#this specific field of study is utterly fascinating

[dj-of-the-coven]

"Emo isn't a genre--it's far too messy and contentious for that. What the term does signify is a particular relationship between a fan and a band. It's the desire to turn a monologue into a dialogue, to be a part of the art that affects you and to connect to it on every possible level--sentiments particularly relevant in an increasingly corporate, suburban, and diffuse culture such as ours. Emo is a specific sort of teenage longing, a romantic and ultimately self-centered need to understand the bigness of the world in relation to you. It takes its cues from the world-changing slap of community-oriented punk, the heart-swollen pomp of power ballads, and the ghee-whiz nostalgia of guitar pop. Emo is as specific as adolescence and lasts about as long.

"In short, everyone has their own emo. It's too contentious, too stylistically and generationally diverse to be a genre, too far-reaching to be a subculture. Emo is an essential element of being a teenager. it is the sound of self-making. Emo--or whatever you call it--doesn't happen on the stage and it doesn't happen in the diary. It happens somewhere between the two. It is the act of reaching out towards something larger to better know yourself. It's the desire to make yourself bigger by making yourself a part of something bigger.

"[...] Emo is seeking a tangible connection out of intangible things. it's the painting that you stare at because it makes you calm; it's the book you read and re-read every year because it reminds you of childhood[.]

"Emo is the music you carry with you[.]"

--- Nothing Feels Good: Punk Rock, Teenagers, and Emo by Andy Greenwald, pages 4-5

[aikoiya]

LoZxDnD - A Sorcerer In Hyrule

You know what'd be cool?

A DnD Sorcerer, in the middle of the last fight of his campaign, the big bad hits him with a Banishment spell as he's casting a spell of his own & the 2 combine & it sends him to a different Material Plane, one outside of the reality that he knows; Hyrule.

He's a Sorcerer, but his occupation is Teacher, specifically knowledgeable in the field of magic.

While he doesn't know nearly everything there is to know about the magic of his realm, he's a bit of a savant & knows at least a little bit about everything regardless of Class.

This includes Alchemy & Potions, Infusion, Runes, ect.

Problem, for whatever reason, he's unable to Plane Shift. After a bit, he realizes that it's due to this new world being on an entirely different magical vibration from himself.

This, however, results in him basically having to tap into Hyrule's magic & adapt it to his spells, then relearn everything he knew based on this different magic.

He's a bit miffed at this fact as he spent quite a long time perfecting his spellcraft, about 427 years out of a possible 1,000 in fact thank you very much! And while utterly fascinated with this new world, he & his companions were in the middle of a fight to save the world & he'd very much like to get back to that.

I see him being a middle aged elf fellow with a personality not dissimilar to Merlin from Disney's Sword & the Stone. A bit bumbling, but remarkably intelligent. Just brilliant with an intimate understanding of how magic works & a thirst for knowledge that was almost insatiable.

If multiclassed into Cleric, I see him worshiping Boccob, God of Magic, Arcane Knowledge, & Balance, I think.

Anyway, he'd definitely grumble for a while but once he realizes that there was no getting back before the fight in his plane ends, he'd sputter indignantly & say a few words like "poppycock," before buckling down into studying.

Like Merlin & even Ms. Frizzle to a degree, he'd frequently use his magic to help teach & would be considered quite eccentric.

Though, what'd be interesting would be how the Hyruleans would react to all his stories of a world that was forever fighting off some apocalypse or another.

Either way, he might be able to sense both Zelda & Link as having Divine Soul Sorcery potential. Though, I think he'd recognize Link more as a Paladin of the Ancients with "points" in Ranger.

I actually think he'd probably just sniff at Ganondorf in derision, eyes narrowed as he quickly clocks the almost Goliath-like man as the Warlock of some sort of Arch-Demon or fallen deity, but with the potential of a Divine Soul Sorcerer ironically. Which causes the man to shudder.

LoZ Wild Masterlist

[count-lero]

Soooo in the next couple of days I would love to speak about how I got to the point where I am right now in the fandom! And first of all - about few historical characters who have been figuring in my drawings for almost a year and a half. :)

I guess that the most accurate way of describing my preferences would be

✨The squad of yearly 19th-century military men with huge sideburns✨

And here they are - from left to right (or should I say from top to bottom, ehem):

First and foremost, I should say couple of words about the man who had been my main inspiration for almost three year in a row - prince Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration, famous infantry general of the Russian Empire. 🇷🇺

Well… I love him with all of my heart! As a Russian who suddenly got into history of Napoleonic wars (and, actually, history in general even though it was not my cup of tea for the major part of my life) thanks to Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” which I read for our literature class in high school and was completely enchanted by it I had plenty of choices with whom I could start my journey.

And I chose… Alexander I.

Yep, I find it rather logical and still appreciate the role that he had played in getting me into the Napoleonic wars shenanigans (even though now I know so much about all of his downsides and unpleasant features of his character) but in the end Bagration means much more to me. 🌹

He was a wonderful warrior with a heart of a lion, a bit too hotheaded but righteous and fair till the very end. I find it fascinating how gracefully he managed to combine his own skills concerning the art of war with the habits of Russian imperial court. Even though he didn’t manage to maintain good relationships with tzar Alexander (oops, here goes Alexander’s pride and arrogance when it came to the military affairs) because of his own sense of right and wrong and his stubbornness (which, in my opinion, was completely justified by the situation in the battlefield) and was acting rather obstinately in the begging of the War of 1812, he got the glory and honour he deserved from his fellow generals and even the enemies of the empire. His unfortunate death is a real tragedy as many sources show that he could have been saved even with the poor medical sources of the time… But oh well. What happened, happened. 😔

Long story short, I think that Bagration was quite wholesome person and I’m happy to see that nowadays he still gets much recognition! 🎉

And the next one we haaaaaave… oh my, who could it be if not the one and only Joachim Murat, maréchal de France, Roi de Naples, in all of his shining glory! 🇫🇷✨

Won’t say much about him here (because it’s far too much for this poor post already 😅) only that this man fascinates me to the bottom of my heart! It’s always such a pleasure to learn something new about his adventures and the adventures of Napoleon’s maréchaux in general. Love them all very much!

Vive la France, vive la Révolution française et vive le Premier Empire surtout!~

…Okay, but also, like, Murat’s attitude to different things and events, his flamboyancy in clothing and his overall, er, sensibility helped me a lot with some deep struggles about my own identity and I will always be grateful to him for who he was. ❤️

The last but not the least is long-forgotten (even though now I find more than enough information about his life, character and deeds) but utterly sweet Fürst Karl Philipp zu Schwarzenberg, field marshal and experienced diplomat in service of the Holly Roman and then Austrian Empire. 🇦🇹

I’m certainly going to make a specific post about how did I end up with him, that one bloody devil Metternich (definitely heard about that guy somewhere) and my overall sudden boiling passion for the austrian history which grows stronger every day so I’m DEFINITELY not going to get into details this time, I swear!

…I only want to express my frustration: I was not smart enough few years ago and now have to study German language frantically. Mein Gott, it was a love from the first sight but that’s pretty tough nonetheless. One year of express self studying has passed and I hope it’s only a beginning!

P. S.

To sum it all up, I would like to state one last question.

On a scale from one to ten how ✨cringe✨ is it to aggressively simp for someone like Metternich? Because it must have been over half of a year by now and my concern is growing. 😂

[imagine-loki]

Between pages

TITLE: Between pages

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki always carries a book. Not because he’s reading 24/7, but because he likes tucking flowers from the bouquets you make and leave in the shared kitchen in between the pages. 

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: There is fluff in my soul and I will not apologize for it. Language, extreme awkwardness, and unlikely friendships ahead. Let Loki be soft 2020.

=

Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, Rightful King of Jotunheim, Odinson was a master sorcerer. His talent was unmatched in the Universe, and he was capable of feats that were previously unheard of in all the Nine Realms. He could defy the laws of physics, of imagination. He could bend the very fabric of the Universe and arrive at a different planet with merely a step in any direction. He was awe-inspiring and nightmare-inducing in equal measure.

So, how in the fucking hell did some silly flowers become his ruin?

Groaning pathetically against the plumpness of his down-filled pillow, he contemplated escaping the Tower. He had run away from more dangerous places before. Surely, walking out of Stark’s prized building would be little more than child’s play to a sorcerer of his caliber. However, any time he reminded himself that he was, indeed, a sorcerer the wound on his ego would split and bleed fresh, once more.

It would have been so easy to explain away. There was a reason they called him the Silvertongue, but he just stood there. Like a moron. He just… he just handed it over, and now…

He groaned again, teeth bared in a half-snarl as the memories flooded his mind.

There were few things in this little, mortal trash heap of a world that intrigued Loki. The supersoldiers held his interest for a moment or two, until he had all but uncovered the secrets of their endurance and had promptly become bored. The spies were fun to watch, if only to watch Barton squirm under his intense gaze, thinking he had another plot to put him under mind control. Banner was… well, he didn’t mess with Banner. Or Stark, for that matter. They were on an unspoken truce upon which his very survival was pinned. After all, Loki was nothing if not self-serving in his quest for continued breathing.

Then, there was the mutant; the plant witch.

The five-foot-nothing little imp who he could not seem to put the fear of god in, no matter how much he tried. The mortal had talked back, disobeyed direct orders on the field, sassed, hugged, and blackmailed him over a hobby in the course of less than a year. Loki would be impressed at her ruthlessness of character if he wasn’t utterly annoyed at her existence.

Well, that, and the fact that he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how her powers worked.

And that was the source of his current anguish.

Lily, the little mutant, had a predictable daily routine. She would wake up with the sun, make breakfast for the whole team, go to the gym and be back in time for the meal. Once she set the table, she would always conjure a handful of flowers in the vase in the middle of the table. It was never the same arrangement, twice, and it was never the type of arrangement the mortals would overpay for at the local flower shops. Wild variations of popular flowers, bits of flowering tree branches, weeds–wildflowers of all types that brought in butterflies from the open balcony windows and delighted all.

At first, he thought she simply picked them outside and coaxed them into bloom. It wasn’t until one morning, when he had been up uncharacteristically early that he had been proven wrong. He watched her kneel on a chair at the table, hands held aloft around the vase before every vein visible pumped a fluorescently-bright green. Like seedlings, the flowers grew from tiny roots until they overflowed from the jug. Loki had walked over, almost reflexively, watching how the petals bent under his fingers and how the cool stems still felt like they were thrumming with life as if freshly picked.

Fascinating.

Loki, while talented in his own right, had never been able to conjure a flower that looked so much like a flower. They usually looked too perfect, almost artificial–like a painting of a flower brought to life. He plucked a bud and tucked it between the pages of the book he had been reading (ironically, it had been Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman). He decided that he would study this specific specimen and figure out her secret. Surely, it would be easy to conquer the skill that a mortal wielded.

He had been horrendously wrong.

That first failed attempt at replicating her craftsmanship prompted him to grab a few more samples, the next day. And the next. And the one after that, too. After a while, he had all but given up on learning how to conjure these life-like flowers, with their slightly irregular patterns and charming blemishes. But the habit had stuck and he still collected them.

Every morning, like clockwork, he would go to the kitchen for a glass of water, pull a bloom and press it between Whitman’s promises to return to his beloved dirt. The team had started making jokes about his current inability to put down the poems book, everywhere he went. They wrongly assumed that he was simply enamored by the mortal’s views of humanity or that he was learning what being human really meant. In reality, all Loki was doing was carrying the vessel for his preservation and lying in wait for the opportunity to be all on his own to snatch another souvenir.

He’d be loathe to admit that his theft was now out of pure admiration. Flowers were always his mother’s thing and he never really cared much for gardening, but he could appreciate the intricacies of every subtly veined petal and rough leaf. His fingers often ran the length of the stems and leaves, gathering the light coat of dew that glistened on the greenery, smiling to himself all the while. He supposed he had never found the need to conjure a flower or anything of the sort meant to be a soft gift–it wasn’t really his style–but the fact only made him all the more awestruck.

“You like today’s bouquet, Lokes?”

He nodded, a little distracted, having just pressed the most perfect daisy, with a little notch in one of the petals into the book. The small, leather-bound tome rested beside him on the table, golden lettering catching Lily’s eye.

“Oh my gosh, I love Leaves of Grass,” she exclaimed, and Loki had mindlessly handed her the book for her to peruse before he even had the good sense to panic. “I know. Surprise, surprise, plant babe likes plant-themed title of book, but I truly loved it when I read it in high school. It’s sad, but a good type of sad, if that… makes… sense…”

It was her trailing voice that had made Loki blink away from the flowers. Green eyes trailed from the vase, to his empty floating hand, to the table. His book was no longer there… and he was the reason for that. When his shocked gaze flickered up to hers, he found her dainty fingers trailing over a perfectly dried dandelion that Loki had chosen because it had a singular freckle amidst a canvas of soft yellow.

Loki had disappeared before she even looked away from the keepsake.

“Maybe I should just take my chances in the dungeons. I’m sure Father dearest would rather see me in a cell,” he moaned petulantly before he stiffened.

There was energy crackling in the air, making it smell like ozone and magic. Loki sat up in bed, retrieving a dagger from under his pillow and noiselessly stepping onto the carpeted floor. Beneath his feet, the carpet felt odd. With a frown, he glanced down, finding the floor covered in green and yellow–a blanket of buttercups. By the door, Lily smiled shyly, her body slumping slightly against the wall as the green faded away from her veins.

“You’ve overtired yourself,” he remarked, drily, ignoring the fact that his cheeks burned in a way that told him that he was flushed crimson. His feet shuffled beneath him, grounding him to reality and allowing him to resist the urge to bend down and run his fingers through the blooms.

She shrugged. “I’ll feel better after breakfast.” There was a tense silence between them for several more seconds. Lily held the book out in her hand, but Loki hesitated crossing the landscape to retrieve it. “You always pick the iffy ones.”

His brow pinched in with confusion. “What?”

“The flowers. You always pick the ones that aren’t perfect. Spots, notches, missing petals or stamens–”

“It makes them real,” he interrupted. “The flaws make them real. Machines can make flawless flowers.”

“I agree. I just… didn’t peg you for the type who could appreciate that, y'know?” Lily sighed, trying to suppress a grin. “Then again, I didn’t peg you for the type who pressed flowers, either.”

Loki glanced at his feet with a frown. “Everyone likes flowers,” he muttered under his breath, just shy of defensive. He managed to will his feet forward, relieving her still reaching hand of the book without glancing at her.

He swore that he hadn’t been this pathetic before he moved to Midgard.

Lily cleared her throat awkwardly, tipping a golden flower back with the toe of her trainer. “Would it be OK if I brought some flowers for your room, every once in while?” She gave him a hesitant smile before adding, “I-I need the practice,” in a rush.

“Don’t you think the others would be more deserving of them?” Loki hated the fact that he sounded somewhat bitter.

She giggled under her breath. “The others won’t really appreciate them, will they?” Before he could offer a witty retort to try and dispel the awkwardness he felt, Lily had grasped his wrist and tugged him along out the door. “Come on, we’re late for breakfast,” she remarked, conversation already forgotten.

[dailycharacteroption]

My Characters 5: Sayori Matarasen

Is there anything more awe-inspiring than the vast wonder of the cosmos? Certainly not for young Sayori.

Today is another Starfinder character idea, this one really focusing on space itself, modeled specifically after the idea of star-themed superheroes.

Indeed, as a little girl growing up near an observatory on her homeworld, Sayori was utterly fascinated with the stars and stellar bodies. As soon as she came of age, she transferred to the Diaspora to observe stellar phenomena aboard a scientific research vessel, finishing her degree at the orbital institution. It was there that she discovered the thrill of extravehicular, and took to studying with the House Unhindered, an organization of enthusiasts that specializes in mastering the art of tetherless movement in zero-G.

It was during one of these romps that she felt the call of the distant sun, and manifested her solarian talents, becoming one with the light and gravity that were her only companions in the void.

Now, she is an engineer for hire, traveling with any crew that will have her to witness stellar phenomena up close, making for an utterly fearless combatant and EVA ship engineer.

 Focused as she is on stellar phenomena, Sayori dyes her hair a bright blue-white like the hottest of stars, in stark contrast to her gray-green skin, her face sporting swirling stripes of darker green. As a damaya lashunta, she sports a lithe and tall frame, though she is not without athletic muscle. Her solar flare takes the form of a simple glow of energy, either black or white, depending on how she is attuned, from which she projects bolts from her hand.

Sayori favors reflective, iridescent clothing that is form-fitting or at least holds close to the body, preventing entanglement in zero-g environments.

 I plan on building Sayori as a damaya lashunta solarian with the starwalker theme and the solar flare variant of the solar manifestation. The idea being that she extremely mobile in both zero-g and in the air, and blasts foes from afar with her solar flare. Given her focus on range, revelations like agile wavelengths and distant burst are a must, as is defy gravity for flight, and other revelations that improve the solar flare or unleash deadly blasts at range. Reflection is also useful for bouncing back strong attacks against them at range, as does debris field for providing protection.

Equipment-wise, she would definitely pack a melee weapon or emergencies, as well as perhaps a cold-dealing sidearm since it is a rare damage type for solarian weapon crystals to have. Beyond that, she would have a strong weapon crystal, and agile light armor with flight jets until she can get the defy gravity revelation, as well as mundane equipment associated with technological tasks and working in zero-g.

 This character and build is a fun idea, and I look forward to delving into it someday.

[queer-cosette]

for the ask game: kiwi

Kiwi: What’s something that fascinates you?

Whales! I’ve been utterly fascinated by whales since I was a little kid. When I was 3 my parents took my to London’s Natural History Museum and I stared at the blue whale model (which was accurate for the 1930s but way off proportionally with what we know today) for about half an hour before my dad lured me elsewhere with the promise of ice-cream. My childhood best friend bought me a book about whales for my 4th birthday and I insisted on having a few pages of it read to me for my bedtime story literally until I was old enough to read it myself. Probably no surprise that I want to be a cetologist now! It was my dream when I was a little kid but I didn’t know that cetology was a specific field and someone convinced me that if I became a marine biologist I would have to study all the sea animals and I wouldn’t be allowed to just study whales. I cried and gave up on that dream til last year.

Thank you!!!! :D

send me a fruit!

[anna-learns-to-love-herself]

Often in my life I felt like I was dealing with things on my own. I felt like I was the “go to”-person in my family, at my workplace, and in my group of friends when someone was facing a problem and needed advice. But often, when I found myself in pain, processing something that felt overwhelming, it felt like I had no one to turn towards, especially in my family. I know the feeling of not having anyone is a lie my brain is telling me. Sometimes friends offer an open ear, but I am too afraid to burden them with my pain. This is rooted in old experiences with former friends and family who thought they need to fix me, rather than simply holding space for me while I grief, which led to frustration and overwhelm on both sides. As an empath, a highly sensitive person, I feel everything very deeply. I know I managed to get through my own downs all on my own. I know I am capable of that - but sometimes it would be beautiful to be supported, it would be beautiful to be held while I process my pain. It would be beautiful to feel like I am not a burden to the ones that I offer support to as well. So the task that I am facing is to not turn to the ones that are overwhelmed by my emotions, to not over generalize that “I have no one”, just because there are a few people who love me, but cannot offer this specific type of support that I need. The task is to learn to open up, to trust that I deserve support, too, while knowing I am capable of dealing with this by myself as well. When the thought “I wish I had a friend/family member who offered as much support as I do”, I want to remember I do have that person. I AM that person. I always have myself, I always have my own determination to listen to my own pain, to hold space for my own emotions. And from this empowered place, I want to learn how to open up, tell people what i need, and receive support without feeling like a burden.

I once read a quote that spoke about pain that travels through families until someone is ready to feel it. I have no doubt that in my family, I am that person. People tell me that I am brave for facing this rage, shame, guilt, and tension that must have traveled a long way already. A part of me, probably my ego, feels flattered. But if I am completely honest, it’s nothing I chose. I’ve always been like that. I always felt drawn to books, courses and conversations about mental health, about the different ways a human brain processes pain and trauma, to studies about happiness and self development. I know this is my calling, because it’s the number one topic I choose over and over again. It’s the field I’ve spent hours and hours studying, researching, writing about. It’s the thing I do even if I don’t get paid for it. Healing work fascinates every cell in my body. I can’t expect everyone else to deal with pain and trauma the same way I do. But I can open up and connect with lovely fellow human beings who are as passionate about this as I am. I want to shift the focus from the pain about a lack of interest from a few people in my life to the abundance of people who are actually passionate about this.

And I also want to learn how to take breaks from this deep work and simply be. Play, sing, dance, eat, laugh, be grateful for the lighter sides of life as well as the deeper ones.

These are new steps on my self love journey. I’m diving deeper every single day and I am utterly grateful for each new lesson I’m blessed to receive.

[nancywheelxr]

Lena being curious about Brainy? (who he really is, how he functions as a techno-organic being, what his powers are/how they work, because I feel like she'd be interested in all of that.)

Look, I’ll start this off by saying you are the absolute best and I’m sorry, but this is an absolute cop-out of actually explaining anything about Brainy because all I know about his background are the basics and the lousy explanation on JL No Justice arc. That being said, Lena would totally have a billion questions about him and the future if she ever knew about that.

Lena is curious.

She can’t help it, really. She’s a scientist at heart, she will always be naturally drawn towards asking questions and seeking answers.

And the more she knows Brainy, the more fascinated she is.

It’s not that she wants to study him, dear god, no, it’s just that everytime they interact, she learns something new about him and his abilities and it’s all utterly brilliant. She wants to know because there is so much to learn– she can’t help it.

So it keeps happening.

*

They’re working on something to break through a particularly tricky force field, and so far all they agree on is that it’s definitely technological, if Maxwell Lord’s company logo being branded in one of the devices is anything to go by, and maybe deriving from some sort of changing frequency. It’s a theory, alright.

And without knowing precisely what they’re working with, there’s little they can do to counteract it, so Lena can’t see a lot of ways around it right now.

“Perhaps,” Brainy interrupts her thoughts, sitting in front of the computer beside her, a look of determined concentration on his face, “there might be a way. I’ll run a search on Lord’s old company files, there could still be something left.”

“Search his personal files as well,” she suggests. She knows enough about Lord and his obsessions to know he would not keep something like this on anything but his own servers. Which will most likely be under heavy cryptography.

Unbelievable. That narcissistic sociopath keeps making their lives more difficult, even after he’s gone.

“Done,” Brainy exclaims, sitting up on his chair with a victorious glint on his eyes, “you were right, I found this on his personal computer.”

He pulls up a set of specs on the screen, detailing a device that looks a lot like the force-field generator they’re dealing with. And it is working out of a frequency modulator– Lena allows herself a minute of satisfaction. “This is great news, now all we need is build something to neutralize the modulator.” Then, because layers of cryptography cannot possibly be breached in such a short time period, she asks, “but I have to ask, how did you do it so fast?”

Before any answer could be given, Supergirl’s voice rings through the comms, ragged and out of breath, “guys? I hate to rush you, but,” something explodes on the background, “we’re kinda running out of time out here– Alex! Stay out of– I gotta go– hey, that tree never did anything to you, you–”

The line disconnects, and they get to work.

*

Supergirl is in a coma again.

It seems to happen more often than Lena thought possible for a seemingly invincible Kryptonian.

At the very least, she is stable this time, out of any immediate danger– for all intents and purposes, she is merely asleep.

Whatever poison is coursing through her veins, it looks like it was made to neutralize her, not kill her. And isn’t that a testament of how low the bar is for good news that not dying, only in a coma is considered one?

Either way, her eyes are beginning to hurt from looking through the microscope for so long and her back has long since gone numb, when Brainy bursts through the doors, a cloud of nanites trailing after him, “I have isolated the poison’s compounds!” The nanites titter, and he shushes them, amending, “I apologize, the nanites have isolated the poison’s compounds.”

“Did they just talk to you?” Lena knows there are more important things to worry about, but the question slips before she realizes. Last time they worked with the nanites, did he mean it literally when he said he asked them to eat the Kryptonite? She shakes her head, “nevermind. Good job, let’s get to work. It’s about time Sleeping Beauty wakes up.”

*

“It’s ready!” Lena shouts over the ongoing fight. It’s very stressful to calibrate a machine not previously intended to do so to send an EMP on a very specific wavelength, but at this point, Lena is used to stressful situations. God knows this isn’t the first time she’s needed to do something very delicate under heavy fire. “Supergirl?”

“Hold on,” she shouts back, before flying up after today’s villain. They’re too high up, out of the pulse’s reach unless someone else flies after them. Lena supposes she does own a jet, she could–

“I shall take this close enough to them,” Brainy is suddenly there beside her, the henchmen he had been forced to fight off unconscious on the floor. “Stay out of sight and you will be safe, Agent Danvers is almost here.”

And then the device is out of her hands and Brainy is off, flying up after Supergirl and their villain.

“He can fly too?” Lena asks the empty room. Sadly, dead men tell no tale, and neither do the knocked out ones.

*

It’s easy to forget that Lena Luthor is the CEO of L-Corp, or so it would seem if the number of times either Alex or Supergirl have called her to the DEO, expecting her to immediately drop whatever it is she is doing, is anything to go by.

This time, however, it is not Alex or Supergirl that walk into her office. It’s not Kara either, the more pleasing kind of interruption. It’s Brainy that marches in through the doors, Jess mid-complaint behind him. Lena waves her off apologetically, before smiling, “hi, Brainy, it’s been a while.”

“Hello, Lena,” he greets her, choosing to stay standing instead of taking the offered chair, “I will not take long. I’ve noticed you have questions about me, but due to circumstances I have not been able to answer them yet.”

She’s not sure if she should be ashamed, or if she’s offended him somehow with her inquiries, but Lena still feels like a child caught with her hand on the cookie jar. “I apologize if I ever made you uncomfortable,” she tells him honestly, “I assure you, I only ask out of harmless curiosity.”

“Oh, I know, do not worry,” Brainy smiles, hands clasped behind his back, “and I would have replied had we not been otherwise distracted. Which is why I’m here today. There is no immediate threat as of now and I calculate the odds are low on the situation changing in the near future, so would you like to have coffee? You can ask your question and I will answer them as best as I can, and in return, I would only request the caffeine.”

Her eyebrows raise, “you want coffee as payment?”

“Alex has prohibited me to bring any more caffeine-based substances to the DEO for at least twenty-four hours. She says she will not drive me to the hospital if I need to get my stomach pumped and would not change her mind, even after I explained it is impossible for me to overdose on coffee.”

Somehow, Lena doubts that is a certified fact, but then again, she supposes she might add it to her list of questions. “Make it a latte and we have a deal.”

“Very well,” he offers his hand for her to shake, “shall we go?”

Lena Luthor is the CEO of L-Corp, but if forced to choose between paperwork and a chance to sate her curiosity, she will always be reliable to invariably choose the latter, especially when enabled by a friend.

“Lead the way.”

[ganymedesclock]

Is interesting how in the comics we have two instances in which Pidge's mind has been affected. In the first volume a spore absorbed her mind, using her skills against her, and now there's a upcoming comic issue that will involve Pidge having temporary amnesia.

It makes sense as a challenge to throw against Pidge, because while Pidge isn’t the only smart person (and I’d even argue that Pidge isn’t exclusively the smartest the way the first comic volume suggests she is) it makes sense to give Pidge mind-loss-related plots how it doesn’t for Hunk.

It’s reflected very easily in their elements. Hunk is Earth, and Pidge is Wood.

Pidge is heavily cognitive. This makes her very “stereotypically” smart. She’s good at doing math quickly and she knows a lot of big words. She also has knowledge of a lot of different fields that are considered scholarly and academic, given her interest in technology and its history- she knows not only what a Turing machine is but also who Alan Turing himself was, and his historical background.

This tends to be why, I think, people frame her as smarter than Hunk, even though the only times we’ve seen Hunk not keep up with her, it boils down to a difference in fields, and he can match her jargon for jargon.

The thing is, though, Pidge is immature. Her youth works against her. She’s a fast-growing tree whose crown touches impressive heights but her roots are still shallow and divided.

Narratively, it’s very important to challenge characters at their weakest and strongest points. Pidge’s strongest point is her mind, her data-based worldview and algorithmic thought process- and her weakest point is when something takes that away from her.

Conversely, that’s not nearly so much of a challenge for Hunk because Hunk approaches knowledge a very different way. While Pidge is the stereotypical book smart nerd child, Hunk is a kind of genius that’s often taken for granted, and that even among his fans, people often don’t acknowledge quite how brilliant Hunk is outside of his much more stereotypical “nerdy” moments like when he rattles off the details about the Fraunhofer Line in s1e1.

Roughly, while both paladins have both, Pidge specializes in scholarly book-learning kind of intelligence, algorithm and pattern and code. In s2e4 a clear point is made that Pidge struggles with imagination and creativity- it takes her a lot of time before she can really accept the Olkari’s reverence for nature and deeply spiritual perspective.

We even see her and Lance play off each other negatively often- Lance, who’s all emotions and empathy and compassion and incidentally probably the most gifted paladin at immediately gelling with the whole Lion Bonding Thing (he gets immediately and reflexively on the same page as Blue). And at the beginning of s2e4, it’s Lance who kind of riffs on Pidge’s problem- not only does Pidge utterly ignore the spore fight (interpersonal team bonding) in favor of studying the spores but her earlier gushing about the castle beforehand prompts Lance to quip “it’s not a sunset, Pidge.”

Pidge’s reply- that sunsets just happen while the castle was made- is a fair point, but it’s also a somewhat callous one. Pidge doesn’t have much of an artistic spirit at this point. As the Olkari point out to her, nature from an architectural perspective is amazing and you can make incredible scientific progress using what nature is already good at. 

This is in direct contrast to Hunk.

Hunk is shown preparing food in s1e3 and s2e7 (I’m leaving out s2e6 and the cookies because that was a relatively limited occurrence but even then it fits a few of these trends) and there are some obvious similarities.

Both times, Hunk is specifically not preparing food for himself, but presenting it to another person. It is also an immediate hit with those people, with Keith and Lance immediately scarfing it down and Hunk turning Sal’s restaurant into an overnight success.

And both times, the animation takes pains to show Hunk making incredibly precise, delicate finishing touches to the meal right before he serves it.

People often talk about Hunk and his relationship to food and one thing I think people overlook about it is that this relationship is distinctly artisanal. Hunk is not characterized as someone with poor control or driven by gluttony, but, in his own words, “an enthusiastic gourmand with an incredible palate.” He gets into trouble with the samples Sal’s offering not because he desperately wants to scarf down anything in his path, but because of his fascination and curiosity.

To Hunk, the presentation of food is important. Making food for other people is an act of compassion and nurturing, and something he takes great personal pride in, beyond just wanting to eat good things himself. Food is an experience and an avenue of nurturing. You don’t just eat things without thinking about it. Scenes featuring Hunk and food always emphasize something else about the situation and his feelings about it.

And yes, there’s a technical element of art. There always is. But there’s a huge distinction between Pidge and Hunk where Pidge kind of needs to develop her soul for art, and Hunk who has unabashedly one of the most artsy creative hobbies out of the team.

(I might call cooking more of a “passion” than a hobby for Hunk)

Hunk represents a very anchored, pragmatic, and worldly intelligence. He’s not the type to grimace at a heavy textbook, but at the end of the day he’ll learn more by putting his hands into an engine and experiencing it.

A lot of Pidge’s understandings build on themselves. She makes algorithms to get data and then uses the data to refine her algorithms. If she doesn’t have a search for that she just doesn’t.

Hunk? Hunk doesn’t need much. And part of this is, there’s a thematic point made that Pidge is the one least in tune with her own element- with who she is herself as a person. We see no other paladin have that kind of conflict with their own element- if anything, the other four are all shown to associate it with good things.

Keith didn’t mind spending time out in the desert in the heat. Lance’s beloved childhood home was an island and he’s shown to be an impressive swimmer. Hunk really prefers to be operating on solid ground, and Shiro’s a career astronaut who specifically wasn’t motivated out there by scientific curiosity.

Pidge also has an extant theme of being deprived of her comfort zone, forcefully- that was what started her story out. That’s a big problem and struggle for her- with Hunk, we’ve seen that he can operate out of his comfort zone, he doesn’t like it but he’s not afraid of it or seriously messed up by it the way that Pidge is, he’ll keep soldiering onward because he doesn’t want to leave his friends alone.

[codylabs]

Chapter 15: Tale of Two Bots

-date: 13/20/2094-46’\

Hello.

My name is Ɖg@}Nᶌ.

As one of the survivors of the crash of colonial vessel 46.18’\, I am starting this journal to document our experiences on this planet. In the event that we are rescued, or survive long enough to reestablish contact, this log will serve as a record on our experiences. If you recover this and we’re not here to give it to you… Then I guess we’ve failed.

And this is our story.

Well.

As I said, the colonial vessel has crashed. Near as I can tell, we were traveling near-horizontally at an altitude of several kilometers, when some type of interference or malfunction disabled the vehicles artificial-gravity engines. We hit the ground before control could be regained. The impact was directly into solid rock, at a velocity in excess of 400 meters per second. The ship carved a large chunk out of a mountainside, and half-buried itself in its own artificial valley. The impact was sufficient to free the majority of the nuclear fuel from containment, disable the primary propulsion system, and kill the entire pilot and command crew. To the best of my knowledge, I, and 52 other passengers, are the last survivors of the collision.

We have escaped the confines of the ship, and have used salvaged tarps and materials to erect a small camp on the hill above it.

More of us are injured than not. Many terminally so. Since the vessel’s power supply has largely gone into meltdown, all remaining power has been automatically diverted toward containing the damage. Periphery systems, including the auto-medics, have gone offline. I’m no surgeon, but the others are even less so.

They expect me to repair the wounded.

I’ll see what I can do.

-date: 13/21/2094-46’\

My medical tools were designed for my species specifically. They are poorly suited for the others, who are primarily carbon-based. Their bodies are squishy, ever-shifting, mostly liquid. I don’t know how to handle it. Many of the terminally injured have died following my surgery. I was able to fix a few, but… But the others are angry with me. They think I could have done more for the dying. Survivor count now 41. The names of the living are included here for posterity:

Ɖg@}Nᶌ

Klk76y

Zlfo]n

ƉN::ᶌ

&4r(/_^`;~y

iA**5{y

-@N^^>

C0gsJRY

V;M9OZ

4EtR%ibP

WA~/\hi(B

~u81FF:’

S~5VH/’QepKl

3v49EVv

iZxFpLo

wX~~E2VY

IeR&Usp

xE][fo

I6gyvPh

7ncZ9Itx

bC*$l9DSEmm

J86O/\oBZg

v89Z;vHFiv

4g0ORH

Xp;DWstNBYi

0aF2I(zLxyn7k

SGff\mBOfic8

0Xzn

TSpqQfjFn

famESw

W8{A1EdwQ

j0wX

KlcfG;B0lw0

4hArMXj4

qKhcn0U

SXz4;

PxNeLwi

w4A;mVIV5

tVkqZme

oy.}szN;XJCc

og;hgnC5j8Ca…

I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.

-date: 13/22/2094-46’\

Only one other survivor belongs to my same species. We were bound for the same colony, her and I, but now everybody we knew is gone. I’m glad I have somebody to speak to though, especially after the failed surgeries. Her name is ƉN::ᶌ, and she is kind to me. Seeing as how it looks like we’re here for the long haul, I wonder if perhaps we could begin the colony here, with only us two.

No, I can’t think that. It’s indecent.

She’s looking at me.

I am pretending to type something in.

-date: 13/28/2094-46’\

Klk76y has gotten one of the computers online, and has retrieved data from the crash. Apparently, we are on body 3.0 of this system, on one of the northern continents. It’s hellish here. There’s air, it’s hot, the gravity is high, the surface is soaked in unhealthy chemicals like water, and infested by native (and occasionally hostile) carbon-based life. Even its moon, 3.1, would have been better than this. We can survive, but it isn’t well-suited. Natural terraforming processes won’t work.

I just wish we would have crashed on 4.0. It would have been nearly perfect for our needs.

The only metal ƉN::ᶌ and I have to eat is that from the ship’s hull. Livestock and crops could easily survive on this diet, but they would rip the whole craft apart in the process. Since we’d rather leave it salvageable (by the slim hope that we could repair it someday), we’ll keep the farming systems in stasis for now.

I hope our colonial supplies are still intact. They should be tougher than the other cargo, but I don’t know.

Titanium-steel alloy plating is sure getting bland though. Hard to chew. Hard in general.

I want some fruit.

-date: 13/22/2094-46’\

Everything has calmed down now, as much as it can. The fires from the crash have died out. We’ve buried as many of the dead as we can find. The other survivors are settling into the camp, and they’ve gathered some meager supplies, enough to last the winter. ƉN::ᶌ and I can survive directly off the ship’s power, so we should be fine indefinitely. Klk76y has also taken charge as a sort of leader, and everybody seems as content as they can be.

I suppose that now is a good a time as any to give my own personal story.

It all started long ago, and far away.

It was cold and hard and small, one of many solitary, airless moon of a bloated gas giant, bathed in the light of an old, red star. To look at it, you might mistake it for a larger asteroid, or one of the many unnotable, dusty rocks that inhabit the empty voids of space.

But this rock wasn’t any rock. This was a living place, filled with rugged natural beauty. Spreading seas of liquid sand, mountains of the dust of ancient timbers, and the great, towering forests of mighty trees. Fields abounding in fruits and grains, the woods crawling with wild animals, the void alive with the radio singing of the bugs and the birds, the sun shining brightly on the leaves. And a humble people toiling with bliss beneath the stars, picking and eating their food, building their houses and roads, constructing and raising their children. It was a place where families could be happy. A place of peace.

This was my beloved home.

But I never once enjoyed it.

Why didn’t I? It was a paradise. I could have grown old and happy there. I could have been rich and prosperous. I could have had everything that people strive for… Everything but meaning.

Mind you, I wasn’t alone. There were many of my peers who considered it an utterly boring, menial existence, where our young minds had nowhere to explore, where knowledge and learning was scarce, and where our toil and daily labor did not satisfy our hunger for adventure. We were children then, restlessly longing for something more. I wish now I hadn’t been among them… But I was.

Two cycles ago, when I had just finished being a boy, but didn’t yet know what ‘man’ was, another race came to our world. They arrived in an enormous ship from some other dimension, on a mission (so they said) to explore and archive the wonders of the universe, to seek out new and deviant life, to see, hear, touch and explore that which nobody had ever experienced before, and to set up colonies among the far reaches of space. They visited us for this same reason, collecting samples from our planet, examining and studying us. (The reason for their fascination, I found out later, was our metallic bodies and mechanical makeup. Apparently, it’s something of a novelty to these squishy carbon-based people.)

Regardless, I’m sure you can understand my thoughts when they revealed this mission of theirs. How glamorous! How grand! How adventurous! How meaningful! I dreamed to accompany them, to whatever fate lay beyond the horizons of my own mind. Once, I even had the chance to speak directly withCaptain &:V->GN[], commander of the alien vessel.

“I wish I could accompany you!” I had told him. “I wish I could count myself among the colonists on your ship.”

“It’s certainly a hard life.” He had tempted me, with a twinkle in his eye. “Long years aboard a closed metal ship, and at the end of your journey, an unknown fate… It could be dangerous, it could be strange, it could require things from you that you don’t know you had. Even WE don’t know what we’ll find in that great unknown…”

He was telling me precisely the type of tale I wanted to hear, and naturally I fell for it. “I would be willing!” I told him. “And I have friends as well! We would all love to leave our world, and travel with you to the ends of the universe! We would follow you!”

He stroked his chin, and nodded. “We have set down several colonies already…” He said, as if it were my idea the entire time. “Perhaps there would be room among the organic cargo sectors for your… Particular breed of crops and livestock…”

“I hope so!” I said, and I meant it.

The next day, he announced to our people that they would be taking on passengers and cargo, whatever passengers could fit in sector 22, and whatever farming supplies we could fit in stasis in sector 43. They would allow our people to found a colony on a world of our choosing, or even, if we wished, they would allow us to return with them to their home dimension.

It goes without saying that I, along with many of my friends, signed up eagerly.

My father silently watched me as I entered the shuttle, and he had a sorrowful look on his face which I will never remember, because I never once looked back.

And so did I venture forth, to seek my fortune among the stars.

It was a lie.

No sooner had we left the system, but the crew confined us to quarters, and began to treat us harshly. They told us they were cracking down on troublemakers, and that this was just a necessary caution. But among themselves, they were communicating using their suits’ radios. My people could hear such signals plainly, and I learned to understand them.

I learned that our people were not to be set down on a colony of our choosing. Rather, we were all to be brought back to the aliens’ dimension, to be treated as scientific samples, or even used for their own purposes.

They began to experiment on us.

It was a nightmare.

I would hear the communications as they would take our people, one at a time, from the passenger areas. Always young females. Whenever the rest of us moved to intervene, the crew would summon security drones to threaten us, then say it was for our own protection.

One day we heard their purpose… Well, I feel dirty even describing it.

The females of our species naturally have reproductive systems in their abdomen areas. Normally, these organs serve only to manufacture and assemble the bodies of children. The organs are perfectly designed for the task, and they are able to do so reliably and repeatedly. Since the living bodies of children are inherently complex, the organs must be highly versatile.

The aliens saw this.

So the science team, under the direction of Captain &:V->GN[], were downloading foreign code into the women’s organs, to try and make them manufacture artificial systems: Tools. Weapons. Drones. Storage crates. Spare parts. They were trying to turn our people into living factories. This was just a proof of concept, before they returned to their home dimension and refined the idea into an industrial process.

The experiments were invasive and painful, and the women were not willing.

I began to discuss these matters in hushed tones with the other colonists, of both my own species and others. We all agreed that something needed to be done.

So one night, all at once, we staged a mutiny. We sawed through the doors of our rooms, gathered improvised tools and weapons, rendezvoused with the organic passengers, and aimed ourselves for the bridge.

It didn’t work.

They put us under guard from that point on, reinforced the doors, equipped us with stun collars, and pumped all the air out of our rooms to keep us from audio communication with the other passengers. They also encrypted their radio signals, so we could no longer listen in to them.

A cycle passed quietly and despairingly. An older friend of mine likened it to prison.

But then, days ago, it happened.

For reasons none of us know, Colonial Vessel 46.18’\ crashed.

Now here we are. The greatest adventure of my life, more excitement and strange new weirdness than I ever could have hoped or dreamed: aliens, lies, betrayal, mutiny, heroism, bravery, fierce enemies on all sides and a grave mission to follow… This is the adventure of a lifetime.

And I would trade it all away in an instant. What I wouldn’t give to be back home. My quiet, peaceful, meaningless home…

For there is no meaning to be found out here either. We’ve crossed galaxies by now, gone where none have gone, and we are no closer to something higher than when we started out. There is no height to be climbed to reach enlightenment. There is no lesson or sense or justice to bring to our predicament. Life is cruel and short, and our lives are either empty or painful. Some, like mine, are both.

So that is how I, Ɖg@}Nᶌ, got to where I am now.

ƉN::ᶌ says I’m being pessimistic. She says there is a meaning, and that God has a purpose and plan for our lives, even through our pain and misfortune, even though we do not see it.

I hope she’s right.

I prayed for the first time today.

-date: 13/30/2094-46’\

Why are we on this planet at all? Why did the command crew stop here? Did they have to land to make repairs? Did we have to restock supplies? Was there another mutiny we didn’t hear about?

I, for one, suspected the command crew was goaded into it by the science team. They noticed something interesting on the flyby, and convinced the higher-ups of the need to stop and release probes.

It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. We’ve had several unscheduled stops over the course of this trip. Always the science team wanting to collect samples or specimens, or examine some readings. Always something new and interesting to look at.

But why here? What makes this valley so special? What drew their curiosity? And what about this valley caused our crash? We may never know; all the sensors are down, many of the computer logs were damaged, and many of the remaining mission files are simply classified to us passengers.

I suppose I’m just complaining. I shouldn’t complain. What’s done is done, and now all we can do is pick up the pieces and make the most of what we have left.

Perhaps it’s just God’s will.

-date: 15/2/2094-46’\

We sent 5 men deeper into the wreck to see what they could salvage. It’s been 6 days now, and they haven’t come back out. I wonder what has happened. The automated security system is coded for all the colonists’ identities, so even if it reactivated somehow, none of them should have anything to fear… I wonder if perhaps some of the more dangerous scientific specimens have been released from containment.

The rest of the survivors are wanting me and ƉN::ᶌ to venture in after them, since our metal bodies make us tougher than the others.

She is afraid, so I will go in alone. I will be their hero. I will be her hero.

-date: 15/3/2094-46’\

I’m back. I found nothing. No signs of a struggle, no weapon damage.

But no bodies either.

Perhaps they got lost down there. I can see why they would; the crash mutilated the vessel into a veritable labyrinth of twisted metal. We can only wait, and hope that that they survive, and hope still that they can find their way back out.

While I was down there, I did stumble across the scientific sample area. It was torn wide open. Everything in the stasis chambers are dead.

But a few of the chambers are open.

And all the chambers that are open are empty.

Specimens must have escaped. Could one have killed and eaten the men we sent inside? I don’t know what manner of subjects they’d stored in the now-empty chambers, but judging by the looks of some of the others… Let’s just say I’m glad most of them are dead. Out of all the nasty things they’ve collected on their journey, I think that living robots are the most harmless of the bunch.

I’m back on the surface now, and gave my report to the other survivors. It frightened them. They don’t want to explore the wreck any deeper than necessary. I understand that.

ƉN::ᶌ is beating herself up for letting me go alone. She swears that whatever happens next, she will be there for me. I’m glad for the promise.

As it stands, Survivor count now 36.

-date: 15/16/2094-46’\

Survivor count now 28.

We don’t know what’s happening. People go missing. Randomly. Unforeseeably. Without trace. As if they decided to just walk away in those moments when nobody’s watching.

After the last incident, Zlfo]n instructed us to watch closely for anyone behaving strangely. He encouraged us to keep up conversation frequently. I don’t know what he suspects, (does he think we’re going mad one by one? Does he know something we don’t?) but I hope he’s on to something.

I modified a few power tools into melee weapons, so that ƉN::ᶌ and I can defend ourselves if the need arises. When I offered her a cutting drill, she said she would prefer to use her teeth, since they’re sharper and easier to carry around anyway.

It’s nice to have somebody to laugh with, even in times like this.

But seriously though, she’s literally going to use her teeth. This girl is crazy!

I kind of… Never mind.

-date: 15/18/2094-46’\

Somebody struck up conversation today with Klk76y. He mumbled his way through a brief exchange, but in the process, he gave something away: he didn’t possess even the most basic knowledge of Klk76y’s life or job. It quickly became apparent that he wasn’t Klk76y at all, but rather something else, looking exactly like him, bluffing his way through a conversation. Zlfo]n, ƉN::ᶌ, and myself attempted to confront him, but he attacked with an incredible physical strength, and escaped into the forest. Zlfo]n suffered several broken bones during the fight, and will not last long. Meanwhile Klk76y, the only leader we had, is gone like the others.

Also, at some point, ƉN::ᶌ managed to clip the enemy with her teeth. This drew green blood, whereas the real Klk76y would have had yellow-white blood.

Something is out there.

Something that’s changing.

It takes us one by one, probably eats us, and impersonates us to learn more before eating again.

Survivor count now 27. Soon to be 26, as there’s not much I can do for Zlfo]n.

-date: 15/19/2094-46’\

Zlfo]n pulled me close today, and told me about the shapeshifter. He described everything he knew of its abilities, its methods, its mannerisms, and its intelligence. He told me where the science team found it, what it eats, where it lives, what it wants.

(Future reader, I have transcribed his analysis, and saved it as a separate file. This is my journal, after all, and not a tactics guide. Suffice to say that this shifter is quite a character herself, and I don’t like it one bit being on the receiving end of her cunning.)

I asked Zlfo]n how he knew so much about the creature. He sighed and he told me:

Zlfo]n was on the science team.

So I took him outside the camp, and I left him to die. By now he will have perished from his injuries in the silent forest, without burial, without dignity, alone except for the memories of the women he violated. Alone, save for his conscience. I hope he has one, so that he suffered. And I hope the shifter finds him, and that she realizes we are not her enemies.

…Did I do wrong, to let Zlfo]n die like that?

I don’t think I did.

Did he deserve better?

I don’t think he did.

Did ƉN::ᶌ approve?

I think she did.

I never asked her if she’d been a part of the onboard experiments. I pray she didn’t have to suffer it, because I don’t know what I could do for her damage. I’m not that type of doctor. Heck, I’m not any type of doctor! What am I supposed to do for a damaged factory, huh? Look at it? I’m a male. Even that’s not proper.

All I can do for her is to be her friend, and love and respect and care for her regardless of anything else. And I really do love her… I’ve been realizing that more and more.

-date: 15/27/2094-46’\

Survivor count now 23.

The other survivors can’t stand it anymore. They need to get away from the wreck. Whatever the shifter wants, it is hostile. And it is near. And since we haven’t the vaguest inkling of how to face it, we need to flee.

They others all agreed to pick up and head North, as far from the crash site as possible. They are carbon-based, and can therefore subsist on native food. They collected all the weapons and tools they could find, and started off. They should be safe from the enemy… Or at least see it coming… I think they’ll be alright. I hope they’ll be alright.

Either way, ƉN::ᶌ and I need to make other plans. We are not carbon based, and therefore need to grow our own crops if we are to survive. We’ll need a farm. We picked out a pretty good spot for it to the South-East, but this planet doesn’t have a lot of dense deposits near the surface, so our crops won’t grow.

We’ll need to improvise some type of soil.

The hull of the spacecraft, combined with the minerals in the native rock, should supply our farm with all the biological sustenance it needs. It would make excellent soil. But we don’t want to stay in the craft’s immediate vicinity, so we need to somehow cut loose a massive section of the hull and bring it all of 20 kilometers to the farm.

How do we do that?

It was her idea to jury-rig the ship’s last remaining artificial-gravity nacelle. Normally, these nacelles create a gravitational dipole large enough to put the entire ship into free-fall in any direction. One nacelle may not be able to do something so grand on its own, but it still possesses a large amount of power. ƉN::ᶌ thinks it should be a simple matter to shrink this dipole and concentrate it, if only we could get to the engine room. This would allow us to ‘jackhammer’ a section of the hull loose. A slightly larger dipole will then be able to carry the disconnected section 20 kilometers through the air, and set it down at the farm. I just hope the craft has enough power left to run this stunt.

To operate the nacelle, we need to get down to the engine room and do it manually. This means risking whatever tricks and tactics the mimic has in store, but we would prefer to risk it immediately, rather than stay above ground and wait for her… Rather take her on our terms: immediately and directly.

We’re going inside tomorrow.

If we never come back out… Let it be known that ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ were here.

-date: 15/30/2094-46’\

It has been 3 days since my last entry, but we are now back. We successfully completed the mission.

But first, a word on what we found down there.

Let’s just say that at this point, the ship would need half again its weight in glue. Its main propulsion system, (everything except the one intact nacelle), is completely offline. 7 of the 8 main reactors have also gone into meltdown, and the computer automatically locked down the last one for safety. The vessel’s long-range communication systems and tracking beacon were in its lower areas, and were therefore destroyed when it contacted the ground. There is no chance of signaling home, or anywhere.

However, there were a few intact things. The perpetual-motive emergency power generators were left online somehow, and should stay remain so indefinitely, barring mechanical breakdown. These were the only thing running the ship until we got down there.

Also, we found we weren’t the only survivors. There were more, some even among the command crew, who had survived the crash but stayed underground. They were barricaded in the ship’s mid levels, and just stayed down there.

But they aren’t alive anymore.

Apparently, the mimic got to them too. Some of their survivors had taken to drawing graffiti on the walls since the computers were down. Most of it was just innocent nonsense, but then there was some stuff like “GweeV7w isn’t what he seems!” and “That’s not the real u*/~h!” and “Specimen has escaped is changing forms.”

And everybody was dead.

Eaten.

The mimic is smart. Smart enough to kill them all without putting itself in danger. Smart enough to use fear like a weapon, and fill her enemies with it. Smart enough to stay in shadows.

Smart enough to learn to hack computers.

The mimic has reactivated the security system, and made several changes to their programming. Firstly, she wiped the drones’ entries for recognized individuals, so that they now recognize everyone, every last man, woman, child and animal, as unidentified intruders. Secondly, she reprogrammed their tactical assessment system, so that they now evaluate threats based on chemical signs of aggression and fear. If any carbon-based lifeform shows fear in a drone’s vicinity, it is programmed to contain or destroy them.

Since the shifter was terrorizing everyone else while remaining calm herself, it worked perfectly: the drones would leave her alone and go straight for any of the other cowering survivors.

As for us metallic life forms, well… The mimic is smart, as I said. She knew we didn’t have a sense of smell, so she rigged a booby trap that sprayed us with hormones. We didn’t even notice, until every drone in the ship started to attack.

That was a dicey couple hours. Those drones are learning and self-adapting, and can sprout pretty much any weapon in the database. We managed to beat them, barely, by modifying one of the perpetual-motive generators into an electromagnetic pulse emitter. We almost killed ourselves with it too, but it took out most of the drones. Enough so we could slip away.

I don’t know that I’ve ever been more scared in my life than when I was down there… But… I think I might have been having fun too. Crazy how that works. It probably just depends who you have by your side in the thick of things, doesn’t it? And while we were fighting down in those dark depths, I had ƉN::ᶌ. And that made it all right.

Anyway, we made it to the engine room, and ƉN::ᶌ managed to bypass a security lock and reactivate reactor 5. From there, she was able to reprogram the art-grav nacelle, and use the immense gravity field to rip apart the hull.

We tore off half of the ship’s upper hull, along with the entirety of sector 43 (sector 43 being the cargo area where all the samples, livestock and crops from our planet were stored.) The gravity field gathered all this wreckage together, forming an enormous ‘fistfull’ of twisted metal and cargo. ƉN::ᶌ then used the gravity beam to guide this mass through the air to the farmland we designated, and spread it out there. The entire process must have been rather eerie to watch, I imagine.

There was only one problem now: if we could make use of those gravity fields, chances are the mimic could too. If she set the field to a high strength and low size, she could use it to physically crush our entire farm, with us inside.

With that kind of power, the mimic could kill anybody she wanted. And anywhere.

So, we removed the power control coupling from the last reactor, and destroyed all the spares. The coupling is small. Small enough to take with us, and keep hidden forever. So that’s what we’ll do.

We made back above ground without much trouble.

Now, everything seems in order. The livestock and seeds will be waiting for us in sector 43’s wreckage, ready to be unpacked, unfrozen, and organized into a farm. A colony. First thing tomorrow morning, we’re off to begin our new life.

-date: 3/14/2096-46’\

Two local years since my last entry.

Farm is going great. Got some trees planted, and some crops. The ecosystem is starting up, and the drilling worms have started breaking down the spacecraft hull. The cats are working as guards, which should be enough to scare away the mimic if she finds us here. I tampered with the cats’ genetics as well, to make them instinctively react defensively toward any unrecognized large organic. Meaning whatever form the mimic takes, the cats will turn on it. I’m just glad this planet doesn’t have intelligent inhabitants; that could make for a rather messy misunderstanding.

I also found an old runabout shuttle stashed in the wreckage. We turned it right-side-up, half-buried it in the ground, and are now using it as a house. Its glass hull should keep it from decay, and its engines still have enough power to run heat, lighting, and farm equipment.

The place is finally starting to feel like home. The trees are supplying power now, so we don’t have to ration anymore. And they’re beginning to bear the first fruit. We haven’t had actual food in so long, and it’s delicious.

And… Well, there’s one other thing. I don’t really know who else to tell, so I guess I’ll tell this journal.

Anyway…

I finally asked ƉN::ᶌ if she would be my wife. And she said yes. I’m not really sure what I expected her to say, since we’re the only two here… But it was the WAY she said it; it made me believe that she would have chosen me out of a crowd. Like I would have been her first choice out of all the men on all the worlds. She said yes… And I’m a married man now! I’m really happy. I really love her. I’m really glad to be alive.

That probably sounded super corny, huh?

-date: 8/9/2098-46’\

Three local years since my last entry.

We lost contact with the other survivors. I don’t know what happened to them. Maybe it was local wildlife or sickness, maybe it was the mimic again, maybe something else. Anyway, let it be known that this farm contains, to my knowledge, the last 3 survivors of the crash.

3 survivors?

That’s what I said.

Because ƉN::ᶌ is pregnant.

I’m gonna be a dad.

Speaking of dad…

If this recording somehow gets to you, mom and dad… If the fabeled Time Giants ever find this log in the far future, and decide to do a favor for my present, and bring it back to you… If you’re reading this now in the comfort of your own home after I’ve left…

I want you to know that I’ve finally found that life I always dreamed of. There’s a little bit of adventure here and there, sure. (This planet seems to harbor some very improbable life. We’re always finding ourselves in some weird situation or another.) But most of all, I’ve found home. I’ve found love. I’ve found peace. And I think… With the help of God, I’ve found a bit of meaning. Here, in a filthy, watery world at the end of the universe. Here, in the valley carved by the crash of colonial vessel 46.18’/. Here, where nobody else has ever been, is where I’ve decided to stay. And here, I am happy. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

-date: 16/13/2098-46’\

There was a fault in ƉN::ᶌ’s manufacturing system. The child was damaged during final assembly, and… I’m not sure what happened. There was a problem with the release, and something snapped. There were sparks, and leaking oil.

And she died.

Her and the baby.

I made glass coffins so they wouldn’t decay. And I buried them behind the house.

I guess that’s it then, huh?

So much for our life. So much for our colony, and our future, and our children, and our love… So much for all that. Whoever’s reading this, I’d dreamed that one day we would have healthy, happy descendants who’d be able to hand this to you. And they’d say ‘Take this. This is their legacy…’

But what good are dreams?

Dreams are for young men… And today I feel old.

Anyway… If you’re reading this journal, then… Then I guess I’m long dead. The barn and the tractor and the windmill will have been eaten all away by now… Only the glass shuttle-house thing will remain; that and the coffins… Give it long enough, and the farm will probably grow all over the place… The drilling worms and trees will have digested the last of the hull wreckage we drug out here… That will make for the only soil on all of 3.0 that can support metal life, so the little forest will have reached a maximum size and stopped growing. Due to the atmosphere, the crops can’t spread seeds far enough to fertilize on the main wreck, and even the cats don’t explore very far. So. By now all the livestock will be all feral, all the trees will be huge… It will all be totally natural. Just like God intended.

It’ll be a little tiny drop of home, right in the middle of all this carbon slime. A tiny drop of home…

And that’ll be our legacy.

I’m locking the house up now, and I’m leaving.

I’m going back to the crash site. I go to find our last and greatest enemy, the mimic, and kill her. I go to ensure the safety of anybody who may come to this planet after us. I go in the name of peace. One final battle. One final adventure.

This is Ɖg@}Nᶌ, last survivor of the crash of Colonial Vessel 46.18’\, furthest explorer of a gentle people, last civilized lifeform on this planet, farmer and doctor and husband and father, signing out for the final time. Whoever finds this… I hope God’s plan for you is gentle. Gentler than it was for me.

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

Have a nice life.

[montclarelab]

My Journey to the Lab

By Aparajita Bhattacharya    

Growing up, I was utterly fascinated with the inner workings of the living world. This fascination as well as curiosity led me to major in molecular biology during college. However, my senior year, I found that I lacked work experience in the field and didn’t know how my knowledge from class would apply in the real world. Intending to fill this gap, I landed a credit-based volunteering opportunity in a genetics lab that used Drosophila as a model organism to understand aging and Alzheimer’s disease. This lab experience not only gave me a taste of the world of science, but also helped me to get my first job as a research assistant studying the molecular mechanism of Alzheimer’s disease. We sought to map the molecular causes of protein dysregulation, which lead to amyloid accumulation in the brain, and  eventually result in dementia. Since I am interested in more readily applied research, this project caught my attention. In my own small way, I was addressing a challenge facing human health by advancing the understanding of the origin of Alzheimer’s disease. Feeling fired up from my stint in the research lab, I entered a Master of Research in Molecular and Cellular Biology (MRes), which was like a mini-Ph.D. The program allowed me to assess whether I’d be interested in the commitment of a Ph.D. program.

Aparajita Bhattacharya, PhD Candidate

As a part of the MRes, I worked in two labs executing two Master’s thesis projects. In the first, I investigated the unorthodox idea of translation in the nucleus using a yeast model in the School of Biosciences. In the second, I studied the effect of specific micro RNAs on insulin resistance at the School of Medicine at the University of Birmingham (UK). These experiences in graduate school gave me the certainty and experience I needed to confidently apply for Ph.D. programs. I felt that my feet were firmly planted and pointed in the right direction. Once I got into the Ph.D. program at SUNY Downstate Health Sciences University, I did two rotations in labs that were focussed in similar research areas investigating disease pathways of cardiovascular disease. Although intriguing and highly worthwhile endeavors, I soon realized that the research was not a good fit for me. Additionally, I found that I wanted to work on translational research which has potential to affect patients more directly. Therefore, after two other short stints in Downstate’s labs, I reached out to Dr. Jin Montclare at NYU Tandon. Due to the ties between SUNY Downstate and NYU Tandon, I had heard about their work from some of my fellow graduate students. Once I joined the lab, I immediately found the research to be a good fit. My work in the Montclare lab involves engineering nanoparticles that have the potential to work as cancer therapeutics and diagnostics. This work has made me feel good about the impact I am making in the world of research and in the lives of people suffering from cancer. I have found my new home and couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

-Edited by Eliza Neidhart

[bughead-fic-request]

I would like to thank @leaalda for making these amazing banners.

This is an effort to spread the word about all fan fiction writers in our little fandom. If you would like to be featured or nominate a writer, please contact me. Please reblog this post if you can and check out some of @believe-that-you-can-my-friend work!

1. First things first, if someone wanted to read your stories where can they find them.

My tumblr account is believe-that-you-can-my-friend and anyone can find my masterlist by clicking on the menu button (the three parallel lines at the top of my sidebar) and then choosing “My Bughead Stories”. You can also find me on AO3.

2. Tell us a little about yourself.

I’m Vera, I’m from Greece and I’m currently on the 23rd decade of my life. I’m a Classical Studies graduate and I’m considering doing a Master’s too. I’m a major foodie, a fashion and style enthusiast, an avid dancer and an old school rock lover. A quite sarcastic human being trying to make it in this world with the attitude of your average clown-friend.

3. What do you never leave home without?

Probably my phone, as true to our 21st century standards. Plus, my headphones and my sunglasses.

4. Are you an early bird or a night owl?

I’m a night owl for sure. I hate early mornings and I love sleep but I also can never go to bed before 2 or 3 am.

5. If you could live in any fictional world which one would you choose and why?

I would want to live in the Pokémon world or the Harry Potter universe but during the Marauders era. Witty and utterly smitten James Potter, rebel with a cause Sirius Black, the First Wizarding War, this is a true fantasy right there that I’ll never ever outgrow.

6. Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met?

There are a lot of Greek people that you guys, obviously, won’t know. Not many international celebrities in my resume, I’m afraid. But I briefly chatted and took a picture with Jim Chapman from YouTube while I was visiting London two years ago.

7. What are some of your favorite movies/TV?

I enjoy a lot of different movie genres but I guess an old Hollywood one, some good old Hitchcock or anything drama are my typical choices most times. Out of the top of my head, definitely Gone with The Wind, Casablanca, Pulp Fiction, The Breakfast Club and such. As for TV shows, Lost is always first in my heart. Current favorites would be Sense8, Stranger Things, Westworld, Riverdale.

8. What are some of your favorite bands/musicians?

That’s a question that would take me pages to answer. Long story short, I’m a cultural chaos regarding music. I listen to almost everything, my Spotify has a tone of personal playlists and my vinyl collection is reaching a terrifying extend. My favorite genre is definitely classic rock but I also really love alternative rock, indie rock, and rock ‘n’ roll. On an average day, I’m usually blasting something along the lines of The 1975, then Pink Floyd, then Frank Sinatra, then Tchaikovsky, then Kanye West, then The Killers and so on and it’s a miracle that I still manage to stay a somewhat sane person.  

9. Favorite Books?

Anything Jane Austen, Bronte Sisters or Dostoyevsky can get me going. But for the level of angst and devotion and truly wicked love my favorite one is Wuthering Heights.  

10. Favorite Food?

Chicken curry with rice. I also really love shrimps.

11. Biggest pet peeve?

Probably people that chew very loudly. Or ignorant and uneducated people, not in the academic sense of the word, but ill-mannered and rude.

12. What did you want to be when you were little? What do you want to be now?

For many years I wanted to be an architect. This plan though sunk because my sketching skills are equivalent of a two year old. So, I ended up studying the Classics (basically the study of the Greco-Roman world, particularly of its languages and literature, but also including philosophy, history, and archaeology.) This field and area of studies is something I very much enjoy and value but I don’t really see it as my lifetime job. What fascinates me and makes me passionate about is Journalism so I’m thinking about extending my studies in the journalistic field as well. And then of course there is writing; the ultimate dream.

13. What are your biggest fears? Do you have any strange fears?

I’m scared of wasps, only because I’m allergic to a lot of things and, seriously, I don’t wanna push my luck. Another one would be my odd phobia of getting nauseous and being sick. For some weird reason I associate vomiting with death. Other strange fears, no, nothing comes to mind. As for more fundamental ones, it’s the fear of ending up alone; loneliness is something that scares me deeply. Also, disappointing my inner perfectionist by being average or not good enough at any aspect of my life.

14. When you are on your deathbed what would be the one you’d regret not doing?

Live more. I have a very composed and rational mentality, I always think first and then act and generally I’m more of an observer than a doer. I regret, for example, not being a crazier teenager or a more reckless college student or generally a little bit more “loose”. Hopefully, my introverted self will stop watching stoically life passing her by and take more chances by the time I reach that final moment, haha.  

Okay… let’s talk about your writing!

15. Which is your favorite of the fics you've written for the Bughead fandom?

Where The Wild Roses Grow – Angst is the air I breathe, enough said.

16. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?

Up until now I used to write only Bughead prompts and one-shots so, plot wise, I can’t think of any of them causing me too much headache. I could say Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams, only because of the length of the chapters and the hurricane of ideas I had in my mind. Right now I’m trying my hand at my first multi-chaptered fic for the Bughead fandom and I can definitely say that it is proving to be quite the task in terms of planning and prioritizing.

17. How do you come up with the ideas for you fic(s)? Do you people watch? Listen to music? Get inspired by TV/movies?

For me, it’s mostly TV and movies. I always make parallels between plotlines and couples so a lot of ideas do come from stuff that I have seen on the big screen or during a marathon of an old show. But they also come from everyday life, I mean I could be discussing something with my best friend or doing groceries or driving and something along the way would strike me and demand from me to write it on paper.

18. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?

I really really wanted (and still want, to be honest) to write a Dancing With The Stars Bughead fic. I know it’s crazy and totally random but the idea had stuck in my head while I was watching some dancing videos on YouTube and instantly I had everything planned; the roles, the plot, the dancing sessions, the choreographies, the drama, everything. I gave up on the idea merely because it’s quite difficult to portray such show on paper and I was afraid that the scenes in my head would turn out totally different if I attempted to write them, so I’ll treasure this story in my heart and think fondly about it whenever I listen to a song I had picked for a Bughead dance-off. But you never know; maybe my muse will be more confident about helping me give life to this idea in the future.

19. Least favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

I wouldn’t say it’s my least favorite but I don’t feel very confident about Heliophilia, the second chapter of Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams. There are a lot of things that I like in the chapter obviously, but I find the beginning a tad cheesy and then at the part with Betty’s and Jughead’s date I believe that I just ramble on and on with no purpose whatsoever. I was very inspiration-deprived while working on that chapter so, to me at least, it feels like not my best work.

20. Favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

Jughead raised as a Serpent in my latest fic. I like the dynamic the gang element gives to his character and I really wanted to explore it in my own little universe. It just adds another layer to his personality and diverse characters are always the most fun to work with. Also, #GirlNextDoor was very fun to write. Being in Jughead’s shoes as an accomplished writer and envisioning future Bughead in their own adult apartment had me overwhelmed with lovely feelings.

21. Favorite character to write?

Jughead, for sure. Maybe because I relate more to his quite nature or maybe it’s the fact that I appreciate the writer in him and his old soul, which are again qualities that I have too as a person. He has so much potential as a character, so many layers to peel off. Yeah, Jughead Jones is a delight for me to write.

22. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you've written?

I don’t think I have something specific in mind. If I go back and read any of my stories, I always find something that I feel pretty confident about, either that’s a sentence or a whole paragraph. I guess that’s why it takes me so long to update; I always check and double-check and reread and erase and add until I feel positive that what I’m putting out is something I’m quite satisfied to present to all of you. That and the fact that me, a Victor Hugo wannabe, doesn’t know the usage and the importance of a full stop!

23. Best comment/review you’ve ever received?

Every single one. Literally. The fact that somebody takes the time to write even a single “great work” means the world. Yes, the long, commentary-like reviews are always an extra delight; every author would agree on that, because, we love receiving feedback that shows the emotion and the reaction our words brought to each reader. It’s very direct and on-point. But even just a thumb’s up or an incoherent array of vowels can literally make my day!

24. How do you handle bad reviews or comments?

I’m one of the fortunate ones that never got any bad reviews or hate comments. I hope it stays that way because, on a good day, my confidence as a writer (and as a person in general) is beneath zero! But constructive criticism is always welcomed and wanted.

25. If you could change anything in any of your stories, what would it be?

The occasional typos! They drive me nuts, I hate them and I hate myself for them. Also, I’d like to remind myself to put a damn full stop every once in a while, not only a plethora of commas in insanely long sentences!

26. What is your favorite story you’ve ever written? Any fandom?

I was very into Spaleb (Spencer and Caleb from Pretty Little Liars) for as much as it lasted and, amongst a few other stories, I’ve written an one-shot titled The First Cup of Coffee about the four times Spencer gets the first cup of coffee in the morning and a fifth that she realizes she wants Caleb to have that privilege. Basically, it’s five snapshots of their life together and the growth of their relationship through the years and I really enjoyed writing it and generally envisioning a future about that couple. I also had a great time writing about Klaus and Caroline from The Vampire Diaries. But none of my previous fanfiction experiences amounts to the utter excitement and joy writing for Bughead fills me with.

27. What are you reading right now? Both fan fiction and general fiction?

Fanfiction wise, I need a lot of catching up to do. I have so many fics that I either want to continue or start reading and so little time but I’m getting there. It’s personal at this point! As for general fiction, I’m reading Uncle Vanya by Chekhov and some various poetry.

28. Do you have an advice for writers that want to get into this fandom but might be scared?

Just write. Open a plain document and write. Write whatever you have in that brilliant head of yours, write what you would read if you were about to search between genres and plotlines. Don’t think about note numbers or people’s reaction; just write what your heart desires and your muse urges you too. If you enjoy what you write then, trust me, everyone is going to enjoy it too. Don’t doubt yourself and don’t try to change your style or adjust to any norms you might consider as successful. Writing is personal, a kind of identity, and it’s unique and mesmerizing so proudly present your own identity to the world. Also, be sure to support your fellow writers. We are all a team here, a group of people that enjoy the same passion, and love and recognition is always a must. So applaud your fellow Buggies and applaud yourself for everything that you put out in this fandom, either that is a 40k fic or just a fifty-word paragraph. What you write matters and it might change somebody’s day. So share it and never second-guess yourself.

[maryisis]

A “coming out” post...

I am choosing to participate in a global “coming out” movement called “Thank you Plant Medicine”(TYPM)- (from the website: This movement was born as a response to the stigma in society about the use of psychoactive plants and therapy-assisted psychedelics.We dream of a world where these substances are free from stigma and discrimination, for personal and collective healing.We are organizing a global wave of gratitude for February 20, 2020, calling on people to “come out” with their stories of healing and transformation on that day, using the hashtag #ThankYouPlantMedicine. www.thankyouplantmedicine.com

I would first like to preface by saying that the use of psychoactive/consciousness altering plants or fungi is NOT for everyone and by sharing my perspective I mean in no way to persuade or promote it. Okay? Okay. 

At the young and seemingly fearless age of fourteen I learned through reading some books and magazines about how a person could consume specific kinds of mushrooms and totally alter and explore their consciousness, and perhaps other dimensions of reality (this was before internet use was widespread). I was utterly fascinated and being the curious and hungry-for-the-meaning-of-life young teen that I was I decided to seek out these magical fungi. It didn’t take me long to find them, with the help of a more experienced person who knew how to find them in the cow pasture.....(Panaeolus cyanescens). I had only read about effects from various books and articles but I really was not prepared at all for what I was about to experience. After consuming who knows how many mushrooms (not very smart...) about 20 minutes later I began to feel my senses becoming highly elevated and intensified. The intensity only grew stronger and stronger, to the point of becoming totally overwhelming with surging feelings and emotions and then also altered perception to the point of only being able to see vibrant pulsating rainbow dripping rootlike formations filling my vision. I had no idea how to navigate this unknown realm of feeling and perception, yet I rode it out meeting the experience with utter awe. Then, I started to feel some background trepidation at how I was supposed to return home in such a state, with it being a school night and all...long story short I made it home safely with my tripper “boyfriend” at the time and he informed my parents what we had done, much to their dismay at seeing their daughter in such a state. I somehow floated up to my room where I spent the remainder of the experience laying in a bed that I felt I was continuously sinking into, watching the trees dance outside my window. I had deep insights that night into the personal truth of my being and regard the experience as a sort of “rite of passage” out of my childhood self. That was 25 years ago. Now in retrospect- had I known how the brain develops, I probably would not have done such a thing...I think there’s something to be said for the importance of having your brain fully developed before altering the brain chemistry ...yet I’m pretty sure I ended up alright and I can’t say I regret any of my use of mind altering substances (ok-except maybe a couple of times....lol). As I said before- I was a very curious soul, and it didn’t take me long to realize that the “Just Say No” propaganda campaign that I grew up with was more than just a war on drugs- it was a war on consciousness. How we got to this point of “mind control” is something to ponder.

My relationship with psychedelic plants/fungi has changed a lot over the years and I would say that the major shift happened about 19 years ago when I participated in my first plant medicine ceremony. Finally- I got a taste of what my soul has been thirsting for- Ceremony and experiencing the sacred and divine aspects of existence. Rewind-I lived most of my life in a community and area where Cannabis was freely and frequently used recreationally. I also began using cannabis in my teens- in a non-intentional way- not to say that I didn’t have meaningful experiences in that non-intentional context- However I have learned that intention, ritual and/or ceremony can greatly enhance the benefit in the communing with these “entheogens”- a term I like to use which translates literally as “becoming god within.” When I realized the extent as to which the society in  I lived tries to govern our lives- to the point of having laws that make NATURE ILLEGAL- I felt very passionate about RECLAIMING MY BASIC HUMAN RIGHT- to explore my consciousness. When I saw peaceful and kind people I knew facing jail time and/or having their houses taken away because of growing cannabis, it deeply disturbed me. And so my motivation in “coming out” comes from this place within, that believes that it is morally WRONG that plants and fungi that have awesome potential healing value are illegal. Anyone who does their studies of scientific research as well as historical/cultural studies will learn how much value the plant of Cannabis, for example, has for healing. The endo-cannabinoid system of the human body is proof that humans have evolved, in close relationship with this plant. And of course HEMP, which is the non-psychoactive cannabis species has a plethora of amazing uses which would greatly help our society and environment if it were more widely embraced and cultivated.

Thankfully “the times are a changin!’” More and more studies are being allowed and funded, the laws of the land are starting to change in many places and more and more people are beginning to learn about and honor the deep inherent value of these natural plant medicines. These are exciting times and yet we still have a long way to go! And it is my perspective that we need these plant medicines now more than ever so as to help with the healing of humanity on a spiritual level- to awaken us out of the materialist mindset trance of scarcity, unworthiness, fear and disconnection from nature. The fascinating scientific studies are showing us how the chemicals in these plants and fungi work on the brain, in beneficial ways to help people heal with ailments such as depression, PTSD and anxiety. The healing potential of these plants and fungi have been known for thousands of years to various indigenous cultures, who have kept such wisdom alive throughout the millennia through their initiated healer lineages. It is very important to honor the traditions and lineages from which the traditional ceremonial use of these plant medicines originate from because it is these people that have the deeply developed relationship with these plants and understand them in intimate ways which most western psyche’s do not and I dare say cannot (unless immersed in the studies and apprenticing with these traditional plant medicine healers.) And so while these are hopeful times with potential healing that these plant medicines present our deeply troubled and sick society, we must be mindful that our own egoistic tendencies don’t get the best of us.  I have been working with powerful plant medicines for over 20 years now and I am still most definitely a humble student on the path of healing...still learning the delicate process of surrender to the inexplicable healing powers of these plant teachers and the wisdom teachings and deeply meaningful insights they bestow.

Personally, most meaningful and valuable to my own life, of which I have received from my relationship with plant medicine teachers, namely Ayahuasca and Psilocybin mushrooms, has been my feeling of CONNECTION- Connection to Nature, to Spirit, to everything! In my expanded states I can see clearly how my thoughts and actions affect those around me and the whole. In working with these plants/fungi I naturally gravitated towards living a more healthier lifestyle- being careful of what I choose to consume physically or mentally.  Unhealthy habits steadily and easily fell away. A significant healing aspect of these plant medicines is how they have the capacity to disrupt our conditioned thought patterning- which is a very good thing because much of our behavior and thought processes are governed by our habitual patterning- which keeps us very limited in our perception and what we are capable of experiencing. This can lead in turn to depression, addiction, frustration, and other mental and physical ailments. As we are learning with the exciting field of neuroscience, our thoughts, emotions and perceptions are closely linked and work in a cyclical way. This leads me to honor the ways that these plants have helped me to develop my visionary abilities. One of the most powerful visionary perceptions I have had to date through Grandmother medicine was the experience of perceiving the ALL, underlying state of UNITY- it was an ineffable experience- impossible to put into words- but made a very deep impression on my life and perception of reality. I felt completely liberated from all fear and filled with AWE, totally absorbed in the interconnected matrix of all creation. One more thing. Being a singer and musician- it has been a profound gift and one of my greatest joys to sing my prayers and songs while in communion with plant medicine, in ceremony. I am so deeply grateful for all the plant teachers in my life- they are so dear to my heart and my relationship with each continues to evolve in mysterious and miraculous ways. Deep bows of reverence and respect.

 One of the main ways I have integrated the visions and insights that I have received from these plants/fungi is through music. I have always been a musical person, since before I could even talk I was already singing. In my life today, Music is a central aspect and purpose of my incarnation. I feel inspired to add here that the wisdom of the Yogic path has also played an equally important role in my evolution- I was introduced to the path of Yoga also at 14, which has helped me immensely on my journey with its ancient and very relevant wisdom teachings of self realization.  I have also always had an interest in the healing plants and started studying herbal healing in depth in my late teens. I have many healing plant allies that I work with on a daily basis. 

 Above photo with a Chacruna plant, the pair to the Ayahuasca vine, which contains DMT- the potent visionary molecule, belonging to the “Tryptamines,” indolealkylamine molecules, which evoke release of Seratonin and Dopamine. DMT is present naturally in the human body, especially in the gut. But only when paired with a MAOI (Monoamine oxidase inhibitor), which is found in Ayahuasca vine, can this molecule actually have its effects. The MAOI that are in the vine are classified as Beta-carbolines. These very special molecules are Harmine and Harmaline. Below is a photo of Ayahuasca vine Banisteriopsis caapi. Interestingly, when the molecule of harmine was first discovered in the vine, it was called “telepathine,”  because “of the reported effects of Ayahuasca among the indigenous users, including: collective contact with and/or visions of jaguars, snakes, and jeweled birds, and ancestral spirits; the ability to see future events; and as the name suggests, telepathic communication among tribal members.”(from wikipedia)

Harmine can also be found in Syrian Rue seeds (Peganum harmala) as well as in Passionflower leaf (much lower amounts.) My experiences with Syrian Rue seed (extract) have been very significant actually, while it isn’t really psychedelic all on its own, I highly value the medicine that it is for calming the mind, increasing serotonin and inducing flow states of consciousness. It also creates energetic sensitivity and increased psychic(”telepathine”) ability.  It ALSO is a powerful anti-parasitic- amazingly and much to my shock it rid my body of parasites! Thankfully it is NOT ILLEGAL(except in Australia where its controlled). The studies on Harmine and Harmaline are very promising and are shown to have significant healing properties, such as anti-inflammatory and anti-cancer actions. I’m very enthusiastic for the healing potential of Syrian Rue and Ayahuasca vine! 

One last thing before I close this share and it has to do with integrity and sustainability. The way I see it is that these plants are coming into prominence in our society right now because they are very much needed for our healing. We are facing various levels of existential crises, and I see these medicines acting like the white blood cells of this earth, to help us humans heal our sickness and reconnect to our sense of purpose and belonging to this world (not the world belonging to us, for our use/abuse). However, we cannot continue to take and take without giving back- that sort of behavior is how we’ve gotten ourselves into this imbalance within ourselves and the planet. It is my prayer and vision that those who are called to plant medicine path, do so with the intention of healing themselves so that they may be of service to the healing of the WHOLE. (There’s a lot more that could be said here about safety, the ceremonial container and the facilitator/shaman/medicine healer that creates the ceremonial container.I would recommend this article for this specific topic). Each person has their own unique calling and purpose in which they can serve the whole and that is for each soul to discover within. We start by healing ourselves...that is the key- because our individual healing ripples out. The healing light and love that we cultivate within shines out to inspire and awaken light and love in others. Our own inner harmony will reflect to the outer world. When we live our lives from a balanced place of “right relationship” and reciprocity, as a result we cultivate more integrity and mutual respect. We must integrate the wisdom we gain into daily practices that anchor more loving kindness and compassion because that is what is needed on this planet. 

Thanks for reading!!

[extemporaneousmusings]

There’s this page from a manuscript that’s in LACMA’s collections I’ve been thinking about for a good year. I discovered it when watching a GettyTalks livestream last summer by the GoT costume designer. I kind of forget the context in which she discussed it, but it totally captivated me and isn’t really relevant to the rest of her talk, as she moved on to discuss the more psychological and emotional underpinnings of costuming, rather than original source materials. I was so intrigued that I messaged the Getty tumblr that day to ask for the citation when I couldn’t find the image myself, and it’s just been floating around on my computer for the past year.

15th century Islamic manuscripts are worlds away from my wheelhouse, obviously, but there was something here that clung to the edges of an already fringe concept I had been toying with, that over the past year has become more and more relevant and pervasive.

The idea is hinged upon two major foci. The first is the development of the attribute through time, which is much more central to what I do...The basic synopsis of what I’d like to ultimately accomplish with my PhD is to try and connect grounded, known archaeological assemblages to contextualize and examine them within a more robust and experimental theoretical framework. The discussion of images is often divorced from their context, especially when it comes to more ephemeral objects like vases. (Note, this is the first time I’ve ever really used the word ephemeral in connection with vases, I need to think about this more!) The second is of the extended lifespan of Alexander the Great, both in images and texts, which persisted for thousands of years after his death, and was incorporated into many different cultural narratives.

An attribute, within iconography (which is at its very simplest, the study/interpretation of images and symbols) is an object or a shorthand that gives further information linked to the central character. Dionysos is one of the most attribute-laden lads in Greek art. To name a few, he has a kantharos, which is a specific type of drinking cup, leaves, wine, satyrs, maenads, which all in and of themselves, have nested attributes. 

Attic black-figure vase depicting Dionysos and a few of his typical attributes. (Musée de Louvre, MNE 938)

Athena has her owl, and gorgon head on her shield. Zeus has thunderbolts. All of these are small visually represented objects, yet convey a great amount of culturally loaded information. I’m just speaking from the Greek tradition at the moment, but iconography and attributes exist across time and space. Thor has his hammer, which is an extremely potent symbol that conveys a lot more than just his favorite accessory. The Statue of Liberty has a torch and books. You get the point.

Attributes have not remained the same, in terms of what they represent or how they are interpreted, throughout history. Narrowing back down to the Greek world, the Hellenistic period brought about enormous cultural shifts in nearly every arena, and art was one of them. It hasn’t really been explored through such a lens yet, to my knowledge, but the very power and intent behind attributes shifted dramatically. I am super intrigued in trying to find a way to trace the development of the attribute, and see how and when its use began to change.

Here we get to the point of contact between the two ideas. The Hellenistic period is a broad, uneven, inelegant term to discuss a period of time directly impacted by the death of Alexander the Great and the aftermath of his political and military campaigns, but before the Roman Empire became the main cultural and political power. This is, of course, impossible to define, but in reductive academic short-hand refers to the years 323 BC- 31 AD. The Hellenistic period also considers a much broader geographic scope than is usually incorporated into classical scholarship in earlier periods, because Alexander conquered so much land, and Greek ideas were then transmitted in very different ways to a broader swath of people and cultures.

I’ve now reached the point where this gets beyond me, for the moment. I’m not an Hellenistic historian, and the political and military narrative of history during these years is a fucking quagmire. The art produced during this time-period in many ways reflects this time of upheaval and constant change, because it’s experimental, bizarre, and all over the place.

Alexander was a brilliant commander and political thinker. He curated his image and controlled its dissemination. The dude had a whole host of personally commissioned artists at his command who produced sculptures/coins/jewels depicting him that were somehow regulated and presented a unified front, despite the geographical breadth across which they worked and he travelled. (This is precisely why you can always identify sculptures of him, even hundreds of years after his death, because they were all produced using cookie-cutter templates.) He used attributes and his own image to influence politics in a way that hadn’t been done before, and this continues long after his death.* This is picked up and totally incorporated into Roman imperial politics and art further down the road. 

At the moment, this is my (utterly unsubstantiated) half-baked axis: I think that the attribute had been developing and shifting in use somewhat, but that Alexander radicalized what it was, and how it was used. THEREFORE, not only can one continue to trace how the attribute continues through and beyond Alexander in Greek&Roman art, but Alexander himself through time and cultures makes a fascinating case study of the attribute. (Maybe??? Or maybe this is just two separate things just barely linked??? I’m gonna try to explain the second branch more.)

Alexander was, obviously, a big fucking deal. He went a bunch of places and did a bunch of shit. As such, he was remembered and mythologized broadly, for many different reasons, in many different ways. His actions were incorporated into the narrative fabric of many cultures and societies. Before I watched this Getty talk I had NO IDEA that Alexander appears in the Quran. Fascinating!!

He appears in the Quran as Dhul-Qarnayn which means “The Two-Horned One” in English. Scholars don’t know exactly why, but have tentatively suggested that perhaps it is because Alexander was sometimes depicted on coins as having curling rams horns. This is super dope, and I totally wanna buy it and argue for it BECAUSE, his use of the rams horns on coinage was a direct attempt to assimilate himself within a blended Eastern/Egyptian mythology. The rams horns were an attribute of Ammon, an Egyptian deity who is often considered alongside/culturally synonymous to Zeus. So, it is possible that his name in the Quran and further Islamic tradition is a direct reference to the way he, and then his followers, manipulated attributes to accomplish political goals.

Tetradrachm of Lysimachus depicting Alexander with the horns of Ammon. British Museum 1919,0820.1

Along with being incorporated into the textual history of these diffuse cultures, he is also depicted visually in a whole host of new and evolving forms. I haven’t looked into the artistic depictions of Alexander once he becomes Dhul-Qarnayn, or Iskander (his Persian name), but I think that’s probably what I should do next. By the time it gets to the way-aforementioned manuscript page he is completely transformed iconographically speaking. In this illumination Alexander/Iskander is depicted (the solo figure on the right) as an official from the Chinese court, visiting the Kaaba. He is, therefore, culturally reborn, depicted as someone from China, interacting with one of the most sacred monuments of Islam. This is so far removed from his original context, and yet one can trace the path of his transmission through time and media to this point.

Iskander at the Kaaba. LACMA M.73.5.462

As I’ve said. I’m not sure how these two concepts (the attribute and ~Alexander through time~) necessarily link up, or if they even productively can. It’s possible they should both be pursued as separate, though theoretically related trains of thought. I was hoping, through the course of writing this, try and figure out some more/gain further clarity, but unfortunately I don’t think any of the resources I’ll need to really dig down on this are readily available online, as I have discovered a rather scanty digital trail, even about Alexander in his extended legendary life.

*27/4/19 this is pretty bold and I'm not sure I'm currently equipped to defend the statement against a critical attack but it still feels right. 

If you read all of this, hey thanks! This was an attempt to try and mitigate the fact that I’ve just been crawling up the walls of my own mind and it’s been getting pretty bad the past couple of days. Injuries are really difficult for everyone, but coming directly from a summer of mobility and hiking and freedom in the place I love most, despite the fact that I wasn’t even in the field very much, and being utterly and completely grounded has been a devastating and crippling (pun intended) adjustment. Sitting in one place has never been something I’ve been good at, and I am really only just coming back into my own mind as I ease off the pain meds. SO, this was an attempt, inspired muchly by @post--grad’s fucking brilliant and captivating newsletter to just try and muse and think without any pressure or connected to anything that has any current relevance to my scholarly production. 

Let me know what you think, really! Even if you’re someone for whom this is all totally new, bc let’s be real, most people don’t spend their lives thinking about objects and images and The Past. I wanna know what you think! Does it make sense? Is it weird? What was the most interesting thing about this, if at all?

[ank-fan]

Blondies and brains: a few tentative speculations and a bit of self-indulgent fawning

One of the things I love about Ai no Kusabi is how in the drama CDs, upon seeing Riki come back to him, Iason is all like:  “Ok, my man cyborg: the blow you took to the head sure was strong and screwed up your circuits to the point you are seeing things...”

Which, aside from being oddly adorable in my opinion, poses two interesting questions:

1) Can Blondies actually hallucinate? And if they do, how does that fit with the issue of dreams? The link between the two phenomena is not as direct as some might think, in fact, I read a couple of articles that detailed how the two processes are actually dependent of different neural processes (then again neurology is not my field of study so, please, do correct me if I start spouting incorrect informations). Dreams are linked to the REM phase and they involve, from what I understood, only a subset of the neural pathways that are responsible for hallucinations, moreover there is no conclusive proof that hallucinations are dependant on REM intrusion in our waking perceptions.  That said Blondies’ brains, despite being human brains, are significantly modified, thus I cannot bring myself to agree with Iason when he states that “my brain is only human, so I’m human, after all.” I think that is almost wishful thinking on his part. Blondies’ brains are not only placed in a completely different environment from the one they should live in (which must account for significant differences, I am not enthusiastic about “central dogma” ideas), but are also manipulated to grant Elites superior intelligence, prevent them from feeling pain or pleasure (while still allowing them to have keen senses and, conceivably feel temperature, which is not something that all people with CIP ,congenital insensitivity to pain, can perceive), and generally have very low empathy, if none at all.  In a way we could say that they are designed to have an odd form of autism, since autism can be linked to all the above-listed characteristics (except the robotic body, naturally).  Here there also is a very interesting addendum to be made about the fact that CIP is linked to a malfunction of ganglia in the spinal cord region too, which, in Elites is artificial; so it follows that the mechanism through which they are depraved of the ability to feel pain might be dependant on the cybernetic part of their body, not the organic one, but that would be a long topic I feel I am unequipped to talk about right now (I need to make more researches on the topic). Now: while autism is a condition that doesn’t prevent people from dreaming or hallucinating, we also have to take into account that in this particular sci-fi dystopia Blondies are made to be devoid of what Jupiter perceives as “human flaws” (like empathy). So it would make sense that all unnecessary traits or potentially dangerous abnormalities would be carefully weeded out in the process of their creation.  Now: is dreaming “unnecessary”? Hardly so, dreams are, among other things, a way for our brains to ruminate on problems and help us find solutions, which is paramount to the roles a Blondie has in Amoi’s society. Still it is also true that the frequency of, at least lucid, dreams seems to be dependant on the subject’s age (they grow less frequent as we age) and we are not told wether Blondies are made as adults or not. In my opinion: they are, since they are there to serve a specific function and in such an objective-oriented society as Amoi’s that cares little about the individual, it would make sense that all “artificial” beings would be made to be able to serve their specific function as soon as possible, like pets are. Doubtlessly there must be some sort of “preparation period” for Elites to go through before taking up their role, but I do not think it could be called a proper “infancy”. In a way their “eternal youth” is a state of constant stasis. Moreover it is made pretty plain that Jupiter does not understand humans and is on the verge of being uninterested in understanding them (it clearly needs a Neuromancer to its Wintermute XD), so that could account from Blondies being prevented from dreaming. To wrap things up: if Blondies are unable to dream, then it arguably means that they should be utterly unable to hallucinate too, since the neural phenomena linked to dreams are a subset of those linked to hallucinations, still Iason is clearly shown to know what an hallucination is and to be convinced he is experiencing one.  Maybe it could be argued that the limitations to their brains are then caused by selective cybernetic mechanisms that “block” their brains from producing dreams, still that too would be a very complex process and risk stunting the Blondie. 

2) And here we get to the “pointless fawning” part: from Iason’s reaction to seeing Riki come back one could argue that he might have died convinced that what he was experiencing could not be real. What is more: the fact he might have chosen not to care about it and simply “enjoy the illusion while it lasted” is very telling.  Iason’s character arc is fascinating to me because of the bitingly cruel dramatic irony that pervades it. He is consistently horrible through the narrative and successful because of it, while his few “good” actions cause his downfall. He sees humans as lesser, mongrels as even less than that, and yet he is killed by one, and not one of those he sees value in like Katze or Riki. He tells himself and others that pets are more valuable than mongrels and yet is bored by the first and obsessed by an individual belonging to the second group. He thinks the only intimate connection between Riki and him could be through sex and yet their more intimate moment doesn’t even involve a single kiss, which I find beautiful and a splendid redeeming point of the narrative. He can only conceive a possible relationship as founded on utter control and thinks that this is the value Riki should see in him, but gets his wish of seeing proof that he is valued and he has control over Riki’s feelings only when he looses all control over the situation (along with a couple of limbs).  Thus it would be sourly fitting that in his last moments, after life spent trying to see past illusions and understand the universe, he would simply choose to ignore the more “plausible” possibility and let himself be swept up in what a part of him cannot help but see as an hallucination. 

[ramajmedia]

10 Most Suspenseful Alfred Hitchcock Scenes, Ranked | ScreenRant

Alfred Hitchcock is one of the most influential, innovative auteurs ever to wield a camera. He utilized new, creative techniques, and developed a signature visual language. Hitchcock is known for his iconic genre films—a brand that has long been considered unfashionable, or even tacky. But Hitchcock consistently imbued the fantastic with grounded characters and thematic maturity.

RELATED: Alfred Hitchcock Presents: 5 Best & 5 Worst Episodes, According To IMDb

His films often confront the human psyche, involving our darkest flaws, sexuality, phobias, and more with unique boldness. They also contain a healthy dose of dark comedy, cynicism regarding authority, and some great collaborations with composer Bernard Herrmann. Here are ten iconic scenes that rightfully earned Hitchcock the nickname, Master of Suspense.

10 Frenzy: Potato Truck

Many critics had written off Alfred Hitchcock by 1972, but they were dead wrong. The Production Code had just been lifted, finally replaced by the MPAA rating system. The Production Code had specifically stifled the sort of macabre material Hitchcock always thrived on. Now, Hitchcock could incorporate nudity and violence in the graphic, striking, and honest manner that he desired.

The production went to London, where Hitchcock grew up. In Frenzy, a detestable loser is framed for his ex-wife’s murder and sets out to prove his innocence. Somehow, even after a graphic and repulsive rape-murder, Hitchcock still generates suspense on the killer’s side. Much like Strangers on a Train, we follow the killer as he desperately attempts to retrieve damning evidence. Hitchcock’s visual acuity can overpower our opposition to the villain, although there’s also suspense in desiring his failure.

9 The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956): The Crescendo

Hitchcock loves to throw everyday people into incredible situations. This is essentially a precursor to Taken. A small family on holiday accidentally runs into the wrong place, at the wrong time. When two parents inadvertently receive a clue about an assassination plot, their child is kidnapped as leverage against them. The result is a superb ticking clock and chase movie.

In fact, it’s a remake of an equally entertaining film of the same name, also directed by Hitchcock, released twenty years prior. Remakes don’t usually prove their right to exist, but this truly stands apart. The film opens with the blunt statement that a crash of symbols spells doom. The finale, with the crescendo itself, uses that promise to full effect. The music swells, muffling everything else to escalate tension. It essentially becomes a silent movie, as the protagonists desperately attempt to foil the opera house murder.

8 Shadow Of A Doubt: Car Garage

Alfred Hitchcock considered Shadow of a Doubt to be his favorite project. The dichotomy between two characters named Charlie is utterly fascinating. The young girl, bored of her stereotypically conformist, suburban life suspects that her visiting uncle may be a killer. For 1943, the blatant social criticisms are pretty striking.

Also, Hitchcock always thrives on suspicion, deceit, and murder. In this scene, the true killer is hard at work, once again attempting to murder young Charlie. Attempting to disguise her death as an accident, she’s locked in the car garage with lethal fumes. It is such a slow murder attempt, the suspense of her desperate survival is really allowed to accumulate. Also, we’re deeply invested in the drama by now.

7 Notorious: The Wine Cellar

Mission: Impossible lifted elements from North by Northwest, and the John Woo sequel followed suit. Only, that was far more blatant and basically serves as a splashy remake of Notorious. An American agent recruits a woman to spy on her incriminated father’s Nazi associates. However, an unexpected romance springs up between them, which complicates her efforts to seduce a Nazi, Sebastian.

RELATED: Bates Motel: 10 Storylines That Were Never Resolved

It is a matter of love versus duty. The stubborn protagonists carefully infiltrate Sebastian’s wine cellar and discover the Nazi’s secret. The camera cleverly follows the crucial cellar key. Viewers fear the heroes’ capture throughout, but especially once they accidentally smash a wine bottle.

6 Vertigo: The Bell Tower Finale

Vertigo is one of the most critically acclaimed movies of all time. It’s visually arresting and full to the brim with psychological vibrancy. It is both distinctly a Hitchcock movie, and quite unlike many of his other stories. It discusses the supernatural, and the music helps Hitchcock’s breathtaking visuals to conjure a surreal atmosphere.

The entire film takes place from the broken protagonist’s point of view, which makes the surreal attitude most fitting. It’s also innately immersive, and the finale is enormously tense for it. We revisit the bell tower, where Madeleine died. By this point, the main character has become the antagonist. His instability is terrifying, and he conquers his phobia as he solves the truth.

5 North By Northwest: Crop Dusting

Hitchcock was always fond of the wrongfully accused man. He also certainly loved spy movies, making the best in the genre. Hitchcock even influenced From Russia With Love, which blatantly recreates the crop-dusting scene, as Bond flees a helicopter. Roger Thornhill getting chased by a crop-dusting plane is still one of the most iconic film scenes ever made.

RELATED: 5 Best & Worst Episodes Of Bates Motel (According To IMDb)

It begins with urbanite Roger in an isolated, rural field. He anxiously waits at a bus stop for the enemy pursuing him. The scene draws out the suspense to agonizing lengths. A bus comes by and picks up the only other man in sight. Then, an incongruous plane proceeds to hunt down the exposed Roger—an exquisitely thrilling chase, despite an odd ending.

4 Dial M For Murder: The Imperfect Murder

This story was actually based on a play, but without Hitchcock’s eye, the murder wouldn’t be so affecting. The entire film ponders the efforts of a truly intelligent, coolheaded killer. A man who blackmails someone into killing his wife for her infidelity. As such, the entire plan is laid out in detail.

That level of information allows the tension to fester, and the attempt itself is fantastic. The killer stands behind his target, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. This is especially drawn out. Then, events really deliver a subversion of expectations as things don’t go as planned. The scene is mercilessly brutal, up close and personal.

3 Rear Window: Home Invasion

Could anything be more cinematic than a voyeur? The sheer force of editing is undeniable, and the primary weapon in Rear Window. But it also has terrific actors, and a killer premise. A photographer breaks his leg and observes his neighbors in boredom. He pays for that intrusion, believing he has witnessed a murder. By the end of the movie, we realize it was all true. So, when the killer looks directly at the protagonist, he is actually looking directly at the audience.

RELATED: 10 Best Documentaries About Serial Killers

The absolute immersion in this movie conjures unprecedented suspense. Further, the protagonist is helpless, alone and confined to a wheelchair. The final showdown with the murderer is superb, although the flashes of light haven’t dated perfectly.

2 The Birds: Schoolhouse Attack

This premise has been reused many times over, from the repulsive Birdemic to Shyamalan’s Signs. Although elements of disaster and horror are relentless and thrilling, the movie is truly a psychological study. Each character has issues, which the bird attacks force them to overcome. The bluntly supernatural premise is unusual for Hitchcock, but he loves to distort the natural. Birds are an overlooked, everyday animal. To make them frightening is clever, and gleefully mischievous.

In this scene, protagonist Melanie Daniels waits on a bench outside the schoolhouse. But all the while, the playground behind her fills with birds, their sounds obscured by singing children. And when the attack finally strikes, an entire group of children is assaulted. This was probably unprecedented then but remains disconcerting and effective even now.

1 Psycho (1960): The Shower Scene

Of course. There isn’t much praise left to give this iconic scene, with shrieking violins that have entered the collective subconscious. You’ve heard it in Spielberg’s Duel, De Palma’s Carrie, and even in Finding Nemo! A young woman steals cash from her office, so as to marry her love interest. She changes her mind, but a rainstorm forces her to stay at the Bates Motel, where she’s eventually murdered. She steps into a shower, as the employee Norman Bates spies on her.

This triggers "mother’s" impulses, and so proceeds the most famous movie scene of all time. It is the most perfect combination of directing, score, and ferocious editing on film. It’s also a shocking twist, with atypical, extreme brutality and nudity for the time. But most importantly, we’ve already invested and empathized with Marion.

NEXT: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood: 10 Hidden Details Everyone Completely Missed

source https://screenrant.com/alfred-hitchcock-most-suspenseful-scenes-ranked/