#and try to tie it to some sense of social justice and morality when there isn’t a meaningful connection to be made there

[msclaritea]

"An insurrection of upper-middle class white people | Will Bunch Newsletter

They flew from their affluent suburbs to the U.S. Capitol, ready to die for the cause of white privilege

The stunning pro-President-Trump insurrection that occurred at the U.S. Capitol less than a week ago must have been a carnival for one’s olfactory bulb, as the stinging aroma of tear gas blended with the pungent odors of the occasional joint, or maybe the piles of dung that some of the cruder mob members left in the hallways once graced by icons like Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and LBJ. The only thing that wasn’t in the air on Wednesday was the smell of what so many have falsely tied to Trump’s authoritarian movement — any whiff of “economic anxiety.”

When fascism finally came to America in the form of an attempted coup to halt our presidential election, it came from lush-green suburbs all across this land, flying business class on Delta or United and staying in four-star hotels with three-martini lobby bars — the better to keep warm after a long day of taking selfies with friendly cops or pummeling the unfriendly ones, chanting “Hang Mike Pence!” and generally standing athwart democracy yelling “Halt!”

Long ridiculed as deplorables rising up from the muck of Rust Belt trailer parks, the Donald Trump counter-revolution has finally revealed itself as an upper-middle-class affair.

What else can one think after seeing the photo of Jenna Ryan, real-estate broker from the upscale Dallas exurb of Frisco (also a “conservative” radio talker) posing in front of the private jet that whisked her to the Jan. 6 pro-Trump rally and subsequent storming of the Capitol, where she smiled in front of a window broken by other rioters and tweeted that “if the news doesn’t stop lying about us we’re going to come after their studios next”?

Maybe Ryan is an extreme example, but her compatriots in rushing Capitol Hill on Wednesday included a father of three from another upscale Dallas suburb named Larry Rendall Brock Jr., whose 1989 degree in international relations from the Air Force Academy apparently never taught him that it’s a bad idea to be photographed leaving House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s office in a combat helmet, tactical gear, and holding zip-tie handcuffs.

One might also expect a criminal defense lawyer like McCall Calhoun of Americus, Ga., to know that it’s surely illegal to surge past a line of cops into the U.S. Capitol, even if, as you later told a newspaper, you believed your fellow rioters wer people who “don’t want to lose their democratic republic.” Or that it’s bad form to do this after tweeting about a looming civil war or the potential hanging of President-elect Joe Biden.

Political junkies like us remember 2000′s “Brooks Brothers riot” of well-heeled GOP activists and lobbyists that successfully halted Florida vote recounting in populous Dade County. Apparently what we witnessed Wednesday was the “Pottery Barn insurrection.” As key figures who invaded the Capitol have been steadily identified over the last five or six days, it’s remarkable how many alleged lawbreakers emerged from upscale zip codes.

The stay-at-home dad husband of a physician. The son of an elected judge in Brooklyn. The owners of numerous small businesses, as well as assorted state legislators. The New York Times spent four years looking for Trump voters in Ohio diners, but apparently that’s not where they would have found failed actor Jacob Chansley, a.k.a. Jake Angeli, the infamous shirtless rioter with the painted face and horns, who reportedly hasn’t eaten since his arrest because there’s no organic food in jail.

Yes, many of the 74 million citizens who voted for the guy who then incited an attempted coup do fit the stereotype of struggling or laid-off blue-collar worker in a rusted-out rural community. But those folks aren’t the ones who can take a Wednesday off and fly hundreds of miles, let alone plunk down hundreds of dollars, to get to the nation’s hub. While the Capitol mob was bulked up with other Trumpists — including an alarming number of off-duty police officers, as well as some neo-Nazi or KKK types who’ve been around forever — it was the 401(k) crowd that formed the front line of America’s first real putsch.

If that surprises you, then you weren’t really paying attention. For the last four years, political scientists have been trying to wrap their brains around Trump’s shocking 2016 victory in the Electoral College while trying to tell us that the 45th president’s true base is a lot of things — but it’s not poor. In fact, polling guru Nate Silver noted during 2016′s primaries that the average Trump voter had a median household income of $72,000, which was both higher than the national average and also higher than the numbers that year for supporters of Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders.

Interestingly, Silver and other analysts have found that Trump performs particularly well with voters with high incomes yet often without college diplomas (although he also does better with degree holders than he gets credit for). A researcher at the University of Pennsylvania, the political scientist Diana Mutz, found that Trump voters generally weren’t struggling economically yet did feel great anxiety about their status — whether the threat was the rise of a foreign power like China or the idea that America, and its government, was becoming increasingly nonwhite.

That explains a lot. It explains why the Republican Party, arguably in a long downward moral spiral, lost its mind when America elected its first Black president in Barack Obama. It explains why so many people with the luxuries of a laptop and free time (things that actual poor folks have in short supply) look for conspiracies like QAnon to explain a society that no longer makes sense for them, or why so much of the hatred on the right is expended not at the CEOs who outsourced American jobs but at the cap-and-gown-wearing eggheads like journalists or scientists they find intellectually arrogant.

The main reason that so many reasonably well-off folks tried to shut down American democracy wasn’t because they feared losing their paycheck, but because they feared losing their white privilege. Donald Trump had promised that “I alone can fix it” — that he’d protect them from a society where Black and brown essential workers could expect help from their government during a pandemic or ask the police to stop killing them, a world that where just being white no longer guaranteed the status they were promised as kids. They truly believed that Biden, Kamala Harris, and the 82 million were going to end their white power, and they saw Jan. 6 as their last chance to save it. The Capitol still stands, but the rest of us are going to be spending decades cleaning up their mess.

History lesson

Philadelphia Police carry a protester away from a July 4, 1966 anti-Vietnam War protest held at Independence Hall. A new study proves police are twice as likely to break up a left-wing demonstration than a right-wing one, like Wednesday's storming of the U.S. Capitol.

In the end, as the FBI and other agencies step up their investigation of the Jan. 6 insurrection, there will likely be hundreds of arrests. But the now-under-fire Capitol Police arrested only 13 rioters while the attack was underway, and only a few dozen more were busted by cops for violating the 6 p.m. curfew. No one must have been more shocked by this than the survivors of the May 1971 anti-Vietnam War protests in Washington, one of the largest demonstrations in American history. In marked contrast to last week’s light police presence, the heavy-handed tactics from the administration of Richard Nixon included secretly canceling a national-park permit for the protests and then sending in a whopping 12,000 military troops to augment an already sizable police and National Guard presence. Over three days, an astonishing 12,614 people — many who were protesting peacefully and not violating any laws — were rounded up in the largest mass arrest in U.S. history. Authorities detained thousands at RFK Stadium because there was nowhere else to put them.

The shameful 1971 incident proved a point that seemed clear last Wednesday and has now been established with research: Police who are aggressive with leftist social-justice protesters treat right-wing disturbances with kid gloves. Last year’s Black Lives Matter protests as well as anti-lockdown rallies on the far right inspired the nonprofit Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project to dig deeper. It found police were twice as likely to break up the left-wing protests, and when they did disperse a gathering, cops used force against leftists more often (51% of the time) than against right-wingers (34%.) This unequal treatment under the law is one more way that American policing is broken."

#Failed Capitol Coup #Pottery Barn Insurrection #Spoiled Ass Fuckers

[queen-scribbles]

🖊🖊🖊

You get some of my SWtOR girls; two of them things I’ve been sitting on for a while, and then the new blueberry Jedi, Endrali

So, the first two are semi-related and I’m just gonna sorta do them together. Vica(Jedi Consular) and Khii(Smuggler) both made the opposite choice from what people might expect given their classes and backgrounds when presented the option of Odessen joining the Republic at the end of Onslaught. Vica stayed independent, and Khii joined. (I may have mentioned one or both of those in passing before, but I need to ramble about motivation and that decision as part of their character arcs.)

🖊  That was a really great character moment for Vica. Honestly, the only thing that was on par or bigger was when she started pursuing a relationship with Theron, and I feel like it’s an even bigger deal for her than completing Echoes will be. See, she’s always been the quintessential Perfect Jedi. Humble, kind, self-sacrificing to a literal fault, follows all the rules bc they must be there for a reason.Helpful, sweet, serene, etc etc. She was actually a perfect fit to be my first run through the Consular story, and my “no DS points” toon. The Jedi were her life. She was found to be Force Sensitive at a very young age and whisked away from her parents early enough she doesn’t even truly remember them (doesn’t even know she has a younger sister *cough* Bry *cough* until after founding the Alliance  >.>). So she, of course, happily did the self-sacrificing thing to save all the Masters in Act 1. It was her duty; a Jedi’s life is sacrifice, she’s the only one who can do this, she can Save Everyone, no matter what it cost her(sidenote: I really wish they would do something mechanic-wise for the whole “you getting weaker” thing as you shield people).  Her views start shifting in Act 2, when she gets to Balmorra, for two reasons:

her massive crush on Tai Cordan that has her questioning the whole “no falling in love” thing even as she tries to ignore her feelings into nonexistence, despite the fact he’s idealistic and kind and driven and a whole host of good, attractive things and she can’t. stop. THINKING about him. It doesn’t go anywhere since BioWare won’t let you flir- I mean, since they both have Responsibilities and she’s trying to be a Good Jedi, which means no attachments like that. 

Zenith. The two of them become extremely good friends, even if they seem like polar opposites, and he challenges a lot of the stuff the Jedi spent roughly twenty years drumming into her head, really makes her think about and defend what she believes and why. Some things she’s not budging on; like showing mercy and giving second chances, so they butt heads sometimes still, but they’re unflinchingly loyal to each other and 100% trust each other to watch their backs. (Zenith saying he trusted her felt as much like a victory as completing a romance) He’s the one who really made her start wondering if there was a way to balance her own needs and desires with serving the needs and desires of the Republic and Jedi Council and the Rift Alliance. 

She spent the rest of the base game working things out for herself, which means she missed Iresso’s romance, and honestly still feels conflicted about being  “selfish” all the way up until the Shadow of Revan prelude stuff, where she meets Theron and goes “OhNO” bc if she thought her crush on Tai was bad, the way her heart sticks in her throat and her words get all jumbled up now are so much worse. And she decides to be selfish for once in her life and thus Theron is the first time she lets herself want something(someone) and actually pursue it, instead of burying the feelings until they go away. (There’s a reason the traitor arc hits much, much harder for her than it did Jaaide, and this is a big part of it)

She finds it a.... tricky but worthwhile balancing act--even if she is a terribly inexperienced flirt, sorry, Theron--to show interest in someone and still mostly be a Good Jedi.But it works. And it makes her happy and the galaxy doesn’t come to a screeching halt, so it’s okay, right? 

Over the following years(at least, the ones she’s not frozen in carbonite thanks, Arcann), she also develops her skills at being a leader, not just a diplomat or Jedi, actually a leader. She gets the hang of making decisions not based solely on what the Jedi Code or teachings say, because sometimes they don’t help(sometimes they make things worse), how to run something like the Alliance where everyone is looking to her. And sure, Theron and Lana are a big help and do their share of the work(and then some, on occasion), but she is the Leader. The Commander. And she is proud, in the proud-parent sense, of what they build, and what they endure. And much as being a Jedi still means to her, when given the chance to rejoin the Order and tie Odessen to the Republic she served for so long, she finds she likes the idea of being an independent ally more. She likes being her own person, just with Jedi values as part of her moral code. She likes having that independence and not having to abide by rules and decisions she didn’t help make. (she likes waking up next to her husband every morning, his fingers running over her tattoos, as both of them wonder how they got so kriffing lucky) It was definitely a defining character moment for her that she said no to the Chancellor’s offer. I was honestly sort of proud of her; she was my fourth toon through Onslaught and I thought she’d want to rejoin. But she went “Nah, that’s not me anymore” and it made my day. (nothing against the Jedi or the Republic; I just love it when my characters develop and grow and do unexpected things)

🖊 And Khii. Khii was the opposite; she grew up on Nar Shadda, with no parents after age six. She doesn’t even know if they abandoned her or were killed or what; just that they left one day and never came back. So she got thrown into the life of a street orphan and had to take care of herself. No family, no home, no knowing who she could trust. Not daring to get attached to anyone bc you never knew when a gangster would decide you looked at them funny, or someone would OD or a slaver would come though... there was a long list of ways to lose friends. Better not to have any to start with.  Over the course of the base game, the Republic started to feel like a home. An imperfect one, sure, but better than where she came from. And she got attached. Her crew is her family, Bowdaar is her wing Wookiee, and she’s actually pretty happy with the privateer gig. Girl does what she has to to survive, and a steady paycheck from one of the biggest powers in the galaxy is a pretty solid way to do that. (Darmas and Dodonna’s betrayal really stung for her. She’s my only Smug so far who actually killed Darmas bc she was so darn pissed at him. Also, she never liked him. Wanted to shoot him any time he hit on her.). So, of course, much as the Alliance also feels like a home and a family by this point, she really liked the sense of belonging she had as a Republic Privateer and she likes the idea of funding help, so she was saying “sign me up” almost before Chancellor Rans finished talking. 

🖊 For Endrali, since she’s only just landed on Coruscant, we’re going with pregame backstory. SO. She’s a child of the Sabosen family (Sabosen’dra’listral for her full name), who are responsible for social aspects like justice and education among the Ascendency in Legends canon. Given the Chiss views on the Force, it was something of a problem for her family when two year old Endrali started making her toys float just by wiggling her fingers. Her parents are both highly placed in their fields, and having a Force sensitive child would be damaging to an extent they weren’t sure they could weather. They managed to hide her away with excuses about being a sickly child until she was four. At that point, her powers were strong enough they couldn’t hide her anymore, and whispers and rumors were starting as to what could be wrong with this child that no one had seen her in two years, and they knew they’d have to give a more satisfactory answer soon.

Her father was.... acquainted with a trader who occasionally visited the fringes of Chiss space, but was not Chiss himself. He happened to come through as they were deciding their course of action, and so Endrali’s parents gave her to this trader, told him to find her a home somewhere outside Chiss space, and paid him handsomely for the trouble. They told any who inquired that Endrali had succumbed to her illness and they were devastated by the loss of their child(which they were; they did love her, they just knew if she stayed it would be death or exile for her and shame for them). 

The trader actually kept his word. His first stop was Coruscant, where a Jedi sensed how strong Endrali is with the Force and persuaded the trader to let her take this little Chiss girl for Jedi training. It fulfilled his goal, and Jedi are trustworthy, so the trader agreed rather easily. Endrali’s parents had given him some of her things, which he passed on to the Jedi--including documentation with both her full name and her core name, and a note insisting whoever adopted her never let her come “home”.Those records went in an archive somewhere and were essentially forgotten. She was introduced as Endrali, raised as Endrali, happy as Endrali. The Jedi are her family, and she is content. 

#oc gush #vica nerai #khii mera #endrali jade #phew that got long xD #sorry? or not

[seirioscanis]

{ low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline }

.

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” -- Albert Camus

“We are unusual, tragic, and alive.” -- Dave Eggers

“I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.” -- Richey Edwards

“’Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?’ Will demanded with mock horror. ‘Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not something wrong, as the case may be.’ He banged on the side of the carriage. ‘Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship.’” -- Will Herondale, Clockwork Angel

“Many atrocities have been done in the name of the greater good.” -- Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Sirius Orion Black NICKNAMES: Padfoot, Pads AGE: 20 BIRTHDAY: 3 November 1959 GENDER: Demiboy, not that he has the word for that PRONOUNS: he/they

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black ( 55 ) FATHER: Orion Black ( 51, deceased ) SIBLINGS: Regulus Arcturus Black ( 18, deceased )

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Samuel Larsen BUILD: Slim and muscular HAIR: Shoulder length and thick, normally kept in a bun HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Brown SKIN COLOR: Pale DOMINANT HAND: Right handed, teaching himself slowly to write with his left as well for the hell of it (note: the handwriting is still awful). ANOMALIES: a scar on his upper right lip, ironically a small cluster of star-shaped birthmarks on his left hip (which he hates), a few old cigarette burns on his knees SCENT: leather, old spice, barber shop hair gel, cigarette smoke, motor oil ACCENT: British ALLERGIES: slightly lactose intolerant DISORDERS: Major depression, generalized anxiety, PTSD due to childhood trauma FASHION: Punk rock baby, though probably a bit out of date compared to what muggles are wearing now. He took what he could get during school, and now there’s not enough time in the day to work, be in the Order, and go shopping. NERVOUS TICS: His body becomes more tense, and his eyes dart around the room to search for an exit (or several if possible). He also subconsciously takes a step back from whatever is making him nervous, occasionally messes with his hair to try and act casual (though he does that when he’s bored as well, so it has to be seen with one of the others to be considered a sign of his nerves). If he’s particularly high strung, he’ll lose his nerve completely and lash out, no matter if it’s good or bad for the situation at hand. QUIRKS: Like mentioned above, he messes with his hair a lot when he’s bored, usually pulling it out of its hair tie if up and vice versa if down. He paces when plotting, and purses his lips when he’s thinking considerably. When he’s particularly happy he’ll do a little jump, and he appears to be vibrating a little even afterward. When uncomfortable he’ll try to push that feeling off with either an argument or joke, again no matter whether one of those choices is the wisest at the time.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Plainview Points Apartments BORN: St. Mungo’s Hospital RAISED: Grimmauld Place, London PETS: n/a

CAREER: Auror-in-Training EXPERIENCE: He was part of the Hogwarts dueling club for two years before being kicked out for unfair sportsmanship. He also got a considerate amount of training in magic from an early age thanks to his family, and his mother in particular taught him a bit of dark magic--or tried to. Not that he would use the dark magic, but if push came to shove... he has a few tricks up his sleeve (or, at the very least, the theory behind some of the darker magics). EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix BELIEFS: Sirius, without a shadow of a doubt, believes that muggleborns and halfbloods deserve to be equal to purebloods. It took him years to believe he was allowed to have that thought process, but he grabbed onto it once he did. Despite the years of unlearning what his family tried to instill in him, it wasn’t all successful. He does still have a superiority complex, and most definitely thinks himself above squibs, muggles, house elves, and so on. It takes more effort for him to respect their opinions as equal to his own, and though he knows that’s wrong, it’s taking a lot longer than he’d like to unlearn that--if he ever can. MISDEMEANORS: Illegal animagus, chase down with James on Elvendork, driving underage on an unregistered motorcycle, his entire list of detentions at Hogwarts FELONIES: Nothing officially on record, so really he’s as innocent as it gets DRUGS: n/a SMOKES: Way too much to be healthy for his lungs ALCOHOL: Not nearly as bad as his smoking habit DIET: Generally unhealthy because he can’t be bothered to cook

LANGUAGES: English, Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, some German

PHOBIAS: Extremely loud noises, snakes, thunderstorms HOBBIES: Causing general mischief, reading what he can get his hands on, doodling (albeit a bit crudely) TRAITS: { + }: loyal, intelligent, observant, quick-witted, sociable { - }: angry, impulsive, insensitive, defiant, pessimistic 

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Potter Estate, Prewett Household, Hogwarts SPORTS TEAM: Tutshill Tornadoes GAME: Wizard’s Chess MUSIC: Punk Rock, Celestina Warbeck (not that he’d tell a soul) MOVIES: Has hardly seen any, but is fond of action movies FOOD: Thai BEVERAGE: Whiskey or iced tea COLOR: Dark green

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Gryffindor WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 8 3/4 inches, slightly bendy, yew, rougarou hair core AMORTENTIA: honeysuckles, vanilla, cigarette smoke PATRONUS: Dog BOGGART: His parents standing over him shouting; recently with Regulus by their side asking why he had to die

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good MBTI: ESTP-T MBTI ROLE: The Entrepreneur

“ ESTPs are energetic thrillseekers who are at their best when putting out fires, whether literal or metaphorical. They bring a sense of dynamic energy to their interactions with others and the world around them. They assess situations quickly and move adeptly to respond to immediate problems with practical solutions. Active and playful, ESTPs are often the life of the party and have a good sense of humor. They use their keen powers of observation to assess their audience and adapt quickly to keep interactions exciting. Although they typically appear very social, they are rarely sensitive; the ESTP prefers to keep things fast-paced and silly rather than emotional or serious. “

ENNEAGRAM: Type 8 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Challenger

” People of this personality type are essentially unwilling to be controlled, either by others or by their circumstances; they fully intend to be masters of their fate. Eights are strong willed, decisive, practical, tough minded and energetic. They also tend to be domineering; their unwillingness to be controlled by others frequently manifests in the need to control others instead. When healthy, this tendency is kept under check, but the tendency is always there, nevertheless, and can assume a central role in the Eight's interpersonal relationships. ”

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric

“  The choleric temperament is fundamentally ambitious and leader-like. They have a lot of aggression, energy, and/or passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were choleric. They like to be in charge of everything. However, cholerics also tend to be either highly disorganized or highly organized. They do not have in-between setups, only one extreme to another. As well as being leader-like and assertive, cholerics also fall into deep and sudden depression. Essentially, they are very much prone to mood swings. “

WESTERN ZODIAC: Scorpio

“ Passionate, independent, and unafraid to blaze their own trail no matter what others think, Scorpios make a statement wherever they go. They love debates, aren't afraid of controversy, and won't back down from a debate. They also hate people who aren't genuine, and are all about being authentic—even if authentic isn't pretty. Because of all of these traits, a Scorpio can seem intimidating and somewhat closed off to those who don't know them well. But what people don't realize is that even though Scorpio may seem brusque, as a water sign, they also are very in tune with their emotions, and sometimes may find themselves caught up in their feelings. This leads to Scorpio's central conflict: Their feelings are what drives them and strengthens them, but their mutability can scare them and make them feel vulnerable and out of control. Because of this conflict, Scorpios, like their namesake, the scorpion, put up an outer shell and may seem prickly. But once people get beyond the shell, they find a loyal, loving person whose passion knows no bounds. Scorpio dives into all life has to offer with 110% enthusiasm. A Scorpio will be your most loyal friend, most dedicated employee—and your worst enemy, if they want to be. “

CHINESE ZODIAC: Year of the Pig 

“  Pig is mild and a lucky animal representing carefree fun, good fortune and wealth. Personality traits of the people born under the sign of the Pig are happy, easygoing, honest, trusting, educated, sincere and brave. The possible dark sides the Pig people are stubbornness, naive, over-reliant, self-indulgent, easy to anger and materialistic. They are sometimes regarded as being lazy. “

PRIMAL SIGN: Squid

“  Squids are powerful personalities that can only be ‘checked and balanced’ by themselves. They are highly capable, intelligent individuals who seem to know everything. Generally good natured, they also have a hidden inner dark side which resides deep within themselves. No one is allowed into this secret place, often not even themselves. Squids will even try to bury painful truths within themselves in order to avoid dealing with difficult emotions and situations. “

TAROT CARD: Justice, High Priestess

“ Justice and The High Priestess have in common that everything is accounted for. Justice examines everything for flaws in order to find its flawless essence. The High Priestess knows the secret of everything as it is in order to encompass everything. Justice demands of everything its true nature and essence, with nothing concealed, withheld or distorted. It tirelessly weighs and measures, satisfied with nothing less than the clear, the absolute, and the irreduceable in everything. Justice is adamant and uncompromising with its sword and scales, loud and clear in its redness, fearless and certain on its throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of the secrets of perfection. The High Priestess finds what is the same in everything, the secret unifying core hidden in the endless variation of detail. She patiently discovers in all differences what is true, original and undisturbed in everything. The High Priestess is accepting and inclusive with her scroll and cross, calm and quiet in her blueness, fearless and certain on her throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of final knowledge. Unintegrated and imperfectly realized, Justice can be given to rage and haste; it can become arrogant and hypercritical, aggrieved and vengeful, or uncertain and vacillating. The High Priestess can be a conceited know-it-all, moody and taciturn, secret and unapproachable; she can be despairing and lost, or given to excess and careless of consequences. Together, they dream of the perfect, the ultimate, and pursue it in more than one kind of undertaking. They continuously seek the truth, and in its service they are drawn to esoteric studies and unusual paths. “

TV TROPES: White Sheep, Jerk with a Heart of Gold, In the Blood, Hot-blooded, Good is Not Nice, Cultural Rebel, Badass Biker SONGS: Gasoline, Halsey; The Future Freaks Me Out, Motion City Soundtrack; This is the End (For You My Friend), Anti-Flag; Hate Conquers All, Anti-Flag; Downtempo, Scouting for Girls;

IDEOLOGIES: - Actively cuts out everyone who was part of his childhood unless they’ve somehow proven they can be trusted again; he avoids his family at all costs. - The day he found out he was lactose intolerant, however mild, was a mournful day. He sulked about Hogwarts for about a week. - Legitimately tried to swim to the bottom of the Black Lake and see the giant squid. Never succeeded. - If you bring peanut butter anywhere near him he will chuck it across the room. He hates it. - Genuinely enjoys being a dog more than a human sometimes. Yes, he’s aware of the irony.  - The only people allowed to make puns off of his name are James, Peter, Remus, Lily, and Marlene. He’ll get annoyed at anyone else who tries (also wise to avoid using the word serious around him for the above reason). - Keeps telling himself he’ll quit smoking someday. The likelihood of that actually happening is about slim to none, RIP to Sirius’ lungs.

#you don't have to be who they say you need to be -- { about } #dulcetask

[protezioni]

🖊 - Celes, Bren, Ko

Thank you for sending these in! I loved answering all of this! Love you, mama!

Celestina

Celes is someone with a deadpan face that rarely shows any kind of emotion. She is someone who can say shit to your face without her expression changing, and she can say the sweetest things with no change either. She is one of the least expressive members- but she chooses to be that kind of person. She is very straightforward and blunt. One of the more honest members and she will call you out if needed even if she knows it may sting. She believes it is a harsh world, but the thing is- she prioritizes truth more than anything else. Even if it may hurt, she seeks for it. This also affects the people around her, and the main reason why she still isn't engaged is because she literally could scare her suitor with the reality they have to deal with and go "Can you even handle that?" However, if she lies, it is only for a good cause or to escape something.

The thing is, from her siblings- She has seen the most social injustice the most, the present and the past. She keeps this to herself but well, she seeked out the truth... right? Allen tends to look at the positive notes and look for solutions... But he is idealistic, not realistic. Bernando knows what is going in, but chooses not to do anything... he is more of apathetic. Celes is the one who knows about the truth, but she is the one who cares but accept it is the truth, but some things never change until people change first... But she never says it to her siblings, she prefer says it to the person on the face. Her life was filled with lies of her family, attendants and suitors- and this is why she seeks out for truth. Celes really is a character who is intelligent, and she is not afraid to have a debate with anybody.

The reason why she knows the world as how it was before is because she literally became closed from the world for a while, and because of this she learned through the past- so she read books! She loves books so much, and she reads all kinds of it! Second to Romano, she read the most! She is a big fan of history and she can talk about it the whole day! She has with Crew Tre, and they always listen to it! It is just interesting to hear her narrate the past events! She also loves getting a past strategy that failed and build up on it to make it work! She specializes in European history!

She is blunt and realistic, yes- but she does love every member of the Protezioni. She doesn't say she loves them in a daily basis- but if asked, she'd say that she truly does. She isn't the one to listen to them when they have problems, but she gives you the real side of things when it comes to advice! However, there is only one thing she would lie about just to not be too vulnerable- and those are her feelings towards certain people, scenarios or things.

Brennende

Definitely by far, the most tired member of the main strand Protezioni member. He dealt with them for a long time already, and as he gets closer to a member, he just gets to see a much wilder side of them and he just... has to deal with it. He has a large tolerance for thing, but he doesn't talk too much about anything because he would prefer doing work, art or maybe sometimes reading! He loved them, he swears. But knowing the Protezioni and being sane? Could be extremely tiring. He may be actually one of the mysterious members to members who only entered recently because... well, he doesn't talk much and no one ever brings up his history. Even more so, his real name. He wasn't really named "Brennende Leidenschaft" by his biological parents.

His knowledge of weaponry does come a lot from his past, and it does tie up with Tilear's. They are very close to one another, and they trust each other with their entire being. He just doesn't act on it a lot, but Tilear definitely does. He knows about every weapon in the book, and he knows how to make new ones or even an upgrade to several! His past only influenced him on this way, but his personality was more influenced by the Protezioni themselves. He was described as more of "robotic" by some members, which isn't like him at all at the present- but we will get to know that in the comics! He doesn't really tell anyone what happened, but there will be a scene where he does.

His character was something I really maintained over the past years- a member who is tired of the Protezioni's shit. Serious individual who prioritizes his role than anything else. Surprisingly caring, but shows it in small ways. Actually loves the concept of money, but likes gaining it through means of selling things. His character really had one of the least changes, but I do believe it really does fit him and his design! But one thing that changed anout him was his backstory, because that is something that got heavier over time. His backstory is crucial because it gets to show how evil the world can be, even if it has no relations to the mafia.

What people don't know about him is he loves teaching people art, but... he doesn't do it for free. He only does it for free if it is a member he truly can't say no to. One of them is Namito, and he does paint sometimes with his crew and Rika! He would gladly teach anyone else, but yeah- he likes the extra cash because he wants the famiglia money to be for the famiglia, not himself.

Ko

He would be so fun to write, and I would love to see if the viewers would like him or not. I personally love him, but from all the leaders, he does make the choice which seems the most in line with the modern mafia thinking--- and this is basically something which readers will get to see in him. Ko shows the vibe of a modern mafia member, charismatic but deadly. Looking all good, but could make situations not so pretty. Has a strong sense of justice, yet has some doubts if the justice he believes in can work. That's how Ko is, and the main reason is as simple as this- He has experienced a mafia life his whole life, and he was trained to epitome of a perfect mafia member... Yet he is joining a famiglia who is quite the opposite of that.

There would be an arc to explain how this previous life of Ko was--- but he was a student of a well known mafia member, together with several other people. They were a class who sparred every two weeks to see if they've improved--- and Ko was actually on top. He does believe it is because of certain bias towards him, he did have a family name that rang in people's heads. He might be charismatic and he could be a sweet person, but he also has a really high ego because well- he has bragging rights! He's strong, attractive and well-known! How could he not be? He could be very smug at times, and I believe he is the most confident member of the whole Protezioni. And again, IT IS FAIR THAT HE IS.

He does have a part where he gets SLAPPED by Aki because of his decision without agreement which is a big offense as a leader, but they're good! Don't worry. There is serious drama sometimes inside the famiglia, but this rarely occurs. His decisions may not be morally right to the other leaders, but it is because he's seen MORE than they did. They try to understand his decisions, but Aki isn't afraid to show her anger if she knows he was wrong. He is obedient to Rika's words, but there is just some moments where he like... does things without permission. Which he shouldn't do, but it helps the Protezioni in financial terms AND in fame. But it is not always the best solution. Sonetimes, the Protezioni have a debate whether Sepheir and Ko should change teams but none of the team members will like that.

Also about Ko's confidence, he does not talk shit about anyone to prove he's the best... unless you're Zuro. But that is just a famiglia thing so like... yeah. But normally, he loves fuelling people's confidence, but he always means every single word he says. He does this a lot with Romano, and Romano tries to reject all his words. He also compliments all the leaders a lot and praises them for their hard work! But in terms of Sepheir, they do have a rival kind of relationship.

#ask #celestina #brennende #ko #ko: im the best bUT #every other leader: ah shit here we go again

[bigassmoody-blog]

Basic Information

Full name: Alastor Barov Moody Pronunciation: Al-us-tor Ber-ov Moody Nickname(s): No. None. Birthdate: November 5th, 1982 Age: 36 Zodiac: Scorpio Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Romantic orientation: Panromantic Sexual orientation: Pansexual Nationality: English Ethnicity: White British Current location: London, England Living conditions: He's lived in the same flat since after college, mostly because if it isn't broke, don't fix it. It was a good place, he could get in and out discretely, they allowed dogs, it was easy to get into and tucked into a nice little street, his neighbors were chill. Only problem? He hates elevators and the stairs weren’t an option right after he lost his leg. So he had to pick everything up and shift into something a little more accessible. He ended up buy a small little two bedroom place (complete fixer upper) and has been slowly working on it. He's relatively clean. He has house plants all over the place~

Background

Birthplace: London, England Hometown: London, England Social Class: Middle Educational achievements: BS in Criminology with a minor in music Father: Sergei Ravenia Moody Mother: Irene "Ireena" Tatyana Moody Sibling(s): Berez "Marie" Petrovna Moody Birth order: Marie is 3 years older. Pets: Luna. Previous relationships: TBD, but hmu cuz I want one Arrests: … No Prison time: Nope Occupation & Income: He’s doing alright Current occupation: Detective Inspector Dream occupation: Retirement when there's fucking world peace Past job(s): He worked at an animal shelter through college Spending habits: It comes in waves. He'll be fine, then suddenly get really invested in like… baking cookies or something and then end up buying a shit ton of cookie cutters and good pans and things like that. And then he'll get too busy for it and get back to work, until, you know, he learns about diy mechanical keyboards and tries to build himself a nice one. In debt?: Uh, not bad. He's doing alright, just paying off some medical bills still. Most valuable possession: His prosthetic leg. That'd be a bitch to replace.

Skills & Abilities

Physical strength: Above Average | Average | Below Average Speed: Above Average | Average | Below Average Intelligence: Above Average | Average | Below Average Accuracy: Above Average | Average | Below Average Agility: Above Average | Average | Below Average Stamina: Above Average | Average | Below Average Teamwork: …Hahahahhahaha Talents/hobbies: His true talent is cycling through useless hobbies. He likes adventure sports Shortcomings: I mean he's got one out of two eyes, one out of two legs, and, after the amount of concussions he's had, half of his original amount of brain cells. He's stubborn and will take risks. Languages spoken: English, French, German, some Arabic Drive?: Yes Jump-start a car?: Yes Change a flat tyre?: Yes Ride a bicycle?: Yes Swim?: Yes Play an instrument?: Yes Play chess?: No Braid hair?: No Tie a tie?: Yes Pick a lock?: Yes Cook?: Yes

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Charlie Hunnam Eye colour: Hazel Hair colour: Blond Hair type/style/length: It's usually cropped pretty short, but sometimes he gets lazy and lets it grow out. Once it starts getting in his face, it's haircut time. Glasses/contacts?: Uh, well he has a glass eye. Covers it with an eyepatch. Dominant hand: Right Height: 6'1" Weight: 88 kg/ 194 lbs Build: Broad shouldered, muscular, very defined. His legs and ass aren't as great as they used to be, so he's working on that. Exercise habits: He works out frequently with the intention of getting back to his pre-accident body. He'll hit the gym almost daily. He also has a set of exercises and special care for the leg, which he makes sure to do. Skin tone: White, but tanned from too much time in the sun Tattoos: Many. I'll be posting a reference soon, but he has a full sleeve that's all flowers. The rest of his body's covered with various nature themed tattoos. Piercings: Nah Marks/scars: Very many. He's got some on his face, deep cuts that go from his left eyebrow to his upper lip, cutting through his eye. He's also got plenty of scrapes and scars from injuries that never healed right. Got his leg, there’s that. Clothing style: He's supposed to wear a shirt and tie for work. Definitely has to keep his tattoos covered in that environment. As soon as work's over, the sleeves get rolled up, the tie's gone. Weekends, he dresses pretty casually. Jewellery: Nope, none :( Allergies: Idiots. Diet: He follows a pretty strict diet and takes it seriously. He'll count calories and watch his proteins vs carbs, etc. Physical ailments: None

Psychology

MBTI type: ENTJ Enneagram type: The Challenger Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good Temperament: Choleric Element: Earth Emotional stability: Debatable Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert Obsession(s): Currently: dogs, pretty people, how to season cast iron skillets. Past ones: Pokemon go, candles, and the justice league comics Compulsion(s): Doing stupid shit because if it could possibly get the job done, it's worth a try Phobia(s): Enclosed or tight spaces Addiction(s): Thrills Drug use: I mean the man's got meds, that's about it Alcohol use: Yup Prone to violence?: Nah Prone to crying?: Nah Believe in love at first sight?: Yea (maybe not for him, but he believes it)

Mannerisms

Accent: Rough, he drops consonants Speech quirks: He uses the word no more times than anyone should Hobbies: He likes DIY projects and is super hands on, fucks with shit around the house often. He also has a new hobby like every month. Habits: tapping his fingers on tables, wrinkles his nose, he makes a stupid snorting half laugh noise a lot Nervous ticks: scratching his beard Drives/motivations: He has a way that he… sees the world, I guess. He wants it to be a certain way and when it doesn't, it drives him crazy. So he very much feels the need to fix that. He also really needs that antique record player back from Lucius, especially because it's most likely just collecting dust in a corner somewhere. Fears: Being alone Sense of humour?: Playful and teasing and probably a little bit mean sometimes because he doesn't know where that line is until he's crossed it Do they curse often?: Yup…

Favourites

Animal: Dog Beverage: Cold beer Book: A book of poems an ex gave him Colour: Deep green Food: Pizza Flower: Sunflowers Gem: Opal Mode of transportation: Motorcycle. He had to Uber a lot after losing his leg. It's been a while, so that shit's now modified and ready to go. Scent: Woodsy, earthy tones Sport: Dirt Biking Weather: Snow, but only if he's visiting and not in it Vacation destination: He'll always try something new and doesn’t like going to the same place twice. He's been making his way through some of the best hiking spots in the world, though.

Attitudes

Greatest dream: Climbing Everest Greatest fear: cheap beer, letting people who rely on him down Most at ease when: He's high on painkillers in the hospital after a surgery Least as ease when: A thundery night when he can't get to sleep, like there's too much energy in his body with no place to go Worst possible thing that could happen: admitting he's wrong about something Biggest achievement: his niece saying he's her favorite adult Biggest regret: trying to sand and varnish the cabinets himself, pretty sure he's ruined those

#penumbrafeed #( ~ ) #( about )

[vanityemmas-blog]

Basic Information

Full name: Emma Nadine Vanity Pronunciation: ˈɛmə | na.din |ˈvæ.nɪ.ti Nickname(s): None if you want to live Birthdate: November 6, 1992 Age: 26 Zodiac: Scorpio Gender: Cis female Pronouns: she/her Romantic orientation: Biromantic Sexual orientation: Bisexual Nationality: English Ethnicity: English, Iranian Current location: London Living conditions: Small one-bedroom flat, kept somewhat neat minus the clutter on her desk (also, she’s not getting her security deposit back thanks to one of her outbursts)

Background

Birthplace: London, England Hometown: London/Cheshire Social Class: Upper, then lower, now somewhere in the middle Educational achievements: BS in Forensic Science from Hogwarts University Father: Theodore Vanity Mother: Adeline Dupree Sibling(s): None Birth order: First & only Pets: None Previous relationships: Multiple, often short-lived Arrests: None (though she was caught shoplifting and released with a warning) Prison time: None

Occupation & Income

Current occupation: Forensic scientist, Death Eater Dream occupation: Actually ethical forensic scientist Past job(s): Store clerk Spending habits: Still learning that she can actually afford some of the things she wants, taught to be more conservative in her spending after going from everything to nothing In debt?: No Most valuable possession: Her bike, which was technically purchased by Tom Riddle, so since it’s not really hers, her laptop is her most valuable actual possession.

Skills & Abilities

Physical strength: Average Speed: Average Intelligence: Above Average Accuracy: Below Average Agility: Average Stamina: Average Teamwork: Horrendous Talents: Can stand on one foot for long periods of time, good at fixing small appliances Shortcomings: Temper Languages spoken: English, slight standard Arabic and Spanish Drive?: Yes, but has terrible road rage Jump-start a car?: No Change a flat tyre?: No Ride a bicycle?: Yes Swim?: Yes Play an instrument?: Yes, but not well Play chess?: No, she never had much patience for it Braid hair?: Yes Tie a tie?: Yes Pick a lock?: Yes Cook?: Yes, average cooking skills

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Aiysha Hart Eye colour: Brown Hair colour: Brown Hair type/style/length: Mid-length, fairly straight, often pulled back in a mid-high ponytail or bun due to the nature of her work Glasses/contacts?: None, though has been thinking about looking into glasses to help with some computer eye strain at work Dominant hand: Right Height: 173cm Weight: 54kg Build: Slender with slight muscle definition Exercise habits: Running at least three times a week when she can fit it in, occasional dumbbell lifting or leg workouts at home Skin tone: light tan Tattoos: None Piercings: Ears, first and second holes and cartilage on her right ear Marks/scars: Scar on her hand from a broken glass she’d thrown in anger, some slight marks on her hip and elbow from her first motorcycle accident when first learning as a Death Eater Clothing style: Fitted, slim pieces; often dark colors with some variety into white/dull greens blues and reds; dark jeans/pants and blouse-like shirts are the norm for work, though it’s often under a lab coat; dark jeans and less formal (though often still fitted) short-sleeved shirts or jumpers for casual wear. Has some pretty cool jackets tho. Not too adventurous, though her lifestyle doesn’t really require her to be. Hasn’t thought of branching out much style-wise in years. Jewelry: Minimal minus what she wears in her ears, mostly for lab reasons. Allergies: Shellfish (not deathly, but still unpleasant) Diet: Often consists of whatever you can find googling healthy 30-minute meals, as she’s been trying to stick to her promise to cook for herself more despite the busy and exhausting days she can often have. Seriously should just try meal-prepping. Physical ailments: None

Psychology

MBTI type: ESFJ-T Enneagram type: Type Eight; The Challenger Moral Alignment: Lawful Evil Temperament: Choleric Element: Fire Emotional stability: Unstable Introvert or Extrovert?: Extrovert Obsession(s): Acceptance, Money, Order Compulsion(s): Literally every emotional outburst, including but not limited to yelling, crying, and throwing things Phobia(s): Heights Addiction(s): None Drug use: None Alcohol use: Fair amount Prone to violence?: Not always physical violence (mostly to avoid being kicked from work) but still yes Prone to crying?: Absolutely Believe in love at first sight?: No, but can care/love someone quickly and easily if her emotions are in it

Mannerisms

Accent: English, London dialect Speech quirks: None Hobbies: Journaling Habits: Leaving the lights on, clenching her teeth when frustrated Nervous ticks: Clenching fists Drives/motivations: Acceptance, money, power, keeping balance in the world, justice, blackmail/consequences Fears: Losing her credibility as a forensic scientist Sense of humour?: Witty, dry, often sarcastic or mocking Do they curse often?: Fuck yeah

Favourites

Animal: Tiger Beverage: Green tea Book: Circe by Madeline Miller Colour: Green Food: Pho Flower: Hyacinth Gem: Moonstone Mode of transportation: Motorcycle (only rides for Death Eater purposes but still enjoys it the most) Scent: Citrus Sport: Rugby Weather: Sunny with a slight breeze Vacation destination: Ibiza

Attitudes

Greatest dream: Being as wealthy and respected as her family once was/regaining the integrity she’s lost (what she would say vs what she subconsciously/truly dreams) Greatest fear: Having her reputation/career/life ruined by the Death Eaters Most at ease when: Never Least as ease when: Always Worst possible thing that could happen: Operation Auror discovers who she’s really working for Biggest achievement: Her degree Biggest regret: Lying to the Sacred 28

#penumbrafeed #about #t1

[bunnythemonsterlayer]

The White Rabbit

Because I have been dragged back into WATCHMEN fandom Hell and @social-justice-waterbender wanted it, I dug up the corpse of my vigilante’s profile I wrote up almost 10 years ago for a WATCHMEN AU and edited it so the timeline worked and actually made some lick of sense.

If anyone has further questions about her they can totally ask but here’s the jest of what was in the document I found all prettied up. Enjoy

General

Identity: Alice Darlene Early

Alias: The White Rabbit

Years in Service: 1966 – 1977, 1985

Born: September 12, 1945

Died: November 2, 1985

Relatives: Ernest Early (father, deceased) and Cynthia Grant (mother)

Affiliation: Former Crimebusters member

Base of Operations: New York City

Status

Alignment: Good

Identity: Secret

Citizenship: American

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: Former waitress at Mr. Charles's Diner, Saboteur

Characteristics

Gender: Female

Height: 5'8”

Weight: 150 lb

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Black

Race: Mulatto

Origin

Universe: WATCHMEN AU

Place of Birth: San Fransisco, California

Place of Death: Antarctica

Skills: Acrobatics (Gymnastics), Martial Arts (Defensive, Fall Recovery) Charisma (Morale Boosting), Mechanics (Fix-it, Disassembly), Thievery, Medical Knowledge (Basic First Aid), Acting

Advantages: Loyal, Quick Reflexes, High Stamina, Determined, Privileged Upbringing

Disadvantages: Impulsive, Emotional, Stubborn, Insecure, Attention Hungry, Secretive

Equipment: Pocket Watch, Trackers (2), Flash Grenade (1), Steel “Toed” Boots, Blast Resistant Visor, Audio Scrambler

Motivation: Upholding the Good/Thrill Seeking/Self Validation

Background

Born in San Francisco, California, Alice moved to New York in 1962 at the age of seventeen in the hopes of finding a place where she could get a different perspective on life and make something more of herself. After years of civilian living unable to think of an effective way to achieve her goal of self fulfillment, she made the decision to become a vigilante, using information she would overhear from customers she waited on during her job as a waitress. She teamed up with Rorschach and Night Owl II in 1966 after they begrudgingly allowed her to stay due to her constantly showing up and 'helping' them.

Outside of her vigilante lifestyle she had no contact with any of the other Crimebusters, only finding out their identities later after the Keene Act with the exception of Rorschach till his arrest in 1985. She did not reach out to any of them and as a result is the only vigilante to stay completely anonymous after her forced retirement.

Character

Alice is subdued and even headed compared to her vigilante counterpart. She treats people the way she wishes to be treated, believing that such behavior will prompt others to treat her the same way, even going so far as to give them the benefit of the doubt should they wrong her the first couple of times. Her reasoning being that everything is gradual and to expect things to instantly change is ignorant and foolhardy.

Being so far from home and often feeling alone, Alice will subtly cling to people she has regular contact with. Usually by catering to their needs and going out of her way to do things for them that will cause them to favor her positively. To further the pleasant image of herself, she is very secretive about her past and deeper feelings, fearing a negative response; something that can be attributed to her growing up in a Nuclear Family setting and having to keep up a certain image.

Fueled by adrenaline and anonymity, Alice's White Rabbit persona is extremely hyper active and allows her the freedom to express herself in ways she can't during her day job. Although the constant exuberance can be uplifting it more often than not leads to impulsive behavior, over stepping boundaries and a needless exhaustion of effort. A believer in never dying loyalty, White Rabbit will stick with her colleagues to the point of complete stubbornness even when it's to her detriment.

Out of costume, Alice shows no outstanding physical ability aside from being able to balance multiple objects such as trays of food during her waitress hours and lift her own weight to climb up things.

Politically Alice doesn't tie herself with any specific party, choosing to just go with what she feels is fair and just. However, due to growing up in California there are hints of subconscious leanings towards more liberal beliefs, though her level of patriotism boarders on pure nationalism.

In regards to her sexuality Alice appears to be heterosexual. Her attitude towards romantic conquest comes off as blasé and worrisome, not making any effort to even attract a mate. Reasons for this being the possibility of someone finding out too much about her, resulting in a broken heart and abandonment. This, however, coupled with her clingy tendencies usually ends up resulting in anxiety, mental exhaustion and distress when she does find herself developing feelings for someone. When pressed to describe her perfect man, Alice states that anyone is fine as long as he is a good man and someone she can be proud to stand by.

Costume

To keep her identity a complete secret The White Rabbit's costume has head to toe coverage, including a wig to conceal her natural hair color. Fashioned after the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, the costume consists of a visor, mask, tailored jacket, undershirt, gloves, high waist shorts and leggings that also act as her boots. The entire outfit is made by herself. The toes of her boots are fitted with solid steel toes designed to look like rabbit feet, which were meant to give a hand up for climbing and inflicting damage when delivering kicks. To further hide her identity, The White Rabbit fakes an exaggerated Northern Jersey accent on par with Betty Boop, meant to be distinctive and agitating.

Skills and Equipment

Having grown up with a stereotypical home life, Alice possesses skills in various gendered activities such as sewing, cooking, baking, dancing and penmanship with a plethora of knowledge in classic literature. School activities such as gymnastics and other light sports helped prepare her for her life as a vigilante helping hone her reflexes and reaction times as well as her ability to recover from falls. All her martial arts 'training' was taught to her by travel buddies she met on her way to New York, originally just starting out as a fun activity to do during pit stops. Realizing that she couldn't stand up against most men, she focuses on defense, evasion and using her opponents weight against them. These stops as well played a part in teaching her how to fix and disassemble things due to the many car issues that happened along the way. She often uses this knowledge to sabotage get away vehicles.

The visor over her eyes is made of a same material used for police riot shields, the origin of how she acquired such material is not something she's willing to reveal. It is solid enough to protect against a hard hit to the face and tinted enough to hide her eyes while giving her semi clear visibility. While able to buff and fix small chips and cracks in it, it would most likely be impossible to recreate if broken.

Her costume, contains no armor besides her visor and padded knees and elbows to break falls more efficiently.  

After teaming up Night Owl II gifted a number of things to assist her, including a reconstruction of her boot 'toes' to make them lighter and work in more efficient ways. Redesigning them to be separate parts instead of one solid piece allowed them to operate more like an actual foot, now giving them the ability to spread open for better balance.

Lacked a belt or anything for inventory carry, what little White Rabbit holds is either light enough to hook onto the waist band of her shorts or small enough to be kept in the breast pocket of her jacket. The 'tail' on the back of her costume is a small flash grenade to be used only as a last resort or quick escape. An audio scrambler is built into her pocket watch producing 5 minutes of interference to hinder calls for back up or keep surveillance mics from listening in on covert conversations. The trackers are standard and used to track targets.

Relationship with Walter Kovacs and Rorschach

The most influential person in Alice's life in New York, Alice met Walter Kovacs years before she became a vigilante. The diner she worked at was near his job and catered to many of the employees during the lunch rush. Walter would come every now and then to have coffee, food and sometimes read the paper. Their communication was sparse, only expanded through her own efforts to build a friendly connection with him as a regular customer. He was polite to her within his ability, eventually answering her in full sentences. It was only after her request for him to walk her home from the diner one day to avoid a heckling customer she worried would follow her that their relationship evolved in any way. With Walter being thankful that she was direct with her request and demeanor instead of trying to sweet talk him like other women. Pleasant, long conversation being proven possible, the two bonded and grew into being good friends.

Not aware they knew each other out of costume, Rorschach and White Rabbit would often get into small squabbles, spawning mostly from White Rabbit's too familiar attitude towards he and Night Owl II, giving them pet names like 'Rory' and 'Nighty', bumping into and touching them casually, as well as having a sense of humor in serious situations. Although this was explained as a way to lighten the mood and ease tension the behavior caused Rorschach to often become angry, accusing her of making a mockery out of their work. White Rabbit would often try to soothe him, but this only worked some of the time and more often than not end in Night Owl II having to break them up. Many nights ended in both parties being bitter towards each other. As time passed White Rabbit gained more experience in her vigilantism, gaining the two the ability to work together more smoothly even to the point of being able to go on patrol and stakeouts together without incident. It was at these times they'd talk about their motivations, eventually coming to an understanding. Some conversations would ironically consist of them talking about their encounters with each others day time alias's, oblivious to the fact that they were the same people.

As the years passed, it became clear that Walter's mental state was begining to deteriorate. Unaware it was his nights of vigilantism causing it, Alice began offering and request he spend time with her more frequently; hoping the interaction would help with whatever was troubling him. At this point however, watching the slow, descending sanity of someone she cared about happen right her eyes began to work against her own well being. Forced to come to terms with the fact that she indeed had strong, romantic feelings for someone, Alice weighted her options and in December 1974 she finally confessed how she felt to Walter. Trying to cushion the heaviness of her sudden admission, she quickly tagged on the reassurance that it was okay if he didn't feel the same way. She would later describe his face looking placid but his eyes looking terrified. In 1975, after not seeing Walter for almost a week, Alice went to the garment factory he worked at looking for him. When she asked to see him she was informed he had quit suddenly and they hadn't heard anything since. Not knowing his address or any way to contact him, Alice became inconsolable and sank into a sever depression.

At this point White Rabbit also began to notice a change in Rorschach's behavior. Becoming more brutal in his actions he started working alone more often and interacting less and less. After weeks of this environment and still wrecked with worry over Walter's disappearance, White Rabbit asked Rorschach for his help. Begging him through tears she gave him Walter's full name and former work place in the desperate hope of tracking him down. It was at this point that Rorschach figured out who White Rabbit really was, but continued to withhold his own identity. He agreed and told her he would look into it and to meet him in a couple of days. At their meeting place, Rorschach informed White Rabbit that he had found Walter and was 'alive' but refused to give any other details. Ignoring further pleading and tears, he left her in the spot, telling her to be satisfied with what she got and let Walter go.

In 1977 after the Keene Act was put into effect, White Rabbit refused to retire and continued to patrol the city. Working to stop what small crimes she could alone she as well tirelessly searched for Rorschach, who had refused to retire as well. When she found him in a fight with some local thugs she joined in to help him, suffering a blow to the face from a metal bat that shattered a large chunk out of her visor. After disposing of the criminals, White Rabbit confronted Rorschach, berating him for not asking for help. Insisting he couldn't handle the entire city on his own she assured him that she was there to help no matter what. Rorschach began to leave, coldly telling her that he didn't need her weighting him down, to which she grabbed him by the arm and demand he look at her and tell her what was wrong with him. A fight ensued, with White Rabbit demanding Rorschach accept her help, proclaiming that she wasn't going to retire as long as he stayed active as well. Finally grabbed her and staring her in the face, Rorschach ordered her to quit and go home, calling her by her real name in the process. Rattled and enraged by the fact that he never told her he knew who she was, Alice fought back harder against him, turning the entire affair into an all out brawl between them. No match for Rorschach but still refusing to abandon him Alice declaring he would have to kill her before she would leave him to die alone and cold. The fight was ended with Rorschach smashing her head into a wall, breaking her visor fully and concussing her. She plead for him not to do this, thinking of both Rorschach and Walter and who was going to take care of them if she couldn't before loosing consciousness and waking up in her own bed. The remains of her visor sat on her bedside table with a note reading 'Thank you for all you do' and bearing Rorschach's signature.

Dejected and without the use of her visor anymore Alice was finally forced to retire.

Rorschach refers to this event as 'the night the White Rabbit died', most likely as a way to continue to protect her anonymity.

The Events of Watchmen

Finding out that Walter was Rorschach via news report, Alice visits Walter in prison where she uses her audio scrambler to mask their conversation. She confronts him about never telling her who he was when he knew about her, to which Walter replies that it was for their own good. The meeting ends with Walter placidly confessing that he was fond of Alice long before finding out she was White Rabbit.

Although telling Walter and Long that she wouldn't be back, Alice still dons her vigilante costume again on Halloween night to try and get Rorschach out herself. Luckily coming in during the riot and Night Owl and Silk Specter's own rescue mission, White Rabbit gleefully joins them.

After loosing Silk Specter to Manhattan, discovering Veidt's plan, and Rorschach mailing his journal, White Rabbit finally asks Rorschach on the way to Antarctica to tell her what really happened back when he forced her into retirement. He tells her and apologizes in a less awkward fashion than he had with Night Owl. White Rabbit accepts his apology and reassures him “I won't let you die cold and alone. Well...alone at least. We are going to Antarctica.”

Death

White Rabbit witnesses the deaths caused by Veidt in his attempt to create a utopia. Everyone decides to keep it a secret except Rorschach who tries to leave and inform the world of the truth. White Rabbit loyally follows him and tries to assist him with getting the hoverbikes to work when they are stopped by Manhattan. Rorschach tells her to go back with the others to escape the price of trying to ruin Veidt's utopia, to which she refuses, repeating her promise to not leave him to die alone. Taking off her mask, White Rabbit seconds the prompting of Manhattan to kill them. Embracing Rorschach, their silhouette takes the shape of the Hiroshima Lovers before disintegrating.

#Watchmen #au #oc #White Rabbit #comics #sorry this took so long #i wanted to draw a picture to go with it

[laurenlaber]

Denis Villeneuve

There are thousands of movies and films being created every year. Some are really good, and some are awful. But what makes a good film? Dennis Villanueva is arguably one of the best filmmakers of our time. Dennis Villanueva is a French-Canadian film director and writer. He was born in 1967 in Trois-Rivières, Québec, Canada. He has definitely had a quick rising in the film industry. According to the online journal of trespassing art, science, and philosophy, Coming from the small national cinema of Québec to work in Hollywood, Villeneuve is a new breed of transnational filmmaker, one who has intentionally made films in Hollywood but only on a temporary basis, relocating his skill but not his national affiliation.” In 2017 he was nominated as best Director and in 2011 he was nominated as an international feature film for his movie Incendies. He has internationally won and been nominated for tons and tons of awards. He has well deserved every single award he has received. His artistic style is like no other. While shooting his films he will quite literally torture himself in order to get the best films possible. The globe and mail states , “Villeneuve retains a rare ability to give each film his signature – the searching themes, the scoured visual palate, the approachable darkness.” While filming he keeps the viewer fresh in his mind. His amie is to provide the best viewing experience possible for the people watching his films.

Dennis is just about as artistic as it comes. The angles he is able to capture in his films are extremely unique. He prefers inverted aerial shots and rarely shoots with steep angles. His films produce a dizzying vertigo effect. In an article published by studio binder the author stated, “Denis Villeneuve films approach violence in a very particular and brutal way but he tempers this darkness with poetic shots like the one above.” He also uses extreme oblique and inverted angles to suggest that the characters are in a world of chaos. His films are thrillers so most of the time there is extreme chaos going on in his works. He is best known for the crazy angles he is able to shoot at in his films. Villeneuve can communicate what his characters are going through in a really cool way. He uses light and shadows to his advantage. Lighting please to his advantage because it allows him to show drama in a natural way. For more intense scenes he tends to have darker backgrounds so you can really focus on the characters and their facial expressions. He also uses a variety of landscapes and locations in his films. He does this to show how big the world truly is. What we see around different characters and his films provides us as viewers with different context and meaning. Obviously we know the background of where the movie is being filmed but he’s able to show the background in such a way that makes everything tie together very nicely. He also highlights certain situations with his superb costume and production designs. Dennis editors films in a way that won’t show key things that are happening. It is very interesting that he does this but it works out very well in his favor. By doing this he lets the viewer use their imagination and create what is going on in their own head. This provides a very individualized experience for the viewer. When he’s editing his films he constantly has the viewer and their experience in his mind. He also will use music to his advantage while he is editing his films. For some of his films he will even edit around Music that he’s putting in the movie. This makes his films flow very smooth and they are very satisfying to watch.

I looked at the film Sicario that was produced by Dennis. This film was essentially a drug bust movie. Two sides of law-enforcement were going after the same cartel and pretty much worked together in order to track them down. They tracked down all of his locations and relatives in hopes to bring him to justice. According to a journal of culture and literature , “Sicario depicts the moral ambiguity of it, revolving around the issue of drug wars that have already ruined many lives.” This film had amazing cinematography. The genuine darkness made me feel like I was literally working along side the lawn enforcement officers. A lot of the time when movies are filmed in the darkness, the filmmakers will edit it to make them look like they are in a brighter situation with lighting and such. But in this film when they were shooting in the dark it actually looked like they were in the dark. I don’t know why but this just really stuck out to me and added a great edge to the film. The suspense in this film was also fabulous. When watching I was on edge the whole entire time. Even when something crazy wasn’t going on there was always a feeling that some thing nuts was about to happen. The film was very well-crafted but pretty dark. There wasn’t really much sense of hope through the film and it was very gruesome. It was so gruesome that it honestly rubbed off on me as a viewer. It was very well done regarding how gruesome it was. I felt like I was right along side Kate Macer when she was throwing up because she saw some thing horrible. They definitely did not glorify the violence which was interesting. It showed truly how awful these drug cartels can be and how violent the FBI agents job is.

I also watched the film “Prisoners.” This film was super dark. It was a very straightforward and believable drama. According to the guardian “Now Villeneuve has made his first English-language film, Prisoners, a long, brutal and occasionally gripping forensic crime drama.” This was Villanueva’s first English language film. And he truly hit it out of the park. Throughout the film I had to pause it quite often because of how sick and twisted it was. The acting was superb along with the cinematography. They were interesting angles and again the lighting used was fabulous. The film does a great job addressing some social issues. The parents of the kidnapped girl were obviously extremely upset because their daughter was kidnapped. And the police officers assigned the case were trying their hardest to get their child back to them safe and sound. The disturbed induvial was played so well. The actor that played Paul Dano was able to perform so well under the role. Villeneuve was in an interview explaining that he made the sick and twisted movie to explore a part of human nature that he is afraid of.

Villeneuve has created a plethora of different film styles. He mainly focuses on thrillers and science fiction movies. He is very well known for his film “Blade Runner.” He’s arguably one of the best film directors of all time. The way his camera angles are set up are amazing, he is very good at editing his films in a way to make it very pleasurable to be viewed, and he’s just extremely artistic and talented. According to a Peer reviewed journal, “Before he arrived in Hollywood, Villeneuve had established himself as a major force in Québec, part of a 'nouvelle generation' (new generation) of French-language filmmakers (see Lever; Melnyk; Poirier).” He has always been a force to be reckoned with in the film industry. I enjoyed looking through his films and what he has created in the film industry.

#Youtube

[cetacian]

The Fall and Rise of Orca: Batman Vol 1 #579-581: Problems with Larry Hama’s Writing Part 2

The Bigger Picture

                                              Under Cut for Length

Batman acts like a sanctimonious asshole and doesn’t offer viable alternatives to Grace’s criminal behavior

While Grace and the other residents of the waterfront district jump to conclusions about Batman’s motives for tracking down the stolen diamond, he doesn’t exactly inspire much confidence in trying to do the right thing via his dialogue. Throughout the three issues, Orca explains to Batman her motive to help the less fortunate and the criminal behavior Camille is guilty of, while Batman endlessly lectures her about how her theft is no different than Camlle’s own dirty dealings:

Which while it’s all well and good to say stealing is morally wrong, at no point does Batman offer to help Grace find a better way or give any kind of useful advice to help advance her causes legitimately. It’s no wonder she isn’t willing to listen to him, something that ultimately leads to her being mortally wounded and Batman needing to allow her take her remaining serum to survive, becoming a whale-human hybrid permanently. In the end, Batman may not have created Orca, but his lack of wise counseling in this case would ensure she wouldn’t be swayed from the path of vigilante thief and would lose her physical humanity.

It’s difficult to take main villain Camile Baden-Smythe seriously when she constantly makes stupid choices

Camille is shown to throw words around to make herself seem more cultured than she actually is and shows open contempt for Gotham’s poor and needy. Neither of those is uncommon among Gotham’s wealthy class:

Though what is a bit surprising is just how oblivious in her callousness she actually is. After Orca snatches the Flame of Persia, Camille orders her armed guards to fire on Orca with the other guests clearly in the line of fire, forcing Orca to get the guests behind a table she uses as a shield and Bruce to tackle the guards:

Once Orca escapes with the diamond, Bruce rightfully calls Camille out on putting her guests in further danger, while she just states that that wrongful death settlements could’ve easily be made. 

Now while it’s true that unscrupulous corporations in the real world will engage in this sort of behavior, usually the boards of directors and CEOS generally don’t have to deal with victims and their families in person. That’s not the case for Camille, as she says this with no action made to disguise her disregard for human life of all social strata. The point was to show how callous she is, but in this context, it just makes her come across as stupid saying that in front of her guests. Granted they may be shaken up by Orca’s arrival and the gunfire, but I have a hard time buying that no one else would’ve overheard what Camille said.

She shows a bit more smarts later on by trying to feign ignorance during a television interview:

But then quickly goes back to dropping the facade of even pretending to give a shit about anything but the stolen diamond:

Which, while it makes sense to keep quiet about the accusations, trying to change the subject from potential criminal negligence to jewelry isn’t really going to make you look any better in front of millions of viewers.

The thing is, we find out later on in the story that the diamond doesn’t even legally belong to Camille. It seems like she just wants it back because she’s being petty that someone took it from her. Camille even taunts the wounded Orca about that fact when she shows up to try to extort her:

Which turns out to be another stupid mistake:

One that gets her kidnapped and nearly drowned, forcing Batman to come after Orca and save them both. Once the healed Orca escapes, Camille decides to continue to be an idiot by refusing to go with Batman when he decides to leave the sewers. Something she comes to regret quickly when he leaves her behind:

While Camille does escape the sewer (we’re not shown how), it seems like she has no idea how close she came to death not only due to Orca, but the other dangers lurking in the sewer ways of Gotham City.

Though probably the dumbest thing in the whole story she does is handing the molotov cocktail to Eugene with her bare hands:

This is ultimately what implicates her in her various criminal activities, as Bruce later takes a used champagne bottle at a lunch meeting with Camille and manages to match up the fingerprints from both bottles up before presumably anonymously tipping off the police. Camille could’ve easily worn gloves or hired some thugs to intimidate the kid into doing the deed while having nothing to tie the potential crime to her. While I think any reasonable reader would be happy to see Camille brought to justice, it just doesn’t feel satisfying when the villain is shown to be so incredibly dumb.

#Landlubber (OOC) #Whalelore (About The Muse) #orca #grace balin #batman #dc comics #larry hama

[kootenaygoon]

So,

I was watching music videos again. 

Dragon smoke unfurled before me, my living room throbbing with purple Targaryen magic, while Tove Lo sang from my glowing laptop. I gotta stay high all the time to keep you off my mind. I was shirtless in my Shambhala tights, allowing YouTube to send my mind careening through what some algorithm had decided should be my mental breakdown playlist. Repeatedly it returned to a haunting electronica track from Disclosure: You help me lose my mind, and you believe something I can't define. Help me lose my mind. Mika was at class at Selkirk College while I raved, trampling her rabbit’s shit pebbles into the carpet with my slippers.

All around me were canvases, procured with my final cheque from the Star, at various states of completion. I’d finished a couple more flamboyant self-portraits, but now I’d moved on to psychedelic dinosaurs, shape-shifting jelly-fish, and paintings of both Mika and my barber Jesse Lockhart. Right now I was working on my first nude, a beach scene set on the fictional island of Quatsino, with my UBC manuscript’s protagonist knee-deep in the surf. Paisley’s dreadlocks hung blonde around her shoulders, and on her forearm I had painstakingly recreated the rose tattoo her real-life counterpart got back when we lived together in Victoria. I could’ve easily been painting Kessa. A joint hanging from my lips, I felt tears slide down my cheeks like fat slugs, my mind flashing back and forth between fiction and non-fiction. Sometimes it seemed like there was no difference — these were all just characters in my mind, and real or not they spoke to me. 

Stacked on the kitchen counter was three or four copies of my last issue of the Star, the one featuring the #MeToo story with Mharianne and Laela. I’d asked Ed about the story while collecting my things from the office, and he’d hinted that it may be on the chopping block due to my departure. I insisted it was done, everybody was interviewed and signed off, it was all ready to go — “you would literally be silencing sexual assault survivors,” I made sure to say. Then I called the president of Selkirk College, begging him to talk sense into Aaron Layton and letting him know I was planning to publish it online myself. They couldn’t kill it, not now. They could take my job away, but they couldn’t take that story. They ultimately ran it without my byline—a masterpiece without a proper signature.

Meanwhile, I had other things on my mind. 

“You didn’t wear a condom?” Mika asked, when I told her about Natalya’s potential pregnancy. She was looking increasingly more concerned when she returned to the house to find me manic and monologuing.

“I hate condoms.”

“So what were you using for birth control? Wasn’t this chick married?”

I dragged my knuckles against my temple, my skin trembly and sweat-slicked. “I thought she was too old. She’s like 42 or something. And she’s already got kids, right? I thought she was on top of this shit.”

Mika rolled her eyes. “You have nobody to blame here but yourself. Seriously, you don’t get my sympathy.”

I had initially intervened in Mika’s life because she was in the midst of a break-up, and I empathized with the struggle of going through something so publicly embarrassing in such a small town. It wasn’t until we moved in together that I encountered her real personality — she was a hyper-nerd, into science and learning and the weekly Bingo night. She was one of the bud tenders at the local dispensary, which was a convenient way for me to meet the owners.  Amidst my chaotic and prolific dating life, I was trying to keep her on a platonic level. 

My Nelson sister, something like that.

“This is toxic masculinity, right here. I’m such a fucking asshole,” I said. “This is what Me Too is all about.”

“Not everything is about Me Too. You’re just obsessed with that lately.”

I shook my head. “Kessa’s dead, Mika. That’s a real thing. Fucking pedophile rings and rape everywhere. This is what the woman are raging about. They’re dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Like those girls on roller skates, in the Chet Faker video. You know the one?”

By this point she knew me pretty well, and as her eyes narrowed I realized this was more than a normal high. I was operating from an extra elevated plane, like I’d lost sensory hold over my body. It was an intoxicating place to be, far from the shame and darkness of the banal. I’d tried one of the pills Natalya gave me, and it was making the room vibrate.

“You’re on something,” she said.

“Natalya gave me this shit to micro-dose. Like mushrooms and speed or something. I just had one like an hour ago.”

She sighed. “You need to be careful, Will. You’re acting strange.”

However I was acting, things finally made sense. I felt like I’d peeled back a layer of existence and discovered the writhing snake-belly of reality. Trump was grabbing everybody by the pussy, waging Twitter war with Kim Jong-Un, while here in Nelson there was some sort of conspiracy to ruin my fucking life. Was it really the Kessa situation that did it? How did they convince Ed to betray me? I thought of that cop who punched a woman, how he sat on the pay roll for years while they figured out his outcome. Was I worse than him? Did I deserve to have my life up-ended for going to a fucking funeral? What were they afraid of? I rattled through my theories on this as I drove Mika to school, and she mostly looked out the window. I wondered if she regretted moving in with me. I’d become that mentally ill freak people talk about, posting my shit all over social media. I just didn’t care anymore.

“So is she going to get an abortion?” Mika asked. “Did she say?”

I shook my head. “She hadn’t even taken a test yet. She said she was just feeling funny, and when she was leaning over she felt something weird.”

“Something weird like what?”

“She said it felt like a tear, like a muscle tear maybe? I don’t know, I was fucking panicking. I told her to call my sisters.”

“Your sisters?”

I didn’t feel like explaining this to Mika. She wasn’t tuned into the greater conversation that was going on, the one coming at me through social media. Men were failing to acknowledge their complicity in rape culture while women bled in public. Nobody was willing to admit they were wrong, because everyone was worried they lived in a glass house. Lately, though, I was wondering if I could break my own glass house. That way I could throw some stones.

“What do you mean throw stones?” she asked.

“These men need to be held accountable.”

“What men?”

“These rapists and abusers and pedophiles who took away my job.”

“I thought you got fired because of Kessa.”

I grunted in annoyance. “I wasn’t fired. I was let go without cause.”

Back in my bedroom, Lt. Aldo Raine marched before his carefully assembled killing team in Inglorious Basterds. I’d watched this clip multiple times, and had the words memorized. Brad Pitt sneered, his throat sporting a nasty scar. I sure as hell didn’t come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily and jump out of fucking aero plane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazis ain’t got no humanity. They’re the foot soldiers of a Jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac and they need to be destroyed. 

That’s what was happening here in Nelson, but with rapists instead of Germans. Andrew Stevenson was sitting on the edge of my bed, wiping down the barrel of his shotgun, as I lit up another joint. Now I was watching that scene from The Sopranos, the one where Tony wants to kill the local soccer coach for molesting one of the teenage players. This shit was real life, right here. Like my Trent situation. I thought of the local soccer team, and all the abusive shit-heads that were coaching there. I wondered if one of them had crossed the line, if I’d have to add him to my kill list.

I want my scalps. 

Somewhere around that time, I realized I was expected soon at Tony’s Taphouse for my Friday night shift. That was how I was battling rape culture now, working the front lines on the bar scene. My favourite moment of each night was when frightened women approached me at the end of the shift to ask me to stand guard until some creep moved on. I took this role very seriously. This week I’d purchased a new accessory to my vested get-up: a bright red bow tie. I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror, trimmed my moustache, and thought of how Tony stumbled home drunk after choosing to spare that soccer coach of his mobster justice. 

“I didn’t hurt nobody,” he said to Carmela. “I didn’t hurt nobody.”

As I grabbed my things and headed out the door, I noticed the Ziploc of pills. There were four left now. The first one had gotten me into this productive headspace, so maybe another would help me tap-dance through this rest of this night. Why the fuck not, right? I’d been receiving upsetting emails, crazy messages, death threats. I couldn’t comprehend it all. Unzipping the bag, I cradled one pill in my palm then threw it back, washing it down with tap water. I was tired of feeling morally exhausted, defeated, exiled. I deserved a little pick-me-up. The clientele at Tony’s Taphouse would have no idea their doorman was rip-roaring high. I would be like Bodie from The Wire, standing on his corner while the hitmen descended. 

This is my corner! I ain’t going nowhere!

Before leaving, I decided to re-listen to Eminem’s duet with Rihanna, “Love the Way You Lie.” I watched my favourite rapper rock rhythmically back and forth amidst hip-high grass, his voice filled with regret and grief. Here was the ultimate embodiment of rape culture right here, the meta-Chris Brown taking swings at Megan Fox while Rihanna curls her lip. Thing was, Meghan Fox looked exactly like Paisley. The real one. And as Slim Shady rapped in front of a burning trailer, I couldn’t help but think of Ryan Tapp. I can’t tell you how it is really is, I can only tell you what it feels like. And right now it’s a steel knife in my wind pipe. 

Andrew Stevenson was waiting at the door, in a black balaclava, with the shotgun sticking out of his backpack. He cracked his knuckles together as I reached the top of the stairs.

“I need your help. You can never ask me about it later, and we’re going to hurt some people,” he said.

I blinked in surprise. “You’re quoting from The Town. That Ben Affleck bank robbery movie. Right? That scene with Jeremy Renner?”

He opened the front door.

“We’re going to hold court in the streets.”

The Kootenay Goon

[linssikeittomies]

The Place Between Here An There - Chapter 2: Ship Of Fools

Masterpost     AO3

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8   Chapter 9  Chapter 9(cont’d)

Ugh, Alfred is so hard to write! His POVs are all Thing happens, thing happens, thing happens, he has a thought, thing happens… Ivan’s POV is more like Thing happens, he has a thought about the thing, that reminds him of past thing, thing happens… And Alfred has too many non-plot-important friends, but leaving them out feels even more wrong because he’s a people person first and foremost. He does get more thinkey later, but at this point of the story he doesn’t really worry about anything so he doesn’t have too many thoughts floating around his brain. His parts feel like such filler orz Try and bear with me orz I got so sick of looking at this mess and not being able to write it the way I wanted to so I decided to screw it and let it be, filler-y and bad and all.

–

“Morning, sunshine!” a happy voice greeted Ivan right as he stirred. The grating cheeriness revealed the identity of the perpetrator before Ivan even opened his eyes. The act only confirmed that the annoying idiot was grinning from ear to ear. Seeing that his bedmate was somewhat awake encouraged the American to rise up on his elbows to peer down with an excited look. So he was near-sighted, since he hadn’t put on his glasses.

“Dobroye utro”, Ivan muttered, not sure if he was glad to see Alfred or not. The novelty of being treated like a normal human being was fading quickly now that he wasn’t allowed to wake up at his own pace. “Are you really a cop?” Alfred queried with badly contained glee, leaning in closer with his morning breath. With a grimace Ivan turned his head slightly, and Alfred seemed to get the hint. “Yes, a detective.” “Man, that’s so cool! I applied to the academy a few years back, but I had speeding tickets, and the air force didn’t want me for some reason so I’m still-“ Probably a store clerk. Maybe a cleaner. Likely living on his parents’ money. “- a fireman and it’s great ‘cause I’m saving lives and all, but man, cops! I love cops!” Yeah, right. This infuriating loser seemed barely literate. Pro wrestling would suit him much better: prancing around in embarrassing clothes yelling cringey lines, and no one would notice if he got brain damage. Claiming he actually did important work was the most bold-faced lie Ivan had heard in his life. “But how in the hell did you get in? Did you kill all the other applicants?” “How rude. I was never linked to those cases.” Alfred pretended to be struck dumb, and clutched his pearls like a scandalized granny. “I was hoping you’d claim to be the paragon of justice, but you just ran with it! How am I supposed to make fun of you with that attitude?” he laughed as he sat up, dragging the covers up with him and then letting them fall off his shoulders. The move revealed his toned chest and subtle six-pack again. Ivan contemplated taking a spied look between his legs, but decided against it. His senses were returning slowly, but the insecurity had already creeped in almost full swing. He pretended to be cold and wrapped the covers more tightly around him. “It’s not an attitude. It’s the truth.” Alfred laughed and told Ivan to dress his ugly ass, he was making pancakes. Ivan was not one to say no to a free meal, and the company only left something to desire.

Even if waking up next to someone was a questionable joy, having someone to eat breakfast with was undoubtedly pleasant. Much time had passed since the last time Ivan had a discussion at the table. They used to be common in the old days, and the siblings especially had been practically glued together, but then the thing happened and everything went to hell. Their family dynamics never got back to normal, even after 19 years of stability and moving halfway across the globe. It had no longer felt natural – one was missing and one became an outsider. It was almost more distracting to have his sisters in the same table than eating alone. But with Alfred there was no history so he couldn’t be reminded of anything, and as a result he found himself genuinely enjoying the moment. “Well, ya just don’t look the part, yannow? Think Magnum PI! Ya need a square jaw and a cool baritone voice and a great mustache.” “So what kind of cop do I look like?” “Hmmmm…” Alfred hummed and held an exaggeratedly long pause, took a bite off his pancakes, chewed and then shrugged. “I dunno, the kind who negs decent people and takes advantage of drunk guys?” Ivan shrugged nonchalantly.  “Guilty as charged”, he agreed. He doubted Alfred had actually been all that drunk by the time they left the restaurant, and the stumble had been a conspiracy to make Ivan take him home. He still had trouble imagining Katyushka scheming like this, because she had always been the most honest and straightforward of the family. Her saintly nature must have come from a distant ancestor. “So are you gonna go and brag to all your friends about how you finally scored with a conscious person?” “I hesitate to call someone with your level of brain activity conscious.” “But you will brag to all your friends?” “I don’t have friends”, Ivan’s mouth said with brutal honesty before his brain could shut it up. His breath got stuck in his throat as he waited for inevitable pitying look. It always happened. He could be as terrifying as he wanted, the second anyone learned about his sorry excuse of a social life they suddenly saw him a charity case, defective, helpless… Nothing could be further from the truth, but nothing would convince the hypocrites  that Ivan didn’t need anyone, people were only in the way, and he didn’t care for backstabbing gold diggers or emotional leeches. Jones was a person, Ivan had no use for him. God spared him just this once. Alfred, oblivious to anything but a jackhammer to the skull, missed his slip completely and continued with the friendly hostility. “Small wonder, with your personality.” Ivan was well aware of his flaws, but could do nothing to change them. His path had formed in front him on its own on that day and there were no side roads. He wasn’t like Jones, who had a say in what happened to him. He had no business commenting on what he knew nothing about, but spoken like a true American, he felt the need to police everyone else and just flap his mouth hole to make noise for the sake of it. And he had such a grating voice, too. Ivan wanted to get out of this apartment yesterday. “More coffee?” “Yes, please.” Watching Jones stuff his face with pancakes made Ivan wonder what he even found appealing about the glutton at this point. He was a slob with terrible table manners who loved putting people down. That answered the question of why he hadn’t gotten laid in ages, at least. He should get drunk more often, it seemed to better his odds. “Do you have the day off?” Ivan asked. He almost regretted it, since Jones didn’t bother swallowing his half-eaten pancakes, choosing instead to spit soggy crumbs all over the table. Ivan quickly lifted his coffee off it. Jones failed to take the hint, as expected. “Yeah, but my cousin’s coming over. I’ll have to kick you out by noon.” Ivan hadn’t been planning to stay after breakfast. He hadn’t planned to stay the night. Having to leave in a few hours was no problem for him. And even if he had been free to stay as long as he wanted, which was not a single minute by the way, he was a busy man. He had things to do. Plans to review. He wouldn’t stay even if Jones begged to blow him. “I’ll be gone before that.” Jones smirked coyly, for reasons unknown to Ivan. “Do you wear the uniform?” Ah, he was one who loved a man in uniform. Ivan could hardly blame him, he himself couldn’t resist a suit with a tie. Wonderful toys they were, so versatile, never failed to make him want to pull. He’d like to put one on Jones, for so many reasons. “Only for special occasions.” Ivan would have liked to have a newspaper at the table. The absence of one didn’t exactly surprise Ivan, Jones didn’t strike him as the type to read, even magazines. It was excusable – in his line of work it wasn’t important to know what had went on during the night. For Ivan, it was both a necessary evil and a questionable joy. Not knowing the latest updates when he walked into the office was considered bad work morale, and that’s where news apps really came in handy. A newspaper, after all, first had to go into print, and then be delivered. While all that happened, ten new things had unfolded. It was still nice to have a physical page in his hands, feel the crinkle. They were easily stored. Ivan had a whole bookcase dedicated to newspaper and magazine clippings: cold cases, cases he’d worked on, PD bashings, survival stories, true crime articles… Lately he had taken to throwing out some of the older things to make room for all the Baton killer related articles. 7 confirmed victims, 5 suspected, and that was only after a year and half of activity. Despite what you heard in popular media, it was actually quite rare for a serial killer to have more than 4 victims per year. Reporters liked to play up the numbers, speculating at least a dozen victims, but even more than that they liked blaming the police department for not catching the raving lunatic. Their words, not his – from the evidence and bodies it was clear as day the Baton killer was not crazy. Yes, he never bothered hiding the bodies well, but there was never any evidence left. Every body was cleaned thoroughly after the act to dispose of any DNA evidence, there was never a glimpse of him in security footage, no one ever reported seeing someone who didn’t belong… It takes meticulous planning and a clear mind to do something that carefully. The police weren’t even completely sure they were dealing with a male killer – the only reason to suspect that was that among the victims were two large men who had last been seen in gay bars, and an unopened condom left on the body of one female who had been reported to be fiercely faithful to her clean husband. Ivan didn’t like not knowing things. He got anxious when he couldn’t be sure. It should have been common courtesy to have one paper at the table. “A suit, then?” Ivan shook his head. He preferred wearing his everyday clothes to work, because they made him look just a bit less intimidating. A suit was a double-edged sword: on one hand, it tended to make people more nervous and slip up, but on the other, it isolated him further. Normal human interactions were few and far between for Ivan, so he cherished every single one. This was why he liked dealing with the the deaf: they couldn’t tell the disparity between his voice and stature, so they assumed he was just a normal, large man. In this Alfred resembled them. The bad thing about Jones was that he was insufferable. Ivan had a hunch Jones would be difficult with the authorities, just for the sake of being difficult. “Betcha you’d look hot in one”, Alfred said, winking. Ivan didn’t agree. He didn’t think he looked hot in most clothes. He still muttered a thank you because he wasn’t on the mood to argue.

~¨:.:¨~

Jeez, this guy was just too cute! No adult man should be allowed to have such an adorable face! The way he shyly blushed and averted his eyes to the side combined with his huge stature did something incredibly pleasant to Al. It was getting the best of two worlds. He tended to go for the big, tough guys, but enjoyed the odd twink every now and then, and here he had two for the price of one! Moving to the big city really was the best damn decision he had made in his life. Rural Kentucky just didn’t have these types. “Unlike you, no doubt”, Ivan answered weakly, and Al grinned again. He couldn’t explain why he liked exchanging insults so much. He did it all the time with Arthur, too, but the Brit always got pissed too quickly. Mattie’s game was too strong, so Al no longer did it with him. But now he had a new playmate! One that liked the game just as much! He hadn’t had this much fun since last night, and with any luck he might be able to convince the Russian babe for round two of that, as well! Maybe one day he could bring the insult game to bed? “Yeah, but I look good naked”, Al shot back. Ivan rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee again. “You get cross-eyed when you take off your glasses.” “Do not! Take that back, fatso!” With a teasing smile Ivan raised his gun again. “And you smell terrible. Have you showered in the last three days?” “Didn’t bother you last night.” “I had a momentary lapse of standards. The culture must be damaging my brain.” Aaahhh, that accent! That was paradise, right there! Ivan really had everything: looks, personality, huge body, huge dick… He should marry the guy before he wriggled away. The way to a man’s heart goes through his stomach, right? “Sure you don’t want pancakes?” Alfred confirmed. He was almost offended Ivan had refused them the first time. While his weren’t as divine as Mattie’s, they could still make a man moan in pleasure. Pancakes were the one food he never made from instant mix or in a microwave. “I am sure.” Al pouted and poured some more syrup on his stack. Fine, be that way!Vodka had probably ruined his tastebuds anyway, so he couldn’t appreciate the pancakes if he wanted to. Ivan gulped down the last of his coffee and got up. “Leaving already?” “I have work. Thank you for the coffee.” Work on Sunday? What kind of breakthrough had they had in whatever case Ivan was working on? Detectives usually only worked weekdays 9 to 5. “No prob. See ya ‘round!” Ivan scoffed as he put on his coat. He was wearing three layers, and it wasn’t even that cold yet. Guess he was just always cold, if he needed two sweaters even indoors. “No one would want to see you again. You are a headache on feet.” Al laughed. A lot of people commented on his loud voice, usually telling him to turn it down a notch. He just didn’t have an indoor voice and he got excited so easily. “And my ears are ringing from listening to you squeaking”, he joked back. He wondered why Ivan decided to use such a weird voice. Obviously he had a much deeper natural pitch, but it hadn’t come out much even last night. He sounded like a prepubescent boy. It added to his cute image, but couldn’t have been easy to produce. Maybe it was an effect of growing up with two high-pitched sisters? “Are you the youngest?” “The youngest what?” Ivan asked, voice muffled from the pale pink scarf. Another cute quirk, didn’t fit his towering height and wide shoulders at all. “Sibling. Katie’s the oldest, right?” “Yes. Katyusha is four years older and Natasha is five years younger.” “Really? You and Natalie look the same age. Do you look young or does she look old?” “It could be a little bit of both.” Ivan had his hand on the knob, but hesitated. Al tilted his head questioningly, and Ivan reached a decision. He dug out a pen from his pocket, but couldn’t find paper, so he wrote his number on the wall instead. “Call me if you want to go drinking sometime.” “After you ruin my fucking wall?! In your dreams!” Ivan gave an infuriating little smirk and closed the door after him. Damn that Russki and his adorable ways. How long should Al wait before he called?  The same day would be needy and a little creepy, but he didn’t want to wait two days! Agh, this was just like that one time in Montana! Or, Christ, Tex! He couldn’t handle another bi-curious cutie deciding he wanted to stick to women! The guy was just too much fun, Al really liked just hanging out with him, not that he minded the afterhours, either… After wolfing down his seventh pancake Al did his morning pushups and jog. Artie had been right in that age would eventually catch up with him and he’d need to work harder to stay in shape. With his steady diet of junk food it was really a miracle he was so fit. Musta been good genes. Pissed Artie off to no end. Speaking of, he should clean up the place. Neither of them was looking forward to Mister Cleanliness nagging about Al’s housekeeping skills. It didn’t really even matter, no one in the history in the world had died of a few shirts on the floor, or a few weeks’ dust, or a messy closet, and penicillin had been discovered in dirty dishes. And so what if there was some food gone bad in the fridge, they were in closed containers, the bugs weren’t about to strongarm open the lids. Ehh, Artie was still three hours away, he had time. He could play some Mortal Kombat first. He needed to practice Kenshi’s fatalities anyway. And while he was on the sofa anyway, he might as well try out that GTA swing glitch! Oldie but goodie.

Knock knock. “Who’s there?” Just kidding, Al already knew it was Artie. His British cousin was the only person in the world who knocked when there was a perfectly good doorbell. “It’s me.” “Me who?” “Arthur, you bloody twat! Open up!” Sigh, ol’ Artie never played along. All he laughed at was that Monty Python show. Poor guy, he’d die an early death thanks to never laughing. Al threw the controller on the couch and got up to get the door. Yikes, those eyebrows were still a shock every time. “I swear you grow like twenty new hairs every time I see you!” Al commented, earning an irritated sigh from his cousin. After 17 years he didn’t need to ask what Al meant by that. “And you accumulate more and trash in your place. Three copies of Die Hard 2?” Artie whined looking at the living room table. Well, at least he wasn’t bitching about the dirty coffee cups and plates on the kitchen table. He should be a maid, he was so great at whining about pointless stuff. After setting his luggage in a corner, Artie made a show of placing the Xbox controller on the coffee table and making himself at home on the couch, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “Never again!” he announced. “This baby screamed the whole flight and my neighbour spilled his orange juice all over my trousers.” Seeing Al eyeing his perfectly dry pants, he explained. “I changed in the airport toilet.” “Wanna throw them in the washing machine?” “Go ahead.” Artie’s suitcases were works of art. He knew just the way to tightroll everything and exactly how much of any given thing was needed, then filled every square inch so perfectly it looked like a Tetris high score. Speaking of Tetris! “Hey, Artie! Guess who scored with a cop last night?” “Alfred, please! I don’t want to hear about your sex life!” “But he was so great! So tall and cool and burly and cute! And I got his number!” Artie gave him a confused look from under his arm. “Burly and cute? That’s a combination you don’t hear often.” “I know! But it was awesome! God, I wish I had a photo to show you, he was just perfect! He’s a detective!” Artie lifted his feet off the couch to let Al plop down next to him. “He acted all cool and aloof and then blushed when I said he’d look hot in a suit! It was adorable!” Al knew he was gushing like a teenage girl about her latest celebrity crush but he couldn’t help it! This was the single greatest thing that had happened to him since… since he first got laid, basically! “And he’s a cop! I’ve never seen a cop like him! He wrote his number on the wall”, Al helpfully pointed at the number scratched on the wall paper. The wince on Artie’s face was great. “You two seem like you would get along swell”, he muttered. “I know! He’s not at all uptight like you are!” “It’s called being a functioning adult! You git!” “A functioning adult would have brought me Cadbury creme eggs!” “The last time I did you thought I was flirting with you!” Oh right, it had been the day before Valentine’s and Artie had been blushing for some reason.

They cleaned up the place together. Artie tried to cook “as a reward”, which would have been about as much of a reward as a death penalty. Al insisted he wouldn’t make a guest cook, so they went out for dinner, even though Artie hardly counted as a guest. He was rarely over, thanks to the ocean between them, but the guy was as much family as Mattie. Every time he stayed at Al’s place it was like a roommate coming home. Artie didn’t buy the excuse, as he never did, and claimed Al needed a good English dinner in him just once and would never go back, as he always did. This was routine for them. Everything about Artie was familiar. He had gone through a few phases in his teens and early twenties, but ever since becoming a premature grandpa the only thing that changed were his clothes. He was as stagnant as Mattie. “You gonna go see Mattie after dropping by our folks?” “I don’t have time”, Artie said. “I only have three days left and I couldn’t get a ticket. I’ll see him on Christmas.” It was something of a tradition for the whole extended family to gather at Mattie’s place on Christmas, since he was one of the few who didn’t switch apartments every year. Not everyone could make it at the same time, some stayed for a few days before Christmas and some dropped in to say hi on Christmas Day. Al always stayed in the guest room, but the sheer number of relatives forced the large majority to stay in hotels. Artie got a mattress on the floor the years his pervert husband stayed home. They had learned from the first time. “Francis is still working out his schedule so I’m not sure if he can make it.” “Good! He’s already got a hubby, he shouldn’t hit on Mattie!” Francis was an okay guy most of the time, but you better not let your guard down or you’d find his hands down your pants. How Artie hadn’t dumped his cheating ass was something Al would never understand. If he ever started going steady, he wouldn’t forgive a single stray ogle. Luckily Ivan didn’t seem like the type to cheat, since it had taken him so long to even realize Al had been hitting on him from the first sentence he had said to him. It didn’t look like the guy had much of a sex drive. “And he better stay the hell away from my date, too!” “Your date? Weren’t you single just a few hours ago?” “I’m talking about that cop!” Artie made a face, but Al couldn’t figure out what he had said wrong this time. “Al, you only met the guy yesterday, and now you’re bringing him to Canada for Christmas?” “No! I mean, I could, I think we really clicked and I’m of course awesome so he totally wouldn’t say no.” Another face, more concerned than exasperated this time. “Oh come on Artie, be a little more happy for me wontcha?” “I am, it’s just that – you’ve been hurt before, because you get so into it far too early.” Right, Tex. But this was different from Tex! Ivan was completely comfortable being with men! He wouldn’t pull the same “incompatible” stunt he had! Ivan and Al went so well together, they liked the same things, they understood each other, and talking was so easy between them. Talking with Tex had sometimes been like pulling teeth. “I’ll be fine! I’m a grown man! And it’s just for fun – I just meant I wouldn’t object to getting serious if he wants to.” “Well – good luck”, Artie muttered. “Thanks!”

The next morning Al woke up to a horrible smell drifting from the kitchen. Not the worst Artie had ever caused, but it still made his eyes water. The sentiment was nice, but Artie just didn’t get that his breakfast would be put to better use in torture chambers. They did the usual song and dance – Artie claiming his cooking was great and Al just didn’t understand the fine undertones of British cuisine, and Al dumping his portion in the garbage and frying a healthy dose of bacon. Then they went sightseeing, since this was Artie’s first time in this city – the last time he had been living in Waynesburg. He’d leave tomorrow while Al was at work, so they had to make the day nice, since they would next see each other on Christmas. Granted, they talked daily but it still felt important to part on friendly terms. The one time they hadn’t, Artie had cut all contact with Al for 5 years. It didn’t matter that it had been over a decade ago, that before and after they were thick as thieves. So the next morning Al let his cousin make breakfast, bravely swallowed one bite and washed it down with half a gallon of Coke, and finished with three sunny side ups. Artie insisted his “baked beans”, that is, a sad, dry heap of something bumpy, and black pudding were delicious and nutritious. That might have been the case with store-bought “pudding” that had no business being called pudding, if the ingredient’s weren’t so god damn gross to begin with. “It’s an acquired taste, that’s for sure”, Al muttered in response. How Artie was capable of swallowing his own hellish productions was a mystery for the ages. He was married to a master chef and still lived in a delusional world where his own cooking wouldn’t be censored in daytime TV. Al left the Brit to shovel his indescribable “consumables” alone, and 15 minutes later arrived at the station. “Morning, guys!” “Morning”, greeted a chorus. A slow night, then, if so many were at the station. José made space for Al at the table and they went over the incidents of the last shift. A couple car crashes, two kitchen fires, one false alarm. Such a big city and so few incidents, that couldn’t last. Today would have to be busy. Stu dug out the playing cards after the last shift went home. They were starting the second round of poker when duty called the first time – a false alarm from an old folks’ home, something had spilled on the stove and triggered the alarm. One of the nurses made eyes at Stu, who never wasted a chance to flirt with a pretty face. “Way to keep it professional, Stu”, Jack sighed back in the truck. Jack was a forty-year old virgin. Word on the street was he’d never had a single girlfriend, or boyfriend, and that was why he was so frustrated. He spent most of his free time exercising and fishing. “I just made her day”, Stu argued proudly. He never went beyond flirting, as far as Al knew – the man worshiped his wife. His phone memory was 90% pictures of her. That reminded Al - should he have called Ivan yesterday? Al knew he wouldn’t mind being contacted the next morning, but Artie did keep telling him he was the most socially clueless bloke in the world, so maybe he shouldn’t trust his own judgment? Why hadn’t he asked Artie yesterday? The old man might not have been in the game for a decade, but he had to still have some memories from his single days! “Hey Jack, suppose you gave your number to a girl. Wouldja think she was desperate if she called you the next day?” Jack sighed exasperatedly, like he always did when Al asked him for relationship advice. “I don’t know. I never know anything you ask! Think whatever you think.” “I just wanna make sure! ‘Cause I don’t wanna drive away a good guy by being creepy.” “You’ll drive him away by being obnoxious”, Jack snapped. “Can we please concentrate on work instead of your sex life?” “I’d rather not think about all the dick my coworker is sucking, either”, Stu commented from behind the wheel. Had it been anyone else, Al would have punched them. Stu was chill, he just had a crass sense of humor and no brain-to-mouth filter. “Honestly though, wait until next evening but not longer. You’ll want to seem interested.” Shit, so was it already too late?! A day and a half had already passed! And the station was still ten minutes away! Had he already screwed up his chance? Jeez, stay cool, man! Ivan was totally into him, if anything he’d be overjoyed Al had remembered him! Yeah, that sounded much better. Al could salvage this. Right when they got to the station he’d call. Riiiiight… nnnnnnnnnoooooooooow! “I need to make a call!” he yelled and sprinted for the relative peace of the locker room.

~¨:.:¨~

Ivan was in no mood for solicitors right now. Staring at files and security footage for hours on end was soul-sucking work enough without some young hopeful desperately begging him to buy just this one amazing supplement that comes free with this subscription of these seven home improvement magazines only for 19.99 per month! Ivan never had problems hanging up on them immediately but that didn’t take away the reminder of outside life. For now, the only place that was supposed to exist was this sleazy alley with dismal lighting where one frame in a week’s worth might or might not reveal that Richard Boyarin had walked by it at some point during his vacation. Incredibly important work. Ivan frowned at the screen. It was a number he didn’t have saved on his phone. That was no news, he had a total of eight numbers in there. Two were his sisters’, one his boss’, one his partner’s, one for the station front desk, three for delivery food. He suddenly had the irrationally hopeful thought that it might be Alfred. Absurd as the notion was, it was tempting. And Toris clearly wanted him to silence the ringing, so why not try his luck? Anything would be better than trying to distinguish the black pixels from the other, slightly less black pixels. Fully prepared to be disappointed, Ivan answered as harshly as he could. “Alyo?” ”Hey Vanya, it’s Alfred!” Thoroughly shocked, but altogether pleased, Ivan felt an unexpectedly honest smile forming on his face, and casually insulted Alfred’s pronunciation. “Oh screw you, I did fine. You free tomorrow night?” Alfred’s nasal voice asked, completely carefree and smiling widely. Typical American, but at least Alfred’s smile wasn’t deceitful. He smiled because he was happy, not because he needed a good tip to pay his bills. Ivan was free, and had the feeling he would even make himself free if he hadn’t been. But the idiot didn’t need to know that, his ego was bloated enough already. “Hmm…” Pausing as if to check his calendar, Ivan lifted a finger to his lips at the nervously disapproving Toris. There was never any evidence in the Baton killer’s cases anyway. Of course not a single hair, spit drop or footprint had been found in this one either, which was the whole reason they had been forced to turn to these good as useless security tapes. The only thing ever found were the bodies, and that they had already analyzed to Hell and back, and of course it had revealed nothing new. Why pour over the same old evidence, hour after countless hour without any breaks? There would be a new victim, perhaps soon, even, there had been a long break between the last two. Then they could actually work. “Yes, I have a few hours after seven.” It wouldn’t do to look too eager. Ivan Braginski did not chase after men. “Great! Wanna go out? Rocker’s has a party celebrating the owner’s daughter’s birthday so they’ll have free booze! See you there at eight!” It better not be punch. “I suppose. What’s the address?” “It’s right next to orthodox church, you’ll find it!” If he found the church. Ivan rarely paid attention to places of worship, and then only to avoid them. Well, he would just Google the place later. Couldn’t be too many Orthodox churches in a city like this. He wondered if Alfred suggested the place because he thought Ivan had an inclination towards the Eastern church. “And hey, you never showed me your badge”, Alfred whined. An adult man, so fixated on badges, how cute. “You didn’t ask.” “Well show it to me tomorrow! You’ll love it”, Alfred said, wiggling his eyebrows so hard they almost rode the electronic waves to Ivan’s desk. He truly did like cops. Alfred was delightfully childish in a way that was funny for a few hours, but no one could take for more than a day at a time. One could only imagine how he had been as an actual child. Ten times as bad, or exactly the same? Maybe some boys never did grow up, as they say. “Only If you promise to stop whining.” “I promise nothing! Come onnnn, I’ll show ya my hose…” Again the eyebrows wiggled and Ivan almost snickered. Such a strange person. How old was he? He had looked a bit younger than Ivan, so maybe thirty or late twenties? A good age, young enough to enjoy fun but not young enough go overboard, old enough to understand life but not old enough to be weary of it. “Well in that case. Will you show me how it works?” “Oh, I’ll show you all right, and let you try…” This time Ivan did snort. “Tone down the eyebrows and I might take up your offer”, he chuckled, making Toris tilt his head in confusion. It couldn’t be that odd to hear Ivan laugh, could it? Surely he had done it in his partner’s presence before. “Eyebrows?” Alfred asked and the eyebrows stopped wiggling. He must have done it instinctively so he didn’t even pick up on it. Ivan wouldn’t be surprised – Alfred hardly seemed the perceptive type. The only things he could think about were probably sex, cheetos and beer. “You want me to pluck ‘em? They’re kinda thin already…” “Nevermind. Just make sure to impress me and you’ll get something good in return”, Ivan smirked, whirling around on his office chair. “Ivan –“ Toris attempted, but a quick hushing from Ivan silenced him and made him go back to studying the badly pixellated security footage. “Oh, do you have company?” “Just my partner. We’re going through some evidence.” Thank you, Toris. Live a little, nerd. “Jeez, you should have said you were at work. Tell me all about it later! Seven at Rocker’s! Bye!” “Bye.” With a heavy sigh Ivan put his phone back in his pocket. Security footage was easily the most mind-numbing part of police work, even worse than paper work, and in homicide investigation it contrasted so badly with the actual interesting part it felt ten times more tedious than in any other department. “Toris, you wouldn’t mind getting me a coffee?” Toris silently nodded and scurried off. The diminutive Lithuanian was an interesting mix of courage and nerves: on the job he wouldn’t flinch even when a gun was pointed at him, but whenever he was alone with his partner, he became a fidgety mess. Brilliant man, great at his job, but very meek. He had joined the force three years before Ivan, and was also that same three years older. They had been partnered seven months ago, after Ivan’s then-partner had been crippled on duty when they had been chasing a suspect. Tragic story, really. She would have survived the car crash with minor injuries, had a freak malfunction not made her gun fire inside the car and lodge the bullet in her spine. One of the finest of the force, she had been. Dedicated, smart.

--

You might have noticed that Ivan goes back and forth with Alfred and Jones – that’s on purpose. He uses Jones whenever he wants to maintain some distance, and Alfred when he forgets to despise all of humanity. Oh Ivan, you’re not nearly as misanthropic as you tell yourself!

Dobroye utro(Дoбрoе утрo): Good morning Alyo( Алё): Hello

Chapter name comes from Ship of Fools by World party. I should probably mention that the song lyrics have nothing to do with the chapter contents, I choose them purely by title. Also the symbolism mostly only makes sense to me:D Don’t mind if you don’t get what I’m going for.

#hereandthere #fan fiction #hetalia #russiaXamerica #AmeRus #RusAme #linssifanfiction #wiptale

[solivias-blog]

The Talis Tea Set 

Object Concept Statement:

In an environment where misinformation and cognitive dissonance dominate major forms of communication and discourse, where the internet and developments in mass telecommunications has splintered understanding, memory seems to be an important, underutilized resource.  The simultaneous material and abstract power of memory gives us a looking glass to the past and to our future.  My design encapsulates the idea that bringing an individual closer to memory—their own and a collective one—facilitates a connection to a wider community, spirituality, and the universe. The idea that introspection begins with considering who we are, because of where we have been, is wrapped up in the materials and experience of my Talis tea set.   The hope is that individuals, or groups, who use the tea set feel a sense of connection to themselves and something larger than them with every use.  With the Talis tea set a new experience is possible with each use due to a myriad of factors and determinants.  The tea set is the perfect canvas in which to infuse the concept of introspection and connection.  Tea itself is a ritualistic endeavor, with many cultures embracing tea as both a necessary substance and a way of life.  The many different varietals of tea, with different and distinct taste and olfactory experiences allow for the human memory to be unlocked and pondered over in a sensual way.  

The idea of individual memory and introspection came from my obsession after the 2016 election with the concept that the country seemed to be on the brink of a spiritual and moral crisis.  That people who elected a bigot and his cronies into office did so because somewhere along the way the values they were taught told them to pride themselves—their own fear and hatred—above the needs and benefit of people as a whole.  When I considered how empathy worked, I thought about how when I feel emphatic, I tend to compare my experiences with the situation at hand, and try to imagine what it would be like to be experiencing the same thing. 

That is where memory comes into play.  To be able to remember and contextualize one’s experiences: the good, the bad, the embarrassing, the loving, and the horrible, seems to be the most important aspect of empathy.  When we realize that we are in this thing called life, at once alone and as a part of something greater than ourselves, we start to see the idea of community and its needs above our own.  I want to establish that this came very much from a culmination of thoughtful grappling and struggling with hopelessness and optimism simultaneously.

But enough philosophical rambling, and onto my design. The Talis tea set is a 6 piece set, complete with a platter.  The overall appearance is supposed to invoke an immediate reaction of nostalgia and distance, that it belongs to a different time.  The copper finish of the exterior of the 6 pieces gives it a uniqueness as most contemporary tea sets are made from ceramic.  It also gives the tea set a direct lineage and homage to the Arts and Crafts movement of the late-nineteenth century.  Copper invokes a notion of craftsmanship and attention to material. The copper will also react visually to the warmth of the liquid.  The inside of the tea cups, creamer, and sugar bowl are lined with a durable and safe blue mother-of-pearl material, giving the pieces an iridescent and whimsical look.  The bottoms of the insides are lined with a mirror-like surface where the drinker can catch of glimpse of themselves, allowing for literal moment of self-reflection.  

Inscribed under each cup is a quote from a thinker associated with the Transcendentalist movement (with a complete bibliography for further reading included in the packaging for the tea set). The quote is raised so the user can run their finger over it while they drink and enjoy their tea, allowing for a tactile experience. If drinking individually, the user can pick up a cup either randomly or make a choice based on which quote best fits their mood or circumstances.  The form of the objects in the set is floral and straight-forward, looking similarly to other copper cups and dish ware: simple with a flat, wooden handle, with the exception of the tea cups which have a scalloped opening, a feature to match the the whimsy of the inside of the cup. 

With so much history and ritual infused into a tea set it is my hope that the Talis tea set captures the moment of memorial introspection that is so needed in our day and age.  Drinking tea is a highly nostalgic and comforting practice for me, with memories of my grandmother, traveling, moments of solitude and study,  all rolled into one experience.  By designing the tea set with materials that connect to another artistic and intellectual movement predicated on thoughtfulness, a connection to nature, and a return to simpler times, the Talis tea set is infused with the memories of a distant past and the imperatives of the present.  I cannot escape the historical and intellectual connections between the American and British Gilded Age—maligned with a disdain for laborers, both domestic and abroad in imperial holdings, and a nihilism that would lead to the first global conflict of the twentieth century—and our own times, with the ever increasing gap between the wealthy and the poor and cynicism for both the environment and lives of people we have deemed foreign and inhuman.   The intellectual and artistic endeavors that rose during the Industrial Revolution and the Gilded Age cried out for a spiritual and moral change in society. So too does this tea set, while providing a moment of individual introspection and quietude call out for a spiritual and moral renewal.  The hope that memory, collective and individual, can save humanity from the brink of destruction is a vague and optimistic one.  The power of memory, of honoring it and upholding it as a material of value and instruction could be the fuel of the necessary spiritual and moral reawakening of America.  Unlocking memory requires ritual, experiences, and introspection, which is where my Talis tea set would come into play. 

The key demographic of the Talis tea set is social awareness and justice-oriented millennials, “do-gooders” who do not have any preconceived notions of about the power of introspection. The value of thoughtfulness and empathy that the Talis tea set incorporates is one that must be taught early. Eighteen to thirty-year-olds have the right amount of abstract thought ability, coupled with the dissipation of adolescent solipsism that allows for an open-mind to new ideas and opportunities, which is why “millennials” are the perfect target for my design.  The materials used to make the tea set, as well as the craftsmanship needed to craft it to perfection means that it does not have a low ticket price. The Talis Tea Set will retails at $70.00 per set, with individual piece available to purchase beyond that.   The Talis tea set is manufactured in medium-sized editions, 500 in total, by family-owned metal workshops across America.  

Examples of Object-based inspiration: 

late-Arts and Crafts Era Copper Tea Set, 1920s, Germany

“Pocket Prayer” Medalions

Claire Fontaine, PLEASE GOD MAKE TOMORROW BETTER, 2016

Non-object based inspiration:

Transcendentalists My non-object related inspiration is the foundation and writing of the Transcendentalists of the nineteenth-century and subsequent thinkers associated with the movement.  While the Transcendentalist movement in the U.S. does not fall on the same timeline as the Arts and Crafts movement, it carries with it the same reaction to industrialized society and the alienation of man from nature as the latter.  The Transcendentalist movement was a cross-medium movement, developed not just in poetry and prose, but in philosophy, metaphysics, music, and art.  Predicated on the idea that society and institutions have corrupted man and his individuality, the Transcendentalists believed in the inherent goodness of man and nature.  

The beliefs of the Transcendentalists can be closely linked with that of the Romantics, but with an embrace of science and empiricism based on experiences in nature and self-sufficiency.  Transcendentalism is also viewed to be a marriage between German and English philosophies, incorporating the work of Immanuel Kant and Thomas Carlyle alike.  Some major thinkers of the Transcendentalist movement include Ralph Waldo Emerson, Margaret Fuller, Louisa May Alcott, and Walt Whitman.  Transcendentalism also had a close relationship with religion and metaphysics, looking towards forms of individual worship and Eastern religions.  This tie paved the way for Transcendentalism to inspire and fuel other American political and philosophical movements including abolitionist efforts and later the civil rights movement.  Even many contemporary hip-hop artists are inspired by Transcendentalism.

The Talis tea set is inspired by the Transcendentalist movement because of its incorporation of the belief in the inherent goodness of nature and man and a reaction to a society seemingly plagued by destructive morals and institutions.  As the writing and philosophy of the Transcendental movement transformed into a small “t” transcendental idea of an American tradition in overcoming the dehumanizing institutions and history that maligns our country, it seems another T/transcendental movement is needed today.  The three quotes that I am including in my design are all collected from the writing of Transcendentalist and Transcendentalist-inspired thinkers.

Possible Quotes for the tea cups in the Talis tea set: “Nature provides exceptions to every rule.” -Margaret Fuller, Woman in the Nineteenth Century (1845)

“Let your life be a counter friction to stop the machine.” Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience, 1849

“Bitch, be humble. Sit down, be humble.” - Kendrick Lamar, HUMBLE., 2017  

#design #arts and crafts #tea set #contemporary design #claire fontaine

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1293

Monday, December 23, 2019

 I'll be working at Comet Comics today which is a good thing because I won't be around all the Christmas goodies at home. Home made cookies and party mix won't be tempting me. I wish you all a Very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. I hope you didn't spend too much. Try not to eat too much. Try to over spread the love and joy of the season.

 Batman #85 - Tom King (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Hugo Petrus (art pages 10-12) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). A very satisfying end to "City of Bane". I liked how Tom left Bruce and Selina. Gotham Girl also gets a nice boost. The 3-page epilogue by James Tynion IV (writer) Guillem March (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) & Clayton Cowles (letters) made me think that the future of this title is going to be okay after the departure of Tom King.

 Once & Future #5 - Kieron Gillen (writer) Dan Mora (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Ed Dukeshire (letters). Duncan is Percival in this story and he's about to get a very powerful weapon to fight the bad knights. I hope his granny doesn't die.

 Legion of Super-Heroes #2 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Ryan Sook (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger (inks) & Ryan Sook (inks pages 11-13) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). One reason that I don't read a lot of super hero team books is because some writers make it very difficult to keep track of everybody on the team and what they're doing. I fear this might happen with this book because there are so many Legionnaires. I like the introduction of Jonathan Kent to the team and him getting a new recruit at the end of this issue made me go "yay". I'm going to stick with this for at least another issue.

 Runaways #28 - Rainbow Rowell (writer) Andre Genolet (art) Dee Cunniffe (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The benevolent Doc Justice isn't as pure goodie two-shoes as he claims. His gnarly plans for the Runaways start to be revealed this issue.

 Batman Superman #5 - Joshua Williamson (writer) David Marquez (art) Alejandro Sanchez (colours) John J. Hill (letters). Can Batman and Superman get past the Secret Six to destroy the tower and satellite that will bring the Dark Multiverse to our world? Hey, they don't call them the World's Finest for nothing. Of course, keeping the Batman Who Laugh's attack secret is going to have consequences. I want to see how Wonder Woman reacts to the boys leaving her in the dark.

 Gwenpool Strikes Back #5 - Leah Williams (writer) David Baldeon (art) Jesus Aburtov & Guru-eFX (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Leah sold me on this self aware comic book character so the next time she writes a Gwenpool story I'll be there.

 Catwoman #18 - Joelle Jones (writer) Joelle Jones (art pages 1-3, 10-11, 16-20) Fernando Blanco (art pages 4-9, 12-15) Laura Allred (colours pages 1-7, 10-11, 16-20) FCO Plascencia (colours pages 8-9, 12-15) Saida Temofonte (letters). This was fun. I didn't know that Catwoman and Zatanna were such good friends. Selina gets a little magical help to fight the creepy Raina Creel. I can't wait to see how it works.

 King Thor #4 - Jason Aaron (writer) Esad Ribic (main artist) Ive Svorcina (main colour artist) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). That's all he wrote folks. Jason Aaron wraps up his Thor run in this epic $5.99 US issue. I can't think of anyone who's better at chronicling a god's adventures than him. The list of contributing art teams to this mighty tome is too vast to include here. Suffice it to say that everyone did an awesome job illustrating this finale.

 Avengers #28 - Jason Aaron (writer) Ed McGuinness (pencils) Mark Morales (inks) Jason Keith & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Part 2 of "Starbrand Reborn" has Silver Surfer Black, Terrax, and Firelord teaming up to hunt the new Starbrand. The three ex-heralds of Galactus only hang around for 2 pages before Silver Surfer leaves them in his dust to go after Ghost Rider's ride. A lot happens this issue so pay attention. It looks like whoever has the Starbrand might be a bad guy. I hope we don't have to wait too much longer to find out who that is.

 The Amazing Spider-Man #36 - Nick Spencer (writer) Oscar Bazaldua (art) Steve Firchow (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I didn't read 2099 Omega #1 before this issue so it's very confusing what's happening with Spider-Man and Doctor Doom. I find this kind of tight tie-in very annoying. Bottom line is that Peter doesn't die and Doc Doom goes home to Latveria. The evil Countess's goal of starting a war between Symkaria and Latveria has been achieved. Meanwhile, Chameleon hints at future intrigues. A little incentive to keep reading this title.

 Fallen Angels #4 - Bryan Hill (writer) Szymon Kudranski (art) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). The team's mission to save children succeeds but there are casualties on the good guys' side. We also meet the bad guy and find out what connection it has with Psylocke. This title appeals to me because of the science involved. I think you need at least a university degree to appreciate the whole thing.

 Daredevil #15 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Marco Checchetto & Francesco Mobili (art) Nolan Woodard & Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I can't believe that Wilson Fisk has finally met his match when it comes to being a ruthless criminal. Seeing the Stromwyn siblings in action during their meeting with the Mayor of New York City made me cheer for poor old Kingpin. Meanwhile Matt and Elektra get hot under the collar on a mission to find out who ordered the police to keep out of Hell's Kitchen. I'm so glad to see Elektra back on the racks.

 2099 Omega #1 - Nick Spencer (writer) Gerardo Sandoval & Ze Carlos (pencils) Gerardo Sandoval, Victor Nava & Ze Carlos (inks) Morry Hollowell, Brian Reber & Andrew Crossley (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). 2099 was the non-event of 2019. You could have skipped this entire story and be none the worse for wear. This issue didn't even answer any of the questions I had from reading The Amazing Spider-Man #36. The only thing this accomplished was possibly to set up the return of Miguel as Spider-Man 2099 somewhere down the line again. This has been the most useless Marvel story that I have ever read. If I was a paying Amazing Spider-Man fan I would be royally pissed.

 Suicide Squad #1 - Tom Taylor (writer) Bruno Redondo (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) Wes Abbott (letters). There's a changing of the guard as the new Squad gets upgraded with new recruits. The team is sent against some Social Justice Warriors called the Revolutionaries and lose some members in the fight. Tom's not messing around with the changes. Amanda Waller may be in this issue but she's only there to pass the reigns to a hard ass named Lok. I like Lok. I'm going to keep reading these.

 The Old Guard: Force Multiplied #1 - Greg Rucka (writer) Leandro Fernandez (art) Daniela Miwa (colours) Jodi Wynne (letters). Andy's back on the racks. I started to read this immortal woman's first story but had to abandon it due to the store only ordering subscription service copies. I should seek out the collected trade paperback and read that. I remember I liked what I read of the first story and I like this first issue. And if I don't get to read the rest, I can look forward to seeing the movie in 2020 with Charlize Theron as Andy. Charlize was terrific in Atomic Blonde.

 Annihilation - Scourge Omega #1 - Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Manuel Garcia (pencils) Rafael Fonteriz, Cam Smith, Wayne Faucher &  Manuel Garcia (inks) Federico Blee, Rachelle Rosenberg & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This ending was a lot better than 2099 Omega #1. Even though it was your typical "whole bunch of super heroes fighting a cosmic threat and winning because of a huge sacrifice", the story made sense. It still wasn't a story that was worth reading. The only thing I got out of it was seeing characters that I haven't seen on the racks in ages. Hello Speedball. If Marvel keeps shovelling this crap and stinking up the House of Ideas, they're going to lose more readers.

 Year of the Villain: The Infected - The Commissioner #1 - Paul Jenkins (writer) Jack Herbert (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) A Larger World's Troy Peteri (letters). James Gordon is now a minion for the Batman Who Laughs. With Batman helping Superman fight other infected super heroes, Gotham City is vulnerable after the Commissioner releases the inmates of Arkham Asylum. I'm hanging around this story to see how they cure everyone.

 The Low, Low Woods #1 - Carmen Maria Machado (writer) Dani (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Steve Wands (letters). This is the story of Octavia and Eldora, two teenage girlfriends living in a half abandoned coal mining town. The mines are closed and strange things happen. I liked these girls after reading this so I'm going to stick around to see what happens after one of them wakes up next to a dead body.

 Year of the Villain: Hell Arisen #1 - James Tynion IV (writer) Steve Epting (art) Nick Filardi (colours) Travis Lanham (letters). What a poetic title for this 4-issue mini which will end with us finally knowing how the Batman Who Laughs changes the DCU. I'm finding it difficult to get into this story since it doesn't impact a lot of the DC books that I read. I'm curious to see if that changes.

 Klaus and the Life & Times of Joe Christmas #1 - Grant Morrison (writer) Dan Mora (art). I was a little disappointed because this wasn't a traditional story in the sense of having words and pictures. Notice the absence of a letterer in the credits. What we have here are 25 days in December lovingly illustrated. Punch a hole in this issue and you can use it as a calendar.

 Basketful of Heads #3 - Joe Hill (writer) Leomacs (art) Dave Stewart (colours) Deron Bennett (letters). There's only one head in the basket so far but I think another one will join it soon. This is one weird story with a creepy fantasy twist and I like it. I can't wait to see what June does with the axe next.

 Batman Last Knight On Earth #3 - Scott Snyder (writer) Greg Capullo (pencils) Jonathan Glapion (inks) FCO Plascencia (colours) Tom Napolitano (letters). What a terrific finish. I love these kinds of Elseworld stories where the characters are tweaked so that they're new and yet familiar. The Joker's head was the star of this story.

 Marauders #4 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Lucas Werneck (art) Federico Blee (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). I've been undecided about continuing to read this series but the gorgeous Storm cover by Russell Dauterman (art) & Matthew Wilson (colours) made me grab this issue off the racks and now that I've read it I'll add this to my "must read" list. I like the spy element to this title. We've got the Hellfire Trading Company, ex-bad guys now doing good for the mutant community and this issue introduces the White members of the club, who are anti-mutant. Very intriguing.

 Doomsday Clock #12 - Geoff Johns (writer) Gary Frank (art) Brad Anderson (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). The long awaited appearance of Dr. Manhattan happens here. It took two years for this story to be told. A lot of it had me discombobulated because of the mash-up of different universes. This story boils down to Jon/Dr. Manhattan and Superman/Clark Kent figuring out how to save the Multiverse. The cool thing about Dr. Manhattan is that the possibilities are endless. I rarely read a comic book story more than once but I did read The Watchmen three times. The first was when the original 12-issue series came out. The second was when the story was collected in a graphic novel and the third just after Doomsday Clock was announced. I think you get a better appreciation for Doomsday Clock is you're familiar with the Watchmen. I am considering reading Doomsday Clock again when it's collected too mostly because I loved the art.

 Spider-Man #3 - J. J. Abrams & Henry Abrams (writers) Sara Pichelli (art) Elisabetta D'Amico (inking assistant) Dave Stewart (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). With Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man done and The Amazing Spider-Man and Miles Morales: Spider-Man eliciting mehs from me lately, this is now my number one Spider-Man book. I like how they're handling Ben's evolution after discovering his powers. Their use of Tony Stark and Riri Williams made me smile. The new super villain Cadaverous is very cool.

 Harleen #3 - Stjepan Sejic (writer & artist) Gabriela Downie (letters). Wow, what a great origin story for Harley Quinn. This is the best interpretation of the relationship between Harley and the Joker so far. The inclusion of Two-Face was a bonus.

 Wonder Woman: Dead Earth #1 - Daniel Warren Johnson (story & art) Mike Spicer (colours) Rus Wooton (letters). Wonder Woman is awakened in a post-apocalyptic world where the humans have to survive being overrun by monsters. All the super heroes are dead. Well, at least Batman's dead. She saves Camp New Hope (is this a Star Wars swipe?) from the monsters and decides she's going to lead everybody to, you guessed it, a new hope. I liked the surprise appearance of a frenemy and the story is a basic fight for your life journey. I don't think this deserved the larger $5.99 US DC Black format however. It would have sold better in the regular comic book sized format like the DC Black $3.99 US Low, Low Woods.

[classicfilmfreak]

New Post has been published on http://www.classicfilmfreak.com/2018/05/17/harold-and-maude-1971-starring-bud-cort-and-ruth-gordon/

Harold and Maude (1971) starring Bud Cort and Ruth Gordon

“Vice, virtue.  It’s best not to be too moral.  You cheat yourself out of too much life.  Aim above morality.  When you apply that to life, then you’re bound to live it fully.”—Maude

A detective caper.  The practically unavoidable car-chase movie.  What was once the obligatory Western, now passé, certainly on television.  Maybe a straight, uncluttered drama.  A CGI extravaganza with monsters, battles and aerial warriors doing somersaults?  Maybe even the occasion musical, if loud and unmelodic enough.

Tired of some, or all, of these?  What about an off-the-wall black comedy based on an absurd premise which occasionally succumbs to the risqué, often to the implausible and so peculiarly its own entity that, after proving a flop at its premiere, popularly and critically, it has now become a cult classic?

Whacky in the extreme but sometimes touching, Harold and Maude stars a twenty-three-year old Bud Cort and then septuagenarian Ruth Gordon.  Cort, earlier seen as the flower child in Sweet Charity (1969) and Private Boone in the M*A*S*H movie (1970), became famous after Harold and Maude, but wanting to avoid typecasting, he has since pursued a variety of roles.

Gordon’s most memorable role is the evil Minnie Castevet in Rosemary’s Baby (1968), a supporting-actress Oscar win.  Late in her career, then as a full-fledged octogenarian, she became the oldest, not to mention the cutest, of the Columbo murderers, mystery writer Abigail Mitchell in “Try and Catch Me” (1977).  Also a screenwriter, Gordon shared co-writing credit with husband Garson Kanin in a number of films, most notably Adam’s Rib (1949) and Pat and Mike (1952), both vehicles for Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn.

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In Harold and Maude, the title characters share one thing in common: they are eccentric—in opposite ways.  While Harold is obsessed with death, funerals and staging ritual fake suicides, cocooning himself in preferred seclusion, Maude is obsessed with life and in experiencing everything she can, with lively and bizarre antics, invading other people’s space where Harold is at first afraid to tread.

In the process of Harold being won over to her lifestyle and way of thinking, by movie’s end they become “a couple,” as it were, in the most intimate sense.

The film begins—no score at first—similar to the setup for a murder mystery, the requisite FTB (finding the body) opening.  Only the lower half of a man is seen as a pair of shoes descends a narrow flight of winding stairs and crosses a room.  A hand writes a note at a desk.  When the person, slowly, solemnly lights two candles in a candelabra, it’s then that the pale, large-eyed face of Harold is seen and a song heard on the soundtrack.

This music is Cat Stevens singing his own “Don’t Be Shy.”  His songs (from a previously-released recording, typical of “scores” in the ’70s) permeate the film’s background music, along with “Honorable Death” by Mike Post and Peter Carpenter, appropriately placed in this death-themed movie.

The young man, dressed in suit and tie, proceeds to hang himself.

His mother (Vivian Pickles) enters the room, sees her son’s dangling body and casually walks to the phone.  Her first words, “I suppose you think that’s very funny, Harold,” quickly disabuse an audience of any notion that this death is for real, and makes those to follow suspect.

While she cancels a social appointment on the phone, Harold makes a few choking noises for added effect.  The impassive mother leaves the room, having suggested Harold be “more vivacious” at dinner that night.

Mom gives Harold a Jaguar, which, with an acetylene torch, he quickly transforms into a hearse.

Harold and Maude first meet at a funeral, no coincidence since attending these rituals for the dead is a shared hobby.  She steals cars as a means of transportation—parks one, then steals another—so in one of these handy vehicles she takes Harold to her home, a cluttered renovated Pullman railway passenger coach, built in 1913.

Harold is introduced to Maude’s infectious, quirky lifestyle and to aspects of life he has never known.  She plays the piano, sings (in a fashion) and paints.  She believes in liberty and justice for all creatures.  “I used to break into pet shops to liberate the canaries,” she tells him, “but I decided that was an idea way before its time.”  Opening a cabinet of music instruments, she says that everyone should play something and gives him a banjo.

The contrast with Harold’s home life is now only accentuated.  Further attempts to attract the attention of his wealthy, emotional bereft mother—floating face down in the family pool and blowing his brains out—are all to no avail.

Mom sends Harold to a psychiatrist (George Wood) who delivers double-talk while both wear identical clothes.  Thinking the military would straighten him out, she arranges a meeting with his one-arm uncle (Charles Tyner), a supposed general who jerks his prosthetic arm into a salute with a hidden cord.  A victim of war, he praises the glory of war, which prompts a gung-ho, enthusiastic, though put-on response from Harold, climaxing in a planned stunt to kill Maude.

Equally unsuccessful are the arrangements Mom makes for a potential girlfriend.  During Mom’s interview, prospect Number One watches through the window as her date climbs on the pool diving board, only to abruptly burst into flames.  She flees the house, as does Number Two when Harold hacks off one hand.

In girlfriend Number Three (Susan Madigan), a budding actress, Harold meets his match.  After he performs realistic, convincing hari-kari, unfazed, she re-enacts Juliet’s death scene in Romeo and Juliet, clutching a knife from Harold’s collection—“O happy dagger!”—and stabs herself.

Harold and Maude’s relationship quickly grows.  Besides leading a number of policemen on merry chases, they steal one officer’s (Tom Skerritt) motorcycle, and Maude, in control, takes the two on a frantic ride.  At the funeral of another stranger, Maude steals the hearse.  She introduces him to drugs, they share a sunset by a deserted marina, they confess their love, he proposes marriage and they dance to On the Beautiful Blue Danube.

While dancing, she tells him that eighty is the proper age to die.  She has taken sleeping pills and “will be gone by midnight.”  For someone who loves life, in contrast to Harold, it seems a contradiction of her character.

She dies at the hospital and a distraught Harold drives his Jaguar-hearse frantically through the streets.  From a distance, the car is seen careening over a cliff and landing top down on a beach below.  On the cliff edge, Harold dances around and on his banjo strums Cat Stevens’ “If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out.”

One last “suicide”?  Maybe.

Parts of Harold and Maude might be unappetizing for some tastes.  Most critically, Maude’s suicide and a scene after the two have made love, Harold blowing bubbles from a bubble jar, may seem against the film’s established whacky spirit.  For others, this very whackiness, whatever comes, may be the needed relief from the conventional film—the weak remake, the stale sequel, the dumb comedy.

#Bud Cort #Ruth Gordon

[clubofinfo]

Expert: There has been a recent media frenzy surrounding elitist men’s alleged sexual predation toward women/girls and men/boys. The news is hard to miss. Of course, over-the-top, unwanted sexual advances when made known to be unwelcome, exceed boundaries and enter the realm of harassment and, perhaps, criminal behavior. But the condemnations of these alleged sexual predators has been based on trial by media rather than trials through the legal system. Israel Shamir exposes the social justice implications of this in a recent article. Yet the writer starts out his article in a problematic fashion. He attacks a woman based on her lack of, in Shamir’s eyes, physical attractiveness. She is described as an “old crow,” a “burly unattractive woman in her late fifties or sixties, dyed hair, pearl laces around wrinkled neck…” He concedes that the woman maybe “once … was young and pretty, and could awake passion in a man’s loins, but that was long time ago.” First, the physical attractiveness of a person, in youth or advanced age, should be irrelevant concerning the allegation that the person was a victim of sexual assault. Second, as is often quoted: “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” The woman in question may not be Shamir’s cup of tea, but attraction has its own continuum. Third, the motivations that induce perpetrators to commit sexual assault are myriad and not just a function of physical attraction. But Shamir does raise questions that should be seriously pondered, such as why it took so long to speak, and where is the evidence supporting the allegation of a sexual assault. The why it took so long to speak is easily addressed by societal factors: the power imbalance between the alleged assaulter and the alleged victim, the lack of a corroborating witness, and the wrongful stigma attached to a woman who has been “touched.” However, if the allegations are untrue, then a person’s name has been smeared and a reputation defamed. A cornerstone of the American legal system is that a person is innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. This is the standard that is supposed to be upheld in a court of law. The media does not have such a standard. It can publish or air allegations with minimal concern for the alleged perpetrator. And we shouldn’t forget that it is also without much concern for those who are linked to the alleged perpetrator: wives, children, parents, siblings, friends, and colleagues. Just imagine if you were wrongfully and publicly accused of having committed a sexual assault. How would that affect those closest to you? The outcomes of such allegations can be devastating.1 Can’t the alleged perpetrators sue for defamation? They can try, but that still will not erase the damage done by the public allegation, despite one being found not guilty afterwards. In fact, Harvey Weinstein did announce a $50 million suit against the New York Times. But such cases are difficult because as the Hollywood Reporter explained, “As a public figure, Weinstein will need to show actual malice to prevail in a defamation lawsuit against the Times…. Actual malice is a tough standard for plaintiffs…” Sexquisition Writes Shamir, “Only the Inquisition had similar features, with anonymous sources and obscure charges. Now we have sexquisition.” Shamir hearkens to the witch burnings in the late 17th century: “In Salem, men hunted witches; just three hundred years passed, and now witches hunt men.” Here again Shamir is problematic, bordering on misogyny. Instead of writing women hunt sexual predators, the women are witches and the alleged sexual predators are men. An unseemly bias is palpable. Shamir considers that if the alleged perpetrators “has a name, a position and some money in his bank account. For a mysterious reason, ordinary hard-living guys, taxi drivers, lift operators or assembly belt workers were never remembered…. Is it plausible that the working class blokes never push their way or even squeeze a girl? That only rich and famous guys do it?” Obviously not. But working class blokes tend to toil in obscurity unlike Hollywood moguls who covet the limelight. Shamir turns the table and identifies an assault on men. He claims the #MeToo campaign coerced many women to join because: “if you didn’t, perhaps nobody ever found you attractive enough to make a pass.” No evidence is given for the claim, and the rationale is challengeable. Shamir is asserting based on an overarching power of physical attraction. Indeed, there are undeniable advantages of being considered physically attractive, but it is not cut and dry.2 Next, Shamir claims that women are much more receptive to mass hysteria than men. This is supported by the academic studies. But what Shamir has not done is to compellingly tie mass hysteria to the #MeToo campaign. Shamir questions the accounts of the women: “Is there some kernel of truth in those woeful tales?” He concedes: “Up to a point.” He then parses the women’s accounts and concludes: “Sex can be described – by a Puritan, by a man-hater, by a psycho, – in such a way that you will call for death sentence for the perpetrator.” In other words, some women may be partially truthful, but Puritans, man-haters, and psychos (one assumes Shamir’s examples are women) can twist words to persuade others to their twisted version of events. Yet humans exist on a continuum. Some people are more persuasive than others, and other people are more susceptible to the words of certain orators. If there is a gender bias toward the persuasiveness of a source, it appears to work against women.3 Shamir states the obvious: “Anything can be described in nauseating manner.” He continues, “In the same time, actions that nauseate a normal person can be described as normal and even normative.” The example Shamir provides points to an animus. Writes he, “Normal men are revolted by the description or presentation of same-sex relationships.” In other words, heterosexual men are normal, and therefore, one is led to conclude that men who deviate from this sexual orientation must be abnormal. I identify as an exclusively heterosexual man; am I, therefore, normal? However, I am not revolted by the consensual sexual preferences of other humans, be they hetero-, bi-, or homo-sexual. Am I abnormal then? The writer misuses language, apparently attributing normalcy to statistical averages. One could just as well write that it is normal for people in China to spit in public. Does the statistical prevalence of spitting, therefore, render it less revolting (at least from a western cultural perspective)? It should also be noted that, as far as same-sex relations being considered normative or not, a recent study of American males found, “An overall 27.8% reported sexual desire toward the same sex (male) in varying degrees, of whom 37.5% reported sexual encounters with males (practicing homosexuals; 10.3% of the total sample) …”4 Shamir continues: “Nowadays they [people] are forced to accept it [the homosexual act] as normal while considering usual man-to-woman act as almost criminal.” Shamir offers the bible, “this great source of common sense,” as a solution to sexual assaults. Strangely, this is the same book that motivated the Catholic Church to launch its Inquisition. Assuredly the bible does offer some commonsense, but it is also a source disseminating blatant immorality, such as death by stoning for cursing, blaspheming, adultery, for a woman who is not a virgin on her wedding night, for worshipping other gods, for disobeying parents, for breaking the Sabbath, etc. Shamir calls for “no anonymity for the accusers. If you accuse a man, be prepared to stand for it, do not hide behind the veil of anonymity.” Times have changed. There should be no need for a woman to feel stigmatized by the unwanted sexual predation of another person. However, there still probably exist many pockets of backwards morality in society. Better is a ban on publication and naming of an alleged suspect until such a person has been found guilty by a fair trial in a court of law. Shamir again contentiously argues, “As for harassment, this is most often an invention of man-haters. It should be out of criminal law and out of police business altogether. If a lady feels that somebody’s stares annoy her, she might sue the guy. Or call for a policeman if it is more than just stares. Policemen know how to deal with such guys.” The writer reduces sexual harassment to staring, but it is much more than that. The U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission explains: Unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment when submission to or rejection of this conduct explicitly or implicitly affects an individual’s employment, unreasonably interferes with an individual’s work performance or creates an intimidating, hostile or offensive work environment. [emphasis added] In other words, your job or position in the workplace may be affected by not putting up with the harassment. The frenzy around the alleged sexual harassment, sexual assault, and rape in the media has its roots in a society based in capitalism. Wealth and power has been concentrated overwhelmingly in the hands of a few predominantly white men. Such wealth, all too often, provides cover for crimes. Victims can be frightened and/or bought off, police and court officials can be bribed, media can be silenced. One might well surmise that Harvey Weinstein must have pissed off someone much more powerful than he for his alleged sexual misbehavior to have reached the corporate media, thereby bursting the dam. In a society where power, status, and wealth is unfairly distributed, the potentials for this misallocation to foment elitist attitudes and a sense of being beyond the reproach of law lends itself to victimize the masses of society. Since wealth has accumulated especially among upper-crust men, women tend to be the victimized. And morally challenged men further down the totem pole may well seek to normalize sexual abuses. Conclusion Trial by media is wrong. So too is attacking the alleged victims. What are the options for women (and men) who are victims of sexual harassment and sexul assaults? It is difficult to provide forensic evidence or witness corroboration for these acts. Patriarchy is wrong. Elitism is wrong. The solution for preventing sexual harassment, assaults, rapes is not to be found in the bible or by decriminalizing sexual harassment. The solution involves overturning the establishment that fosters a climate in which sexual miscreants can operate. Women must be empowered. Sexism — against both men and women — must end. All workers must be empowered. And an egalitarian society must rise to replace a capitalist system beset with corruption. * See David French, “A Suicide in Texas,” National Review, 12 April 2017. Cristina Criddle, “Mother of son who hanged himself after being accused of rape commits suicide a year later,” Telegraph, 29 July 2016. * See Madeleine A Fugère, “Why Physical Attraction Matters, and When It Might Not,” Psychology Today, 5 January 2017. * See Gervais, S. J. and Hillard, A. L. (2014), “Confronting Sexism as Persuasion: Effects of a Confrontation’s Recipient, Source, Message, and Context.” Journal of Social Issues, 70: 653–667. doi:10.1111/josi.12084 * See Shaeer, Osama and Sheer, Kamal, “The Global Online Sexuality Survey: The United States of America in 2011 homosexuality among English-speaking men,” Human Andrology: September 2015 – Volume 5(3): 45–48, doi: 10.1097/01.XHA.0000469536.57747.e7 http://clubof.info/