?” and “Who are you with?”

Ms. Ambert, Mr. Play and Mr. Frias are all members of Hacienda, an intentional sex-positive community in Bushwick. (Mr. Play is a founder .)

Hacienda Villa, one of four locations, is an unassuming brick rowhouse across from an auto-body shop. Below the open concept kitchen-living room where 14 roommates have house meetings about chores, is a basement where events like Learn to Love Oral Sex: Tips from a Real Sex Worker (open to the public) and Second-Base Brunch (members only) are held.

“There’s a lot of sex problems in the world, like harassment,” Mr. Play said of the community’s mission. “We’re trying to engineer a way to coexist and celebrate sex without harming each other.”

He, Ms. Ambert, and Mr. Frias were currently in the process of contemplating a practice new to many of their open-minded friends and acquaintances: raising children.

“We’re in an extremely happy situation, and yet with a future that’s uncertain,” said Mr. Frias, 41, who is discussing starting a family with Ms. Ambert. “Being married and having kids in a V, I don’t know anyone else personally who’s done it.”

The idea was spurred during a conversation between Mr. Play and Ms. Ambert. It started much like any couple’s might, with Ms. Ambert saying she wanted children sooner rather than later, and Mr. Play hesitating.

Then Mr. Frias was in the picture. Like Ms. Ambert, he, too, wants children.

It was precisely her quality of “accepting people exactly as they are,” without trying to curtail their individual desires, that makes talk of such a long-term commitment possible, he said. “I’m not trying to change anything about her, and she’s not trying to change anything about me,” he added.

And those are just the emotional perks, said Mr. Play, who is coming around to the idea of helping raise children who aren’t his own. “Three incomes. Three parents. No one feels like they’re drowning in responsibility,” he said. “And the kid, surrounded by more loving adults.”

“I think this is really beneficial — a good life hack.”

Yael Malka is a photographer and artist raised in the Bronx and now based in Brooklyn. Alice Hines is a writer in New York City.

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