#with tragedy beyond the comprehension of the human brain

[the-algebra-thing]

my mouth just fell open SO dramatically why did I put FLIGHT FROM THE CITY JÓHANN JÓHANNSSON on ANY PLAYLIST that could just PLAY IT ON SHUFFLE WITHOUT WARNING I think I'm going to crumble into dust

[mrcavill88]

A twist in time

Pairing: Captain America Chris Evans x Male Reader x Superman Henry Cavill

Summary: A sudden ravaging force made its rampage through space and time, causing an unwanted rupture within the greater omniverse. The citizens of earth are left broken, sorrowful, and desperate as it seems all hope is lost. The only faith left in humanity stands within two veteran superheroes, both from different timelines. They two are on the verge of giving up as Earth is expected to reach its end, but a certain someone might be the last thing keeping them going

Word count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy angst, mentions of family loss, mass poverty, hunger, depression, slight dirty thoughts, kissing, mugging, mentions of sexual assault, fluff, death, crying

A/N: Hey everyone! Back with another fic. I decided to try something different, this one is definitely more emotional and heavy than my other fics. Please let me know, in the comments, if you guys like this style! Thanks!

*FLASHBACK 6 months prior to the tragedy*

"Three, two, one- Happy birthday dad!" you exclaimed as the people around you cheered and hollered in celebration of your wonderful father's 55th birthday. The atmosphere was ebullient and blissful. You were surrounded by all your friends and loved ones, what could possibly go wrong?

Your life was quite typical, nothing eccentric ever happened, you just lived a normal American life.

A bright smile emerged onto your father's face as he blew the candles out on his cake, such a campy, traditional method of celebrating a birthday. "Oh thank you everyone! You guys have truly made this such a memorable day for me! God bless you a-" your dad couldn't even finish his last word before the ground beneath you violently flipped and the world around you collapsed in mere seconds.

A boisterous cacophony filled the air as a great, morose darkness consumed the world as you knew it. An immense dizziness poisoned your head as you arose from the coarse ground. A feeling of deep disparity and confusion puzzled your brain as your eyes slowly became crystal pools.

How quickly the atmosphere changed

The most beloved people in your lives were all happy in one place, celebrating a great event; the next thing you know, those same people lay beside you, their bodies lifeless, clothed in debris. You tried to stand up but a stinting pain penetrated your skin, right below you kneecaps. You could only crawl your way through the endless amount of rubble and bodies that surrounded you. You made your way out the door of the party venue to see the most intriguing, yet absolutely horrifying landscape you've ever seen in your life.

Absolutely pandemonium

Skyscrapers crumbling into the ground, children frenetically running around - trying desperately to find their parents - , the sounds of screams and cries scattered across the city as fear consumed everybody's souls. The wind brushed your face as you watched the city you grew up in, fall to ruins in an instant.

"What the hell happened?" you thought to yourself, witnessing absolute global destruction.

"What exactly caused this? A natural disaster? Terrorist attacks?"

None. What happened was beyond any human's comprehension. A force of mass hatred, destruction, and hunger powered through space and time. A pan-dimensional entity, fueled by enmity, was on a quest to consume the infinite cosmos, and it has just reached Earth.

But in the midst of all this chaos, two blue figurines caught your eye as they blazed through all the commotion and falling buildings. A sudden ray of light in the ever-growing darkness, a spark of hope in an infinite pit of sorrow. You tried to make out who the two beings were, they were moving so fast, they looked, inhuman. You limped over to a stop sign, trying to make out what it was.

A more clear sight of the heroes stunned you as you could finally make out the two images: what looked to be, Captain America and Superman of all people.

But it couldn't be, right? They only existed in fiction and were just a simple idea of mankind. But it was real, it was so real. They were humanity's last hope, their only hope.

*FLASHFORWARD to present day*

You finally woke up from your everlasting slumber. After everyone you loved was gone, taking your life seemed to be the best option to end the endless cycle of pain and loss you felt. The shelter you stayed at wasn't amazing either; all the citizens of your city crammed into one facility, trying to make ends meet.

And this morning was no different from any other, the unpleasant smell of expired food painted a sour expression on your face.

You slouched off the bed, dragging your limbs to the door of your bunk. A tear staining your cheek as you reminisced the days where you were happy, when you had people you could turn to; all that down the drain, and now, you had no one.

It's been days since you left your bunk. You practically trapped yourself here, never wanting to interact with another human ever again. But your body was calling out to you: you were so fucking hungry.

Even though you grew extremely distant from the world, something fueled you to keep going, almost like, a fire igniting deep inside you. You opened the door, greeted by the cold, smoky air; something everyone was quite used to at this point.

You walked over to the bathrooms, the stench that grew on you starting to really bemuse you. The door opened and, there he was. The ever-so-infamous Captain America.

You stared into his cold blue eyes, his blond hair elegantly quaffed.

"Can I help you?" he asked, staring down at your much smaller figure.

You were completely taken aback by his daunting appearance. He was tall, around 6'2", stacked with muscle and chiseled to the bone. His eyebrow raised as he waited for your response, crossing his arms, showing off his biceps that were accented by his white tank top.

"Chris Evans?" you said, still suspicious of who the man really was.

"Who? I'm not really sure who that is. I'm surprised you don't know me" he said, questioning what you just said.

"Steve Rogers, Captain America, some might say, pleasure to meet you" holding his hand out for you to shake it.

You hesitantly shook his hand, still not completely sure what was going on.

"Pleasure to meet y-you too. H-how exactly are you, real?" you asked, staring into his eyes.

"Haha yeah I know this whole get up seems funny, but I'm 100% real. I know the muscles and the good looks are a lot, but I'm just a kid from Brooklyn, a really, really lucky kid from Brooklyn" he chuckled.

You didn't exactly know how to feel. You felt like you were in some kind of virtual reality, what else could it be? You were talking to Captain America of all people! But little did you know that reality was nothing but a concept, a toy for a greater entity to play with.

Besides the fact that you were talking to a literal superhero, something else was puzzling your brain. A feeling that coursed through your brain, the feeling of, love. You just met this man, but you wanted him, you absolutely needed him.

"Uhm, it was nice meeting you. It's great to talk to someone else that isn't Superman, oh that selfless log. But uhm, yeah, I'll see you soon. And what was your name again? I don't remember if you told me?" he said, putting on a tight muscle shirt.

"Y/N" you said, cheeks flustered bright pink.

"Y/N, I like that name. Well, see you soon, Y/N"

You watched as the man walked into the facility base, completely awestruck by his charm. If only you knew that those same feelings were rumbling inside his stomach.

You washed up, put on a new pair of clothes, and made your way to the dining hall. You were so beyond hungry, a simple bowl of cereal could fulfill your needs. You got in line at the kitchen as the lunch ladies put some gray porridge onto your plate.

The fresh look on your small face disappeared at the sight of maggots and flies crawling around your "breakfast". You sat down as you forced the muddy slop into your mouth; you felt your tastebuds begin to suffer and cry as you continued eating it.

That's when you felt a strong hand grab your shoulder, its grip tight and sturdy.

"Hey Y/N! It's me again, haha. I'd like to introduce you to my friend. This is Clark, I'm sure you know all about him, but the people in this world are pretty different from mine."

"Hey there Y/N, Clark Kent, you probably know me as Superman"

"Hi! Huge fan. But, I'm confused. I know things are pretty crazy, but how exactly did you, come to life? I mean on this Earth, I don't know about your earth, Captain America and Superman are just fictional characters" you said, still completely puzzled by the two heroes' existences

They both looked at each with great confusion and ambivalence.

"Listen, Y/N. We're just as confused as you are, nothing really makes sense right now. We've lost so many lives, lots of good people, but there's no solid explanation. From what we know, there's something, out there. We're not quite sure what it is but it's slowly destroying reality as we know it. I guess this thing caused a rift in the space time continuum, that's why we're on this planet. Everything is so, unfamiliar" Clark said, his voice a little raspy and shaken.

"We're trying everything we can to save the world but, nothing's working" Steve said, his hand rubbing his chin.

"Well I think it's best for you two to stay strong! Come on! The world's Earth's defenders can defend Earth! I believe in you guys" you said, full of optimism. You farewelled the two men before leaving the dining room. Clark's eyes immediately scanned your ass, his x-ray vision seeping through your pants.

"Oh someone's got a little crush" Steve giggled, cleaning up some of the tables.

"H-hey! That's not true! I'm loyal!" Clark yelled, sounding furious.

"Loyal to someone who's dead? Yeah that doesn't exist anymore"

All Clark saw was red, he grabbed Steve's neck, gripping it tightly as he looked Steve deep in the eye.

"You wanna repeat that Captain?" he said, his eyes starting to glow a scarlet red.

"H-hey hey! Easy man, I was just playing, don't take it personally"

Clark let go of Steve's neck, still a little irritated by Steve's ignorant comment.

"Sorry, it's just Lois' death, I can't live without her" Clark said, his eye sockets beginning to fill with tears.

Clark never talked about his feelings, he was Superman, after all. Steve was the only person who knew of Clark's depression after Lois' death.

"Hey, you have a lot to live for! You're Superman! You're my best bud, I lost my family, my best friend, my colleagues, and I still stay with my head up. And besides, Y/N is mine" Steve said, with slight sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah right. He'd choose me in a fucking heartbeat. Like you said, I'm Superman"

"Oh please! Y/N has known me for longer and don't forget, I'm Captain America!"

"Fuck you" Clark murmured under his breath.

"In your dreams"

*FLASHFORWARD 30 minutes later*

You decided to take some time outside of the facility, take a trip down memory lane, if you will. You walked out of the gates and into the city, tears filled your eyes as you saw the city you loved, smashed to pieces.

You walked on the sidewalk, the same sidewalk you took on the way to school, the memories bringing an immense bittersweet feeling.

You lived in the heart of NYC, the city was bustling with people everyday. Now the city has become a dour ruin, nothing more than debris, rubble, and smoke.

You turned the corner of a run-down building and crossed a dark alleyway. But the sight of the alleyway left you completely frozen in fear and anxiety.

Seven cloaked men were huddling up when they noticed you, their eyes went from bloodshot with drugs to lustful.

"Oh look who it is? A beautiful little doe? What're you doing in these parts?" the tallest man said, his large figure terrifying you.

You instantly ran out of the alleyway and started running back to the facility. Your adrenaline kicked in as the men chased you, getting closer and closer with each step.

You turned the corner of an abandoned hospital and just your luck: a dead end.

The men cornered you, rubbing their hands together, prepared to do horrible things to you.

"Oh what a beautiful thing you are!" the tallest man said as the men grabbed you and pinned you against the wall. Their cold, grimy hands removing your pants from your body. Slapping and fondling with your cheeks, ready to remove your last layer of protection.

The big man's hand groped your thigh as he stuck his hand down your underwear, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"P-please, hel-" you yelped out before a seeming gust of wind whipped past your face; and in an instant, the men were gone.

The daunting nightmare you were living in all disappeared.

"W-what was that?" you thought to yourself before a tall blue figure slowly descended to the ground.

"You really shouldn't be here, Y/N. There's dangerous people that might hurt you" Clark said, the slightest bit of sarcasm in his voice.

You rolled your eyes as the man nonchalantly stood there.

"Oh not even a thank you, Y/N? Come on!" he scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Thank you, Clark" you said, trying to walk out of the alleyway before a large hand strongly gripped your waist.

"I think I deserve a bigger apology, Y/N. I saved your life you know?" he whispered, his face practically inches away from yours now.

"W-what do you want from me? Are you gonna mug me too?" You tried to squirm out of his grip, your efforts completely useless against his otherworldly strength.

Your crystal blue eyes sunk into his before he connected his smooth pink lips onto yours. The atmosphere around you completely changed as the warm and tender feeling of absolute love filled the air.

He softly grabbed the back of your neck, stroking your hair as he caressed your soft, black hair. You were so in love. Delicate butterflies swarmed your stomach as the most powerful being on Earth, was passionately kissing you.

Minutes passed by, seemingly hours, nothing could ever separate you two. He pulled out, making you whine, desperate to feel the man again.

"Let's go home, baby" he kindly gestured, grabbing your waist before flying back to the city, you, completely safe and secure in his grip.

But little did you know that you and Clark had a small audience present at your love filled show. Steve

Absolute anger and envy consumed his body as he stood there, hidden behind a mailbox. Tears jerked from his eyes as his new best friend was kissing the love of his life.

"Damn it! DAMN IT!" he yelled out, kicking a trash can next to him, completely enraged. But not even Steve was alone, the city was filled with poverty; the people who ended up trapped in the city were left hopeless. Unfortunately their guardian angel never showed up.

Steve was a mess. A pit of sorrow planted in his stomach as he walked back to the facility. But a certain woman ran out from the corner, her clothes ragged and dirty.

"P-please help us! I-if you can't take me, please take my baby! I beg you!" she cried, holding up a crying baby to Steve's face.

"Get away from me! You dirty hag!" he screamed, pushing the woman.

Steve's sudden change in attitude left a toll on him; the new Steve wasn't interested in saving people, he just wanted to be with you, forever.

*FLASHFORWARD 30 minutes*

You sat in your bed, still jovial about your little moment with Clark, you really loved him.

*knock*

"Who could it be?" you thought, opening the door.

It was Steve. His angry eyebrows and tall figure scaring you as he walked into your bunk, locking the door.

"Do you know why I'm here, Y/N?"

You gulped, sweat accumulated on your forehead as you stared at the man.

"N-no"

"Why you little-" he scoffed, grabbing your collar, pulling you toward him.

"Listen, you little slut. I know what you and Clark did. Don't think he loves you, Y/N. You really think he does? He just needs a filler because Lois is gone. Don't be stupid, Y/N. You're mine! Alright?" he said, his breath hot and heavy.

Your eyes became pools as the man you trusted, respected, loved, called you a slut. You ran out of your room, your feelings hurt and betrayed. At this point, who could you turn to?

"W-wait! Y/N! Oh Fuck! What have I become?" Steve cried, his hands holding face as the love of his life just ran away from him.

You ran into Clark's bunk, knowing he was the only person you could trust right now, and hugged him.

"Y/N? W-what's wrong baby? I hate to see you cry" he said, caressing your hair.

"I-it's nothing. Steve, he's, upset. I think he saw what we did."

"Steve? Oh you're kidding!" he laughed out.

"I knew he liked you! But I didn't know he liked you, that much. Don't be sad, Y/N. Steve is just, very emotional. His emotions take over his actions and I guess he was just not feeling it. I'm sure he'll apologize, take my word for it" Clark said, hugging you tightly.

Coincidentally, Steve walked into Clark's bunk, a pile of dead flowers in his hand.

"H-hey, Y/N. Sorry about earlier. I, I don't know what came over me, I was just, really, really jealous. If you two are happy together, I shouldn't come in the way of that. I want you to be happy. Please forgive me" he kindly apologized, awkwardly giving you the flowers.

"Aw, thanks Steve. Don't stress it, I guess why you would want me" you giggled, holding the withering flowers.

"Thank you, Y/N" he said, tears falling down his cheeks as he hugged you, his grip firm and tender.

Clark watched as you two made up, a warm smile drawn on his face as happiness filled the air.

*FLASHFORWARD 2 weeks*

Things couldn't have been better between you three. You weren't necessarily dating but, you were hopelessly in love with the two men.

"Hey, Y/N! You wanna come help me serve dinner?" Steve said, gesturing his hand to you.

You walked over to the kitchen, the food quality definitely improved from back then. Everything was perfect. Even if the majority of the Earth was in ruins, you were in love.

Then it happened.

The ground flipped beneath you and Steve, the walls of the facility crumbling down, debris falling from above.

"Y/N! Y/N! Are you okay?" Steve cried out, searching for you in the midst of all the concrete.

"S-steve! I n-need help!" you groaned, as your skinny body was trapped beneath a large refrigerator.

Steve rushed to your aid, effortlessly prying the fridge off of you, scooping you up before you two ran out of the facility.

The horrors you faced outside were like none before. Whatever ruined the Earth before, was back, and it was back for more.

Everything was being sucked in. All the last remnants of Earth being eaten by this demonic force.

Steve tightly held onto you, not wanting to be separated. Your screams broke his heart as the world was nearing an end.

"Y/N!" Clark yelled, flying down from the sky, holding onto you and Steve.

"Y/N! We can't hold on much longer! We have to help the other people! We, we love you, Y/N!" they cried, before letting go of you. However safe you felt earlier, was all gone as they let go of you.

"Clark! Steve! Where are you guys! Please! Answer me!" you yelled, trying to find the two men, running around the destroyed facility.

You've been through plenty of trauma; you already witnessed the first end of the Earth but nothing was quite like this.

Your eyes looked up as the ambiguous image of the sky filled your eyes.

That's when you saw it

It was Clark and Steve. Their bodies were being hopelessly sucked into the primordial force, their efforts to fight back, completely useless.

"Y/N! We, we love you!" they yelled, before their bodies were sucked into the abyss.

"Why should I live?"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

Thoughts that filled your head as you fell to your knees. Your heart shattered into countless pieces as you just witnessed the death of the only two people you loved.

Love is bittersweet. It's good while it lasts, but, when it's gone, it hurts.

You hurt

THE END

[ronsenthal]

Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Summary: After you helped Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon the word spread and soon enough this captain would come to your office too. 

A/N: First of all, I would like to apologize, this is my first time writing something, I’m pretty nervous and english is not my first language, I’ll just try my best. I had this idea after listening to Blank Space (Taylor’s version) on repeat and also looking for some Speirs info and found out his ridiculously pretty handwriting???? and then I realized that he is so Taylor coded and this came to my mind.

so this one goes out to my fellow BoB lovers who are also Swifties!! Hope y’all enjoy it and if you could leave some feedback I would very much appreciate it.

If only you knew that taking typing classes would lead you to live this life from city to city, seeing horrors, tragedy and pain, feeling cold, hopeless and tired beyond anything you could imagine or explain you would have had second thoughts. But then again, every smile from your friends, every stupid joke they would tell just to lighten the mood, every cup of “coffee” you would share would make it more bearable. “Yes, it was worth it” you told yourself countless nights before falling asleep and dreaming of hope it would all end, if not soon, at some point. 

“Yes, it was worth it” you told yourself after one night that you had too many drinks with Nix, you wish you could tell the same about Dick, but he would never allow himself to do so, but he also enjoyed the night out with his friends. It was only natural that you would end up following those two, after all, with some luck you ended up being assigned to help out Dick with the mess he was making at his office duties. After some time and after figuring out how to understand the man it became really enjoyable. 

Those nights that they would tell their stories for you to organize it down in a report for your superiors were as fun as they could be, given the circumstances.

Nix wouldn’t even bother to try to write his reports once he discovered how fast you could type and how concise you would turn Dick’s endless essays into comprehensive, yet detailed reports, soon enough you were helping both of your COs, your friends.

“(Y/N) I believe you have this weird super power, are you sure you are human?�� Nix said after half a bottle of Vat-69, raising his eyebrows as if he was looking at you with this invisible magnifying glass. 

Dick only shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes you thought that they looked like one of those old married couples, knowing each other's quirks and peeves and yet somehow, finding it all amusing. You wondered if you could find someone like this in this God forsaken world you were living. 

One day you found it, but thinking back it wasn't easy at first and as it took some time to even lower your guard on your own brain, and allow yourself to think about it, about HIM. 

Ronald Speirs had quite a reputation, everybody knew the rumors, every man saw the things he so recklessly did on the field. His men were as afraid as the enemy, so it took you by surprise when after Foy he also started to hang out with you, Dick and Nix. The first time there was silence on the table after he arrived, you didn’t even had the chance to introduce yourself politely as Dick started out his endless questions about how the Easy men were doing, and then Nix introduced some drinks, yet you two never exchanged one word to each other before that day.

After a while his presence started to make you feel a little bit comfortable, especially after Dick assured you that he was a good man, a good leader and being a big brother figure, he wouldn’t let Speirs offer you a cigarette. Since then you could catch a glimpse at how his eyes shone even in the dark, how he looked tired after an operation. He wasn’t scary anymore, he was just another officer that from time to time would hang out with your friends.

After some time you started to get used to his presence around chasing Dick and Nix up and down, something you did yourself as they were like big brothers to you, protecting, giving their piece of advice and taking care of you. Soon enough you started to feel more comfortable around Speirs too, once you even called him Ronald after a couple of drinks.

Then one afternoon it took you by surprise when he knocked at your office, looking tired as hell with a pile of files on one hand, a pair of boots in the other one and a half burnt cigarette hanging on his lips.

“Sorry to disturb you (Y/L/N), but Nixon said you could help me out with this paperwork? I’ll be in real trouble if I don’t turn them in this evening. Also, he said you could use this one” Speirs told you while putting a tiny pair of combat boots on your desk and taking of his cap, not even giving you time to reply, not even looking at you.

“What in the name of god are you thinking? What the hell is Lewis thinking? You guys think I don’t have anything better to do, I have enough work to do, just look at this endless pile of work, so no, thank you, good luck” you said throwing your arms in exasperation, complaining and pointing out the huge paper files on your desk.

He stared at you in horror as if you were one of those german panzers, he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words but he couldn’t. You felt a twist in your stomach, looking at him you could see he was embarrassed, you never saw him so vulnerable and tired, this man could use some proper sleep. As he was turning on his heels to leave while muttering sorry a thousand times, guilt took the best of you.

“Wait” you said, closing your eyes knowing right after the word left your mouth how stupid it would be, after all you could use some sleep too, you deserved it. He slowly turned to face you.

“I’ll do it, but you better help me out and you are not allowed to smoke while we do that, I hate the smell”

You could swear you saw an amused smile on his face when he threw his last pack of Luckys on your desk. Soon enough you prepared your typewriter checking if you had enough ribbon and paper for your work, finally you sat down and stared at the man in front of you, it took him a few seconds to realize you were ready to start. 

At some point he took his jacket off and slowly put it on the chair he was sitting on, took of his tie and rolled up his sleeves, you tried not to stare at the man in front of you. If he caught you looking up and down he never said a word. It was not the first time you stared at this much feared man, truth be told you caught yourself staring at him more than once. Nix being the observant little bitch he was had this creepy little smile when he caught you one night looking at the Easy captain. You muttered something like “I’m gonna kill you” and prayed to god that he could send the biggest crate of whisky he could find so Lewis would get so drunk he would forget it.

You cleaned your throat, took a deep breath and asked for a small pause to take a glass of water. The man nodded and took a few steps to the little window and watched the landscape outside until you said you were finally ready again. “Back to work” you said to yourself.

….. 

When you two finished the sun was no longer up, just in time for him to turn on the report. While working on he would tap his fingers on your desk and look nervously at the watch on his wrist, but he never complained or tried to hurry you up. He quickly looked at the papers you cautiously handed him and shook his head, approving the final result.

“So that’s it?” he asked you, his voice soft and quiet.

“Yes that’s it, just write your name over here and we’re done” you said pointing at the blank space you left over his name at the end of the paper. 

He asked if you could borrow a pen for him to use and said a few “thanks” while signing the paper before leaving your office and storming out in the direction of the HQ, he never returned your pen but you didn’t even mind.

Then after composing yourself by stretching your back and taking a sip of your already cold coffee you decided to head down to the closest pub you could find, but firstly you changed your boots. Nix was right as you could use some new ones, but since you were so small compared to the rest of the guys it was nearly impossible to find some fitting boots, yet Speirs somehow got his hand in a pair just of the right size.

When you finally arrived at the bar your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of the room, you then scanned the tables looking for Nix and Dick. When you recognized the friendly faces you started to move towards them, but then you felt a tap on your shoulders and turned to see who it was. 

“Hey excuse me Y/L/N, Captain Speirs asked me to hand you this” It was Lieutenant Lipton holding an envelope in his hand, like it was a classified piece of information that could change the war. This man took his duties very seriously, you thought to yourself as you took the envelope and put it in your pocket.

“Thank you Lieutenant” you said smiling at the officer in front of you, who smiled back and took his leave joining his men at the other table. 

You then walked to the barman and asked for a beer, when you were reaching into your pocket to find some money to pay the man he shook his head and his hands as if trying to say no, he paused a few seconds trying to remember the words in your language and explained the best way he could that someone had taken care of it, offered you some food, the most glorious, golden fried potatoes you’ve ever saw in your life.

As you walked down to the table holding your plate the Easy men stared at you as if you were a goddess walking on water or something, then started to shout at the barman asking for the same food. Dick and Nix exchanged a funny look between each other and Nix tried to take some of your fries before you slapped his hand. 

When you tried the first one you closed your eyes, it hit you like a full speed train crashing into a wall, so many emotions one after another, after months of terrible stinky food there was this little piece of heaven. You took a big gulp of the beer in front of you, and then someone put another pint in front of you, and then another one, and another one. You could swear it was the best feeling in quite some time, the men shouting and laughing all around you telling tales and jokes about Toccoa Camp, Sobel or Dike or some officer they hated, Nixon pestering Dick about something, all the stuff, all at once you almost forgot the place you were, what you were fighting for. 

Forgot….. 

Then you remembered the note that Speirs left you and you suddenly felt a rush that almost made you fall off your chair. You don’t know if it was the fourth (or fifth?) beer you had but you felt your hands trembling as you opened the envelope. Inside there was this carefully folded paper, you stared at it for some time before gathering the courage to open it, just to find this beautiful handwriting, you didn’t expect to come from the toughest son of a bitch in the entire army. 

“Dearest (Y/N),

Thank you so much for your help today. I will never forget it and I will find a way to repay you somehow. One night you said that as a kid you used to eat french fries when you were feeling down, so I took the liberty to ask Matthijs the barman to do something special for you. 

I hope it brings you a piece of home! Enjoy whatever you want, he is going to put on my account and don’t even try to argue with him or me about it”

Sincerely yours.

Capt. Ronald Speirs.

“P.S: I have some more paperwork due to the next week, I hope you don’t mind”

You smiled to yourself as you read it again and again, every time your heart would jump when you stopped at the YOU, your name written, your brain froze right there as if it could take a picture just by staring. You didn’t mind that he would eventually bring more work, because somehow he managed to do so, he brought you home. 

You were tired, drunk and your head was spinning a little but if someone ever asked you then yes: it was worth it.

[ohtobeleah]

Day 12 [Blood Runs Thicker Than Water]

Summary: Charles and Logan, already in a Days of Future Past quests, take a detour when Charles feels another mutant in the Pentagon.

Warnings: Mutant abilities. Charles Xavier x F!reader. Neglect. Sensory Deprivation. Body manipulation, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 3.0k

Whumptober Prompt Day Twelve: Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It's a tragedy really, when a mature mind and a romantic heart are trapped within the same body. You can understand that happiness is not an ideal of reason, but one of imagination. Being exposed to such hostile, tortious environments makes the heart grow with envy. Longing for understanding. Compassion. 

It makes the mind question intention. Isolation. Deprivation. Two things that do wild things to a mind once full of empathy. It alters your brain chemistry. Changes your perception of reality. When people are fueled with the terror of becoming prey, you see how quickly they become a predator. 

Built-in 1943, the Pentagon is one of the world's largest office buildings, housing more than twenty-five thousand military employees on any given day of the week. Those employees are stretched over six million square feet. Six million square feet built to house the world’s most dangerous, most violent offenders. No prison, no detention centre, no off-shore bunker was good enough to keep society safe from you. 

“There's someone else down there,” Charles frowned as he slid his back slowly down the wall until he landed on the floor. His mind was racing, neurons were firing on all cylinders– something that had been suppressed for years. He could feel an agony beyond comprehension. A pain so overwhelming that it broke through the suppression and forced his mind into overdrive. Charles Xavier could feel again. “There’s another person here, we need to find them!”

“I don’t think we have time for that,” Logan frowned as he looked around, keeping an eye on the halls as they made their way deeper into the facility. Deeper below the surface of the Pentagon, one of the world's most heavily guarded buildings. It was already a shock that the two of them had managed to get this far in. “Have you got a lock on them?” 

“I can feel them, but I can’t see them,” Charles explained as he picked himself up off the ground. Your emotional turmoil had knocked the wind right out of him. “But they’re here, I know it, they need us.” 

The room they held you in was something designed right out of a horror movie. A padded room, completely isolated from everyone and anything the world had to offer. Blindfolded, chained, muzzled. You were completely stripped of all your senses. They’d taken your very identity, only referring to you as prisoner 0002. Whoever came before you, prisoner 0001, must have been held here too. 

But how could you blame society for turning their backs on you? How could you blame them for the things you’d been subjected to? How could you not understand how this was where you needed to be, that this was the only way to keep humanity safe from your power? 

Pretty easily actually. You had never once used your power for anything. You had the ability, the ease of manipulation. You had the gift, the talent, the strength. But you’d never once used your power on another human being. 

That didn’t matter though, not to your fiance at least. When he’d found out what you had the ability to do, he turned you into the government without a single moment of hesitation. He’d betrayed you on a nearly incomprehensible scale. He’d left you to rot in a prison cell you didn’t deserve to be in. 

You should have used your power on him, on everyone the second you caught onto what was happening. But the sedative they gave you had already taken effect before you could react. Before you could take control. 

You were the only known blood-bender in existence. A force of nature so powerful that the only way to make sure you didn’t cause unimaginable loss, was to lock you away, deep underground, in a maximum security building and throw away the key. 

“She,” Charles gasped as he and Logan made their way deeper underground. “She’s here somewhere,” It was the grief of a former life that Charles could feel. He had a headache so chronic that he thought for a moment his brain may expand to a size his skull couldn’t handle. “Let me try something,” He asked as the two stopped in their tracks. Logan wasn’t too happy about the detour as it was. He was on borrowed time already. A side quest wasn’t really on the cards when so much was already at risk. 

But as it happened, the Days of Future Past would have to wait for a moment. Charles was in deep. Erik would have to wait. His mind was blurred with pain so overwhelming that he couldn’t reach your mind. He could only feel your overpowering emotional turmoil with every fibre of his being. 

“Can you feel me? I’m right here,” Charles asked the void in his mind, but much to his dismay there was no answer. “I can’t connect to her, we have to keep moving.” 

“Just my luck,” Logan sighed as he followed behind a younger version of the man who had given him so much. “Come on then, put your skates on old man.” 

“Who the hell are you calling old?” Charles chuckled as they ran down the corridors, moving deeper and deeper underground to where a row of cells were. “She must be in one of these?” 

“Have you stopped to ask yourself if there’s a good reason she’s in here?” Logan wasn’t often the voice of reason in these types of situations, but as the two men stopped dead in their tracks right outside a prison door, he had to ask the question. “What if–” 

“No reason would be justifiable for the amount of pain I feel,” Charles explained as he opened the door. The room was in complete darkness. You couldn’t see a single thing behind your blindfold. Charles physically felt his heart sink into his stomach as he hit the lights to reveal you, suspended in chains in the middle of the room. “Good lord.” 

“Holy-” Logan’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “This is fucked.” He had a history of mutant experimentation, but to see this? To see you trapped inside your own body like this without any senses, was a devastating sight to bear witness to. Perhaps Charles was right? Who deserved this kind of treatment? 

“I've got no strings. To hold me down. To make me fret. Or make me frown. I had strings. But now I'm free. There are no strings on me.” You sung inside your mind. The voices were loud and prevalent. So loud they often took total control of your limited imagination. “I've got no strings. So I have fun. I'm not tied up to anyone. They've got strings. But you can see. There are no strings on me.”  Behind the muzzle that kept you quiet, you smiled wickedly with profound thoughts of total domination. One day the world would burn for what they had done to you. 

“Hello?” Charles tried to gain your attention, but it was to no avail. The way your senses had been stripped made it impossible to get your attention. “Okay Logan, help me get her down from there.” 

With reluctance oozing from his very being, Logan sliced through the metal chains that kept you suspended in the air.

“Ahh!” Your startled screams echoed off the walls from behind your muzzle as you fell. Charles was there, however, just waiting to break your fall. “What's going on!? What's happening!!” You mumbled from behind your muzzle. “This is your chance,” The voice inside your mind told you with excitement. “Take it, release your power.” 

“It's alright!” Charles tried to calm your obvious fears. “We’re here to help you, you’re safe now.” 

“Let me go!” The pain in your muffled voice. The strain in your pleas. The way you thrashed and kicked and screamed in Charles’s arms just trying to free yourself from whoever was in your cell made Logan question what true atrocities you’d been subjected to. But he still had his wits about him to not trust you entirely. 

Normal people don’t just end up in facilities like this for no good reason. Although you were a mutant, there still had to be some reason for your imprisonment that Charles wasn’t taking into consideration. 

“I’ve got you, can you feel me?” Charles asked as he took the earplugs from your ears. “I’m right here, I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” The sounds that flooded your ears were so loud it felt like they were going to force your head to explode. Like a flood bursting through a damn wall, your ears popped with the pressure change. “We’re here now.” 

“Charles, I wouldn’t if I were you,” Logan growled as he stood by with his claws ready to go. The room was eerie enough on its own. With its entirely white setting, floor, walls, and roof. But with you looking like the thing that crawled out of the well in the ring, Logan was beginning to fear the worst. He’d seen that movie in the future…

“Do you really believe this crap?” The voices were loud, overwhelmingly fierce. “Who do they think they are?” They controlled your every thought, altering your perception of reality as the only friends you knew for years were inside your own head. Coaxing you towards insanity. Holding you hostage inside your own head. 

“She’s in pain Logan, for god’s sake!” Charles snapped as he peeled your eyemask off. The overwhelming brightness from the fluorescent lights made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Retreating from the overexposure to a sense you had been deprived of for weeks. The touch you felt made your skin crawl. It burned like a ferocious fire igniting against your cells. Melting you away after years of no physical contact. 

“Here, let me.” It was your muzzle next, the very thing that kept you from being able to entertain yourself. Soon enough everything that once kept you isolated and trapped within yourself had been released from your body. 

You had been set free. 

Finally. 

“Kill them both,” The voice told you. “I can’t!” You replied as your voice cracked, it had been days since you were last able to vocalise a word. “But if you don’t kill them, they’ll kill you!” Your inner monologue, the leading lady, had a valid point. “They’re the people, they put you in here, they turned their back on you, and now they’ll pay the ultimate price.” 

“Are you alright?” Charles questioned as he watched you somewhat convulse in his arms. His eyes cautiously scanned over your body. “I’m Charles, this is Logan, we’re–” Before Charles had a chance to finish his sentence, you were in his body. “What, what are you doing?” Charles could feel you in his skin. Moving. Controlling his limbs with your mind. The blood inside his body was no longer his. It was under your full control. “Stop, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I TOLD you!” Logan hissed as he took a few strides towards you. Without looking, you had him in a chokehold. Completely unable to move against your complete control. You were bending his blood, the very life force inside us all. “What are you doing?” 

“Humanity turned its back on me a long time ago.” You snarled, rising to your feet for the first time in weeks. The feeling of freedom. The feeling of power. Nothing compared to this. “You should have left me here to rot.” You swiped your hand to the left and watched as Logan slammed into the padded wall. The sound he made as he hit the ground made your nerve endings ignite with such delight that you swore it was more powerful than any man-made drug. “Let’s see how scared they become when I give them a reason to be.” 

“Stop–” Charles tried to get inside your mind as you threatened to keep him down on his knees at your feet. “You don’t want to do this, we can help you!” 

“I don’t want your help,” You chuckled as you controlled the man at your feet by the very blood that ran through his veins. “Years, YEARS I’ve been locked away and left to rot because I was different. Because I was powerful!” You explained as tears welled in your eyes. “Because they were scared of what I had the ability to do!” 

“You’re a blood bender–” Logan asked as he stood, dusting himself off from his rollercoaster ride. “I thought you were all wiped out?” That sentence in and of itself said more than you could ever explain. Humanity was terrified of the things you had the ability to do. As far as you were aware, you were the last of your kind. A force to be reckoned with. Logan had watched what humanity had done to bloodbenders in a former life. 

“I had a friend once, a blood bender, he was good people,” Logan tried to de-escalate the situation unfolding before him. But you had Charles under your total control. Logan had met Mark in the early nineties…But your kind, blood-benders, fell victim to a genetic disease that targeted your specific genetic makeup. Wiping blood-benders from the face of the earth without a cure. Logan hadn’t thought going back in time would have time standing face to face with someone who was technically extinct. 

“Your friend,” You asked as you kept your control over Charles, his body was tense and shaking under the immense pressure you were putting on his body. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before. His mind was wide awake, in full control of his thoughts and emotions. But you had him completely under your control physically. It was a terrifying experience to not only witness but to feel. “Where is he now?” 

“Not here,” Logan’s inability to answer truthfully told you everything you needed to know. He was dead. “But I can promise you, if you come with us, we can help you live a normal–” Logan had to pause. Nothing about what his life was like was ‘normal’. He was currently propelling his mind into the past to save his future self. What about that was normal? “Ish, a normal-ish life,” He corrected himself with a slight head tilt. 

“Im going to kill your friend here,” You chuckled wickedly. “And you’re going to have to watch on knowing there was nothing you could have done to stop me.” It was a threat you truly meant with everything you had to give. 

“If you do this? If you go down this road, a road that they already assumed you’d go down?” You were listening as he continued, but your control on Charles was unwavering. “Then they fucking win, they win because they knew you’d do exactly what you’re about to fucking do and personally?” Logan sighed as he took a single step towards you. “I don’t feel like chasing you down because I’ve already got a lot on my goddamn plate at the moment.” 

“Get a bigger plate, asshole,” You replied, deciding to use the man at your feet as a weapon. “Catch.” You hissed, and with all your strength you threw Charles at Logan. The very sound of the two men colliding with one another could have given you an orgasm right then and there. But instead of sticking around to savour your handwork, you took off on foot. 

“Don’t say a goddamn word,” Charles groaned as he regained control of his own body. Logan was quick to shove the man he wished he could beat the crap out of off of him. But he couldn’t do that right this minute. “She’s afraid,” 

“She’s a goddamn liability, Charles!” Logan’s teeth would have shattered under the pressure at which he was gritting them together if he were a normal human being. But thankfully, he wasn’t. “You can’t save them all, she’s too far gone!” 

“I bet people said that about you too?” Charles replied as he got off the floor, groaning as his body throbbed from being used as a personal plaything. “Tell me, Wolverine, who gave you a second, third, or fourth chance after people turned their backs on you?” “Because you know damn well you’re looking at him,” Charles reminded the time travelling mutant of all the forgiveness he’d experienced in his over-extended life. “She needs a second chance, and if I can’t give her that, who‘s bloody going to!” 

“I hate that you’re somehow always fucking right, you prick,” Logan sighed as he tapped Charles on the shoulder. “C’mon then, let’s go fucking find her before she does something she can’t come back from.” 

“Thank you, friend.” Was all Charles said as he walked alongside Logan. “A blood bender, that’s a new one.” It was the smile that crept itself across Charles’s face that made Logan question if it was really just about giving you a redemption arch, or if Charles had other, deeper investments in you. 

“You felt her pain, you know what she’s been through, don’t you?” Logan asked as the two men made their way back to the elevator. Taking notice of the trail of dead bodies with blood coming out of their eyes, ears and noses. 

“There no more damage that neither I, nor you can do in the hopes of saving her from herself, that would ever come close to what she’s been through,” Charles sighed as he looked at the destruction around him. 

“She needs our help, even if it kills her.” 

***********************

[leslie057]

to kiss away the fevers of girls;

pairings: jonathan/nancy, jonathan/original female character

rating: m

word count: 3.5k (chapter 1)

summary: after a near-death experience, nancy clips through dimensions and incidentally fuses with the body of pierson adams—jonathan's girlfriend in an alternate reality.

read on ao3

@jancyweeks day 2: upside down

The name for it is paradoxical lucidity—clarity where there should be none. She knows this because of Titus Andronicus. How someone can be so sharp, so productive and driven, at the height of their madness…a dumb plot device, but realer than real. It happens. The biggest revelations, the most comprehensive strategies, they just come to her when she’s at rock bottom. This was her baby sister that was lost (still is lost), and what, everyone really thought she would wait an additional day for them to make their plan? When waiting might as well be surrendering?

She’s never cared any less about Elizabethan revenge tragedies than she does right now; Titus didn’t go through any of this bullshit.

All she can think about is being held. All she wants is to not be completely alone when she dies like this, paralyzed on a damp bed of failure.

The concept of terminal lucidity fits right in there with paradoxical lucidity. Premortem Nancy is currently experiencing a clarity more brilliant than the Cullinan Diamond. I shouldn’t have snuck into the radio station. I shouldn't have taken ammunition that belonged to Hopper. I shouldn’t have crawled onto my new ex-boyfriend in his camping cot just because I was sad, and I shouldn’t have told him we could try sleeping together as friends. I shouldn’t have snuck out of the radio station after. I should have never gone to the woods by myself. I should have never assumed that I would see signs of my sister. I shouldn’t have kept going when I noticed the layer of ash on the forest floor getting thicker. I shouldn’t have denied that I was already in the Upside Down, that it had come to me. I shouldn’t have made so much noise, and I shouldn’t have called out to Holly, and I shouldn’t have shot at the Inverwasps that Henry was somehow, somewhere, controlling. Nobody with a brain would shoot at giant, swarming wasp creatures. Nobody with a brain would try to shoot an ordinary wasp, for God’s sake.

How such insects thrive in a place as cold as this, she has no idea. How they developed fur and extendable teeth, she has no idea. There are more mutations than she could have ever imagined. It almost seems that the inactive sectors of the dimension were recently awakened (maybe when she tried to kill their puppeteer) and forced into a state of frenzy. If she had to guess, it won’t be long before they all pour out into Hawkins and beyond. The two worlds may very well coalesce within weeks.

It happened fast; she was weaving calmly and swiftly through the trees, pleading with a six-year-old to follow the sound of her voice, and then the nest fell suddenly, and then she was curled up on the ground and they were all over her. She wasn’t prepared for anything like that. She wasn’t prepared.

Her strategy had been courageous, not comprehensive.

Whimpering, she covers her head and face. They are not merely stinging, they’re also cutting with their conical incisors, over and over again. Her breath is quick, her pulse erratic as the territorial pests compete for her inside her clothing, each buzzing wingbeat sending tremors through her body. They have a weight to them, confusingly, a weight that bears down hard. She can feel fur that’s like crushed velvet as their teeth slice into her flesh, tiny cuts that should burn more but are becoming numb.

Years ago, at the front of a science classroom, she presented on the topic of snakes because Mike loved them so much. He was in the first grade, and his class often came to sit in for big kid presentations. Snake venom is a complex cocktail of proteins and enzymes designed to immobilize and subdue prey. In humans, certain types of venom, especially neurotoxic varieties, can interfere with nerve signals and lead to paralysis. By blocking the communication between nerve cells and muscles, the venom freezes victims and can rapidly incapacitate a person if untreated. He was itty bitty, and he was fascinated. Didn't scare him one bit.

She cannot say the same of herself.

A part of her had expected it to end this way. Not in these woods, not on an arbitrary Wednesday night, not under a colony of supernatural bugs, but in the collapse of everything she had tried to hold together. Holly is thoroughly missing and has been for days. Everyone else was pausing, resting, waiting to think of something while Nancy had rushed ahead, as always, unable to sit still when every moment felt like one wasted. She’d thought she could handle it. Now, as the unearthly creatures gnaw at her, she realizes she was treating her life a little bit like a game…

continue ↴

[theminecraftbee]

to continue on the “aus that exist in my head that I won’t write” train, one more inspired by this season of life series, that I would be more likely to write if I didn’t already owe writing a different superhero au dammit:

jimmy is a c-lister superhero. undecided on his power, but it’s like, relatively unimpressive, he’s a very local-scale guy, often gets kicked around by the actual a-lister’s rogue’s gallery so that the threat appears more serious level. he is a BIT resentful of this, and often schemes around to try to figure out how to get more notoriety and respect. these schemes are frequently bad, but hey, who’s counting?

grian is… not a c-lister, for sure. he’s a fairly notorious supervillain who finds jimmy’s general patheticness HILARIOUS, and therefore intentionally seeks jimmy out to bother all the time. in fact, grian would probably be capable of being a much higher-tier threat if he didn’t find tormenting jimmy so funny, but tends to be treated as a like, local rogues gallery type of villain because he has become totally derailed from applying himself to villainy.

joel is jimmy’s best civilian friend and ALSO one of grian’s henchmen. he sees no conflict of interest here. don’t worry about it.

this is the status quo for a while until, one day, a real threat arrives. we’re talking reality-threatening, truly evil, almost beyond human comprehension levels. it’s an all-hands-on-deck situation if you’re a superhero. jimmy, despite being wildly outclassed, shows up to the fight and gets the shit kicked out of him. grian panics, goes “NO ONE’S ALLOWED TO DO THAT BUT ME?”, kidnaps jimmy, and drags him to his evil lair to treat his injuries.

they argue a bit after jimmy wakes up, grian gloats about having “captured” jimmy for a bit, jimmy admires grian’s countertops, they just sort of hang out together. it’s going fine, right up until they see grian and jimmy’s faces on the tv. see, the powers that be want to have a victory. heroes are currently grieving the destruction that reality warper caused. and a villain that kidnaps a hero in the wake of a great tragedy? yeah, fantastic target for their ire. grian’s been upgraded to a massive manhunt.

and, of course, if they catch that jimmy’s actually just been mostly chilling…

before they can figure out how to solve that one (“turn themselves in” what on earth are you talking about that’s illegal), joel shows up, breathless. he has proof the reality-warper is still around, and no one believes him.

a hare-brained scheme is formed: they save the day, and surely THAT will get them out of this one, right?

anyway like I said not writing this but if I DID the title would be “villain arc”,

[accidentalbi]

pinterest quotes that make me feel an indescribable itch in my brain

" Weird hill to die on, but at least you're dead. "

" In a fight, they're lethal. Around each other, they melt. "

" Two broken souls scarred with the wounds from their demons, playing a dangerous game of trust and love. "

" Have you ever seen the hell in someone's eyes and loved it anyway? "

" Breathe through the fear and walk through the fire. "

" I sat and sat. Something was wrong inside me. I felt it inside my stomach and I didn't know what to do. So I laid down on the floor. "

" I aim to be lionhearted, but my hands still shake and my voice isn't quite loud enough. "

" Every angel is terrifying. "

" I'm extremely devout, but nobody can figure out what I'm worshipping. "

" Evolution was a mistake. I want fangs. "

" The eighth deadly sin is actually being mean to me, but they keep that one a secret. "

" My house is haunted because I live here. "

" She has angel eyes, the devil's grin, and tattered wings. "

" I don't study, I consult the lore. "

" If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell. "

" Your movements are so cryptic and wraith-like. You've got, like, a precise and deadly energy. You seem unkillable. "

" The horrors may be beyond your comprehension, but I comprehend them perfectly. "

" This man can't be fixed. I can fuck him, though. Maybe that will calm him down. "

" Finally the demon is down and looking peaceful. "

" I'll fuck you eventually, relax. Let me be funny first. "

" I want him broken. I want him resentful and tired. I want him uncontrollable with anger and vengeance. I want him irreversibly unhinged. "

" Oldest daughters are some of the toughest men you'll ever meet. "

" Throw me to the wolves and I'll come back leading the pack. "

" I know she is unhinged, responsible for multiple atrocities, and a danger to herself and others. But have you ever considered that she is tiny, and sad, and I love her? "

" Hold the fuck up. I'm the fuck up. Hold me. "

" I wasn't born to be soft and quiet. I was born to make the world shake at my fingertips. "

" You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature. "

" Is this what I get for loving a god? "

" You're a little tragedy, aren't you? "

" You and I both know this ends in blood. "

" They made you into a weapon and told you to find peace. "

" Nobody smart plays fair. "

" Anything you can do, I can do bleeding. "

" You want battle? I'll give you war. "

" I saw magic in his eyes. Dirty, dark, beautiful magic. "

" You're a weapon, and weapons don't weep. "

" I fear no evil. The shadow is mine, and so is the valley. "

" What doesn't kill me better run. "

" I might be a sinner and I might be a saint. "

" Not a god's chosen, but a god's cursed. "

" Sir, that's my emotional support knife collection. "

" What, pray tell, the fuck. "

" We can simultaneously be human and monster. Both of those possibilities are in all of us. "

" Looking half a corpse and half a god. "

" Be the reason why the lights flicker when you enter a room. "

" I don't take orders. I barely take suggestions. "

" The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me. "

" I like storms. They let me know that even the sky screams sometimes. "

" Are you praying again? How raw are your knees? How often will you repent? "

" The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood. "

" Loyal to few, ruled by none. "

" If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together. "

" Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down. "

" I hate when people ask me what sign I am. Bitch, I'm a sign from god, start running. "

" His grin was always halfway a smile and halfway a threat. "

" The fastest way to a man's heart is by tearing a hole through his ribcage. "

" Crooked grins, sly hands, and one dangerous voice. "

" True evil is, above all things, seductive. "

" Bite the vampire first to establish dominance. "

" My immense self-hatred vs my delusional god complex. "

" I'm not in danger. I'm the danger. "

" Bare those teeth and snarl, baby. "

" This howl… isn't from a dog. "

" You want to play dirty? Fine. Let's play dirty. "

" Your hands are scarred from murder and yet I trust them completely. "

" You got a taste for blood when you were licking your own wounds. "

" Rome wasn't built in a day. But it burned in one. "

" I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important. "

" How many centuries deep is your wound? "

" Just like the moon, half of my heart will always love the dark. "

" I don't think you're truly mean. You have sad eyes. "

" It is not Hell if you like the way it burns. "

" The sun watches what I do, but the moon knows all my secrets. "

" Yes, it's dangerous. That's why it's fun. "

" Fuck therapy, I'm becoming a knight. "

" Only a monster can deal with another monster. "

" Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. "

" I could set this world on fire and call it rain. "

" I swing both ways. Violently. With a bat. Come get some, motherfuckers. "

" I suck at apologies, so unfuck you… or whatever. "

" Ah, there he is. That motherfucker. "

" I love you is a death sentence in my mouth. "

" It scares me sometimes, the emptiness I see in my eyes. "

" You walk a fine line between beautifully macabre and uncharacteristically psychotic. "

" He smelled of strawberries and depression. "

" Let's cause a little trouble. "

" Keep your head high and your middle finger higher. "

" Get in, loser, we're living past the end of our myth. "

" We sin as devils, we love as angels. "

" Like it's my fault my love language is acts of service and all I know how to do is kill. "

" I have learned that pleasing everyone is impossible, but pissing everyone off is easy and funny as hell. "

" Liking angels in an atheist kinda way. They're just pigeons to me. "

" Why the fuck am I not a slightly ominous forest entity that you only see out of the corner of your eye on a foggy day? "

" Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime. "

" Cute first date ideas -- hand to hand combat. "

" Third base is me telling you about my father. "

" Honey, I… bought us matching swords. "

" Family isn't who you're born with. It's who you die for. "

" RIP to everyone killed by the gods for their hubris, but I'm different. And better. Maybe even better than the gods. "

" I'm not really a househusband or a housewife, I'm more like a house beast. I'm in your walls, causing mysteries and stealing your things. "

[urzfanclub]

what interests me about the end of 3 is so much is that i can see all the moving parts and where they don’t quite align but almost did… like disclaimer that im wearing my “me3 fan” shirt & probably giving them too much credit but I think the ending(s) get so much shit bc people were expecting them to be satisfying & they were so open ended… yet they almost fucking worked…. that is before they shot themselves in the foot

and everyone under the sun with far more brain power has analyzed these endings down to the last pixel & ive talked to myself about them for years but I do think (sits in my corner) one of the biggest factors in how confused and frustrated people were has to do with the lack of development during 3 for the reaper AI

just spitballing here

1) IF I RECALL RIGHTLY… the wiki glosses over your conversation with them where this is revealed… the leviathans you speak with are not the ones who first created the intelligence that would become the reapers. which is already fascinating and immediately creates a parallel between them and the quarians with regards to their creation of AI that gained consciousness and then sapience and turned against them.. inevitably (as bioware Loves to fucking write) leading to war (which is nasty in many ways and a problem they have overall, not only here.)

2) it would be not only interesting but i think its necessary for the coherence & success of the trilogy’s story to let us speak to the reaper AI outside of the “death and destruction beyond your comprehension” monologues, and if not, to at least acknowledge and discuss what the AI’s intention is within those speeches. why bother to converse with us at all…….

3) there is a definite connection between the reapers and geth from the beginning with the heretics regarding sovereign as “one of the old machines” and that really Really should have been elaborated on especially re the morning war vs the cycle of reaper harvests

4) I think this is what they were trying in part to accomplish with the synthesis ending. not to humanize the reapers in any sense but to forge an undeniable link between the reapers and EDI and the geth and the question of sapience and the validity and POSSIBILITY of one’s existence “unshackled” from a creator’s imperative. (TIM, the quarian engineers of old, the leviathans… and that’s not at all meant to imply comparison beyond their similar histories with the AI they develop, lose control of, for the most part don’t believe to be sapient. though with the quarians of course we meet members who firmly believe the geth have been wronged.) Which goes into my next incoherent bullet point

4.5) the reapers do not get the same sympathy as EDI and the geth and i think this is chiefly due to their contrasting goals; those two want to live with autonomy and dignity and the reapers only exist to destroy. (bear with me but this is one hallmark of the reapers’ tragedy, that they do not possess desires the way EDI and the geth do.) their impersonal malevolence is explained as a directive “gone wrong” but it does go hand in hand with their deliberate rebellion against their creators and their creators world (!!). similar to the geth, but in 3 we see an inarguably sympathetic side of the geth whereas the reapers do not receive this.

not that im arguing for sympathy. I do think complicating the identity of the reaper AI would have given their side of the story fascinating nuance and TRAGEDY bioware’s big favorite thang to wave around…

and none of this is going into the reapers’ sole identities as tools of conquest and how their rebellion against the creators who trapped them within the cycle must be expressed in the cycle itself because of how they’re constructed to interact with the world around them and the values and priorities of their creators. ie a limited scope of life mandated by their creators’ will….not their own…which sounds like an echo of indoctrination to me

and while im here its a fascinating window on the reapers as an antagonistic force…they don’t have the same love of anomaly as the geth do…indoctrination is about forcing you to think like them, imposing their will over your personhood (again this is the inheritance of the leviathans) and you lose your skills and talents as you lose autonomy. versus EDI and the geth’s arcs: in part about gaining their autonomy, cultivating new skills as a part of a team with organics where both mutually seek to understand one another & cooperate. i think this is another piece of the reapers’ tragedy

5) ultimately the end (any end, but especially synthesis and control) doesn’t work due to many factors that many much smarter people have talked about at length; one being Perhaps that they invested so much into the “horror of the harvest” aspect and the “war against evil robots” aspect so they don’t have enough room to develop the AI plotline especially in 3 where it needs to gain a lot of credibility way before they attempt to cash emotional checks at their big finish. (either for synthesis or control) so the premises are fascinating but they don’t have as much weight as they could bc the reapers were not given the same screen time as the other sapient AI and so their leg of the triad falls flat

^ there’s been metric tons of meta written on why the endings don’t work and this is just a toothpick’s weight of an opinion and the application could be totally off mark but i stand by the reapers being underdeveloped in 3 and serving as setting pieces rather than characters

6) the destroy ending Fascinates me because of bioware’s choice to make that the one that offers the best hope of shepard surviving…IF we are working off the equivalency of geth - reapers - EDI (and what some of the writers have vagued about on Twitter though i dont have sources just my shitty memory) and IF we are thinking of the reapers in a similar light as sapient AI attempting to find its own place in the galaxy but ultimately stymied by their own nature as mandated by their dead creators (IE: as a tragedy)…destroy is a sad ending that irreversibly alters the ecosystem of the galaxy, since the reapers could be seen.. in part.. as a piece of the galaxy’s process of succession..but at the same time they are very Very much a horrific artifact of the leviathans�� empire

& the fact that the story of the trilogy says that’s all the reapers are & that’s all they can ever be without any hope of change is honestly kind of sad. versus edi & the geth whose hope of positive self definition is almost like this autonomous recursion that proves itself against the reapers’ tragic doom by virtue of existence

& im going off the rails here but imo control ending could have been possibly more hopeful in its way, if the reapers had been developed in 3 half as much as EDI… you could approach it in bitter-er or sweeter angles but either of those would require bioware to take a stance (or the illusion of a stance) instead of hand-wavy “isn’t that bizarre and fucked up? goodnight” which doesn’t quite work anyway for a story with as much of a plotline about coming together to stand against despair and oblivion as 3 has. In my honest and biased opinion.

and to imply that the destroy ending is where shepard might have a chance to live… always seemed very haunting to me that you (possibly part machine via cerberus) may live to see an entirely new galactic future only if you irrevocably destroy this first and oldest of sapient AI. and then they made it so all other sapient AI, taking steps toward a new form of self definition for the first time in their cycle’s history, in..id argue..a rejection of any remnant of the leviathan empire… die with their predecessors by your fucking hand. yeowch

But then again. bioware and tragedy

[growling]

Half the Evil NPD symptoms/traits of mine that other people lament over being toxic or utterly beyond comprehension for the average normal human mind aren't actually at least in my case (to reiterate I am only talking about myself in this post and myself alone) that hard to grasp or harmful at all. Or aren't like, making me into Patrick Bateman (though that'd be sick if true) or whatever like for the longest time I thought that only personally caring about people/events if they're relevant to you (or interesting enough to warrant your attention) in some way was just how everyone felt. And like, I'd say first of all a lot of things are personally relevant to me regardless of what they are, like, if an event that I'm not involved in amuses me greatly then I'm gonna have feelings on it (I mean yeah ig it sucks when this decade's 1000th tragedy occurs and all that my shit idiot brain organ can think is "yes hahaha yes something is Happening now entertain me peasants!!!" but like thought crimes/offenses arent real honestly who cares what this one guy on tumbler thinks and literally never voices because im trying to get a good grade at good person), or if something bad happens to one of people I've decided for a reason are mine (don't get put off by the wording dw abt it my psionic warriors), then I'm gonna be pissed on their behalf as that is a slight against me by proxy........ Me in my EVIL narcissist cave lair USING you for genuine human connection by facilliating an ILLUSION that I like you by regularly ACTING compassionate of your feelings and respectful of your needs and boundaries because I have CLAIMED you like an ALPHA to your OMEGA ARF ARF AWOOOO there is NOTHING you can DO ANYMORE you are now my PROPERTY that I'm gonna PRETEND to treat very kindly just to MAKE you happy and be NICE to me BACK!!!!!!! THE HORROR!!!!!!!!!!! I wanted to add more points re: supply, what it means to """use""" or """manipulate""" someone for it or some other means, and billion other examples but along the way I lost the ability to articulate myself anymore so now it's just that,,.

Like idk I like to believe I'm still just a silly goofy guyyyy :<<<

[the-desolated-quill]

BBC’s The War Of The Worlds blog - Episode 2

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Never before have I witnessed something this god awful. I’m actually gobsmacked. I knew Peter Harness was a terrible writer, but I didn’t think even he could fuck up this badly. I was utterly dumbfounded by the end of the second episode. I couldn’t believe what I just watched. Not only does this fail as an adaptation of War Of The Worlds, it fails as a story in and of itself.

The problems with Episode 2 surface almost immediately within the first few minutes. A flash forward to a post apocalyptic Earth where we see Amy taking care of her son as humanity struggles to survive because of the red weed (which doesn’t look terribly convincing sadly, but that’s the least of this series’ problems). From there the episode continuously switches back and forth to the invasion and the aftermath throughout, which completely ruins the pacing, but it’s actually even worse than that. These flash forwards also giveaway the ending of the story. That the Martians end up losing. Harness tries to act all clever-clever with it by having British propaganda claim that the army defeated them, but the damage has already done. Thanks to this reveal, Harness has successfully managed to completely suck all tension from the story completely. The Martians no longer pose a threat because we, the audience, know they eventually lose, and we know that Amy at least survives, so at no point do we ever worry about her safety. I was absolutely flabbergasted when I saw this. I couldn’t believe any writer could be this stupid as to sabotage their own story by completely defanging their villains. As for the red weed slowly killing the planet, not only do I feel this unnecessarily complicates a perfectly simple narrative, it also opens the door for humanity to overcome their Martian oppressors when the whole point of the original story was that we only survived by the skin of our teeth. Our human ingenuity had nothing to do with it. We’ll have to wait and see what Episode 3 brings, but I’m not optimistic.

Meanwhile the invasion itself is still just as stilted and lacking in focus as it was before. Certain scenes stand out, like the black smoke enveloping London and the Tripods attacking the ferries, but because we know the Martians ultimately lose and that Amy survives, there’s absolutely zero suspense. (And yes, I know War Of The Worlds is a hundred year old story and everyone knows how it ends, but that doesn’t mean you can’t build tension). Also because of Harness wilfully reducing the Martians to incompetent fools, he has to resort to cheap shock tactics in the desperate hopes of scaring the audience, like when we see one of the Tripods kill a baby. Or how about the bit where Amy almost gets raped in the post invasion scenes? After all that performative feminist posturing last week, it’s quite galling to see such a sexist trope be used here for a cheap bit of drama. It’s fucking pathetic.

And once again the focus is in all the wrong areas. Instead of depicting the horrifying events of the Martian invasion, Harness is more preoccupied with Amy and Rupert Graves’ character (I’m sure he has a name, but I can’t be bothered to remember it at this point) squabbling every five minutes. Guys! Humanity is being destroyed by fucking aliens! Can this not wait?!

I’m assuming the whole baby killing thing was an attempt to show us the selfish nature of man or something, but George and the Artilleryman barely make the effort to actually look for the baby and the scene doesn’t go on nearly long enough to get us invested in the search and their eventual failure. The baby is practically thrown away just so Harness can have a moment where social media will go ‘OMG, they killed a baby in War Of The Worlds! How edgy!’ And the annoying thing is the book does actually have morally grey and shocking moments that Harness could have adapted if he wasn’t too busy trying to second-guess the audience and show what a dark and edgy writer he is. There are two important characters in the source material that the narrator encounters who offer different points of view on the events of the novel. There’s the priest who we see slowly lose faith in God and become more and more panicked and erratic, and there’s the Artilleryman, who represents British colonial attitudes, believing that humanity will ultimately triumph when the evidence clearly doesn’t support this. Here the Artilleryman is played by Dudley Dursley himself Harry Melling, who does a decent job with the material he has been given, but unfortunately the character he’s being forced to play is just utterly inadequate.

Continuing with his trend of writing allegories to things that have nothing to do with War Of The Worlds, Peter Harness takes the opportunity to comment on military conscription, even though conscription wasn’t introduced to the UK until 1916. So now the Artilleryman isn’t some impressionable nationalist that has willingly bought into imperial dogma, but rather he’s a scared little bunny rabbit forced to fight a war against an enemy beyond his comprehension. Worse still, George gets conscripted into the military for literally no fucking reason. He doesn’t get given a gun or anything and despite the fact that he knows more about the Martians than the soldiers do, none of them fucking listen to him when he tries to explain the heat pulse thing or why it might not be a good idea to shout at a Tripod. Then, when they think they won the battle, the captain points his gun at George and forces him to wade into the marshes and investigate. Again I must stress that George doesn’t have a gun! It’s just utterly contrived!

Oh but don’t worry. Harness finally addresses what the source material is actually about. British imperialism and colonialism. Unfortunately he does it with the subtlety and nuance of a giant steamroller driven by Marilyn Manson. Now admittedly the book isn’t very subtle about it either as the narrator comes right out with the comparisons between the British and the Martians, but the thing is the book gets away with it because it’s told from the perspective of a journalist writing about his own experiences after the fact. H.G. Wells has the licence to draw direct parallels because the narrative form he has chosen allows him to. A TV series however - a visual medium - cannot get away with this. Harness, not having the faintest idea how to address the themes of the source material organically in the visuals or the plot, resorts to sledgehammer tactics to get the point across. In the flash forwards to post apocalyptic Britain, we see Amy’s son reading a book that details how the British defeated the Martians as part of some propaganda initiative. A speech is made about how powerful and unstoppable the British Empire is, whilst intercut with soldiers having their arses handed to them by the Tripods. We see several characters maintain a stereotypical ‘stiff upper lip’ attitude as though the Martian invasion was a minor inconvenience instead of a shocking tragedy. There’s even a moment where the Minister of War is babbling on about how much more powerful the Empire can become if they can use Martian technology before succumbing to the Martian’s black smoke and we see literal bile foam from his mouth. It’s all so painfully on the nose and doesn’t offer any intelligent points or topics for discussion other than ‘empires are bad.’

And that’s not to mention all the other contrivances and annoyances in this episode. Despite Eleanor Tomlinson giving it her all, I still couldn’t give two shits about her character. Rafe Spall’s performance as George is still utterly atrocious, running around with a gormless expression on his face as though he’s just lost his wallet. Rupert Graves is utterly wasted as George’s brother and has no good material to work with. We also have a little girl join the group in a desperate bid to draw some sort of emotional reaction from the audience (it doesn’t work) and we have a sick older woman who serves no purpose whatsoever as far as I can see. In fact she really pissed me off due to the way in which she gets poisoned. It’s clearly meant to be there to establish the Martians terraforming Earth, but good God it’s stupid. How does she get poisoned? By drinking a random cup of water someone had just happened to leave lying around in the middle of a field.

I... I... Harness.... Harness, does your brain work?! How the flying fuck did you ever manage to get a career as a writer?!?!

BBC, I beg of you, please stop using our TV licence fees to fund hack screenwriters’ poorly thought out and unentertaining fanfiction!

PLEASE!

[cannotgiveafuck]

Billy Batson & Captain Marvel identity analysis (long post ahead)

Alrighty then! So I contemplated posting this bc it's so closely tied to the wip fic, buuuut here it is. Ive never been really satisfied with how some media portray this character bc they either lean too far towards childish or angry, or divide the identities too much. And whilst writing the fic I thought about how I wanted to portray him and what that entailed. A long semi comprehensive ramble of headcanons and character analysis based on the individual and combined identities of Billy and Marvel!

First, we have Billy. This kid who's parents died on a work trip, was left in the care of a greedy/selfish old man that did not care for him at all, has bounced through foster homes for a plethora of reasons (some of which are behavioral or abusive), and ultimately decided trying to make it on the streets was his best option (before being picked up by Dudley).

Now, backstory wise, it's all very obvious that Billy would have trust issues, especially towards adults (and double towards adults who try to control him). His learned attitude towards those that set their eyes on him (both before and especially after becoming Marvel) is guarded and aggressively defensive, he's snarky and sarcastic, ready to flee at a moments notice, and scared of being once again used, abused, and tossed aside if he were to trust someone. But at his soft core he desperately wants to be cared for, he wants affection and love and family, he wants a safe and secure home, he wants to believe in good.

All of this bleeds into his attitude towards his peers, too. Before becoming Marvel, he's a bit jaded and lost - his wrecked home life creating the chasm that keeps him from opening up and relating to others, from making real friends (the few exceptions being friends he considers family, and whom he is very loyal and protective of). After Marvel, Billy doesn't even try to associate with kids his own age. He stops going to school and is so focused on trying to be a good hero, he has distanced himself even more. But also, all the situations that he is exposed to really matures him. He still enjoys video games and sports, but he's also worrying about keeping Fawcett City and the world safe and working with JL - he doesn't have time nor patience for naive and clueless kids. But since he still is a kid and wants to have fun, those he let's in he holds onto and divulges everything to.

However, despite his hard outer shell, I do believe Billy is good and tries to be good and wants to see the good in those around him. A prominent and reoccurring memory of his parents is them telling him to be a good kid. That very much shapes Billy's views and ideologies. He wants to be a good person, which means he needs to help others (however he sees fit, from stopping bullies to carrying an old ladys groceries), but also realize that there is good all around him in everyone else, too. He has kind neighbors, and a community that helps each other, he knows everyone has their own struggles and they may direct negative emotions outward but may just need a helping hand in return. Billy knows suffering and cruelty and does not want to cause that, he wants to end it. So, theres this conflict inside him that he views as being smart vs being good. His true sunshine and trusting demeanor is boosted when he is chosen by Shazam, because now he has this divine and worldly responsibility to do and be good. And while he does not hold value in himself (abandoned and abused orphan does not hold a high confidence or self esteem level), he also wants to prove that he is worthy of inheriting this power, that there is good in this world and in him.

Now, second we have Captain Marvel. This is where identities become...complicated. The way I see it, Marvel is a mesh of 'Billy Batson', 'The Potential Adult Billy Could Be', and 'The Vessel of The Greek Gods Powers'. Since I've gone over Billy's identity, it transfers onto Marvel pretty seamlessly. So as The Adult Billy, he is still Billy Batson, but the grown up version, comfortable in his skin and in social standings with others, he is without the limiting physiological responses and capabilities of being a child. Despite all his experiences, Billy is still a kid - a bit awkward in his growing body, he's impulsive with his emotional responses, he jumps to conclusions and is very one track minded, has a hard time putting words to thoughts or instincts and understanding certain things and intentions (situations being very black and white). But as Adult Billy who is Marvel, he still sees through the same eyes, but he can filter distractions and pause to think through reflexive emotions, and he has a better understanding on just how morally grey the world can be, a gained clarity on other intentions and livelihoods, and he can empathize and read other's emotions in more detail than just the basic happy/mad/sad. Basically, Billy's brain has physically grown to that of an adult.

On the other hand, there is also what I like to believe is a...sort of third will in what makes Captain Marvel. He is, for all intents and purposes, a vessel or an avatar of sorts. He is a Chosen Champion by the Wizard Shazam to wield the powers of the Greek Gods (specifically the Greek gods, bc...well, that's a whole other post to ramble on), hes the mortal connection between them and the human world, their gift to the humans as a protector, as the guiding light of good. He is a symbol and title beyond one person. It is much like the mantle of Batman being passed on, except instead of all the gadgets and tech and databases...it's experiences and memories and wisdom gained by the previous Marvels, and available when properly called upon. Captain Marvel is like a reincarnation every time there is a new chosen champion. Billy is himself, but there were also others before him, other Marvels that existed and lived that can be remembered.

There is, however, a weird side effect to this being that the more in touch and immersed with these previous Marvel's he becomes, the more he slips away from himself - less Billy and human, more ancient and disconnected. He loses Billy's mannerisms and speech pattern and warm empathy, he still follows the ideology of good, but the charisma is gone, he's distant and cold.

All of this makes for a very interesting and fun way of writing Marvel and Billy - in how they each think through situations, how they each interact with the same people, how they each react to everything. And that's including how the same people react and treat each of them differently. Someone may see and treat Billy as a kid, but with Marvel they interact with and see an adult, a peer. When someone knows who Marvel really is, they need to consciously remind themselves that Marvel is Billy is a kid, because literally everything about Marvel screams at their senses that he's an adult (sunshine naivety aside). He still walks and talks and looks and is capable of thinking like an adult. It's not a situation of a couple of kids standing on top of each other in a trenchcoat or a kid dressing and doing their makeup like an adult. Magic has made him an adult, sort of.

At the core of it, the one experiencing and remembering and feeling everything is a child. There is no separating that, he is a different face of the same coin. So while Marvel can handle the emotional and mental exhaustion and stress of the situations he is put in, Billy Batson is going to suffer through the replays when everything is done. Because superheroing is not all saving lives and being praised, it's seeing people be hurt and bleed, interacting with the worst of humanity and others, witnessing tragedies and death in small intimate encounters and in large numbers. He is the one that will have nightmares and trouble sleeping, he is the one that will bear the brunt of the trauma and remorse, navigating detailed memories of violence and how it felt to hurt, wondering why there are phantom pains and aches when his body is not damaged, all with no trusted support system to turn to (because if he does, will the JL just see him as a child who cannot handle being a hero? will they turn him away?). Billy is the one having his childhood and innocence ripped away from him for the sake of the world. There are consequences of being the chosen champion, and while Billy is willing to accept them, will continue to fight and uphold his divine duties, will put others before himself every time, it wont make be easy.

The potential of how complicated Billy and Marvel can be, and how other heroes cannot fully comprehend it without a trusted in depth discussion (only Black Adam can understand and lemme tell you, that's a hot mess) - that's what makes him and his situation so interesting and fun to write.

[skyforgrinding]

Conclave

Special Agent Angel Barnes springs from the helicopter. For a slice of a second they hang over London, wrapped in tendrils of warm smog. Then gravity tracks them down, draws Barnes earthwards; a dart through the darkening sky, a bolt of resolve, an explosion through the glass roof of the laboratory.

An instant of cacophony, the hard impact of a plastic floor reverberating through surgically repaired knees, and Barnes is up. A cluster of lab-coated men and women are a flurry around them, rushing for the exit, a flock of white and panic. Through the gaggle of scientists emerge three men in blue, nondescript muscle, products from the goon factory. Barnes reaches into old routines, lethal muscle memory. Shards of glass, kicks to groins, a flurry of fingers to pressure points. The room empties further.

“Efficient as always, Agent Barnes.”

In the corner of the lab Augustus Gold steps away from a spinning contraption; metallic wheels, steel tubes, crunching gears. It is topped by a large glass dome that glows faintly. Gold grins at Barnes, gestures to the shattered ceiling. “Thank you for…dropping in.”

The amusement immediately vanishes from Gold’s face. “I’m sorry. Old habits. You remember that time in Monte Carlo? We must have been making terrible jokes for longer than we actually fought.”

Barnes, filling with a creeping confusion, steps back. “Gold. What are you up to this time?”

Gold sits on a high stool and folds his arms contemplatively. “That’s still the old script, Angel. I’d really prefer to go in a different direction, if you don’t mind too much? I’m sure you feel it as much as I do – the years, the weight of everything we’ve done, the relentless…the relentless everything.”

Angel Barnes feels a whirl of blurred understanding, quasi connection. The thought flashes through their brain, crackling with oddity, that they should take Gold’s hand. They grope back towards the mission.

“Just answer me, dammit! What are you doing here? Your evil science will never let you rule the world!”

Gold chuckles. “Oh, of that I’m quite aware.”

He rises and paces to stare out of the window at the spreading black of night. “My mind was always my gift and weapon, Angel. I thought I had an obligation to rule the world, simply because I was the only one who could do it.  But you beat me, again and again, and I got old, and I got tired, and my ego sagged. The lives I’ve taken, the violence I’ve committed…all because I didn’t understand how to reach people. Or how to be reached. But I’m not alone in this. We are all flailing without seeing, struggling to comprehend each other whilst barely even understanding ourselves.  Empathy is a small flame in a dark world, and it is no longer enough. It is time for barriers to fall.”

Barnes would normally have said something like “You must have one hell of a therapist”. But now they are baffled and backfooted, Gold’s words disorientating as much for their resonance as their incongruence.  All Barnes can manage is a repeated, faltering demand for answers.

“You were never one for patience,” Gold observes. “A few minutes and you’d know everything. But I’ll explain the old-fashioned way, if you insist.

“The only way for the world to truly prosper is through understanding. Connection. And what holds back those connections is the brute fact that we each exist in our private universe, worlds constructed within the meat of our brains by the blunt edge of unique experience and the unknowable storm of the endocrine system. Isn’t that a tragedy, Angel? You and I, we could talk for an hour, a week, a year, and yet never truly, fully, share what it is like to ­be each other. How could we thus fail to come into conflict?

“But things do not have to be this way. They will not be this way. Behold.”

Gold moves back to his device, presses a gently glowing mauve button. The dome that tops the machine fills with a swarm of moving metal, shining particles that turn in on each other and themselves.

Barnes feels a stirring of a recognition not their own. “Nanotech!”

Gold smiles paternally. “Quite so. I see it’s beginning to work.”

“What?”

“The machine before you does indeed produce nanites, and they already circle this laboratory, invisible when not collected in mass. As soon as you entered the room, so they entered you. They have begun the process of re-wiring your brain so that your thoughts are transmitted to those around you, and so that you can receive the thoughts of others. The range is somewhat limited presently, but when I release the nanites to the world I’m confident it can be increased to at least- ah! And there you are. We don’t need to be so primitively verbal.”

We’re together now.

Angel Barnes reels to their knees. Gold’s thoughts infuse their mind, meeting their own and sparking in reaction, senses firing haphazardly, a pungent neuro storm. In an instant Barnes sees – feels - everything Gold had said is true. And more than that, they see and feel and live Gold himself.  They plunge into the twisted cavern of Gold’s early trauma, are subsumed in his mistakes and how he lived with them, and trace how the entity that is Gold emerges from the war inside him. 

Barnes sees awful deeds, even worse than they knew or could have expected, and tries to draw back in aghast condemnation, but cannot flee, can only remain and see those acts as part of Gold, a swirling mess of regret and evil and desperation for salvation; not forgivable, not redeemable, but human, and, through Barnes, understood.

And overarching it all, Barnes sees and feels Gold’s determination that the boundaries between humans must fall, for a peaceful world to rise in the rubble.

Almost simultaneously, Barnes feels a reciprocated comprehension. They feel Gold drinking in their own mind, an involuntary unfurling of everything, parallel experiences coming together like swatches of matching colour. Gold sees Barnes’ cold, formal childhood and the repressive, ordered systems that infused Barnes with a conflicted, angry patriotism and flung them like at the world like a shard of hammered steel. The secrets Barnes has kept, the protective solitude they have wrapped themselves in, and the lives they have ended in the name of imperial justice are utterly seen. Gold feels the blood on Angel’s hands. But Gold and Barnes are together, beyond condoning or condemning.

Barnes cries. It is all too much.

Calm yourself. It’s hard at first. But the mind adapts, and then thrives. Now, you understand. Now, we can save the world together.

Time passes. Barnes is unsure how much. They swirl in the insane soup of emotions Gold has wrought upon them. But self-sufficiency has always been Barnes’ home. Whether labelled as unemotional superiority by jilted lovers, or as stiff upper lip machismo by condescending relics in secretive corridors, Angel Barnes has known themself, and even now, in the midst of their maddening connection to Gold, Barnes is able to use the chill that they were formed in to find a quiet cell within their mind, to see themselves, and to think, and to know what must be done.

What you have done to me is beautiful and abhorrent. You believe you have changed, Gold. But you have merely brought your usual methods to a different aim. You altered my brain without my consent and would do the same to billions more. You would expose the vulnerable and the discriminated against to abuse and coercion, when they are longer even safe within their own minds. It is too much. You are too much. I see you, I love you, but stand down.

Gold cries out in frustration, moves to his machine, hand on a lever, and Barnes knows he is about to release the nanites to the oblivious city.

Barnes feels the recoil of the gun in their hand, only just aware that they had drawn it.

Gold falls, and his mix of pain and fear and betrayal and burgeoning acceptance floods over Barnes. Barnes kneels beside their enemy and takes his hand.

I must have made an error. The nanites should have made you understand.

Barnes shakes their head. They did. But understanding is not agreement.

Gold coughs. It should be.

Barnes laughs, surprising themself. You don’t understand understanding. You think loss of privacy is a price worth paying. I understand, yet I disagree. You assume understanding brings agreement, but…

“But you and I, here and now, disprove that,” Gold says. “How could I not have foreseen this?”

Barnes wipes blood from Gold’s mouth. “You could never see beyond the certainty of yourself.”

“So it was all in vain,” Gold manages to wheeze. “If being laid bare to each other cannot bring us together, then whatever can?”

“We rely on the same things humanity has always relied upon – a slow, incremental progress, a small hope that each generation can be a little more open and noble than the last. That small flame of empathy, tended and protected.”

“Then we are doomed, ultimately.”

“Quite possibly.”

Barnes sits next to Gold, and as if it had been a premonition, finds their hand in his.

“I can’t feel your mind anymore,” they say.

“The nanites automatically deactivate when someone is dying,” Gold explains. “I didn’t want to expose anyone to feeling another person pass.”

“Most considerate. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet. There’s still time to get a doctor.”

“No, no. I’ve made enough mistakes. This will do for an ending.”

[ihearthillary]

Those opposed to gun control regularly cite the second amendment, granting US citizens the right to bear arms. But having the right to do something doesn’t make it mandatory. I have the right to smear myself in peanut butter and dance naked through my kitchen. But I don’t, because I have no interest in doing so. So why do millions of ordinary people see weapons that use controlled explosives to propel bits of metal at lethal speeds at people, and think “I need that in my house”.

Basically, why do so many want guns?

Given the diversity of gun owners, there isn’t going to be any comprehensive or obvious answer. However, there are a few scientific explanations that could help understand how this comes about.

Protection

Despite the preconceptions of many, according to a Gallup poll from 2005, the most common reason given for gun ownership is protection. Just like large dogs or security lights, guns are something people have to ensure their safety from intruders.

Some might argue this is a cop-out, something gun owners say to seem moral and credible, and maybe sometimes that’s fair. However, it’s also the most common answer given by juvenile offenders incarcerated for gun-related crimes. If you’re already in jail for gun crimes, it should be obvious why you wanted a gun, but still the most common answer among such people is “protection”.

This may seem excessively paranoid to those of us in countries where guns aren’t so familiar, but in the US at least they’re much more commonplace. I remember being struck by this on my one visit there. Even the guy supervising a car park had a gun. Why? How often does a Chrysler go on a rampage and need to be brought down?

Humans are all about self-preservation and prone to anticipating worst-case scenarios, so if you’re surrounded by people with guns, it would be logical to conclude you need one too. This doesn’t address why guns became so widespread to begin with, but it would explain why this situation persists. And if self-preservation rather than aggression is why you have a gun, you’d undoubtedly be loath to lose it.

Recreation

Another common answer for why people own guns is recreation. Target shootingand hunting are two popular recreational activities, and whatever you think of them, would explain ownership of guns by a substantial number of people. Sometimes the simple explanation is correct; people enjoy hobbies, and hobbies require equipment.

Paranoia, anger and insecurity

Many gun owners confess to feeling vulnerable or “naked” without their guns. Perhaps this isn’t surprising; having a gun gives you considerable power over people.

If you feel small, or weak, or underachieving, or anything like this, dealing with others can induce a great deal of social anxiety. A gun would provide at least one easy way where you can have the advantage over them for once, even if this reasoning only occurs at a subconscious level.

Achieving high social status is important to your typical human, and guns can play a big role in this in cultures where they’re common. Trouble is, of course, if everyone else has a gun too, then it’s not so useful. So you need more guns, or bigger guns, and on it goes. The fact that it’s more often men who own gunssuggests masculinity (toxic or otherwise) plays a part too. And while associating gun ownership with mental health issues is (rightly) considered shameless scapegoating, there is some evidence suggesting gun ownership correlates with tendencies towards anger and impulsivity. It’s reminiscent of how Douglas Adams described people who seek power, in that that those who want it the most are least suitable to have it.

Social and cultural pressures

It’s now common to see people queuing up for days on end to buy the latest iPhone. Sacrificing home comforts and hours/days of their lives, even travelling great distances, purely to buy a device which is slightly different to one they already own. Why?

Clearly there are social and cultural factors that mean owning an up-to-date iPhone is absolutely essential to many people. Why wouldn’t this be true of guns to others? If you grow up and are immersed in a culture where gun ownership is the norm, even praised, of course this is going to influence your attitudes.

Earlier suggestions that gun owners are “making excuses” for having firearms don’t make sense when you consider that, for many, owning a gun is a good thing, something to be praised for. They wouldn’t make excuses if they saw nothing that needed excusing.

Guns being a status symbol or highly-valued accessory, like iPhones and the like, would explain sheer variety of guns available, at least in the US. If guns were purely for home protection, then you’d only need one basic sort, maybe two. But no, gun enthusiasts often end up owning a wide variety of them. Unless they anticipate being besieged by armed mobs (which could be the case), this makes more sense when you assume that guns infer social status in the culture in which someone is immersed, meaning more or better guns provide higher status.

Polarisation can push this even further, beyond any rational limits.

Everything else

There are many other possible factors that could result in someone wanting a gun, most of which probably aren’t even hinted at here.

Gun ownership is more common amongst those with right—wing views, so a stronger self-interest, authoritarian personality and mistrust of other groups may make a gun feel like more of an essential item.

Modern entertainment is saturated with guns, usually in the context of good guys using them to deal with less desirable sorts. What we see in the media can, within reason, affect our views and behaviour, so if guns are regularly seen being used to save the day, then no doubt this will rub off on some.

Similarly, the making and selling of guns is also a very lucrative industry, so the companies behind it are going to promote the benefits of firearms as often as possible.

And, sadly, you always seem to get the people who acquire guns purely to do harm to others, for whatever warped reasoning motivates them.

This piece isn’t meant to justify gun ownership, it’s just an attempt to look at how it becomes so commonplace, and why so many people defend it in the face of an ever-increasing list of tragedies.

Understanding why people want to own a gun should be essential to better regulate them, because if you just rely on condemnation and blanket criticism of gun owners, they aren’t going to simply agree and hand over their weapons. They’re more likely to double down and become even more adamant that they’re in the right, making gun control ever more difficult.

With an issue so serious, this is the last thing anyone needs.

[owl-eyed-woman]

Attack on Titan Season 2 Episode Analysis - Episode 8 (Episode 33)

I should have known that this was coming. After such an action-heavy episode last week, this episode of down-time was practically inevitable. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat frustrated by the lack of concrete answers until the very end. Still, in lieu of this, this episode’s exploration of the socio-political context and the core relationship between Mikasa, Armin and Eren is definitely compelling, even if I spent most of the episode freaking out about Eren and Ymir.

The episode begins right where we left off, confirming Eren’s absolute defeat and abduction by Reiner and Bertholdt. With all the scouts flung away in the shockwave from the Colossal Titan’s impact, all resistance has been completely quashed. My god is it a bleak beginning!

This is perhaps the Scout Legion’s most comprehensive losses so far. In one fell swoop, every character is forced to start off from lowest of the low. This episode’s emotional journey, then, will focus on facing the seemingly inescapable hopelessness of their situation and rising above this despair to try and change their fate.

But before we can get to that, we first check in with the soldiers at home base who are anxiously awaiting any information.  

After several episodes of action and character development, this sudden return to Trost heralds a return to AOT’s socio-political commentary. While certainly not the main focus of AOT, political and social themes nonetheless form an integral part of this epic story and definitely warrant some consideration. Ultimately, AOT is about the way that humanity’s vices and selfishness can pose a greater threat to humanity’s survival than the titans. It only follows that these flaws are replicated in the structure and values of society as a whole.

Essentially, AOT’s society is built on a strict hierarchy of privilege and discrimination. AOT isn’t subtle about this either. These social and class divisions are explicitly literalised by the 3 walls that protect people from the titans. While the most powerful and privileged members of society live in relative safety within the centre of the wall, the poorest citizens live in regions like Trost that function as literal bait for the titans; they are purposefully put in harm’s way to protect more “valued” members of society. This is clearly a society that prioritises the rich and powerful, while exploiting the poor and powerless.

As we check in with Pixis and Erwin, it’s becoming increasingly clear that they have formed a type of alliance against the corrupt, authoritarian forces that control their society. How this alliance will play out, however, remains purposefully vague. Still, at this moment in time, there a palpable feeling of unrest in the air. So much has happened in the past few episodes that it’s surprisingly easy to forget that the Female Titan’s attack within the wall occurred only two days ago. Apart from the devastation and terror caused by such an unexpected attack, this has literally brought the war with the titans to the centre of the most privileged and insulated part of AOT’s society. In the wake of this upheaval, there is a sense that the interior’s short-sighted and selfish tyranny can no longer hold after reality has so strikingly intruded on their insulated lives.

Ultimately though, AOT is first and foremost a war story, so our primary engagement with issues of privilege, inequality and oppression needs to be based around the structure of the military as representative of this society. More specifically, we need to consider how this plays out between the Military Police and the Scout Legion. As the Military Police wait for orders within the safety of walls, a small group of them start to joke about the very pressing situation at hand, callously dismissing the threat posed by titans. Yes, they’re idiots, but this type of response is symptomatic of the corruption bred by the Military Police and enabled by this society’s values.

Fundamentally, the Military Police act as the law-enforcement, directly aligning them with the status quo. As the ultimate symbol of control and order, they enact the will of this tyrannical system and represent the dominance of these oppressive forces in this society.

Because their work as Military Police is almost entirely confined to the innermost sections of the walls, they are literally removed from the reality of the war. This insulated, privileged experience has allowed corruption and inertia to become endemic to the Military Police as a whole.

Furthermore, despite the fact that they hold the most political influence out of all of the military factions, they are, quite dangerously, the least equipped to truly challenge the titans. In this way, the Military Police demonstrate how a privileged, insular life enables humanity’s selfishness and ignorance and undermines our chance of survival and progress

So, of course, when the Military Police callously joke about the threat posed by titans, Levi responds scathingly, daring them to show some courage and put their lives on the line. This is more than just irritation on Levi’s part. This response is indicative of the deep antagonism between the Scout Legion and the Military Police due to fundamental ideological and political differences.

If the Military Police exist in the interior, insulated and ignorant, the Scout Legion exist on the margins and beyond, venturing out into the dangerous unknown. Their purpose is, quite literally, to propel humanity into the outside world, and they act as potent symbols of progress and innovation. The very nature of their task requires the Scout Legion to engage with the literal exterior of their society, in contrast to the centralised focus of the Military Police. This focus on the outside world, symbolically suggesting a focus on others rather than yourself, has naturally resulted in the Scout Legion valuing community, loyalty and selflessness. Ultimately, the values of the Scout Legion have the potential to fundamentally challenge the oppressive status quo.

In this way, the choice that many cadets face when entering the army symbolises the larger choice faced by this society as a whole. They can choose the Military Police, ensuring one’s own safety and privilege while also upholding a corrupt, oppressive system. Or they can choose the Scout Legion, putting one’s own life at risk but in doing so contributing to a progressive, positive force for change that can potentially challenge the inherently oppressive hegemony.  

But these political themes aren’t the main point of this episode. As we return to the top of wall, it becomes clear that this will be a much more intimate, focused episode. Ultimately, in the aftermath of Eren’s abduction, these socio-political questions pale in comparison to the emotional devastation of two very important characters, Mikasa and Armin.

AOT is about many things, but the heart of the show is almost certainly the relationship between Eren, Mikasa and Armin. On the surface, these three kids are all fairly simple, archetypal characters. This characterisation is elevated, however, when we consider their dynamic as a trio and the patterns of co-dependence and reliance they fall into.

In the wake of Eren’s abduction, Armin and Mikasa begin to consider exactly this, as they reflect on their relationship with Eren and just what it means for them. At this moment, we flashback to their childhood, an innocent, carefree time before tragedy destroyed their world forever. The conflicts are small, the stakes are low and no one’s life is in peril. How nice!

We’ve actually seen this kind of scene before; Eren impulsively tries to defend Armin from abusive bullies, so Armin and Mikasa are forced to defend him and perform damage control. So why does Armin remember this moment at such a dark time?

As we watch this flashback play out, it becomes clear that this scene functions as a character examination in microcosm, reiterating and reinforcing the essential foundation of who Eren, Armin and Mikasa are as people and as a trio. But more specifically, this flashbacks repositions this relationship through Mikasa and Armin’s point-of-view, revealing how they understand their relationship with Eren.  

Mikasa is the muscle of the group, using her physical prowess to diffuse the conflict at hand. She is cool and collected throughout but she is primarily concerned with keeping Eren safe. When Eren runs off without her though, Mikasa’s composure is replaced by intense distress. Even as children, Mikasa’s reliance on Eren seems to dangerously border on co-dependence.

Armin is the brains of the group - the literal voice of reason. Though he is physically inept, Armin excels intellectually, using his smarts to try and diffuse the situation, first fetching Mikasa and then trying to get Eren to see reason. However, Eren’s emotional, impulsive nature often limits Armin’s ability to calm him down, thus intensifying Armin’s guilt when Eren is put at risk because of him.

Eren is the spirit of the group, acting as its moral centre and emotional core. Even as a child, he is incredibly principled and idealistic, trying to impose justice and morality on the world around him, even if his ability to do so is incredibly limited. Because he lacks Mikasa natural fighting ability and self-preservation skills, as well as Armin’s analytical ability, he is intensely reliant on his friends to make up for his deficiencies. This reliance is complicated by the fact that Eren is incredibly independent and resentful of any attempt to help or control him.

In and of itself, this flashback could be seen as an entertaining digression. However, in the context of Eren’s defeat, this innocent memory is tainted by our awareness that this seemingly harmless dynamic of mutual dependence can become genuinely distressing or even damaging when lives are on the line. In the end, AOT paints a picture of a frankly one-sided relationship, where Mikasa and Armin try to help Eren, only to be rewarded with emotional distress and rejection when he inevitably slips out of their grasp.  

Though Mikasa and Armin care deeply about Eren and feel an immense responsibility to protect him, they always seem to be stuck chasing after him. This is partially due to the fact that outside forces constantly conspire to steal Eren away. But more importantly, Eren is the character who most clearly represents humankind’s desire for freedom; it is in his nature to push against those who would seek to contain him, even if those people are Armin and Mikasa who only wish to keep him safe.

What do you do when you can’t do anything for the person you love? When all you can do is try and fail to keep up? That’s honestly something really hard to deal with and I genuinely feel for Armin and Mikasa. In this agonising time, all they can do is wait.

In the wake of Eren’s abduction, Armin and Mikasa are forced to deal with the fact that they basically have no agency when it comes to protecting Eren. Instead, the choices that decide Eren’s fate are ultimately made by someone other themselves, with Armin and Mikasa forced to react rather than act and passively accept the hand they’ve been dealt.

Again, AOT characters must contend with their own powerless in the face of absolute despair. In the end, though years have passed since their carefree childhood, Mikasa, Eren and Armin are still just kids dealing with a horrific, life-or-death situation. They’re older and they’re stronger, but they’re still unable to truly effect change or protect those they care about.

So what can my precious children possibly do? Thankfully, in their darkest moment, Hannes appears with some nutritious military rations and some very sage advice. It’s time to break up this pity party.

Though Hannes may seem like a frivolous character with little to offer, this episode reminds us that he truly cares for and understands these kids. Hannes is in a similar situation, honestly. Like Mikasa and Armin, Hannes wants to keep these three safe from harm. His wisdom comes from the fact that he has learned to accept that this is ultimately out of his control.

You see, Hannes understands that Armin and Mikasa feel as if they have no agency over their current situation or Eren’s wellbeing in general. But he challenges this viewpoint, complicating their perception of themselves and Eren’s place in the group.

Essentially, by viewing themselves as passive and powerless, they are robbing themselves of their own agency. If they accept this perception of themselves, they are practically giving up any chance they have to change their situation. So in order to escape this self-fulfilling prophecy of disempowerment, they need to reconstruct themselves as active agents in this fight.

But more than this, Hannes realises that by constructing Eren as a passive object for them to pursue and keep safe, they have also robbed Eren of his own agency and denied his place as an actor in his own story. While Eren is frustrating in his recklessness, it’s important to recognise that he has always been able to handle himself in his own weird way. Yes, he is flawed and impulsive, but he is also strong, determined and inspiring. In the end, those qualities that make Eren so essential to Armin and Mikasa emotionally (and that so often endanger him) – his desire for freedom, his tenaciousness, his idealism – are precisely the qualities that will allow him to make it through any trial.

It’s the perfect pep talk for such a depressing situation. Hannes has successfully reminded Mikasa and Armin that their qualities in conjunction with Eren’s will keep all of them safe and ensure that they find peace and joy together.

The dynamic between Eren, Armin and Mikasa is in many ways emotionally draining and sometimes unhealthy but there is comfort and harmony in the equilibrium they’ve found between their very disparate personalities. Yes, they’ve got a lot of growing to do both separately and as a trio, but what matters the most, as cheesy as it sounds, is that they genuinely love and care for each other.  

So, with all this emotional turmoil resolved, Mikasa and Armin start to very, very angrily chomp down on their rations. No matter how bleak their situation seems, by continuing to eat, the most basic act of self-care and survival, they are making a stand against despair. In each angry bite, Armin and Mikasa are symbolically declaring their decision to never give up and somehow reclaim their place in this world, even if that just means ensuring their survival from one day to the next.

So yes, this episode is very light on plot, but nonetheless still compelling in its own right! Still, I am so, so pumped for the next episode.

[k7l4d4]

Kamen Rider Info and Ideas Part 2 (feel free to ignore)

Continuing from the last post of this nature, I’ll talk about the remaining Ryuki Riders and information on how they could be improved.

The next rider is Kamen Rider Femme, the first official Female Rider. This... this disappoints me. She didn’t even debut in the series proper, just in the movies. Kamen Rider Femme, real name Miho Kirishima, was a pickpocket on her way to moving on with her life with her sister... who was brutally murdered by Takeshi Asakura, provoking her joining of the Rider War. Partnered with the Swan Mirror Monster, Blancwing, Femme’s deck is a tragedy, as everything she apparently had was just a weaker version of someone else’s Advent Cards. Bad form Toei, bad form.

Up next, Itsuro Takamizawa, otherwise known as Kamen Rider Verde, and bonded to the Chameleon Mirror Monster Biogreeza. A corrupt business man, Itsuro seeks to leverage the Rider War for his personal benefit, hoping to rule the world. Itsuro’s fighting style is cowardly, making use of treachery in the extreme, as many of his cards involve imitating others or concealing his position.

Kamen Rider Ryuga is an odd case, as I do not think of him as a true Rider. Ryuga is a literal dark clone of Ryuki, sharing the exact same deck, bonded with the Black Dragon Mirror Monster Dragblacker, yes that is its name, for real. Twisted in the extreme, Ryuga is everything Ryuki isn’t, callous, cruel, bloodthirsty, he’s easily more twisted than Takeshi, and has far more skill in fighting than Ryuki himself.

The next rider didn’t really debut in Ryuki, but is, in my mind, the true 13th Rider, Kamen Rider Abyss. Wielding not one, but two Shark based Mirror Monsters, Abyss leverages far more immediate power than his brethren, and can even combine his two Contract Monsters into one, the fierce Abyssodon.

Now, for ways I think the show could be improved upon, the biggest one would be to make the Advent Decks more diverse and flexible. We see very little of what the Advent Decks can actually do, and rarely do we see any more esoteric powers beyond the Freeze Vent of Tiger, Knight’s Nasty Vent, or Verde’s Clear Vent.

To give examples, Femme, to make up for her lack of direct fire power, could’ve had cards that allowed her to boost, weaken, or control other Rider’s cards and abilities, as well as powers dealing with flight and maneuverability. For Ryuki, he could’ve gained more ranged options, and even abilities related to the Fire Powers of Dragredder. Knight could’ve gained some flight, as well as powers dealing with darkness manipulation and stealth. I had a more comprehensive list, but I forgot it...

Anyway, on to the next series! Warning, this one... it’s pretty dark. Kamen Rider Faiz, also spelled 555, details the journey of Takumi Inui. In the world of Faiz, humans have the potential to evolve into another race known as Orphonochs. Orphonochs are typically born when their original self dies. Upon their race developing into a cohesive group, a battle broke out between those who wished to live alongside humans, and those who wanted to replace them. The latter side won. They await the arrival of the Orphonoch King, the member of their race who will have the perfected genetic code that will keep them from crumbling to dust or bursting into flames. Orphonochs of an antagonistic bent often enjoy killing and tormenting humans for sport. They are truly cruel.

The Riders of Faiz are, of course, Faiz, but also Kaixa, which is pronounced similar to Kaiser, and Delta, along with Psyga and Orga, who appear in an alternate timeline. Riders of Faiz gain their gear through the Smart Brain corporation, the most powerful and influential company in their world, and completely under the control of Orphonoch-supremacists. The Rider Gear for Faiz works by cannibalizing Orphonoch DNA, so only Orphonochs or humans infused with Orphonoch DNA can use it, and is inevitably fatal. Many of the weapons, barring a few special exceptions, of their gear can be disguised as ordinary everyday objects, such as binoculars, cameras, camcorders, and more.

The Riders each have a subtle theme to them, in that Faiz’s gear emphasizes Speed, Kaixa’s has incredible strength and power, and Delta has a blend of both. The Gear of Psyga and Orga are both derived from Delta’s Gear, in that they are both Fast and Strong, and both are noticeably more powerful than their progenitor, although they lack ancillary gear capable of boosting their abilities, like Faiz does.

My only real beef with the show was the lack of upgrades and improvements on the gear and equipment the riders who weren’t Faiz had access to. Faiz was the only one who ever gained access to improved forms and abilities. Other than that, no real judgement on my part. That’s it for this post, I’ll send up more Kamen Rider Stuff later, possibly tomorrow.

[isonama]

“Life is never perfect. We all live some form of Option B. This book is to help us all kick the sh*t out of it.” Sandberg is the COO of Facebook whose husband of 11 years suddenly died in May 2015 during their vacation in Mexico. Their friend and psychiatrist Adam Grant helped her cope with the tragedy. This book is the result of Sandberg’s personal insights, Grant’s research, several interesting studies and inspiring stories of many who faced adversity -death, illness, sexual assault, war or other extreme hardships- and how they got over it.

Here are some important points I noted:

3 P’s that stunt ones recovery (per psychologist Martin Seligman) : 1. Personalization– belief that we are at fault for a given adversity 2. Pervasiveness – a belief that an event will affect all areas of our lives 3. Permanence– a belief that the aftershocks of the adverse event will last forever.

It is important for family and friends to reach out and acknowledge the pain and assure that they are there, rather than avoid because they are uncomfortable or not sure what exactly to say.

Journaling, or even voice-recording, could be a powerful tool for learning self-compassion. By putting feelings into words, you give yourself more power over them. At the end of the day, write down 3 things you are grateful for. Another more active form that builds self-confidence would be to write down three things that you did well in the day, the “small wins”. 

Building resilience in children depends upon the opportunities they have and the relationships they form with parents, teachers, friends and caregivers, fostering four core beliefs: 1. That kids have some control over their lives: This comes with clear and consistent communication of expectations, and giving them structure and predictability. 2. Learning from failure: Tell kids that if they find something difficult, it means their brain is growing. Foster a “growth mindset” as against “fixed mindset,” e.g. when applauding say “you tried so well” as against ” you are so smart”. The latter actually puts a cap of sorts that discourages kids to go beyond. 3. That kids matter as human beings: Listen closely to their ideas, make them feel that others notice , care for and rely on them. This helps them create attachments. 4. They have real strength to rely on and share: Help children identify their strengths. This is a great tool in life and critical after any traumatic events.

Just as family stories help children feel a sense of belonging, collective stories create identities for communities building collective resilience that is the need of the hour in today’s fragmented world.

We have blind spots- weaknesses that others see but we don’t. It is important to seek constructive criticism; one of the best ways to see ourselves clearly is to ask others to hold up a mirror.

The last part is about learning to love and laugh again, especially after a partners death. Sandberg gives statistics and stories of how prejudiced the society is, particularly towards widows, if they try to find love again. Her own case proves the point: encouraged by her family and friends she started seeing someone, the news story received some very angry and mean comments.

I found Sandberg’s intimate description acute pain she and her kids experienced day in day out quite touching, and left me teary eyed many times. It is indeed difficult to get through loss or trauma, but trying is all we can do. And if there is support of either family – friends, or if one reaches out to groups facing similar struggle, along with right tools, it becomes easier.  Also, finding greater meaning in life makes it bearable. Option B: Facing adversity, Building Resilience, And Finding Joy is well written, not too big, comprehensive and an easy read. 5 Stars of Goodreads.

Helpful Links: OptionB.org,  Facebook Page. Some thoughts from the book: “Self-compassion isn’t talked about as much as it is usually confused with self-pity and self-indulgence. Self-compassion comes from recognizing that our imperfections are part of being human.” “Children look for acceptance in drugs, alcohol and unsafe sex.” “Talk to people about their grief instead of avoiding the conversation because you are uncomfortable or you think they will not feel good about it.”

    Book Review: Option B by Sheryl Sandberg & Adam Grant. "Life is never perfect. We all live some form of Option B. This book is to help us all kick the sh*t out of it."