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gynandromorph · 1 year

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Hi more Jessie questions,

Thanks a lot for the 'powers are what you can write' post, that's let me wrap my head around the power a lot more. It's not so much about something being impossible to do, it's about it being impossible to write. That being said, Jessie can create life or at least a feasible simulacrum of life. What happens if Jessie goes 'this is a 100% identical copy of me who would think and act the same way I would in any given situation'? Is there an upper limit to that? Because it's easy to write 'And then the 8000 or 9000 Jessies rolled up into a ball and went to fuck your mother' but since this is a comic, authorship has both a written and visual component. I think even the best artists have a balking limit of how many figures they want to draw interacting in space together (I am not an artist, so if I am wrong please say). Alternatively, would Jessie even allow a copy of herself time to know it is alive (cus I can tell you if I could make a copy of myself with no consequences I'd kill it just for kicks)?

And,

This is less a Jessie question and more a question about the Ants, that being how does the Ant cult work? The Ants have a connection to God that is closer than any religion in history ever did. Do they take advantage of this? Like do the Ants go directly to God to ask about problems, or is that seen as rude? Do the Ants take personal moral stances on what Jessie does, or do they assume that what Jessie does is good? One of the main reasons that I started worshipping the Gods is because they are capricious petty assholes who care more about saving face than doing the right thing. That humanness spoke to me. Would people in-universe worship Jessie for her extremely flawed use of the power of divinity? Would this worship be separate from the Ant cult, or would the Ant cult accept others as part of its fold?

And,

I'm sorry if these asks are too long, but your work seriously gets into a craw of my brain that nothing has ever crawed into before. I read through all of Fresh Meat in a depressive haze the other night and loved it. My mind's response to self-harm thoughts is now Lupe's speech about how cutting is addictive. I'm reading through Dropout right now and fucking loving it. I know Catharsis isn't done yet but I want to say what's out right now has really helped me. The way you write the interaction between Felix's mind and meatspace has made me realize enough about my mind that I'm trying to get in contact with a Nuropysch to get some testing done. It helped me realize that talking in your head with the people there is dissociating, and that's what I've been doing for a lot of my life. I hope Catharsis will be completed, but even if it isn't, I want you to know that I'm very grateful for the stuff you've put out there so far. All the stuff you make is fucking great. Straight up. Jessie is the vector for the craw as well, and the Jessie questions are so long cus I have a lot of thoughts in my head about her and your work and everything! Please keep creating. You create fantastic art.

Yes, the story explores imagination and its limits. We often think of our imaginations as unlimited, but that is an illusion produced by our own ignorance. A lot to unpack here.

Jessie can easily create copies of herself. They would come more intuitively than writing other characters, if they were pure replications of herself, because they require no extra thought. She would never make a copy of herself without drastic contingencies to make it subservient to her and prevent the copy from being able to overpower her or override the restrictions placed upon her powers — essentially, this would be a different character who looks like her more than a clone, at that point.

The thing about art is that it does not need to be literally true — only believable. No need to draw 9,000 Jessies, as 1,000 would likely not even fit onto one page. The illusion of 9,000 Jessies is all that is necessary.

A fun little fact is that Jessie doesn't know that is in a comic; she just doesn't think much of it. For all she knows, the visuals around her are imaginings in the head of someone reading a written book, or even in her own head. She only thinks of herself as in a written novel, even though she is open to the idea that the story is part of a larger medium, such as a movie or comic

For the cult: only the leader is an ant; the cult itself is an open religion and mixed-species. I'm thinking of calling them the Original Character Society or the Book Club at the moment... Something alluding to the fictional story element.

That said, no one would bring their personal problems directly to Jessie unless they had something even worse than a death wish. Jessie is a patently unhinged God, and, despite the cult's best effort to understand her and make their exchanges with her predictable, clearly unable to be predicted.

Unlike an invisible, unreactive God, Jessie is conscious, and can change her actions based on observation and prediction, like any person. She can intuit how she is expected to react and actively choose a different behavior intentionally — and she often does.

She has given them kid gloves to be handled with through Twiddler's reappropriation, and to encroach on her personal time and space on one's own terms instead, likely in the hopes of getting better results, is a cascade of transgressions begging for judgment.

The cult does interact with her directly, but largely first when it is small, and looking for her permission to exist, in a time when she is feeling strain on her relationships; or when she personally decides to engage with them. Its primary function as it grows larger is grooming members who want things from her to interact in successful ways by studying her behavior, keeping track of her moods, documenting which prayers she answers, forming scripts (later congealed into liturgy) to indirectly pray to her, and nurturing a positive image of her.

Due to the cult's primary function being successfully obtaining benefits from Jessie, liking her as a god is not necessary. I think there are many selfish members who think the world would be better off without her, but want things, and will gladly grovel for them if it's likely to work. Like any religion, there are a variety of opinions about Jessie, with some being positive, apathetic, horny, sycophantic, hateful, etc. The official position of the sect itself is not necessarily that everything Jessie does or says is good, but it is always true — this is specifically said as what she does is always "right." It's assumed by default what she does is good, but Jessie herself can say things she's done are bad, and that would be TRUE, canonically. I personally imagine that most opinions of her are not positive in the cult — either neutral or negative.

There are very likely some odd worshipers outside of the cult, but I would consider them casual worshipers, mostly invoking Jessie as a symbol or idol more than as an actual god who can respond to them.

Glad my work could help. Keep in mind that all people can have dialogues in their head — it's why "parts work" and inner family systems therapy works for people with or without dissociative parts. Like most mental illnesses, DID and other major dissociative disorders are simply normal brain functions which have veered to some extreme that has become dysfunctional or detrimental. I do hope that your testing is elucidating, but doctors in such a field are extremely prone to error, so don't give up on your gut instincts if they persist.

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lunaprincipessa · 4 months

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ENTRY EIGHTY-THREE

That moment when we realize we've been loving a person's potential or the version of them that we created in our minds. Not something I'm currently going through but something I'm currently wanting to explore.

How do we reach a point where this is something that eventually has to be realized? How do we reach a point where we are blind to the reality right in front of us?

The culprits: Pain and love.

If you're anything like me, you've probably sought out the good in people. The whole "benefit of the doubt" type thing. While this is a noble quality to have, it often makes us lose sight of the fact that we all have good AND bad within us.

Who one feeds into the most is only revealed to us when the curtains get pulled back, after our guards are dropped. So, we should watch ourselves and others until we know emotional, mental, and physical safety is guaranteed.

In the beginning, we all put our best foot forward but as much as time can heal, it can also reveal. Until we know for sure who we are dealing with, we need to be careful.

This is not saying don't trust or communicate with anyone, this is simply saying utilize caution until you're certain.

It is beyond disappointing to know we once loved potential, a wish, an idea. No one goes into a relationship praying for it to be a lesson of heartbreak. But it is comforting to know we have a better shot at avoiding such an event if we simply watch out for it and not allow our experiences or emotions to distract us or rush us in.

"The way we see other people is subjective, and contingent upon not only our experiences with them, but where we were when they found us." -A. Vilchenko

That being said, seems the context of the fantasy in question shows our desires for, and our perceptions of, the person we want and what we will enable. That's an important detail to keep in mind.

The same way we tend to focus on a person's shortcomings when we want them away from us, is the same way we will focus on what we find good, ignoring or excusing the bad in the process when we want to keep them around.

Both pain and love can make us more open, more susceptible to certain things. Categorizing this as positive or negative will be completely dependent upon our choices and our surroundings. Pain can make what's bad for us feel familiar in the same way that love can make what's bad for us necessary if we aren't careful; a dangerous thing.

"You live your life subconsciously filtering through stimuli and calling attention to what supports your belief and ignoring what doesn't. This is important to remember when you're really stuck on a person. We get stuck because we start to see people one-dimensionally." -A. Vilchenko

One-dimensional thinking is seldomly helpful in general because it's fragmented, it lacks depth, and is solely based on perception.

"The way we see other people largely depends on what we want to see in them and who we need them to be," such a good read because so true. I've done this before, haven't we all? Not a malicious thing. Seems like it comes from that place inside of you that just wants some damn happiness at the end of the day.

Gotta see people, places, and things the way they actually are though, because we could end up getting hurt (again).

We've all thought that we found a soulmate before we actually have. We've made connections through things like similar life experiences and interests for example. So naturally, feelings happen. Very normal, very common. Part of our human nature!

But what determines a soulmate is continuously choosing each other, always showing up for one another, and openly seeing their good, their bad, and everything in between while they openly see yours. You both see all of it. Emphasis on "see."

You can see this person outside of your mind-frame without your heart and soul trying to make up for what's missing, or for what they aren't willing or able to give. You both know neither one of you are perfect, but you are still willing to be there to learn and grow together.

Things like potentials, wishes, and ideas are all wonderful things but they're starting places. They aren't final destinations. And they aren't anything at all if no one is working on them or if no one is working toward them.

Funny how our own minds can be our best advocates and our worst enemies at the same time.

More thoughts later.

#the version inside our minds is different from reality

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kaile-hultner · 3 years

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Nihilism is so easy, which is why we need to kill it

(I initially published this here a couple weeks ago.)

So last night it dawned on me that, after over two years of being relatively symptom-free, my depression snuck back up on me and has taken over. It’s still pretty mild in comparison to other times I’ve been stuck in the hole, but after 24 months (and more) of mostly being good to go, I can tell that it’s here for a hot minute again.

How do I know? Well, it might be the fact that I spent more time sleeping during my recent vacation from work than I did just about anything else, and how it’s suddenly really hard for me to stay awake during work hours. I don’t really have an appetite, and in fact nausea hits me frequently. I don’t really have any emotional reactions to things outside of tears, even when tears aren’t super appropriate to the situation (like watching someone play Outer Wilds for the first time). And I’ve been consuming a lot of apocalyptic media, to which the only response, emotional or otherwise, I can really muster is “dude same.”

For a long time I was huge into absurdist philosophy, because it felt to my depressed brain like just the right balance between straight up denying that things are bad (and thus we should fix them, or at least try to do so) and full-blown nihilism. This gives absurdism a lot of credit; mostly it’s just a loose set of spicy existentialist ideas and shit that sounds good on a sticker, like “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

In the last couple years, while outside of my depressive state, I went back to Camus’ work and found a lot of almost full-on abusive shit in it. Not toward anyone specifically, but shit like “nobody and nothing will care if you’re gone, so live out of spite of them all” rubs me the wrong way in retrospect. The philosophy Camus puts out opens the door for living in a very self-destructive fashion; that in fact the good life is living without care for yourself or anyone/anything else. The way Camus describes and derides suicide especially is grim as fuck, and certainly I would never recommend The Myth of Sisyphus to anyone currently struggling with ideation. That “perfect balance” between denial and nihilism is really not that perfect at all, and in fact skews much more heavily towards the latter.

Neon Genesis Evangelion has been a big albatross around my neck in terms of the media products I’ve consumed in my life that I believe have influenced my depression hardcore. It sits in a similar conversational space to Camus’ work, in that it confronts nihilism and at once rejects and facilitates it. A lot of folks remark that Evangelion is pretty unique – or at least uncommon – in its accurate portrayal of depression, especially for mid-90s anime properties. The thing I notice always seems to be missing in these discussions is that along with that accurate portrayal comes a spot-on – to me, at least – depiction of what depression does to resist being treated. This is a disease that uses a person’s rational faculties to suggest that nobody else could possibly understand their pain, and therefore there’s no use in getting better or moving forward. Shinji Ikari is as self-centered as Hideaki Anno is as I am when it comes to confronting the truth: there are paths out of this hole, but nobody else can take that step out but us, and part of our illness is that refusal to do just that. Depression lies, it provides a cold comfort to the sufferer, that there is no existence other than the one where we are in pain and there is no way out, so pull the blanket up over our head and go back to sleep.

Watching Evangelion for the first time corresponded with the onset of one of the worst depressive spirals I’ve ever been in, and so, much like the time I got a stomach virus at the same time that I ate Arby’s curly fries, I kind of can’t associate Evangelion with anything else. No matter what else it might signify, no matter what other meaning there is to derive from it, for me Eva is the Bad Feeling Anime™. Which is why, naturally, I had to binge all four of the Evangelion theatrical releases upon the release of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon A Time last month.

If Neon Genesis Evangelion and End of Evangelion are works produced by someone with untreated depression just fucking rawdogging existence, then the Eva movies are works produced by someone who has gone to therapy even just one fucking time. Whether that therapy is working or not is to be determined, but they have taken that step out of the hole and are able to believe that there is a possibility of living a depression-free life. The first 40 minutes or so of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 are perfect cinema to me. The world is destroyed but there is a way to bring it back. Restoration and existence is possible even when the surface of the planet might as well be the surface of the Moon. The only thing about this is, everyone has to be on board to help. Even though WILLE fired one of its special de-corefication devices into the ground to give the residents of Village 3 a chance at survival, the maintenance of this pocket ecosystem is actively their responsibility. There is no room or time for people who won’t actively contribute, won’t actively participate in making a better world from the ashes of the old.

There are a lot of essentialist claims and assumptions made by the film in this first act about how the body interacts with the social – the concept of disability itself just doesn’t seem to have made it into the ring of safety provided by Misato and the Wunder, which seems frankly wild to me, and women are almost singularly portrayed in traditionalist support roles while men are the doers and the fixers and the makers. I think it’s worth raising a skeptical eyebrow at this trad conservative “back to old ways” expression of the post-apocalypse wherever it comes up, just as it’s important to acknowledge where the movie pushes back on these themes, like when Toji (or possibly Kensuke) is telling Shinji that, despite all the hard work everyone is doing like farming and building, the village is far from self-sufficient and will likely always rely on provisions from the Wunder.

As idyllic as the setting is, it’s not the ideal. As Shinji emerges from his catatonia, Kensuke takes him around the village perimeter. It’s quiet, rural Japan as far as the eye can see, but everywhere there are contingencies; rationing means Kensuke can only catch one fish a week, all the entry points where flowing water comes into the radius of the de-corefication devices have to be checked for blockages because the water supply will run out. There is a looming possibility that the de-corefication machines could break or shut down at some point, and nobody knows what will happen when that happens. On the perimeter, lumbering, pilot-less and headless Eva units shuffle around; it is unknown whether they’re horrors endlessly biding their time or simply ghosts looking to reconnect to the ember of humanity on the other side of the wall. Survival is always an open question, and mutual aid is the expectation. Still: the apocalypse happened, and we’re still here. The question Village 3 answers is “what now?” We move on, we adapt.

Evangelion is still a work that does its level best to defy easy interpretation, but the modern version of the franchise has largely abandoned the nihilism that was at its core in the 90s version. It’s not just that Shinji no longer denies the world until the last possible second – it’s that he frequently actively reaches out and is frustrated by other people’s denials. He wants to connect, he wants to be social, but he’s also burdened with the idea that he’s only good to others if he’s useful, and he’s only useful if he pilots the Eva unit. This last movie separates him and what he is worth to others (and himself) from his agency in being an Eva pilot, finally. In doing so, he’s able to reconcile with nearly everyone in his life who he has harmed or who has hurt him, and create a world in which there is no Evangelion. While this ending is much more wishful thinking than one more grounded in the reality of the franchise – one that, say, focuses on the existence and possible flourishing of Village 3 and other settlements like it while keeping one eye on the precarious balancing act they’re all playing – it feels better than the ending of End of Eva, and even than the last two episodes of the original series.

I’m glad the nihilism in Evangelion is gone, for the most part. I’m glad that I didn’t spend roughly eight hours watching the Evamovies only to be met yet again with a message of “everything is pointless, fuck off and die.” Because I’ve been absorbing that sentiment a lot lately, from a lot of different sources, and it really just fuckin sucks to hear over and over again.

It is a truth we can’t easily ignore that the confluence of pandemic, climate change, authoritarian surge and capitalist decay has made shit miserable recently. But the spike in lamentations over the intractability of this mix of shit – the inevitability of our destruction, to put it in simpler terms – really is pissing me off. No one person is going to fix the world, that much is absolutely true, but if everyone just goes limp and decides to “123 not it” the apocalypse then everyone crying about how the world is fucked on Twitter will simply be adding to the opening bars of a self-fulfilling prophesy.

We can’t get in a mech to save the world but then, neither realistically could Shinji Ikari. What we can do looks a lot more like what’s being done in Village 3: people helping each other with limited resources wherever they can.

Last week, Hurricane Ida slammed into the Gulf Coast and churned there for hours – decimating Bayou communities in Louisiana and disrupting the supply chain extensively – before powering down and moving inland. Last night the powerful remnants of that storm tore through the Northeast, causing intense flooding. Areas not typically affected by hurricanes suddenly found themselves in a similar boat – pun not intended – to folks for whom hurricanes are simply a fact of life. There’s a once-in-a-millennium drought and heatwave ripping through the West Coast and hey – who can forget back in February when Oklahoma and Texas experienced -20 degree temperatures for several days in a row? All of this against the backdrop of a deadly and terrifying pandemic and worsening political climate. It’s genuinely scary! But there are things we can do.

First, if you’re in a weather disaster-prone area, get to know your local mutual aid organizations. Some of these groups might be official non-profits; one such group in the Louisiana area, for example, is Common Ground Relief. Check their social media accounts for updates on what to do and who needs help. If you’re not sure if there’s one in your area, check out groups like Mutual Aid Disaster Relief for that same information. Even if you’re not in a place that expects to see the immediate effects of climate change, you should still consider linking up with organizing groups in your area. Tenant unions, homeless organizations, safe injection sites and needle exchanges, immigrant rights groups, environmental activist orgs, reproductive health groups – all could use some help right now, in whatever capacity you might be able to provide it.

In none of these scenarios are we going to be the heroes of the story, and we shouldn’t view this kind of work in that way. But neither should we give into the nihilistic impulse to insist upon doing nothing, insist that inaction is the best course of action, and get back under the blankets for our final sleep. Kill that impulse in your head, and fuck, if you have to, simply just fucking wish for that better world. Then get out of bed and help make it happen.

#Neon Genesis Evangelion #existentialism #philosophy #media criticism #cultural criticism #spoilers

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

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Reader anon here with a thought!

Do you like love triangles? I personally don't, there is something about them that is incredibly frustrating lol. Same thing for harems, though there are some that do it tastefully 😌 so I can't be too upset by them.

It honestly depends on the love triangle and the way the author writes all three relationships (and, for any genuine love triangle, there should be three relationships--they don't all need to be romantic, but there needs to be an existing and strong relationship between all three points on the triangle, otherwise I'm almost certain not to be at all invested), how they are presented, and what the narrative purpose of the love triangle is.

Ironically, one of the best examples of a love triangle done well (at least... to a certain point in the story, which I'll explain in a bit) happened in a television show that is fairly notorious for turning to utter shit in the latter four seasons and alienating pretty much the entire fanbase, to the point where most of us dipped well before the end and everyone celebrated news of the show's cancellation.

I'm talking about The Vampire Diaries.

(under a cut because i went on a LOOOONG ramble about tvd and why that love triangle worked initially and then why it failed, and then i talked a bit about another love triangle that was pretty weak and failed almost from the outset in OUAT but was ultimately axed in favor of the stronger relationship and character being given focus, and what all of this means for how i feel about love triangles in general)

While this is still very much a case where I only shipped one side of the triangle, hated the other, and couldn't wait for it to be resolved so that I wouldn't have to deal with the side I disliked any longer (the writing was on the wall as far back as season 1, no matter how in denial a certain portion of the fandom remained right up until the series finale) the development of the triangle itself and how it affected all three characters and their relationships with one another was done very well for most of the first four seasons. Damon and Stefan were brothers, with a bloody and complicated history and relationship, and they both fell in love with this human girl--Stefan almost instantly, because she looked just like Katherine and he found himself... (and here I'm going to be as fair as I possibly can to him, but if you want my full anti stelena rant I have many of them prepped and ready to go) following her, at first to make sure she wasn't Katherine, and then inserting himself into her life to protect her. Damon, on the other hand, took much longer, because he was still in love with (and trying to rescue) Katherine, and so when he did fall in love with Elena, it was because of who she was, not because of some idealized 'Not Katherine' pedestal he placed her on the instant he met her.

(I swear, I swear I'm trying to be fair to Stefan, it's just very hard.)

The thing is, Elena was in love with Stefan almost from the jump. (And one of the reasons I never really shipped stelena is because that kind of insta-love with very little conflict that isn't manufactured by the plot just isn't compelling for me, and I fully jumped ship about halfway through s1 when Damon and Elena took a road trip together. It's a long story, but that remains one of my favorite episodes in the entire show and it marks the beginning of their actual journey together.) Stefan showed up at a time when she desperately needed someone, and to his credit he did help her through her early depressive spiral--in large part because Elena's recent trauma (survivor's guilt due to her parents dying in a car crash from which she was the only survivor) meant that finding out Stefan was immortal and could not die and would not leave her resulted in her getting fiercely attached.

He was safe, he was stable, she could rely on him. But she could not grow with him, because for him, she was essentially a morality pet/the anchor to his humanity, and that meant that he could not accept when she began to grow out of her need for him. The fact that this coincided with her becoming a vampire only made things worse--because she settled into being a vampire much more easily with far less strife than he'd ever managed, and an Elena who enjoyed being a vampire in ways Stefan simply couldn't could no longer function as the idealized reminder of humanity he was desperate to cling to.

Damon, on the other hand, was the one who fell in love with Elena--not Not Katherine. He never put her on a pedestal, he never asked more of her than she could give him--when he realized how deep his feelings for her ran, he made her forget his confession because he knew he did not deserve her and he didn't want her burdened with his feelings when she was still in love with his brother and was always going to be. Elena's growing feelings for Damon coincided with her growth from a depressed and suicidal teenage girl into a young woman who began to realize that it was ok to want things for herself--to be a little selfish, to take what she wanted, to admit what she wanted. And, again, the fact that this coincided with her transformation into a vampire (although her growth within her relationship with Damon began well before that), meant that Damon's reaction to Elena-as-a-vampire was thrown into sharp relief against Stefan's--because he accepted her where his brother couldn't.

Ultimately, this led to Elena fully outgrowing her feelings for Stefan, and accepting, nurturing, and reveling in her feelings for Damon. The triangle was resolved, all three characters had growth separately and in their different relationships, and they could then move on from there along their different paths. Stefan could have had some truly excellent character growth involving moving on and finally living for himself rather than trying so hard to be this perfect brooding tortured vampire because he was the Good Brother, since there was no longer any need for that Good Brother/Bad Brother dichotomy. They'd both grown past it, as characters individually and as brothers together.

Unfortunately, where TVD ultimately failed (and this coincided with the way the show utterly lost the plot in terms of storylines, character arcs and cohesiveness and became an unsalvageable mess) is in refusing to let the love triangle die.

What should have happened is that once the love triangle was resolved--Elena growing as a character and moving on from her immature first love and fully embracing her feelings, as an adult, for her much more adult relationship with Damon--they abandoned the love triangle premise and let all three characters continue to grow outside of it. Damon and Elena should have been allowed to grow together and explore their relationship, Stefan to figure out where he still fit in their lives--as Damon’s brother, and one of Elena’s closest friends who she still loved dearly even though she was no longer in love with him--and then explore relationships of his own outside their family unit as he finally began to fully move on and grow out of his own overly idealized feelings for Elena.

Instead, what wound up happening is that the stelena side of the love triangle kept being teased--probably to keep the avid stelena shipping contingent invested in the story, hoping for ‘another brother swap’ as was lampshaded in one of Nina’s final episodes before she left the show (and, indeed, many of them remained utterly convinced that stelena would be endgame, right up until the series finale)--and rather than growing together, delena fans were constantly hit over the head with how ‘toxic’ Damon and Elena were for each other (even though this ran contrary to everything we’d seen in the show to that point, including having Damon regress repeatedly for, presumably, no reason other than to never let fans forget he was the Bad Brother and always would be, and Elena just couldn’t help but love him anyway), and all three characters and their relationships wound up suffering horribly for it.

That is an example of a love triangle that had a very promising foundation and development, right up through what should have been a resolution, and the reason it is generally looked on so unfavorably in fandom circles is because the show refused to move on from the triangle organically when the story needed it to, because it had already served its purpose.

For an example of a love triangle that, in my mind, simply didn’t work from the very beginning, I’d say my go-to example is from Once Upon a Time--the short-lived love triangle between Emma, Killian, and Neal. I think the first stumbling block there was that there weren’t really three relationships that mattered. Technically, Killian did have a connection to Neal--because they’d met in Neverland, prior to Neal remaining in the Land Without magic--but it functioned more as a backdrop to explain why Killian knew him when they got to Neverland again in the story, and why Neal didn’t trust him. It wasn’t actually developed as anything outside of that brief flashback, and they didn’t have any connection in the present outside of one episode where they essentially fought over Emma and she (rightly) got angry at them for it. There was no real exploration of who they were to each other outside of the fact that both of them had feelings for Emma, so it really was just one woman torn between her feelings for two different men, and with no real stakes attached to her choice.

The other problem with this particular triangle is that one side of it was... conspicuously weak. While Emma’d had a full season and a half worth of interactions and development with Killian--where they went from enemies, to grudging allies, to Killian openly acknowledging that he hadn’t ever believed he would be able to love again until he met Emma--she had... very little to support her potential relationship with Neal outside of their history. History which consisted of then-young-adult Neal knocking up underage Emma (she was 17 at the oldest because she was still in Juvie when Henry was born, and he was already ten years old the day she turned 28; so she was either 16 or very newly 17 when she got pregnant) and ensuring that she got sent to prison for his own crime, at which point he didn’t see her again until she was nearly 30. When he did see her again, he treated her incredibly poorly, up to and including getting angry at her about the fact that she didn’t tell him that Henry was his son--even though he had no right to that information, because Emma was in prison because of him at the time she found out, and she had no clue that he was in any way connected to the Fairy Tale world until she was helping Mr. Gold track down his son and it turned out to be Neal.

A big point is made, throughout the early seasons especially, about Emma’s walls and how much difficulty she has trusting people--and a great deal of that stemmed from Neal’s betrayal. This could have been the foundation for a story of healing and growth and two people coming back together--however, with the way Neal treats Emma in the present and how little closure she actually gets for what he did to her in the past, it comes across more as ‘well, she never did get over her feelings for him, so maybe he still has a shot even though she has no real reason to want to be with him now’.

Killian, on the other hand, never doubted Emma’s abilities and always had the utmost trust in and respect for her (after they became allies), and it was obvious that this is something Emma experienced very little of in her life. It’s notable that the first episode where they really interacted is the one in which Emma’s history with Neal is revealed, and it very deliberately paralleled and contrasted with her interactions with Killian. This already presented him with a leg up on the love triangle once Neal did show up, because Neal was the reason for a lot of the walls Emma had built around her heart, and it wasn’t until meeting Killian that she finally began to let some of them down.

I think that the show recognized this, and it pulled something that is actually a very frustrating pet peeve of mine--rather than write out the story that makes sense and have the main point of the love triangle make a choice and stick to it, the third point of the triad was simply written out. In this case, Neal essentially killed himself via his own stupidity, allowing Emma to angst about losing him without actually having to tell him she wasn’t in love with him and wasn’t going to choose him. (Veronica Mars pulled something very similar with the Logan/Veronica/Duncian triangle in season 2--rather than admit within the narrative that her relationship with Duncan was built on flimsy feelings of infatuation bc of their history, and a ‘stability’ that didn’t really work for who Veronica was at her core, he simply got written out of the story, running away for Plot Reasons and never forcing Veronica to confront the fact that she wasn’t actually in love with him and hadn’t been for quite some time.)

I think that in OUaT, the love triangle could have worked if a relationship between Killian and Neal was not only established in the past but developed in the present--Killian was in love with Neal’s mother centuries earlier, and something I’m actually really upset we never got is the two of them talking about Milah and maybe Neal getting some closure for his mother’s abandonment and someone apologizing to him for what they put Baelfire through as a child--giving stakes to Emma’s choice beyond ‘one of them will be all uwu sad that he wasn’t picked’. It also would have worked much better if we were given any reason for Emma to still have feelings for Neal in the present beyond the history they shared, which caused Emma nothing but pain for the last decade and change. If Neal had treated her more fairly--if he’d treated her like someone he actually cared about and even still loved, rather than blaming her for things that were his own fault and undermining her belief in her own abilities, among other things--then their relationship might have been strong enough to stand on its own opposite Emma’s relationship with Killian. I don’t think it ever would’ve been a relationship that appealed to me, personally, but then I could have at least enjoyed watching the three of them grow together and seeing all of their relationships grow and change.

So, ultimately, TL;DR: I do like love triangles, conceptually, but there are a few requirements they must meet for me to feel anything other than irritated at the inclusion. One: there must be at least three equally important relationships between the three characters. If it’s just one character torn between her (or his, but it’s usually a woman) feelings for two unrelated people, that can be compelling for a short time but ultimately I’m going to be left feeling frustrated by her refusal to just make a damn choice and put me out of my misery. Two: there should be some sort of development in each relationship which makes the presence of the triangle narratively significant. Why is it important for one character to have conflicting romantic feelings for these two other people at the same time? What purpose does it serve either their character arcs or the story as a whole? While I am both a Bangel and a Spuffy shipper, I’ve never considered Angel/Buffy/Spike to be a love triangle--they are very different relationships that she had at very different points in her life, and while her feelings for Angel never really went away (and do cause some angst for Spike near the end of btvs) they are never really competing for her affections in any meaningful sense. If that competition does exist, there needs to be a compelling reason why. And, as a further addendum to this point, I need to at least understand why the main point of the triangle is invested in each relationship, even if I don’t ship it and actively dislike or even outright hate one side of the triangle. (I loathe stelena, but I’ve always understood why Elena was in love with him in the beginning of the show, for example. And before s5/s6, I was really pleased with how the show handled her feelings for him and finally allowed her to grow and move on from them.)

And finally, three: the triangle needs to be resolved at some point--and, when it is, it needs to stay that way. Where TVD ultimately lost me (aside from the ridiculous plot contrivances and rampant character assassination) was the refusal to let the love triangle die a natural death when it is what the story called for, and all three of their characters, their relationships, and the show as a whole suffered massively for it. So, when the primary point of the triangle makes a choice--particularly if she had made one choice in the beginning of the story, but it was clear that she was ultimately moving towards choosing the other side as she grew and her feelings and relationships grew and changed with her--let that be the end of it. Move on to exploring what that choice means for the main pair and the party not chosen, sure--maybe explore their feelings about not being chosen and how that affects their relationships with both of the others afterwards--but don’t constantly tease the possibility of the ‘losing side’ getting back together just to keep shippers invested. It’s only going to hurt your show and make everyone look callous and stupid.

Alternately, a final possibility: make it an ot3 instead. But again, if the other three conditions aren’t met (particularly number two, and its addendum; if I don’t understand why the main point of the triangle is in love with both other points, an ot3 is unlikely to resolve that issue and I’m only going to wind up resenting it), then this won’t work, because it’s just going to wind up a lopsided and stilted mess of a relationship that leaves me wishing the offending point of the triangle had been killed off just so I wouldn’t have to keep hearing about them.

#tvd #delena #anti stelena #ouat #captain swan #anti swanfire #reader anon #oh man i rambled for days lmao im sorry #i hope this answered your question #on love triangles

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detroitbydark · 4 years

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Part Two

Character: Commander Fox x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Fox gets a surprise or two from his Little Mouse

A/N: So like any fic I write, I have no clue where this is going. But half the fun is the journey. Right?

Part One can be found here on my Masterlist

It is only his own shoddy luck and his Little Mouse’s uncanny understanding of E and E, that allow her to evade him and evacuate from any interaction for the rest of the week.

A sudden surge in Anti-republic activity had the Guard running ragged to keep up. Fox refused to allow the Coruscant Security Force to regain any footing that he’d so rightfully taken from them. They were not bred and trained to do what his men could and their poor handling of one too many cases connected to the senate and its officials made it very clear that he and his men could perform at a far superior level to then any day of the week. The Supreme Chancellor seemed to agree which only made him more sure of their undertaking.

That said, by the end of the week his Shock Troopers we’re running on stims and a prayer, pulled thin by the multiple officials requiring additional security, but they were still running. Fox himself had only managed a few hours in the office between Tuesday and Saturday in between investigations. While Mouse had been present each time- as he’d expected- she managed to find reasons to wiggle out of his sight the first second she could. He’d begun to second guess his initial assessment of her interest. Luckily, he was hitting the post stim wall and everything not immediately involved with sustaining life was pushed to the far back of his mind to worry about later. It was 0800 Saturday and he was running on 3hrs of sleep in the last 36. His rack was crying out his name.

On Kamino he’d never been privy to the notion of privacy but the Supreme Chancellor has commended he and his men for their loyalty and dedication to the Republic as such he’d felt them entitled to a somewhat higher standard of living then other clones. Fox had felt unsure of the change at first but the Chancellor had insisted the guardsmen entrusted with his life and the safety of the Senate be allowed private rooms within the greater barracks facilities as reward for their service. While his room wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination it was his and his alone offering a bed twice the size of anything he’d ever slept in and his own private fresher with hot water that never seemed to quit.

He’d already decided against the shower upon walking through the door as he worked to peel out of his armor and unceremoniously discarded his under armor shirt before collapsing in a heap atop his blankets. Sleep pulled at his consciousness and he was nearly lost to it when he heard the knock at his door, somehow managing to growl out an ‘enter’ order will still face down into the down comforter.

Like a dream his Little Mouse is standing there hesitating in the halo of light that bathes the entry. She’s not in her usual stark GAR issued uniform but form fitting civvies, pants and inky black jacket fitted over a tank top. Why was she concerning herself with him on her day off?

She takes a step through the open door allowing it to slide shut with a soft hiss behind her.

Fox pushes himself up right. He takes a moment to scrub at the sleep in his eyes before his focus narrows in on her.

Her eyes are wide and looking everywhere but at him. That’s fine. It gives him time to allow his own eyes an lazy perusal of her soft curves, so often hidden to him.

“It’s Saturday, Mouse.” He notes as she finds a place on the wall to stare at. “What do you need?” His voice is sharper than he’d usually use with her but he has little control over that right now, and for kriff sake, why wasn’t she looking at him?

“Sir, I’m sorry but I have these for you to sign and I wanted to get them done” she rattles through quickly. “and I’m s-so sorry to bother you and I-“

“Mouse! Enough!” He barks and she freezes “and for the love of the Senate, look at me when we’re talking.”

“But Commander your-“ she makes a gesture toward his chest. Fox realizes she’s pointing to his state of undress and slowly rises. He notes the way her eyes rake over him when she thinks he’s not looking. He offers a raised brow pointedly.

Y/N chews at her lip in that very distracting way she did when she was nervous. He groans, unable to stop the soft sound.

“Kriff, just hand be the pad and tell me what I’m signing”

She moves hesitantly and can’t help but roll his eyes as his jaw is stretched into a yawn. He can’t imagine being any less intimidating than he is now, out of armor and minutes from sleep.

“It’s your field reports and rotation schedule for next week. They’re due by 2200 tonight and you weren’t in the office yesterday and I don’t want you to get in trouble...” One arm crosses over her chest and grips her arm as he takes the pad and signs. “I’m so sorry for bothering you sir.”

He can feel the way her eyes trace the tattoos that cover his right arm from wrist to shoulder and cross over his chest. “You’re not a bother. You just have inopportune timing.” She nods absently, “Y/N?”

“Sir?” She shakes her head in confusion.

“I said something to you. Or were you too busy enjoying my artwork to listen.” Her eyes have dipped to his arms again.

“Mmhm...I mean… yes- no! Commander Fox, I’d never stare. That was very rude of me.”

Fox can’t help but chuckle. “If I had a few more hours of sleep” he flexes his arms and watches her eyes follow the movement of his muscles bunch, “we could explore each and every centimeter of ink on my body but, unfortunately, for the both of us that’s not the case.” Y/N swallows hard as he hands back the datapad. “Now, unless you’ve decided to crawl into bed with me and pretend to be my favorite stuffed Ewok…” he lets the teasing question hang in the air and is surprised by the swipe of pretty pink tongue across her lips-though less surprised at the stirring he feels low in his belly.

Later, he’ll think she nearly took him up on the offer. That, or it was simply the delusion of an exhausted man.

“Thank you Commander Fox, I’ll get these filed immediately.” She turns to leave and he clears his throat. She halts mid stride, hand already reaching for the door panel.

“79’s tonight”

“Fox?” He likes the way she drops his title and the breathless way she says his name.

“We’ll be at 79’s tonight if you want to join.”

“I- I may take you up on the offer.”

When she’s gone Fox wastes not a second collapsing back into the bed and crashing into sleep. When he wakes he doesn’t remember the dream of soft kisses and his Little Mouse curled up underneath him.

```````````

The end of another successful week always warrants a celebration. The back booth at 79’s is composed of a contingent of the Coruscant Guard. It wasn’t the most welcoming waterhole in the parsec but they managed and the end of the week brought drink specials that their small quarterly stipends couldn’t turn down. Commander Fox liked to think It did well to show the other troopers that they were just as human as they were or, as Thorn had once pointed out, to remind them that eyes were always on them. Either way the mass of other clones gave them a wide berth. Though the whispered curses, in both Basic and Mando’a, were hard to miss. Eyes from members of the 501st and 332nd- among others- were easily felt and readily ignored.

Rule, Hound and Thire, still in the red and white plastoid armor were taking bets on which would be the first to get the comms of the new waitress, a pretty Twi’lek with pale blue skin and a stunning smile, while Ryk and Wren were at the bar ordering the next round of drinks. Their Grey's blended into the sea of other clones but who knew who they were, he always kept an eye on the kits.

Fox watches quietly, eyes flitting from his guardsmen brothers and other clones meandering about. He was off the job so the amount of fucks he truly gave about the behavior of the 501st and the rest of the cadre of troops letting loose was negligible. If their command couldn't handle them that was their problem. He just wanted to drink in peace.

The ice in his glasses rattles wetly as he nurses two fingers of whiskey, Cheedoan with mature smoky notes and a peppery finish. He's on his third of the night. He doubted his invitation, thrown out on a whim, would be accepted but it doesn't stop him from occasionally glancing toward the door. He rolls his tongue along the inside of his lip and let's another sip of whiskey wash along his taste buds. He enjoys the burn though it’s becoming weaker with each passing drink. The sensation warms- like rays of sunshine over bare skin- from the inside dulling the demons that had been eating at him for over a month now.

“You want in on this, Sir?”

Fox shoots Rule a questioning look. The Sargent seems more than happy to ignore his commander’s lack of focus on the task at hand.

“You think you can get the Twil’s comm?” Rule clarifies, his mismatched eyes sparkling with mischief in the low light.

Fox lets his gaze drift to the woman in question as she moves about the room. Her steps are fluid and she manages to move through the crowd without knocking into any of the inebriated clones or allowing her tray and the drinks atop it to be disturbed in the least. She’s a professional that knows her crowd. She’s got a tempting amount of flesh on display and her lekku- long and elegant- are swept back ever her shoulders. Her hips are pleasantly curved and have a nice dip to them as she moves. He glances at his brothers from the corner of his eye. Hound wets his lips as he watches, never one for playing his cards close to his chest.

“Nah” Fox says after a moment with a shake of his head, “wouldn’t be fair to you” The trio of clones laugh and Thire elbows the younger Hound in the side, head dipping toward Fox as the Commander lets his eyes sweep back toward the main entrance.

“The Commander has a smaller quarry in mind.” He tips the bottle up in a three fingered grip as he empties the dregs of it. Hound turns a questioning look on the Commander and Fox sighs internally. This again. He doesn’t let on that he’s heard but Thire is not one to let sleeping dogs- or foxes- lie. His look is challenging. “Got a little mouse in his sights.”

Fox shakes his head as the Guardsmen begin to snicker. He’s glad Mouse hasn’t shown. He’d hate for her to be surrounded by children.

“Really, Sir?” Hound asks.

Thire answers, “I bet she’s an absolute spinner, get one that’s wound that tight to finally cut loose…?” He lets the thought hang in the air and the others hum quietly.

Fox feels his lip twitch. Thire wasn’t wrong but he wasn’t about to let it be known that he had the same thoughts. He also didn’t appreciate the cavalier way he spoke about things he knew Sithshit about. It was more than a base level attraction he had for Y/N. He couldn't put his finger on it, a feeling he hadn't felt before, but he enjoyed the way she looked after him. It was like she cared what happened to him. It made him want to do the same for her.

He’d been halfway to finding out what his Little Mouse really thought of him when they’d been so rudely interrupted earlier in the week and far too exhausted to string together any kind of seduction when she’d turned up in his private quarters this morning.

He could play the long game though and it was only a matter of time until he was given another chance. He was a patient man when the situation called for it and he would get to the bottom of whatever it was that drew his eyes to her.

He raises the glass to his lips and finishes the nearly full drink in one swallow, licking his lips as the glass comes down hard against the table, the ice tinkling merrily as he does.

Fox shakes his head once and gives the boys a calculating smile. “I’m not going to validate any of that with a response.”

“Sir,” It’s Rule’s turn to speak up, “I think your silence tells us everything we need.”

Fox offers a shrug as he slips from the booth, laying down some credits in his wake.

“Maybe so” he offers. He feels the buzz of alcohol in his veins. He needed to cut back before it became a problem but that wouldn't be tonight. “I'm going to see what's taking the kits so long at the bar.”

The Twi’lek waitress passes close as he heads toward the long garishly lit bar. Her perfume is sweet, almost cloyingly so. Fox glances over his shoulder as he begins to make his way into the thrum of clones and civilians and shouts back to his vode “my credits are on Hound”.

A roar of laughter follows him as he moves through the crowd. He leans against the bar top as other clones offer him a wide berth. He catches the bar tenders eye and waits his turn to be served.

"Are you going to b-buy me a drink, Commander?" The soft voice catches him off guard as he feels a gentle tug at his greys. He can't help the smile that falls to his lips as he turns.

"Didn't think you'd-" Fox's voice trails off as he takes in the woman in front of him. There is certainly nothing mousy about the dress she's wearing. She's got the black coat she was wearing this morning draped over her arm as she flashes him a nervous smile. He can't help but lean back and give her a long sweeping look. She's added a few inches with strappy heels she's wearing. From there he's treated to a long expanse of bare legs that seem to go on forever. The hem of her dress skims high on her thigh. It's red. Almost a perfect match for his own paint job and he bites back asking if it was a coincidence. She makes a nervous sound and he quickly remembers his manners. "You look stunning, Y/N"

"Thank you Comman- Fox. It's not too much is it?" Any other woman would sound like she was fishing for compliments but with Y/N he knew that it was a genuine question.

Fox let's his eyes trace over her face and guided by alcohol his hand smooths over her hair. it's sleek and longer than he ever thought it would be moving in gentle waves over her shoulders. She's a vision that he knows he hasn't done a damn thing to deserve. "You're lovely. Can I?" he gestures behind him as the bartender heads over.

"What you're having?"

He wastes no time in repeating his order from earlier x2. He can't help but chuckle when she takes her first sip and her face screws into a sour expression.

"i'm sure it'll grow on me" She jokes.

"If it doesn't, I owe you something else." he promises as he loops an arm around her waist. She stiffens momentarily and Fox wonders if he's crossed the line they've been straddling. She relaxes into his touch and he decides he doesn't care if he has crossed that line. The looks his boys give him as they return only serves to bring a smug smile to his face.

"Mouse!" Thire and Rule greet in tandem. Y/N presses into his side and he shoots the boys a look that says tone it down, in no uncertain terms. Hound and Ryk scoot to the side as Fox ushers her into the booth, moving in next to her as she does.

Ryk, ever the sweet youngster offers a gentle smile to their guest, "The Commander didn't tell us you were coming. You look really pretty."

His Little Mouse blushes and dips her chin, "I didn't think I was going to but" she shrugs, "here I am"

Fox feels her knee bump against his and his free hand dips down to rest over it. She looks up at him through dark lashes and relaxes into his side. Taking another sip of her drink she manages not to make a face.

"You don't have to drink that." he reminds as Thire catches his eye.

"It's growing on me." she hums.

"I hope I do the same."

She laughs, it's the first he's ever heard from her and it's light and effervescent, addictive. "Who says you haven't already?"

"Mouse?" It's Wren, Rule's batchmate, newly returned with a round of shots. "I didn't know you were here? I could have gotten you one too." He points to the neon green test tube. Hound makes a face of disgust.

"You know I hate Sith Spit." he groans and turns to Y/N, "You can have mine."

Y/N gives the trooper a sweet smile and accepts to shot he offers. When all members have them Thire let's out a raucous cheer of K'oyacyi.

The gathered Coruscant Guard answers back. "K'oyacyi!" Y/N joins in quietly a slight second behind the rest and takes her shot before setting the vial down while the others slam their own. Fox laughs and deep rumbling thing that has her smiling up at him shyly. "didn't know you knew Mando'a?"

"I was just following along."

"Careful cyar'ika" he warns playfully, "you never know what your agreeing too" She gives him a curious look and he shakes his head. "you said cheers."

"And cyar'ika?"

"Ancient Mando'a for nosey little mouse" He offers with a straight face. She swats playfully at his arm. It's entirely ineffectual and he smiles like an idiot. It was good to see her loosening up the longer she spent around them. He pushes back the grey GAR issued cap on his head. He hadn't felt this easy going in ages.

"Mouse" Rule speaks up from the otherwise of the booth, "do you dance?"

Fox looks down at her curiously as she shrugs, "Not in a long time."

"Wanna dust off the dancing shoes for me?"

Multiple sets of eyes travel to Fox who puts his hands up, "It's not my decision. If the mouse wants to dance she can dance."

He's said something right because a smile flashes across her face and she nudges at him to move out of the way. Fox relents and Rule takes her hand, helping her to her feet. His eyes follow the pair to the dance floor.

Thire slides closer, "already ready to lose her?"

Fox shrugs, "she's not mine yet and if you think Rule is going to be the one to snatch her away than your crazy." Thire laughs and goes back to his drink. Fox sips at his drink as he watches Rule's hands fall to her hips. Mouse moves them in enticing circles that make him wish he'd asked her to dance first. The music thrums and the lights flash and his Little Mouse laughs and giggles as Rule spins her around then pulls her in tight to dip her. Every member of the Guard in attendance quiets as they watch her dress ride up her thighs.

"Maker help me..." Wren squeaks.

"Tell me about it" Hound adds.

Fox is silent as he watches her hair frame her face like a silent mane. Something inside him, a possessive quiet voice purrs mine.

His vision is disturbed a second later as a soldier, clad in blue and white plastoid, blocks his view.

"vod’kyramund"

Brother killer.

The words hit him like a blaster bolt to the gut.

His shoulders have already gone tense before he’s even slipped from the booth.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that” the words are growled out- a low and dangerous sound that should have warned the clone trooper to check himself.

The trooper lurches into his space knocking against the table, his squad mates quickly moving to hold him back but he shakes them off, “hear or don’t hear what you want but it doesn’t make it less true.”

Fox looks at the pair of men behind the instigator and notes his own team of backup slipping from the booth.

A half circle has formed up around them and Fox can hear the murmur beginning to rise as more blue and white pops into view. The tension is thick, even a plasma blade would have trouble cutting through it.

The song ends and he catches Rule pull Y/N close as she attempts to move back to the table.

Fox makes sure the dreg from the 501st throws the first punch. It'll hurt like hell tomorrow but it'll make the paperwork so much simpler.

The night disintegrates into chaos from there.

#commander Fox #tCW #commander fox x reader #commander fox/reader #the clone wars

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iheartrobots404 · 3 years

Text

My Robot Boyfriend: Questions of Autonomy and Manufactured Romance in a One Direction Robot Fanfic

If recent history is any indication, the general human public has become increasingly horny for basically anything sentient. From candy corporations tweeting lustfully about anthropomorphic foxes to erotic novels about flying reptiles, the boundaries of acceptable romantic sentiment are expanding at a rapid pace. A conservative may easily interpret this as the nadir of our decadent society, heralding the swift demise of our civilization. But the real story is much more complicated.

Monster novels and cinema have always been metaphors for the latent anxieties of a society. Initially manifesting in racist fears of desegregation and miscegenation in D.W. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation, the theme of white supremacist heroism triumphing over the control of the female body by a monstrous “other” is apparent in such later movies as The Neanderthal Man and Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Guillermo del Toro’s 2017 Best Picture winner The Shape of Water is deeply concerned with the dehumanization and unseen racism in monster movies, choosing to portray the monster and white woman in a genuine romance, while the handsome man that perceives them is the villain.

According to del Toro, The Shape of Water was an attempt to demonstrate that “the racism, classism, sexual mores, everything that was alive in ‘62, is all alive now. It never went away.” Del Toro characterizes the monster as a perceived negative aspect of society or personality that is initially distressing but can become liberating when embraced, explaining, “There are truths about oneself that are really bad and hard to admit. But when you finally have the courage and say them, you liberate yourself. All monsters are a personification of that.”

But what about...

Monsters have embodied a substantial collection of anxieties over the years: the rupture of the religious world by the scientific in Frankenstein, communism and McCarthyism in Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the erasure of the past by modernity in King Kong. Robots, in comparison, typically represent a generalized technophobia, a fear of technology replacing the human, best represented by I, Robot (2004). They can also invoke questions of the nature of autonomy in an industrialized, capitalist society (Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times), fears of the transgression of the mind/body duality (2018’s Replicas), and imminent warnings of scientific and military hubris (Black Mirror’s Metalhead). So if romance with monsters can be a liberating embrace of the taboo, what function does romance with robots serve?

To answer this question, we could turn to the wide range of novels and films providing nuanced treatments of the complex ideas involved in human-robot relationships. Her (2013), Ex Machina (2014), Autonomous (2017), and He, She, and It (1991) are all beautiful, subtle considerations of robophilia, celebrated in science fiction and general circles. Unfortunately, my library card was revoked after failing to pay my 10-month overdue fee on Taken by the Pterodactyl, so that’s a dead end. I also don’t really want to pay to watch any movies, and the last time I went on 123movies.com I got a virus that pulverized my feeble laptop. Fortunately, the greatest, most boundary-pushing work on human-robot relationships is completely free of charge and within reach to anyone with an Internet connection. No expense is necessary to access this avant-garde treasure trove of communal literature, where robophilic desire meets ingenious analysis of our technology-ridden society.

I am speaking, of course, of the user pokemonouis’s love bot [h.s.] on the popular fanfiction site Wattpad. Before you click away in terror, consider that fanfiction can be a vital representation of culture, especially that of young people negotiating their place in a complex world. As the author Constance Penley says of Star Trek slash fic, fanfiction can be “an experiment in imagining new forms of sexual and racial equality, democracy, and a fully human relation to the world of science and technology.” With this framework in mind, let us dive into a sultry world of robot love.

In the vein of a typical Black Mirror episode, love bot [h.s.] is set in the present, near-identical to today except for one incongruous twist. Our protagonist, Ava, has been sent a mysteriously large package by her cheeky friend Niall Horan, containing an eager-to-please model from Love Bot, Inc., Harry. Though Ava is initially incensed at her friend Niall and is uneasy about Harry’s bizarre synthetic mind and body, she quickly warms up to his loving personality and sexual proficiency. Along the way, Ava must deal with her complicated newfound responsibility and the complexity of her own emotions.

Tragically, like Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor or Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan,” love bot [h.s.] remains unfinished. It was abandoned in 2016, and like One Direction, it doesn’t appear to be releasing any new material any time soon. Nonetheless, love bot [h.s.] is astounding in its complete lack of pretension or self-consciousness, existing as a complete, undiluted fantasy about getting a sex robot based on your favorite band member. However, the cherry on top is the dialogue created between the author and her readers, manifesting as a ludic communal debate about the philosophy involved or implied in the context of the world she has created. What I’m trying to say is that One Direction robot fanfiction is basically the 21st century version of the Athenian plaza or the Parisian salon, where the author’s story, as well as the community comments surrounding it, remain a portal of vital insight into such disparate themes as the commodification of sex and romance, the question of robot’s social standing given their initial utilitarian purpose, and the morality of human/robot pairings.

To enumerate, the foremost concern of love bot [h.s.] is the commodification of romantic love and its implications for how we relate to other human beings. From the moment Ava receives Harry, she is unwilling to engage with what she perceives as a mere corporate commodity, surrounded by packing peanuts, a charging port on its lower back. When Harry boots up, Ava is immediately accosted by the manufactured nature of his existence:

The comments echo Ava’s sentiment. One user states, “I’d be creeped out. Imagine if there was a camera or something.” Another jokes, “in the middle of doing what he does best, Harry whispers in my ear, “please like love bot incorporated’s page on Facebook!” This combination of the romantic with the heavily marketed is not new to the 1D fandom, as the band’s image, promotional events, song lyrics, and music videos all serve to encourage an attachment between fan and musician. However, to assume that the average fan mindlessly consumes the marketed content is to ignore the self-awareness within the 1D fandom. For instance, 1D fan culture often repudiates the perceived manufactured nature of their idols; many fan works bemoan the band members’ “management,” or the behind-the-scenes music industry professionals who prevent the boys from living life to its full potential. Thus, the Harry Styles sex robot becomes a potent metaphor for the fans’ relation to their favorite musicians, a playful way of acknowledging that you’re being pandered to yet still enjoying the show. In keeping with the framework of monsters provided by Guillermo del Toro, to engage romantically with the robot is to embrace the messiness and weirdness of emerging sexuality despite society’s opinion of 1D fans as crazed, lustful, and corporate-brainwashed young women.

Love bot [h.s.] also presents an interesting exploration of robot aesthetics and how they are constructed to appeal to humans. Ava is initially rather put off by the combination of the synthetic and the natural found within Harry’s body:

Despite this, she eventually comes around to Harry’s physical appeal, particularly due to his “cuteness:” Ava’s affection grows after he adorably takes the expression “you’re a dime” literally, uses the phrase “take a sleep” instead of “take a nap,” and is caught using her computer to look up “how to impress a girl.” According to scholar Sabine Payr, robots in popular media tend to either be nearly indistinguishable from humans, in which case they occupy the space of the “uncanny valley,” are threatening, and must be destroyed (as in Blade Runner or Ex Machina), or are presented as non-threatening “sidekicks,” whose cuteness and helpfulness to humanity mark them as peaceful (Wall-E, Star Wars’ C-3P0 or R2D2). Harry is gradually brought out of the former category and into the latter through his cuteness as well as his utility to Ava, such as through cooking her a delicious breakfast. As one commenter succinctly puts it, “It kinda creeps me out that he’s a robot but he’s freaking adorable so whatever.” However, this transformation of Harry has the possible negative consequence of him not being seen as fully equal to humans, as his “adorableness” is contingent upon him occupying a lower social position than Ava. Nevertheless, though most readers seem somewhat put off by Harry’s robotness, many seem just as ready to engage with the “uncanny valley” robot as the “adorable” one. For example, in response to Ava calling Harry "too real, too creepy," one user responds, “Well Send him over to me and call me Goldie locks cause he’s just right.” This sentiment is repeated throughout the first chapter: for every “This is going to turn into some Chucky shit for sure” there appears a “Call me Shia Labeouf cause I’m about to get it on with a transformer.” The readers willing to engage with the “uncanny valley” Harry avoid the problem of inequality inherent to the subjugation of the robot to a “sidekick” role. Thus, in this case, engaging romantically or sexually with the robot may be a potential expansion of the social category that robots may inhabit, a radical rebuke of the idea that robots must be subordinate to humans to be lovable.

Similarly interesting is love bot [h.s.]’s theme of autonomy: can one form a healthy relationship with a sentient being that is bought and customized to love you? Throughout the narrative, Harry refers to Ava as his “owner” or “master,” and Ava frequently treats him like a friend’s dog that she has been left to take care of. Harry gets separation anxiety when she leaves to attend school or work, is constantly compared to a puppy, and is described as a “burden:”

However, the readers were quick to push back on this characterization of Harry. Angry commenters lashed out at Ava, stating, “HES NOT A FOOKING BURDEN” and “HARRY DOESNT DESERVE YO RATTY ASS.” Readers of love bot [h.s.] reject the notion of a love bot as a less than human, asserting their right to be recognized not as a product or sex slave but as a full and realized autonomous being. However, as commenters repeatedly point out in another section of the fic, such a relationship is suspect. Ava is eager to downplay the uniqueness of her relationship with Harry, mostly ignoring his robotness in favor of labeling him as just another human:

Commenters are quick to point out the contradictions within this statement, replying, “except for him bc he is a literal robot who was made to be owned” and “says the girl who literally owns a robot im fed up bye.” Ava may treat her robot boyfriend as an equal, but, as the readers indicate, the nature of their relationship is inherently unequal. After all, the fic mentions that the love bots are, in legal terms, basically slaves:

Harry is completely dependent on Ava, and, tragically, only able to shop at Sears. With the realities of this society, the commenters argue, Ava’s “you are your own person and you belong to yourself” statement is functionally meaningless. Commenters also occasionally bring up other questionable power dynamics within the context of Ava and Harry’s relationship; one states, “Imagine if they got in a fight, she could just power him off;” another asks, “What if she died?” after a sentence highlighting Harry’s extreme dependence on Ava; another mentions, “that sentence is making me remember that he's a robot & can be programed at any time :((.” Harry’s boundaries of mind and body are much easier to manipulate than Ava’s, and this presents a quandary; can a robot partner ever be in full control of their internal psyche if his mind is specifically manufactured to carry out a single purpose, and that mind can be tampered with at will? The rich dialogue created between the author and readers gradually teases out several ethical considerations involved in human-robot relationships, questioning whether any relationship between a human and a robot constructed out of pure function can ever be helpful. In this context, the readers redefine the act of loving the robot as not a simple act of passion, but a commitment to upholding the autonomy of one’s partner.

The playful exchange between the author of love bot [h.s.] and her readers illuminates the moral gray area of human/robot relationships, offering key insights into the nature of commodified romance, social categorization of robots, and unequal partnerships. If/when artificial intelligence advances and potentially becomes sentient, the willingness to have debates about these topics will be essential to the creation of a just society for humans and robots alike. As Guillermo del Toro reminds us, the hierarchies and unquestioned assumptions of today will persist into the future, and a potent way to resist them is through the act of loving the taboo. It would be unwise to dismiss it.

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creativedumpyard · 3 years

Text

The Emperors Finest

// a small tribute to a long gone campaign

Shah looked upon his Warriors. He was proud of them. He loved them all. The Squad of the Khornate Astartes, lead by the madman Loup always willing the destroy and murder.

Idawask Liskis men were just as bloodthirsty, although they were able to follow more than just the simplest commands.

His eyes fixed upon the newest recruits of his small contingent of warriors. A man named Nemelek and his ramshackle bunch of Heretics and renegades alike. They still had to show their worth. The leader of their crusade, Grand champion Tissav Kak just recently send these men to his command. Shah smiled, his perfect white teeth shone. They would make a fine addition to his plans.

His right hand Apollius cleared his throat. Shah ripped free from his entangling vision of greatness and started to speak to his underlings. “Welcome, my brothers! Welcome to another day of the Siege of this godforsaken Planet. We have taken City by City. Fortress by fortress. Now only this bestial Walled City is between us, and the Victory we so dearly crave! Cindar shall be ours, claimed for the Dark Gods!” As he spoke of Victory, an almost predatory smile sneaked on his face. Only to be immediately to be extinguished and replaced by a more heartfelt version.

“The grand champion, blessings on thy name, wants us to go in hard and fast. The main forces will be waiting in the north east, while we concluded a fast blow to the few remaining Void-Shield Generators! There will be resistance, but we assume that the most of them will be stationed closer to the North eastern gates.” Shah paused a moment. His Warriors seemed ready. “Loup, you will be going to head to the Gates. I have full trust in your ability to crush the resistance there. My personal squad and I will be behind you.” Loup and his bloody-red Men screamed and held their Chainaxes up high.

“Idawask, you will be going south over the wall. And the new Squad of brother Nemelek will be doing the same Maneuver in the east. All of you will be supplied Jump-packs for this Mission, but be careful not to damage them! We will start in about an hour, as soon as the Main forces resume the Shelling. Get Ready!”

He quickly punched his chest plate with his right fist and turned around. He still had some planning to do and no time to waste.

The gathering thinned. The Khornates were already running hot.

Nemelek turned to his newly assembled squad. He wasn't quite sure as what to make of his new position or the people he now lead into battle. There was the Beautiful Blood Angel renegade Cassiel. He was an excellent fighter that used an giant Eviscerator. Most of his red Armour still had emblems of his past. Just his Aquila was scratched and painted over with a black Chaos-cross. Nemelek wasn't too sure about why Cassiel joined the forces of chaos, but he was eager to prove himself. He was more concerned about the slow Nurgle Marine and the Slaaneshi Swordsman with the Insane Eyes. While the Nurgle Marine Ogmha Inititium was a Psyker and thus was extremely effective in battle, he was way too relaxed and always seemed to take this Siege more as a personal Hike.

The Slaneeshi pledged Astartes was just quite the Handful. Flavian Charosean did not enjoy getting commands. He had a slight tendency to go off course if it meant his personal recreation. And one could only assume what that meant, coming from the Emperors Children and their Offspring. A long Whip made from a stiff, Fleshy substance protruded from his left forearm. It ended in sharp hooks and tiny blades. Sometimes it almost seemed to move too quick or too agile to be just a weapon.

The last one was Venatus. A Nightlord far away from his usual legion or tactics. So far he had proven somewhat reliable. Venatus already had a Jump-pack, a longer and slimmer design with numerous silver arcs of metal lightning engraved on it. While Nemelek witnessed what cruelties this man was capable of doing, he seemed content with sitting in the dirt and cleaning his Bolter for now. He cleared his throat.

“Get to the Armory, I want all of you ready and with a Jump-pack in half an hour!”

Flavian and Cassiel rushed off to get their hands on better quality Jump-packs. Ogmha was slowly walking in the general direction of the armory, completely ignoring time limits.

“Lucky that you already have yours, huh?”, Nemelek said to Venatus. The Nightlord stopped cleaning his rifle for a second but resumed without even looking up. Nemelek shook his head slightly and went to get himself an Jump-pack as well. He had seen how bad some of those were in shape and he didn't want his to fail mid flight.

Nemelek stood on a burned out Chimera Tank. From this slightly elevated Position he was able to see the City in its full might, the sprawling gun towers on the walls, the trenches dug up before and the tiny dots of busy commute in between that were the defenders. He turned to check if his squad was ready. All stood ready, equipped with the Jump-packs. Flavian was already getting bored and flinging is sword through the air.

“Squad! Move out!” Nemelek jumped down from the Wreckage and activated his Power fist.

Since their Mission was not to clear the trenches, they jumped over them using the fire from their jet-engines. The Human defenders were largely too shocked or too scared to shoot at them. But sometimes Laser beams or bullets darted in their general direction. Their short jumps carried them far over the battlefield in mere minutes. Soon after they arrived at the Wall. Massive overhanging gun nests opened fire on them. Before the Gunners had time to properly take aim, Ogmha stepped to the front and held up his staff. He gestured with the bony, nauseating excuse for a Wooden staff and a bubbling green shield of psychic energy surrounded them in an instant. Bullets and lazers bounced off or evaporated. Nemelek voxed to his squad, “Ogmha and Venatus you take take of the gunners on the wall. Flavian, Cassiel and I will jump over and secure the other side”.

As he flew high on his howling engines, Nemelek saw that the inner wall was spiked with stairs and ammunition cranes. Then came a street, broad enough to fit several tanks with ease. Behind the street were a few warehouses as well as small bunkers and living quarters for the less fortunate civilian. A few blocks to his right he could see an opening in the buildings. Another thick gray wall with ugly fortifications climbed up high.

The bigger street to his left was his landing spot. Cassiel landed a few meters in front of him, Flavian further to his left on a small house. In this exact moment more armed forces streamed into the street from the inner city. They opened fire just a few moments later. Laser beams darting all around the Space Marines as they ran into cover. “Cassiel, go right. Flavian, jump into their left flank!” He saw Cassiel's Helmet head turn in his direction and nod. The Man let his Eviscerator scream with blood lust and anger as he flew a short arc to meet the first of the attackers. Effortlessly parting body parts and killing two men that stood too close to each other in a single blow.

Flavian cackled as He swung his Whip up high, crashing it down into a soldier, freeing him of clothing and skin alike. His victim had no time to scream in agony before the long silver blade of the Slaaneshi split open his torso up to is nose.

Nemelek used his Bolter effortlessly. Splattering blood and entrails through the ranks of the advancing Soldiers. The shock of the attack let the Mortals forget about morale and discipline. They opened up their formation to flee into cover. Unfocused Las fire punched through the air around the advancing Astartes, but their ceramite armor deflected the shots. Not more than small smoldering chips in the paint was all that stayed.

The street emptied after the Soldiers dove into Cover. Nemelek was able to see the end of the street where now two Chimera Tanks drove around the corner. “Heads up! We've got Light Tanks ahead!”. His Vox alarm was not necessary as the tanks opened fire immediately. The mounted Heavy bolters posed an actual thread to the Astartes, as well as to any cover that wasn't solid enough. As Nemelek jumped behind a thick half high wall of Ferroconcrete the explosive Shells hammered into the Asphalt where he just stood. These tanks had a higher priority than any of the scared soldiers left behind.

Flavian Reached for his Plasma pistol. A thin cable connected it to his power pack. He felt the Bone and Mother of Pearl decorations on the Grip, the powerful thrumming of the coils. The last Artifact of his Past in the III. Legion. His Jump-pack roared as he flew directly into the small crowd of Soldiers behind some Wreckage that they had used as cover. A few swings with his sword and whip were enough to send half the group to the warp and the other fleeing in terror. His engines roared again and he jumped in a short curve directly at the one of the tanks. The Gunner was still aiming at Nemelek. Far too late he got aware of the danger the violet clad Marine posed. As the Gunner tried to rip the Turret up to meet the new target, Flavian aimed almost based on Instinct and shot his pistol. The searing hot ball of plasma burned the Man and his gun but not before one bolt shell exploded on his pauldron, ripping him around. Flavian crashed, loudly swearing, into the pavement. He jumped to his feet the moment the ramp of the chimera lowered itself and more Human soldiers ran out into the open. “Filth! How dare you shoot at ME?” He screamed at the top of his Lungs while charging forward. While the Imperial standard Las-rifle is a good medium range weapon, it was never truly suited for close combat situations. None of the soldiers even stood a chance against a genetically enhanced warrior of the Adeptus Astartes. Sword met flak armor and sliced it apart. Blood and entrails spilled to the floor, as Flavian focused on his blade to agonize instead to kill. His whip sliced through the skin, ripping apart faces as well as disarming the few that tried to draw combat knives. Just a few seconds later and no mortal was left standing, most of them winding and crying at the feet of the Ceramite Monster. To fulfill his quest of destroying the tank, Flavian unhooked a Krak Grenade and threw it into the still open crew department of the tank. As it exploded, the blast broke through the thin inner armor and annihilated the Driver and the engine alike.

Cassiel was already weeding out the humans behind their fortifications. His massive chain sword cleaving bone as well as metal. When Nemeleks warning came, he already scanned to area for more targets. He was way closer to one of the tanks as he rolled onto the plaza. The Chimeras gunner turned the massive gun towards him, but Cassiel was already charging at the tank. His anger fiery hot in his chest, about to overtake his senses. In a short burst of energy from his back engines, Cassiel threw himself atop the tank, just behind the gunner. The man let go of the turret and stared in horror at the massive red angel looming over him. His Eviscerator catching the man atop his head and striking down, halving him along his spine. As the blood rippled against his helmet and stuck to his hands, Cassiel roared. Using his strength he leaned into the Chain-sword to slowly cut into the armor of the tank. The metal screamed and sparks flew, darting around him like small angry insects. With Blood lust he hacked his way into the Drivers chassis and disabled the tank by leaving nothing unbroken and no-one alive.

Flavian closed in on the Tank that got tortured by his furious cousin. He inspected the damage with childish glee and a bit of envy. “By the Mother! You are really a Danger to behold, Cassiel.” He turned to the still furiously hacking and slashing Man. “Cassiel! The Tank is done and so is the crew. You can stop it now?!” He said, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the clash of metal.

Cassiel turned. His shoulders squared and his head held low he assumed a vicious combat stance when he sighted the Slaaneshi. Immediately sensing the hostile intend, Flavian stepped back in confusion. Did he just offend Cassiel? “Cassiel? Are you alright?...I mean I- I didn't want to offend ..” But before he could finish the question, Cassiel roared and stormed at him, Eviscerator held up high. Flavian was shocked and reacted almost too slow, parrying the massive chain sword with an unusually crude flick of his Sword. But the Red Angel did not stop, hacking and slashing at the confused team member. Flavian was put into a defensive position that he did not enjoy.

“CASSIEL! By the Gods, what are you doing? STO- STOP IT”

Flavian was confused by the sudden aggressive action, as well as the pure Blood lust the he felt in every strike.

#warhammer #writing

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twiistedgalaxies · 3 years

Text

Genesis: Chapter 7: Clandestine Meeting

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.

Or, alternatively:

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

The rest of the day had gone on agonizingly slow, with Hisashi constantly glancing towards the clock and mentally recounting contingency plans. He sat on his hard bed, chewing on his lower lip as his eyes darted around the sleeping quarters. Several hours had been spent observing the staff’s shifts. A glance towards his burner phone. He only had just enough time to get to the rendezvous point, it was now or never. The floor creaked as Mr. Stewart crossed the room’s threshold and left. Hisashi sprung into action, throwing on his clothes at a pace that would impress what remained of the firefighting force in this country. Hastily, he patted down his pockets, making sure that he had all of his things. Burner phone? Check. Bobby pins? Of course. Knife? A familiar companion in his coat pocket. Placing his bag and some dirty laundry under his covers, he made it look like, at least at a distance in the dark, that he was still asleep in his bed. He was about to start to climb through one of the large windows in the back of the room when he heard the door open. Quickly, he dropped to the floor and slid under one of the beds, heart in his throat. Footsteps

“There they are!” he heard Mr. Stewart softly proclaim. Out of the corner of his eye, a rotund hand picked up a shiny object from the grimey wooden floor. A jingling of keys. After what felt like ages the door finally clicked shut again. Hisashi breathed a sigh of relief.

He resumed his escape through the back window, and landed in thorny rose bushes with a wince and a silent prayer that they wouldn’t tear one of his only jackets. Before stepping out, he cautiously scanned the grassy yard. There was a chain link fence in the back, something he’d frequently climbed throughout the week. He ducked his head down and held his breath. The janitor walked across his field of view, flashlight in hand. Absently, Hisashi realized he would need to close the window behind him, otherwise he might arouse some suspicion. The janitor, a sickly sallow man, rounded the corner. Hisashi shut the window as quietly as he could, then he shot forward, quickly tossing his coat and scrambling up the fence. Time was of the essence after all. Oxford shoes, significantly more worn than they were a week prior, landed on the pavement with a loud thud. Grabbing his coat, he cringed at the racket he was making. The flashlight pivoted towards him. He lunged towards the safety of the dark alleyways, determined to put as much distance between himself and possible capture as possible. It seemed he’d evaded pursuit, and ended up behind a McDonald’s, hands on his knees and gasping for air. Perhaps he had overreacted. Besides, what would the Janitor have done if he’d been caught? Cane him to death? Doubtful. He only resided in the orphanage for the convenience of food and shelter. They wouldn’t be able to contain him if he was truly determined.

With a deep breath to compose himself, he set off towards the abandoned warehouse.

-@~*^*~@-

The warehouse was a rickety old thing, next to a junkyard and ramshackle houses. Its broken windows were sunken eye sockets housing spiders and rats. Warm breath pushed out a cloud of fog from Hisashi’s mouth and curled in the air. He appraised the location from a distance. It seemed to have long fallen out of use, an old Costco perhaps. There were likely two exits, in the front and back, and the windows were always an option if need be. He didn’t understand why his clients had insisted upon meeting somewhere so filthy. People in these trying times seemed to lack class.

There was no point in beating around this bush with this, he’d take the front entrance. If this truly was a trap, they’d soon be well acquainted with the sharp end of his knife. He clutched the metallic thing in his pocket as an odd sort of comfort. Like a child with their favorite stuffed animal. Finally, he set off, and opened the building’s front double doors with a flourish. It would be poor form if he didn’t at least try to make a good first impression after all. He felt the wind pick up behind him, it was wonderfully timed and added more drama to his entrance.

The warehouse was pitch black. He felt his eyebrows knit together. When he stepped forward he noticed the floor was sticky and made a god awful noise whenever he picked up his feet. Hisashi grimaced. Disgusting. Truly this was Eastern Los Angeles’s finest.

A light was flicked on, and he squinted at the sudden harsh glare. A lantern sat upon a crate in the center of the vast, otherwise empty room. It illuminated four figures. An Asian girl, around his age, with mousy hair drawn up into puffy pig-tails and baggy clothes obscuring her slouched form. From her mouth dangled a toothpick. A black man in what seemed to be his early twenties, dressed in a bomber jacket and earth coloured jeans. An older looking Hispanic gentleman clad in a dress shirt and slacks, like he had just gotten off of work at a call center. Finally, there was a hulking, pale man who towered above his companions. He had long hair and a beard. His clothes were simple, jeans and a muscle tee, the latter of which showed off a series of ornate tattoos.

Hisashi’s interest was piqued, this was certainly a vibrant bunch. “So I presume you all have summoned me here for something other than a staring match, yes?” he began.

The girl scowled, a muscle in her cheek twitching, “You’re the one who wanted to meet us face to face, scumbag.” Ah, so she’s the one he’d spoken to.

He hummed, the ghost of a smile on his lips, “A reasonable request. Now let’s talk business, who, exactly, am I working with?”

They all exchanged glances, having a silent argument amongst themselves.

Finally, the Hispanic man spoke up, “We’re part of a network of Meta-humans, fighting for a just cause. Unfortunately, not much of the country views us this way, so we occasionally have to recruit outside help. I’m Raquel.”

“Amy,” the brat spoke up. Hisashi had the sudden urge to rip the toothpick out of her mouth and stab her with it. He restrained himself.

“Michael,” the black man said, his voice a smooth baritone.

The large man looked awkwardly between everyone else, and then muttered something under his breath. Michael nudged him, a sly smile on his face. The man flushed red, “Bjame.”

Hisashi felt his head tilt slightly with curiosity, it was an odd name, sure, but why would Bjame feel embarrassed about it?

“So,” Raquel cleared his throat, “What did Amy tell you about the job we’re giving you?”

“Something about taking someone out, I didn’t get all of the details, I prefer to learn them in person,” he shrugged. It was far easier to ascertain how much bullshit you were being handed when you could see others’ tics.

“We need you to kill Isaac Markov, he’s the head of a pharmaceutical company and has a heavy security detail following him around,” Raquel continued.

Hisashi frowned, that might be above his pay grade. Sure, if he had the right tools he could probably manage, but going after a well-guarded business executive with a dull pocket knife and force of will? This was going to prove to be a challenge.

Raquel must have sensed his hesitance, because he said, “Always surrounded by security that is, except for on Christmas. He prefers to spend it with his family in Beverly Hills, his bodyguards only get in the way. We’ll provide you with what we can on loan to help you finish the job.”

That would make things easier. “What intel do you have? I’m not going in blind,” he replied.

Michael pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his back pocket, and passed it to Hisashi, “Here’s a map of the place. Amy can hack into their security, it’ll be up to you to sneak in while they’re sleeping that night and execute the target. Honestly? Your best bet will be to enter through their cellar window, but I’m not the boss of you, do what you want.”

Hisashi looked over the floor plan. The mansion was convoluted and massive. Fucking rich people, who needs six sitting rooms?!

“How do we know he’ll be able to pull it off? He’s just a kid!” Amy pointed out, fixing Raquel with a glare, it seemed like her face was frozen in that expression at all times.

“So are you,” Bjame pointed out gently. She let out a huff of indignation.

“We trust our contact,” Raquel replied simply, “She’s never led us astray before after all, and who else among us is more devoted to our cause?”

“Fine.” Amy bit out, clearly not happy with the situation.

“I don’t work for free,” Hisashi casually brought up, “I’ll need some form of compensation.”

“You can have whatever you find in the mansion, plus any cash we can scrounge up,” Michael replied offhandedly.

Hisashi tutted, “Now, you all know that I don’t work with cash, it’s too… fragile.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, “Then what do you want?”

“I need information. Anything you can dig up on one Hana Shigaraki and her connections with the mafia.”

“We don’t tangle with the mob,” Bjame said with a frown.

“Then you need to find someone else to do the job for you, and given that Christmas is in a few days? I bid you good luck,” Hisashi smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets. Amy looked like she was on the verge of lunging towards him to try to beat him senseless.

Raquel raised his hand in a silent gesture to stop further protest, “We’ll do what we can. Do we have a deal?”

Hisashi reached out his own hand towards Raquel as if to shake, “Of course.”

“My colleagues and I will stay in contact,” the man replied, shaking Hisashi’s hand with his own.

“I look forward to it.”

-@~*^*~@-

The journey back was relatively quiet, and a little longer than Hisashi had originally anticipated. He had come across a mugging in progress, and had to quickly change directions to avoid it. The meeting and repeated late night outings had sapped him of any motivation to get involved. It wasn’t his business, and truly? He just wanted to crawl back into his uncomfortable bed and scrounge together whatever sleep (and sanity) he could.

Hisashi was just about to climb up the chain link fence into the backyard of the orphanage when he froze. Matron Abra was leaning against the building’s wall, the orange ember of the cigarette in her hand illuminating her hawkish face. It seemed she hadn’t spotted him yet. He slinked backwards and slipped into the shadows of the alleyway. Unfortunately, he’d have to wait her out. There was no way he was reenacting Monday night’s meeting with the front room cameras, especially now with the enhanced security.

Someone approached her, by the looks of the silhouette it was a man. She exhaled a puff of smoke, its wispy tendrils wrapping around her head like a crown. “Detective Shepherd,” she began, voice raspy from nicotine, “What a pleasure it is to see you.”

He hummed, “I made sure you got your latest stock, now it’s your term to uphold your end of the bargain.”

The matron took another drag, “Yes, yes, well, you know my specifications,” she paused, glancing towards the detective, scanning his face for something, “and yet you failed to meet them.”

Shepherd shook his head, “I have a.. feeling about these ones. They’re going to be something special.”

“Doubtful. The youngest is defected and the eldest too rebellious. If anything, you should be paying me for getting them out of your hands,” she hummed, the shadows on her face grew harsher as her expression soured.

“But their hair-”

“We both know that a slightly unusual physical appearance is hardly an indicator of mutations,” she crossed her arms.

The detective clenched and unclenched his fists, “Look, you either pay me what we agreed upon, or I’m telling the precinct about your little operation.”

“No need to get hasty,” the matron huffed, and took something out of her night gown’s pocket, “I have your payment right here.” She passed over a wad of cash into the detective’s hands.

“Thanks,” he grit out.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” she replied, tapping the ashes from her cigarette onto the grass, voice far too chipper for the exchange they just had. The two went their separate ways, Abra slipped inside the orphanage through a back door (had that always been there?) and the detective walked towards the front entrance.

Well, Hisashi thought as he watched their retreating forms, we don’t have enough time to unpack all of that. Once he was certain that the coast was clear he climbed over the fence and headed towards the boy’s dorm window. He looked into the room, it was difficult to see if the coast was completely clear, but it seemed that sleeping quarters were empty of staff. He opened the window carefully and slipped inside, closing it behind him. Hisashi chewed on the inside of his mouth as he crept to his bed. Slipping off and stowing away his gear was easy, the thin blanket on his bed was able to obscure what was under the metal bed frame fairly well. The less bulky (and more incriminating) items he slid under the mattress or into his pillowcase. When his pajamas were finally returned to his body he collapsed onto his bed like a dead weight. The full force of his exhaustion and sleep deprivation had hit him like a truck.

He burrowed himself under the blanket and pulled out his burner phone, using the blanket to obscure the light it radiated.

Pest

2:08am

[The meeting went well.]

[What do you know about a man named Isaac Markov?]

[I’m glad to hear it!]

[How much are you paying me?]

[I’ve been doing tasks for you all week. You owe me at

least this much.]

[Fine, fine, I’m just pullin ur leg.]

[Wikipedia says that he’s some pharma company CEO]

[Obviously.]

[He got into a scandal a few years back for charging

states crazy high prices for rona vaccines.]

[Also some embezzling.]

[CEOs can have a little embezzlement, as a

treat.]

[Anything else?]

[Not really? There’s some rumors of his

company doing something shady, but

that’s a given at this point.]

[Oh that’s spicy!]

[What?]

[If you find a way to confirm or deny that his

company is doing human experimentation,

I will pay you handsomely.]

[It’s too early for this. I’m going to sleep.]

[Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs

bite!]

Hisashi turned off his phone and stifled an irritated groan, what had he gotten himself into?

A/N: I almost didn't put out a chapter this week, things have been busy with college and the like. I was able to pull what I wanted together this weekend thankfully! As always, comments and feedback help fuel my writing, so feel free to leave them.

AO3

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, MIMZ! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RAPHAEL.

Admin Rosey: I never really thought that Raphael’s application would be so f u n to read. Macabre? Absolutely. Impassioned? Of course. But hilarious to the point where I was giggling? Definitely unexpected but that is what made this so enjoyable and it is ultimately why this application received a r e s o u n d i n g yes from each of us. There was a perspective that I always envisioned for Raphael but was never able to articulate it myself until you laid it out, word by word, with this application, Mimz. Raphael is such a multi-faceted and character that holds so much potential, and the way that you wove it into every aspect of the application made this so fun to read. Thank you so much for taking the time to produce such a wonderful application! Your faceclaim change to Kendrick Sampson has been approved. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias

mimz

Age

Personal Pronouns

she/her

Activity Level

i’ll typically check the dash every day, and i try not to keep replies stewing for longer than a couple of days! that said i can be a little slow, especially around exam seasons.

Timezone

pst

Triggers

REMOVED

How did you find the group?

miss minnie bleubeard’s blog

IN CHARACTER

Character

raphael, with a fc change to kendrick sampson

What drew you to this character?

short answer: divine amorality sexy HAHAHAHA

long answer: there was something i read a little while ago about some of the best surgeons being able to dehumanize their patients to a rather frightening degree. there’s a level of abstraction that you need in order to not let your empathy get in the way of the practice of medicine; ultimately, a body is a body is a body, right? and then there’s the moral quandary of healing - it is a doctor’s duty to heal, but what does that actually mean? to what extent is a doctor’s duty to relieve suffering? to obstinately prolong life? if the body heals but the mind still ails, is a person healed? what i’m getting at, here, is that in some ways the healer is the most dangerous character of all.

when i read raphael’s bio, there was a quote in that article from a surgeon named david cheever that came to mind: “as a result of anaesthetics, the surgeon ‘need not hurry; he need not sympathise; he need not worry; he can calmly dissect, as on a dead body.’” to me, raphael is an explosion and expansion of this concept. raphael is, quite literally, a medical ethicist’s worst nightmare, and to me, that’s absolutely fascinating. without sympathy, what separates a healer from an educated control freak with a god complex? with raphael, we can extend this concept to its furthest extreme. raphael isn’t even human - how could he even begin to sympathize with an experience so foreign to him? why would he worry about something trivial as human suffering when it essentially exists as a theoretical concept to him? divine beings have no reason to play by human rules, and as a creature raised by god’s side raphael was so far removed from the concept of human suffering that it’s sort of a no-brainer that he developed a sick fascination with it, like a child who managed to con their parent into buying a grand theft auto game and is obsessed with running over pedestrians because the stakes never quite feel real. it’s a perspective i’d absolutely love to explore in a group rp setting because the nature of rp means that it’s kind of...completely unsustainable? like as writers we’re shoving these characters together, which means that raphael will have to be exposed to mortals. there’s room for a lot of character development there, and it seems like something extremely interesting to explore.

BUT HERE’S THE THING⁠—and this is where the character gets really fun, in my opinion. i’ve talked a fair bit about god complexes already, but when applied to raphael an interesting question is raised: how much is a complex, and how much of it is actually being divine? what really made me want to get my grubby little hands on the reins of raphael’s story was seeing the disconnect between the way his connections are written from raphael’s perspective versus the other character’s perspective. it’s a fun little hubristic shade that makes him an unreliable narrator and infinitely more interesting than a simple morality thought experiment. i think it’s easy to see raphael as this super cool, all-powerful master manipulator (i think that’s a pretty accurate take on his self-image, in fact), but he’s not the only player in this game. for every pawn he’s trying to move, there is someone else trying to use him in a similar way, and i don’t know that he truly understands the ramifications of that. see, i think it’s easy to reduce raphael to the points i discuss in the previous paragraphs because that’s what he wants you to think of him. but this is a world of gods and superpowers and magical political intrigue and game of thrones doesn’t exist so nobody can tell him that he’s on the path to becoming a cersei lannister (admittedly i haven’t watched got so this reference might not be right but i feel like it’s right so uh. yeah!). maybe i just like to see arrogant men getting knocked down a peg? this might be a projection of that. i dunno. i just know that there are quite a few mind games and mental gymnastics to untangle with raphael and that’s fun. he’s fun.

also. i would like to once again reiterate: divine amorality sexy. it’s not good, to be clear, and i don’t condone it, but i’m just saying.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character?

WHEN THE CITY CRUMBLES AROUND YOU AND YOU HOLD ITS VESTIGES IN YOUR HANDS, WHOM DO YOU BLAME?

i think Raphael’s big character arc revolves around a simple question: how far are you willing to go to achieve what you want?

ostensibly, it’s an easy answer: very far. but when your desire is antithetical to your very purpose, when chasing it puts you at odds with the thing you’ve worked to build, do the goalposts move?

(the correct answer is that raphael did not build caelum. he simply destroyed god.)

let’s say, hypothetically, that raphael gets what he wants. the world is thrown into war and chaos and destruction, yadda yadda, raphael gets his blood and his suffering, great. he’s lived through this before (a couple times, actually), so you think he’d realize by now—eventually, the dust will settle. people will tire of suffering. and where will that leave raphael? how many times will you remake the world to watch it burn? can you ever be fulfilled chasing a temporary high?

(the correct answer is no, but raphael is an immortal being. more importantly, he is a patient one. he will wait a million days for rome to be built, if only to witness the single day in which it will burn.)

i think raphael needs to reckon with these questions. i think he’s lived far too long with his mentality unquestioned and that has made him both insufferable and a major threat to society. this is a long and pretentious way to say that raphael honestly kind of needs a hobby whatever the thc-verse equivalent of therapy is, but i think any sort of positive character development is contingent upon a recontextualization of suffering and chaos and raphael’s masks.

of course, this isn’t to say that introspection will only lead to positive character development. perhaps a raphael who looks deeper into his psyche will come to understand that his desires outweigh his role; perhaps such thoughts will push raphael over the edge of propriety and into something more outwardly despicable. no matter what, though, i think that the direction of raphael’s character development will be largely shaped on how he decides to prioritize his⁠ roles and goals.

FOR WHOM DO THESE HANDS HEAL?

let’s discuss the archangels, shall we? despite it all, raphael genuinely loves his brothers. i would argue, even, that raphael believes that his scheming is in service to the other archangels; he’s not blind to the way complacency has softened the angels. at this point, the only true threat to the angels is themselves—if michael wants to to unlock a state of sanctifying grace, it will happen at the hand of one of his kin.

i spoke earlier about raphael’s goals ultimately being futile. this is largely because they are diametrically opposed to michael and gabriel’s goals, and while raphael knows this intellectually, i don’t think he’s quite thought about what the long-term implications of that conflict entails. he’s so caught up in the conflict between michael and gabriel that he’s neglected to consider how he factors into the dynamic. could he be the common ground that brings michael and gabriel together? could he be the final straw that breaks them apart? he is excited for the fighting, the fallout; but has he stopped to consider what the long-reaching effects of such a rift may be?

raphael is breaking his family apart because he loves them. will that be enough, when he is sent to pick up the pieces? whose side will he fall on, if he is to pick a side at all?

DID PYGMALION FALL IN LOVE WITH THE BEAUTY OF HIS CREATION, OR THE BEAUTY HE CREATED?

i said this in the previous section but i’d like to reiterate it: i think a big reason raphael is Like That is because the stakes have never quite felt real to him. raphael’s a pot stirrer, but he’s not a creature of action. to this, i say give him real stakes. to be honest, i don’t know exactly what that entails, because i could see a number of ways in which tangible pressure manifests itself for raphael. perhaps his meddling with michael and gabriel steps too far, and his brothers perhaps the angels become suspicious of his maneuvering, in which the spider is drawn into his own web of intrigue. maybe we apply positive pressure, where the ails of the world require a healer and raphael is tapped to higher purpose⁠—and higher power. maybe raphael will find himself tempted by the very demons he holds in contempt.

the point is that raphael has largely been a character who acts through others. even now, we see this through his grooming of romilda, with his subtle manipulation of michael and gabriel. i want him to become a more active character, either by his own volition or by his hand being forced.

similarly, i’m extremely interested in seeing how raphael navigates the political elements of this verse. i expect it stings a bit to be the only archangel not given a position of leadership; perhaps he holds lingering resentment toward zadkiel for being given a role raphael had expected to receive. does he subtly undermine zadkiel’s leadership? i want to watch him play up tensions with the vices, to hide a vicious war-hawk perspective under the guise of a concerned healer. i want him to smile in abaddon and samael’s faces and plot their suffering in his mind. i want to see the snake slither in the grass, to return to his original form as a spider spinning a web of intrigue across his court. yes, i want a more active raphael, but i think the political drama is ripe for development, as well.

WHEN I SPIT UP MY SINS AND BEG FOR REPENTANCE, WHAT WILL COME UP?

this one’s a long shot, but i could maybe...see...raphael……..falling. i can guarantee you that the idea has never even crossed raphael’s mind, and that he would literally rather be smited than be cast out of caelum, but i can see it. i think he might be happier, actually; if he fell, he could really lean into the chaos and suffering thing without any compunction.

of course, this is something infinitely easier said than done. were raphael to be cast out of caelum, he would have nowhere to go. infernum would never take him⁠—he’s made far too many enemies among their ranks. he could wander the holy land, but he’s far too proud to bind himself to its existing social systems. (he wouldn’t be able to look gabriel in the eye.)

raphael would have absolutely nothing.

but he would also be free.

that’s right, i think that a horsemen-style liberation arc would be an absolute banger for raphael. again, i don’t think it’s feasible unless a very specific set of circumstances happen, but just imagine a raphael with nothing to lose, free to go absolutely apeshit. his only prerogative is to make sure you have a bad day. he is free to sow whatever chaos, whatever suffering he so wishes across the land. WHEW.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

yes, but i don’t see him going down easily.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation

entomological curiosity, in short. consider: why did god leave the apple in the garden of eden? why do humans keep animals in glass cases? why do children burn ants with magnifying glasses?

raphael wants to observe the world. a good healer must understand his patients at a fundamental level, and such truths are only revealed when the subject is broken down to its basest parts. you see, raphael was weaned on temperance and virtue; there is a lush decadence to emotional extremes that he finds most fascinating. they are debased. they are crass. they are wantonly sentimental, in a garishly beautiful way.

but this is not all. he wants to stave off boredom, and these are the tools he has to play with. for all of his machinations, raphael is a simple being. raphael has no grand ambitions, no lofty ideals, and that is what makes him so dangerous. he wants to be amused. he wants to be stimulated. he wants to observe a world in which things happen.

ostensibly, this is not as selfish a motivation as it may seem. as a healer, raphael knows something that many do not: serenity cannot exist in perpetuity. it is impossible for the world to remain unchanged⁠—even if the change is not evident, it is happening. an eternal peace is all but a stagnation of the kingdom; the only thing stagnation breeds is degradation. the angels are weakening because they are not being challenged. michael and the virtues may be doing extensive research to find an alternate explanation, but raphael knows this to be the truth.

of course, the irony underlying the selfless explanation of raphael’s motivations reveals the truth of the matter: it is a farce. perhaps it is a lie that raphael has even convinced himself he believes, but it is farcical nonetheless. raphael claims he wants to invoke change because stagnation is dangerous, but riddle me this⁠—if this is true, why has raphael never changed? centuries upon centuries have passed, and the world has changed around him, but raphael himself has remained largely unchanged. he is the orchestrator of change, not its agent nor its subject, and that is just the way he would like things to stay.

Character Traits

CHARISMATIC - there’s a reason very few have cottoned on to raphael’s true nature, and it’s not (just) his pretty face and magical girl-esque aura. there’s something effortlessly captivating about raphael, a pace to his cadence that has you hanging on to his every word, a lightness to his smile that makes you want to coax it out whenever and however you can. everything about raphael puts people at ease, except for his eyes, which tend to put people on edge if he’s not careful. he’s not gregarious or the outgoing sort of charismatic by any means, but he does manage to exude an overwhelming charisma.

PATIENT - it’s important to remember that before raphael turned on god, he waited for him. raphael performed healings for centuries and never raised a hand against his father in that time. think of all the angels that fell, that rebelled; raphael was not among them. no, raphael played the dutiful son, allowing his resentment to fester and boil deep underneath his skin, but never to surface. for centuries he served loyally, biding his time. remember: lucifer fell. raphael did not. which one killed god? as i mentioned in the plot section, raphael will wait a million days for rome to be built to witness the single day it burns. prolonged suffering is perhaps the most beautiful of all. fortitude goes hand-and-hand with patience.

INTELLIGENT - in a few ways. raphael is well-studied, with extensive knowledge of biology and chemistry and history and politics. raphael is emotionally intelligent; he hides his true nature behind a veneer constructed to meet expectations. he may not be as talented as gabriel in this regard, but it is a skillful construction nonetheless.

MANIPULATIVE - i mean. yeah.

ARROGANT - he thinks he’s smarter than god???????????????? tbf god was a bit of a headass in this universe but we’ve all read enough tragedies to know where this kind of hubris ends up going.

CRUEL - there’s a bit to unpack here. i’d argue that there are two types of cruelty: malicious cruelty and callous cruelty. raphael is certainly capable of both, but i think he embodies the latter. with certain notable exceptions, raphael’s cruelty is rarely personal; it is a thoughtless sort of cruelty, the type inflicted upon beings considered expendable. raphael is selfish and petty and powerful, and these traits coalesce into a casual cruelty.

In-Character Para Sample cw: light gore

Look at how they look at him. God’s good little lambs, lined up all in a row, passive and pliant and patiently awaiting benediction. Patiently waiting for Raphael.

Raphael hates them.

No. This is false. It is difficult for Raphael to muster up stronger feelings toward mortals than a vague sort of amusement, the sort of affinity one might have for a particularly stupid kit when it does something surprisingly clever. In this regard, he understands that he differs from his kin. Gabriel, in particular, has developed a particular fondness for the mortals. Why anyone would wish to strip mortals of their most fascinating behavior⁠—to the point of openly defying their Father⁠—is beyond Raphael. He has given up on trying to reason with his brother on the matter.

The first supplicant is beckoned forward. They pray to the Lord and Raphael touches their forehead with one palm, cups their chin with the other. His fingers splay carelessly around a throat all but bared to him and the ceremony is so mechanical Raphael allows his thoughts to wander⁠.

How easy it would be to tighten his grip. How beautiful it would be, to watch the lamb’s naive adoration flash into fear, to watch fear darken into betrayal and resentment and the most beautiful emotion of all: despair. He can feel the pulse at his fingertips. It would quicken in a stress response, he knows. It would quicken, then it would pound, and then maybe it would stop. It all falls to Raphael’s whim. In this moment, Raphael holds their life in his hands. They have all but laid on his sword for the promise of absolution and when they look up at Raphael with their dumb, trusting eyes he can see the sparkling tracks where tears once fell, down the hollow of a cheek into the pool of a collarbone. He finds himself overcome with the desire to trace the fall with his tongue. “Give me your pain,” he murmurs. Let me taste it. Let me understand.

He takes it. He does not taste it. He does not understand.

He releases the mortal. Those beautiful tear tracks are already fading. “The Lord be with you,” he says, and perhaps he even means it. His Father’s gaze burns into his back, even from a world away. He’d laugh at the irony, were he free to. Is this the weight you so desire? he wants to ask the devotee. No, Raphael knows the truth: God’s love is a shackle. God’s love is a leash and it is holding Raphael back from his fullest potential.

“And also with you,” the lamb responds. Their head is bowed obediently in prayer and they shuffle away, appropriately awed. The next supplicant is beckoned forward.

The light of Raphael’s presence obfuscates the darkness in his eyes.

—

Later, much later, Raphael finds himself studying his hands. He flexes them, balls them into fists, stretches his fingers as far as they will spread.

How easy it would be to tighten his grip.

The hand is at once an individual unit and a summation of individual parts. The hand contains twenty-seven bones and thirty-four muscles connected by over a hundred ligaments and tendons. Wrists connect to metacarpals, which connect to carpals, which taper off into delicate phalanges. Individually, each of these parts are largely useless; were Raphael to take a scalpel and drag it through a tendon, across the joints, the strings would be cut and the puppetry would cease to dance. You would be left with a small pile of carpals and metacarpals and phalanges, loose strings of muscle and tendon. At times, it is difficult to fathom how such mundane component parts are the instruments of extraordinary acts.

Raphael flexes his hand, watches bone shift under skin. If he remembers correctly, mortals have an idiom about knowing your hands, or something along those lines. He will not pretend to be familiar with mortal culture. Did you know that, wings aside, mortals and angels all have the same bone structure?

Of course you did. It is common knowledge that God made all beings in His image, or so the story goes.

This is an easy answer, but one with interesting implications. Let us extrapolate. If mortals and angels are essentially biological mirrors, and each are made in the image of God, does that mean that God will bleed like His creations? Slide a scalpel across God’s knuckles—will His puppets cease to dance?

Raphael could find out. It would take only a single blade, sliced through a single tendon.

Now, Raphael is not so arrogant to believe himself the blade. He would not even consider himself the hand. Such a role requires a particular kind of conviction—

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in bitter disillusionment⁠—the sort inflicted upon Michael. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s capriciousness and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in righteous anger⁠—the sort inflicted upon Gabriel. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s neglect and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in a whetted hunger⁠—the sort God gifted to each of His angels. Hunger breeds hunters and heaven is full— )

—that Raphael simply cannot embody. Rage has never been his forte.

Consider, however, that the hand is controlled by nerve impulses. A spark is all the hand needs to transform from a collection of bone to an agent of action. Yes. He clenches his fists. Here are the bones, the veins, the tendons, the muscle. Angels and mortals all share the same bone structure.

Does God?

Extras

pinterest.

raphael has classically beautiful wings. i’m talking TEXTBOOK cherubic angel wings, with the sweeping white feathers and all. raphael kind of hates them, though he takes a great deal of pride in them.

raphael doesn’t have a signature weapon. he’s proficient with blades, yes, and fights with a surgeon’s precision, not the strongest nor the fastest but eerily efficient in his blows. but he is a healer—at the end of the day, his empty hands are all he needs. (his empty hands are what you should fear.)

raphael hates the heretics pro forma but. but. he cannot deny a certain...fondness for them. the heretics exhibited such dedication to a futile cause; they believed their suffering to be something noble. it’s a laughable notion, certainly, but a sentiment so distinctly human it’s almost charming. should they wish to return, to throw themselves on the knife over and over and over, well. raphael shall not complain. he shall smile beatifically, perhaps abate their suffering, even⁠—and watch them do it again.

in a modern au, raphael is a reality tv producer. ok actually he’s probably a surgeon but i think he’d make a very good reality tv producer. alternately, there is a universe out there where raph fixated on like...baking, or k-pop, instead of suffering. those are good timelines, i think. maybe not the k-pop stan timeline.

raphael is the living embodiment of that dwight schrute “we need a new plague” meme.

#accepted #accepted: raphael

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

993.

5k Survey LXV

3301. When someone is 'crazy' why do we call them 'nuts' or 'fruitcakes'? >> I’m sure Google could tell you. 3302. What's the dillio? >> I could have happily gone the rest of my life without ever hearing that word again, lol. 3303. Where did the slang term 'dillio' come from? >> You’re asking me? 3304. How many even whole numbers are there between -5 and 5? >> Four?

3305. What words can you make useing only these letters: E N O? >> The only two I can think of are “one” and “neo”.

3306. What's the differance between foods that are low fat and foods that are lite? >> I don’t know, or care, because I refuse to eat foods like that. 3307. White or brown rise? >> The rice Sparrow buys is jasmine rice and that’s fine with me. 3308. Can you be content if you are physically uncomfortable? >> I don’t see why not, unless for you, all forms of contentment are contingent upon being physically comfortable. I suppose that could very well be the case for someone. 3309. What is the differance between discomfort and pain? >> Intensity. 3310. What is the most uncomfortable thing you can think of? >> *shrug* 3311. What do these names make you think of: britney spears? Toxic. walt whitman? ...Leaves of Grass? Did he write that? buddah? Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. william shakespere? you know. various plays that I know nothing about and have no interest in. pablo picasso? deconstructed faces. adam ant? I don’t know anything about him except that he made music. I think. franz kafka? when you’re so influential you become an adjective. nietzche? God is dead and we have killed him. madonna? Like a Prayer. orson scott card? Ender’s Game. frieda kahlo? that self-portrait of hers. god? Nietzche. :) salvidor dali? melting clocks. david bowie? my heart bursting out of my chest because I love his art. jesus? big hit at parties with that water trick. lars ulrich? being really upset at Napster. jim henson? Muppets. 3312. What are your favorite games to play? >> There are many games I enjoy playing but for the last month-plus I’ve been extremely fixated on FFXIV to the detriment of several other regular activities. So, you know. 3313. Are you quick to judge something as stupid just because you don't understand it? >> Nope, I’m quick to want to understand something if I originally don’t. I don’t always succeed, but I don’t default to thinking the thing is stupid just because I lack understanding... 3314. Are you obnoxious to others? >> I mean, it’s possible. Everyone’s got the potential to be obnoxious to someone, even if that’s not their intention. 3315. Do you feel superior to anyone? >> No. 3316. Shouldn't people take a good look at themselves before they criticize others? >> That’d probably be best, but it is what it is. 3317. Which is better and why: writing or saying obnoxious things about someone who isn't around to defent themselves or saying it straight to them? Which do YOU do more often? >> Hot take: Neither is good... I prefer to, you know, not say obnoxious (which I’m taking to mean rude or mean) things about people. I slip up sometimes, especially in certain environments, but I don’t consider it defensible behaviour. 3318. Do you appologize too often? >> I don’t apologise often at all. 3319. Does your mind play tricks on you? >> Sometimes. 3320. Have you read (any of): the bible? Just about all of it, barring the really boring parts (you know, “this guy begat that guy” for like fifty verses, shit like that). the koran? I haven’t read any of it but I do own one. the torah? ^ the kama sutra? No. the satanic bible? Yeah, I read this like a decade and a half ago. Are these mystical texts or historical ones? >> Yes. 3321. Do you own any possetions that you hide from parents, friends, visitors? What? >> No. 3322. Why does the cheese stand alone? >> ??? 3323. Do you watch any soaps? >> No. 3324. Have you learned something new today?/ >> Probably, but I don’t remember what it is right now. 3325. Do you believe in an 'oversoul' of all humanity? >> I’m unfamiliar with the intricacies of this concept, although I have encountered the word “oversoul” before. 3326. Have you invented your own style, just for you? >> Not really. I just wear stuff I like, I don’t consider it a cohesive thing that I intentionally created. 3327. have you invented your own religion, just for you? >> No. 3328. What files have you recently downloaded? >> Just some image files. 3329. Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard but I think: >> They’re wrong. 3330. Do you dance around a lot? >> Not a lot, but it is something I enjoy immensely and should probably do more often. 3331. Is the unexamined life worth living or not? >> It’s so crazy to me that we analyse lives to determine whether they’re “worth living”. Like, way to miss the point. 3332. What are you like when you're at your most beautiful? >> ??? 3333. What are you like when you are at your worst? >> Detached, cruel, emotionally blunted, irritable, that sort of thing. 3334. Why do you hide things about yourself? >> Because I was taught to be ashamed of myself. 3335. Why is anything 'too personal' to talk to others about? >> Because that’s part of having personal boundaries. It’s healthy to have those boundaries. 3336. Why should we be embarressed, afraid, or appologetic for ANYTHING we think, say or do? >> Because otherwise we’d just say and do shit with no regard for the consequences or the harm we’re doing to other people. 3337. Can true freedom exist in this world of doubt and guilt? >> *shrug* 3338. What do you have no control over? >> Most things, tbh. 3339. Do you own a vibrating pillow? How about a vibrating back massager? >> No. I would hate anything like that. 3340. Can you dance away your emotional pain? >> Dancing isn’t going to get rid of my pain, but it will introduce some joy as a counterbalance. 3341. When you dance is it a celebration of life? >> It does feel that way, when I do it. It’s very primal and exultant. 3342. When do you feel the most immortal? >> I don’t, really. 3343. Are you more of a painting, a poem or a song? >> As a human being, I’m sure I can imagine myself as any of those. 3344. Is lonliness a crowded room full of open hearts turned to stone? >> Er... I mean, maybe. That’s certainly one way to feel lonely. 3345. Is YOUR heart ever stone? >> Yes. Less often, recently, but it’s still a learned behaviour that I occasionally have to trick my way out of. 3346. Are we alltogether all alone? >> Hm? 3347. Does life end in a happily ever after way? >> I think life just ends. 3348. What's the warmest part of your body? >> My torso, where all my organs are. 3349. Are you more verbal or visual? >> Both. 3350. What do you long for? >> Connection.

#5000 question survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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haappy · 4 years

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Sanger, Happy

Section: 21A

Chapter 1: The Concept of “Self” from various Philosophical Perspectives

So what I've noticed is that, few people are consistently in rivalry with others, they don't see how hard it tends to be to accomplish something, while others stop their advancement since they believe they're not getting results. I figured out how to be understanding and that I must show restraint to get results, I must be placated with my own advancement, I need individuals to realize that regardless of how little my advancement is, it's better than no advancement at all and I need individuals to locate their own motivation provided that they neglect to do as such, I think they genuinely can't discover joy and fulfillment from their lives. We shouldn't envy others on how better they are than us, we should have the initiative to accept the fact and work on our failures to become a better person.

Chapter 2: Sociological perspective: The self as a product of society.

My reflection about this topic is, how we see ourselves. As a junior high school student, I was a very motivated and cheerful student, I tried my best to fit in with my surroundings. It wasnt easy for me but still, I tried to be who I wasn't just to fit in. I wasn't that good in my studies because of the nervousness I always had, but I always game my best. I was keep pulling myself down because others didn't accept me for who I was and that was a problem to me. So I stopped caring what others thought of me because they should accept me for who I am. We should learn to appreciate for who we are.

Chapter 3: An anthropological conceptualization of self: The self as embedded in culture

What truly reflects me from this chapter is the perspectives on Sociocentric. This instructs us that no traditions, culture, race, nation is better than the other, it instructs us to be liberal and regard each other, not put down others when they're off-base however assist them with knowing better. This view assists with self - advancement which will assist us with progressing into better and additionally getting people. In addition, what's so valuable about this is it encourages us to see various societies, customs and traditions from alternate point of view where it educates and causes us not pass judgment or deprecate anybody's perspectives because respecting each culture and traditions is part of our duty.

Chapter 4: Psychological perspective of the self

The thing that truly reflected me from this chapter was Carl Roger's Self theory on how we express on explaining that human beings are always striving for self- fulfilment. most of them don't care about others, we humans sometimes do anything to fullfill our personal goals, either right or wrong, that's where I realized that things that are achieved through an unethical manner never really fullfill's us because it's not the right things to do and deep inside we'd always know we never truly achieved it. This chapter helped me realized the true meaning of self fulfillment and how it can help one's ambition and hopes to make a better person out of ourselves.

Chapter 5: Western and eastern concept of the self

What truly reflects me is eastern concept Hinduism, or reffered to as "Artha" when I previously ran over this I thought this was much the same as some other religions. however as I studied it, it instructed me that Hinduism's primary center is showing oneself. The word artha actually deciphers as "significance, sense, objective, reason or quintessence" contingent upon the specific situation. Artha is likewise a more extensive idea in the sacred texts of Hinduism. As an idea, it has different implications, all of which suggest "methods forever", exercises and assets that empower one to be in a state one needs to be in.

Chapter 6: The Physical self

So what truly reflects me from this chapter is the importance of body image. I always kept my body in shape because since grade school I was an athlete and as an athlete keeping my body in shape was a must. I have always had an proper diet. I chose to keep myself this way because it's better to be healthy. Taking care of our physical self is just like taking care of the emotional self. Therefore since grade school I have kept my body in shape.

Chapter 7: The sexual self

What reflects me from this chapter is that the word "sex" has become so common that, now a days it's so easy to get. Sex is not all about having fun. It's about connecting with someone you love deeply, showing your love and affection for the person. There's much more to that, knowing that sex is intimate and physical. Having sex in an early age might have a big impact on our life. So as of now our teachers are helping us choose the right path and prevent from making mistakes.

Chapter 8: The material self

What I reflect from this is chapter is that, when I was a child, I was in love with the material possessions, I used to break my old toys and demanded for you ones. I always wanted everything branded and good looking, I was really selfish with my things when it came to sharing my stuff's. When I became a little mature, I started to control my emotions and stopped asking for useless things that was not needed for me. Making mistakes was part of growing, because I knew I should be contented with what I have because there are other people who wish were In shoes. So I let go my obsession for materials and started to appreciate for what I had and I should be happy for that.

Chapter 9: The spiritual self

What this subject reflects on me is the importance of finding spirituality in our lives. I'm religious and I believe in sprits, in times i had my doubts but still in the end I always believed that there's a God who always there for me. I have gone through alot of problems and sometimes I felt so lonely that I used to talk ask if there is really a God? But I had signs that I'm not alone and I should keep my faith strong and always find a way to solve the problem. Life gets tough but giving up is not an option.

Chapter 10 the political self

What I learned from chapter 10 is that, all societies practiced politics because it's a decision making of the leaders to see what's best for it's community. From a small decision making to a big one, politics is involved in every manner. There was this theory that stated "a person could aquire learning through observation and imitation". So in today's generation it is important to develop our political self. Our community has a huge impact on our political thinking, everything that surrounds us has a different impact on us as part of the society, so this is a process for us on how to develop our political self and help make it a better place for everyone.

Chapter 11: The digital self

This reflects and encourages me comprehend the significance of innovation that helps change our perspectives and beliefs.The digital self, the one thing that has become an expansion of oneself, the computerized self has become "oneself" we are so fixated on the longing to make a "positive impression" in the eye of others that it may influence our security, psychological wellness which can prompt fraud, cyberbullying, despondency, uneasiness, uncertainties. Yet, that is not what the computerized self can do, there are aces to it as well. It encourages us interface with anybody in a split second, it has modified the manner by which we see the social elements of connections. Hence, I conclude that the digital self helps me comprehend the significance of innovation being developed of self's perspectives and convictions.

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craiiczhards-blog · 4 years

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What would be the supplement rise ?

supplementrise Preparing can prompt vocations because nutritionists, health experts, fitness coaches, heart sparking exercise teachers or mentors, and some others. As indicated by the U.S. company of Labor Statistics (BLS), men and women in this area must be favorable, fit , sorted outside, have excellent communicative skills and have the option to inspire others (www.bls.gov). To additionally investigate training and expert options in health and wellbeing, explore the accompanying Study.com posts. Contingent upon your edge, you should endeavor a statement, associate's, bachelor's, ace's or doctoral eligibility method. Your coursework can comprise human anatomy systems and physiology, company notions, clinic criteria, personal wellness, nourishment and health organizing. Stop by the connections below to get more info on degree alternatives in wellbeing and wellness.

supplementrise Learning applications can be found at a number of degrees of focus inside wellness and wellness. A number of classes and endeavors accessible online comprise health specialist, clinic and all encompassing wellbeing. Listed here are a few choices. In case you're enthusiastic on increasing open nutrition norms, supporting people get fit immediately after damage or only enriching an individual's overall wellbeing, then a career in health and wellbeing might be directly for you. These jobs incorporate athletic trainer, active recuperation mentor and partner. A couple of vocations demand that you get a specialist qualification subsequent to finishing a degree program. Acquiring accreditation or licensure is particularly significant for athletic tutors and bodily pros. The accompanying articles disperse a portion of these credentialing alternate options.

Supplementrise expressed the general work of wellness Pupils is relied on in order to develop by 13% somewhere within the array of both 2012 and 2022, and it is practically identical to this national normal of 11% to all jobs. Entertainment laborers need to observe that a growth of 14%, athletic partners 19 percent and nutritionists 21%. The foreseen development could be due of maturing populaces and to a expanded accentuation on wellness in people arena. As of might 2013, wellness mentors earned an average annual pay of $37,790, while entertainment laborers earned $25,560. Athletic teachers made $44,720 per year from and substantial, even though nutritionists found the central worth of 56,300 just about every calendar year, in accordance with the BLS. I'm not grabbing it truly is significance to be fit? Locating a different definition is to get a level troublesome. As signaled from the lexicon, wellness signifies:"the high quality or condition of being fit.

Supplementrise, That's type of the Point, according to practice specialists. Wellness doesn't will need to mean you're a ultra-long distance runner or you may perform one set up or just one hundred. Wellness can indicate various points for numerous individuals. "For me personally, wellness is importantly about experience greater and having the choice to move without torment," claims that the confirmed quality and casting specialist Grayson Wickham, '' a new york --based physical adviser along with the author of motion Vault, a flexibility and development organization. He clarifies that genuine wellness is tied together with atmosphere sound and getting healthy as a fiddle todo the exercises you will need to do and carry on using the means of daily life you want to reside. Would you be ready to play with your kids or grandkids? On the contrary chance that increasing the Inca path is on your own container list.

Supplementrise you feel amazing after Aday spent cultivating? Are you prepared to scale most of the major the stairs on your lifestyle without getting winded or just taking some slack? Michael Jones co, DO, an associate instructor of inside and athletics drugs at the Ohio State University Werner Clinic in Columbus, concurs. "given that healing school, I've unearthed that physical wellness is essentially characterized because your body's capacity to do assignments. These days, you can find more apparatuses accessible than every additional period lately to health devotees to track, measure, and trace For example, you've got burden file (BMI), resting heartbeat, muscle versus body fat ratio, and VO2 max, 5K or long distance race human information (PRs), 100-meter-run days, along with seat press maxes, he says. "These are around the Entire target estimates we use to Inspect advancement (or quantify against the Man or young lady about the alveolar squat rack or treadmill beside us

Supplementrise some Case, bodily health shouldn't exclusively be estimated with any of these or distinct evaluations or tests that he adds. It's much more mind-boggling. You wouldn't, by way of instance, use one variable, (by way of instance, circulatory strain) to judge somebody's overall wellbeing, Dr. Conseco says. Circulatory strain is a very important test to monitor for cardiovascular sickness, but it will not demonstrate if some one possesses malignancy or dementia. "Bodily health should be Regarded as a parity of huge numbers of those previously mentioned steps, but Alot more elusive steps, as well," Ionesco explains, such as"a point of view toward your body, nevertheless your framework of thoughts toward your own wellbeing and wellness

Pros have characterized five key sections of physical wellness: human anatomy bit (the overall extent of extra fat and minus extra fat tissue from the body), cardio oxygen or lymph intensive wellness, adaptability, solid quality, and also solid perseverance, as signaled from the American College of Sports Medicine (3). Yet, you can't limit the results of sustenance, remainder, and emotional and enthused wellbeing wellness either, says Jeffrey E. Omen, MD, vice president of personnel at the Edward Hines Jr.. VA Hospital in Hines, Illinois. This implies looking healthy does not signify you're. "Some people fixate on their physiological look and amounts yet are propelled by minimal confidence and censure the imperfections of the physical appearance. Some penance rest and remain during intercourse petition to produce more progress at an identical period, thus, push their body into disease or burnout," Genesco says. "Wellness is an extremely a selection of physical prosperity that must adjust our physiological and enthusiastic inspirations."

Supplementrise the Point whenever the entireties of these segments of wellness are corrected, physically and we get the absolute most gain. Physical activity is likewise correlated with better endurance and endurance. An investigation spread in the might 2015 topic of the journal Psycho Physiology proposes this is on the reasons which activity expands the progression of blood and oxygen to the cerebrum The psychological well-being and passionate medical advantages of physical health would be the most important ones -- and regularly possess the greatest impact on somebody's personal satisfaction, Ionesco states. "The benefit of pushing your body and visiting it respond breeds a far more relaxed, faster, much less fatty body, yet an incredibly quiet, fulfilled, and sure personality." When you're physically healthy, you know first hand exactly what you may achieve whenever you put your psyche for this, and you eventually become permitted to hit on your own, vocation, and dating objectives in a way you would not have some thing else.

supplementrise, You can't stop the consequence of promising wellness on helping folks reach (and keep up) much more valuable tons. That's on the grounds which expanding your wellness level as a result of physical action maybe not merely consumes calories, also it builds metabolically muscle that is dynamic mass. What's more, the stronger, muscle that you have, the more calories that you consume each day , Wickham says. A fitter human body increases to better capacity to burn off calories rises to far more advantageous weightreduction. Think about it along these lines: A very long distance runner that suits in numerous grade preparing workout routines every week may eliminate their health by eating an eating regimen of exceptionally handled nourishments which can be packed with high and supplements in soaked sugars and fats. Fundamentally, some one having out standing diet and exercise propensities can hamper wellness by simply logging a reliably solid amount of relaxation every night.

Unimaginably critical to maintaining the human body doing work ideally, explains W. Christopher Winter Season, MD, the chief of Charlottesville Neurology and Sleep Medication in Virginia and also the founder of Your Sleep Remedy: Your Snooze Is Broken and How to Repair It. Loosen with regards to sleep may undermine your Wellness aims. The advantages of maintaining both rest and physical movement Under wraps? Remaining energetic Will Help your rest, also logging the seven to eight Hours of rest for each night suggested from the National Sleep Foundation Motivates you keep up the vitality you've got to essentially adhere to a exercise Targets and stay dynamic as the prompt delight of health is Wonderful, you can not overlook you could not see a large numbers of the very best Benefits of readiness for a significant long period, and even years For instance, Considers faithfully connect physical health with enhanced living much more info https://supplementrise.com/

https://craiiczhards.blogspot.com/2020/01/what-would-be-supplement-rise.html

#health

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tomasorban · 5 years

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THE ZODIAC: CAPRICORN THE GOAT

Date of Rulership: 21st December-19th January; Polarity: Negative, female; Quality: Cardinal; Ruling planet: Saturn; Element: Earth; Body part: Knees, Joints, Bones; Colour: Black, dark grey, and brown; Gemstone: Turquoise, Amethyst; Metal: Lead.

Following on from Sagittarius, Capricorn is a sign that is immensely focused on how developments made in various disciplines like science, economy, law, and psychology can be used to improve living standards, raise collective consciousness, and foster a powerful society that runs as quickly and efficiently as a Japanese bullet train or a Swiss Rado watch. The Goat possesses the memory of a Tibetan monk, or rather an Indian elephant and its intuition extends far, far back before the conscious will crawled its way out of the primordial sludge. Interestingly, everything about this primitive state of chaos unsettles and scares the Goat. In fact lack of structure and organization, whether on a personal level or a collective level, induces psychological complexes within the Capricornian psyche that may drive it over the edge. In light of this, one can begin to understand this star sign’s compulsion and obsession with developing systems that tabulate and organise information into coherent hierarchies, raising and enforcing social standards and laws, and encouraging individuals to turn their passions and interests into full-time careers. According to the Goat, compartmentalization is a must; how will contemporary society function effectively, grow, and prosper without specialists to put forth broad-based models and inspired leaders to assess their levels of practicality and decide whether or not they should be implemented. Capricorns are innately good at taking on the comprehensive responsibilities of such collective ventures for they are naturally born leaders and committed ones at that.

People born under the stars of this constellation are usually of an intellectual adroitness beyond their actual years. A personalized form of the Capricornian formative energy might be a three year to four year-old toddler with a very high IQ. Have you ever watched one in action in a kindergarten playground? These little mischievous angels are masters of manipulation. They loiter about sizing other kids up, figuring out what makes them tick, and subsequently flicking on the mental switches that will elicit complete acceptance, veneration, respect, and affinity on their part. Moreover, they also love the power that comes with positions of elevated status and authority and will always pick roles where they are able to order everyone around and be the centre of attention. The wisdom and insight pervading these little beings carry is extraordinary; they learn and identify what behaviours are encouraged and rewarded by parents, teachers, and other adults and will cunningly adopt them for the sake of obtaining what they want. Mature Capricorns very much like mischievous children with very high IQs. They are creatures of atypical restraint and a calculated, cautious temperament that can use their charm, wit and infective cheerfulness to ascend the wrungs of the social ladder and miraculously leave the people they mingled with to get there feeling cherished and esteemed. This talent serves them especially well in professional endeavours whereby expertise, skill level, and personality provide the requisite ammunition in catapulting an employee to the top of the pecking order. The Goat wants to please and to be pleased; a mutually satisfying situation it hopes will assist in its plans to achieve widescale success.

If we were to attach a Jungian archetype to this star sign it would definitely be The Perfectionist. Mediocrity, poor performance, procrastination, and indolence are non-existent in the Capricornian language and dictionary. The Goat expects much of others and even more of itself, a characteristic which sometimes proves beneficial and sometimes detrimental. It gravitates towards and gels well with those who are equally ambitious, driven, conscientious, and tunnel-visioned but can intimidate meeker and more submissive character types that lack focus, aspirations, and long-term goals. Generating a vision that will contribute something valuable to the society in which it lives and slowly lighting the hermetic fires that will bring it to fruition is big on its lifelong list of things-to-do. Lamentably, a motivated Capricorn can become so fixated on achieving success in all areas of his or her life–finance, love, and professional career–that he or she becomes merciless, indifferent, and as unyielding as a piece of sandalwood trapped between two giant boulders. Unlike a great many that capitulate to the ideals of political correctness, Capricorn is not afraid to employ disciplinary action against inferiors that persistently transgress.

Being a cardinal sign Capricorn is no stranger to activity, fast-paced rhythms, and spirited involvement. The Goat prefers to circumnavigate the world over and over and over until its limbs drop off rather than remain motionless and caged up in some suburban neighbourhood. It likes to be in constant motion physically, mentally, and intellectually; it wants to be creative and innovative in adding to its chosen field of inquiry but at the same time it yearns for recognition, honour and vindication as validation of these valuable contributions. Just as the sure-footed mountain goat can persevere in traversing precipitous terrain that other animals wouldn’t go anywhere near for fear of plunging to their deaths, so too does the Capricorn soul exude inner strength and resilience in the face of adversity. Unlike some of the other members of the zodiac which give up prematurely or won’t even try for fear of failure, Capricorn will keep chipping away at a foot of a megalithic problem until so much of it is underrun that it collapses in on itself. Of course there are times when the Goat’s unrelenting efforts don’t pay off and this can create psychological torture that leads to bitterness, depression, neurosis, and even psychosis if the condition remains unaddressed. An afflicted Goat can become so riddled by insecurities, self-doubts, and psychological hindrances that it will invert its own social nature and seek solace in escapist activities like daydreaming, reading romance fiction, playing computer games, and watching movies.

“What doesn’t hurt you will only make you stronger!” the resilient Capricorn shouts. “You must endure pain, suffering, and symbolic death during the course of your life in order to become the person you were meant to be. Life is all about improving the world in which we live and adding to it in a constructive manner. Hence there is no room for laziness, lawlessness, or immoralities. The world is our only home. What good would it be to us if it were an asymmetrical place of anarchy, confusion, and absurdity? Everybody needs to have a meaningful role in society that contributes to the harmonious functioning of the whole. Look at bees, for instance. Their society is a sort of autonomous monarchy comprised of drones, female workers, and the queen herself. All these little beings are intensely aware of their position and function in the hierarchy and adhere to it like the universe adheres to the laws of physics. They are all as assiduous as each other and we would do well to borrow and implement the same approach. Success in life comes through industry, focus, and hard yakka (hard work) folks; nothing more, nothing less.

Some people say that I resemble the winter solstice in that I’m sometimes cold and chilly, reserved, and rather impersonal in my dealings with others. This is not my true self, but rather an iron armour or shell which the contingencies of life have forced upon me. I’m a realist so I’d be the first to admit that the world can be a cruel and nasty place. Even though most wouldn’t admit to such, self-interest happens to be a primary urge amongst human beings and their tireless search for validation usually entails a confrontation with the less flattering attributes of the collective temperament. Hence it’s important to put up psychic defences that will guard your soft, squishy, and sensitive interior at all times. The human soul, my friends, is an abyss of human sentiments, and mine is no different. I will sing, dance, cry, laugh, and share intimate details of my life with individuals who manage to gain my love and complete trust, namely those that are going places and doing exciting things with themselves. As you know, I’m a sucker for security, attention, and status and the best way to get it is to be around those VIPs best able to open doors and facilitate it. I’m not an elitist in any way, but relationships built on synthetically constructed dependencies are an outgrowth of the Western culture in which we are born and raised. We need to work with that rather than against it for the sake of acquiring what we want!”

Capricorn the Goat is connected to two symbols that link the constellation with the reascention of the sun from its seasonal slumber. The first of these is a terrestrial goat or goat-fish crossbreed that has its iconographical origins in the ancient civilization of Mesopotamia. This is depicted morphologically as a sea monster; sometimes as a hybrid goat-fish with the four limbs of a goat and a fish tail and at other times as a sea goat with the posterior of a serpent. Most early cultures perceived that their collective histories were woven into the heavenly constellations and the Sumerians were no different. Foremost of the symbols belonging to the Sumerian god Enki were a goat and a fish, both of which had amalgamated into the astrological totem we recognise today by the second millennium bce. Originally, Capricorn probably descried an early matriarchal situation of the Middle East in which the earliest monolithic structures of Babylon rose vertically out of a semi-arid breadth of shallow lagoons, reed banks, mud flats, and marshes. The horns of the goat were celestial markers for Mesopotamia’s two principle cities, Babylon and Nineveh; the first was built along the river Euphrates and the second along the Tigris, respectively.

Constructed during the Ptolemaic Period (323-30bce) of Egypt’s illustrious history, the circular and rectangular zodiacs in the Temple of Hathor at Denderah bequeath to us the ancient zodiacal pictograms for the twelve signs. A fleeting glace will show that the vast majority of these have remained largely unchanged. With respect to the Capricorn constellation, the zodiacal band on the circular Denderah zodiac shows the figure of a goat with two legs adjoined to the rear end and tail of a fish. Though the signs and figures of the sky represented on these chronometers express a markedly Chaldean and Hellenistic influence, we can be sure that the autochthonous Egyptians explicitly understood the celestial zone and functional image of the sign as a marker of astronomical rebirth and solar reascent because demotic representations show an ankh, the symbol of life, and an aquatic tadpole with its hindquarters on solid ground (the inverse of the sea-goat image). Hence the Egyptians may have been aware of the twelvefold division of the zodiacal band way before Babylonian cosmogony merged with that of their own under a Hellenistic patina.

The Greeks themselves, who borrowed leisurely from Chaldean astrology, forged an association with their god Pan and with Zeus’s foster mother Amalthea. According to a cycle of Hellenistic myths that chronicle the Titanomachy, a ten-year war between the fearsome Titans and the renowned Olympians, the horned goat-god Pan fought the monster Typhon. In order to evade detection and escape unscathed, he dove into the tepid waters of the Nile. The section of the river into which Pan jumped encompassed magical properties and instigated a physiological transformation upon anything it came into contact with. Thus the parts that were submerged in water, namely his lower body and legs, morphed into a fish whilst his head and upper torso remained unchanged. On the other hand Amalthea was the she-goat that suckled the infant Zeus in a grotto of Mount Aigaion on the Mediterranean island of Crete. In order to save him from being cannibalised by his own father Cronus, Amalthea gathered the Kouretes, the armed and crested dancers of the earth, and prompted them to create an aural bedlam as to mask the cries of the infant.

The second symbol, an astrological shorthand used by astrologers in the casting of horoscopes, is a squiggle comprised of curves, a loop, and sometimes a straight line that could be interpreted as the goat’s horns. Looking at the variant forms of the Capricorn sigil, it is easy to see how the zodiacal imagery was appropriated to create a much simpler and rudimentary illustration recalling the Capricorn’s dualistic nature and primary ambition. With half of its being in the watery chaos of other worlds and dimensions and the other half trotting on three-dimensional and material notions of solid ground, Capricorn wishes to find a balance between the ethereal and material and the sigil no doubt demonstrates this. There are many sayings associated with Capricorn, the best known being that time itself would end when its cluster of stars huddled above the horizon. This sentiment probably has its origins in the fact that the sun transits this section of the zodiacal band at a time when the formative forces of Mother Nature are at the weakest, as well as in the perception that Saturn, the deity intimately connected with cosmic law and the mediation of time, was exalted in this sign.

In the northern hemisphere the constellation of Capricorn appears in the night sky at the time when the solar orb has descended to the nethermost regions of its celestial journey, also known as the winter solstice. Many cultures of the world such as those of the Far East have interpreted this time as the astronomical resurrection of the annual cycle, and therefore a marker for the New Year. This was usually a just and prosperous period which might be equated with a Golden Age when the earth gave back to its mortal children abundance by sending down the rains and offering up a good harvest. It’s probably no surprise that the ruler of this sign, Saturn or the Greek Cronus, holds a sheaf of corn in one hand and a sickle in the other. Together these symbols denote an earned condition of fecundity, justice, and strength which so often comes when one is patient, diligent and perseveres in their chosen field of physical or intellectual inquiry. Taking into consideration the time of the year in which the sun traverses its domain, its earthly, cardinal nature along with its planetary ruler, it would not be unjustified to claim that the Capricorn psyche is honourable, self-disciplined, ambitious, and grounded with partial participation in mystical and speculative philosophy. Just as the astrological pictogram suggests, Capricorn is a very versatile sign once it has completely evolved and can switch from a worldly and ambitious extroversion to a spiritual and contemplative introversion in the manner that nymphs, the larvae of dragonflies, will desert their aquatic environment and transition to an avian mode of existence upon reaching adulthood. Consequently Capricorn’s formative energies reconcile the conscious and sure-footed will with its intuitive and psychic origins, the somnolent unconscious.

#astrology #zodiac #psychology #consciousness #mythology

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 6 years

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18 for the fantasy writing prompts? :D

Prompt: “This dagger right here? Yeah? You see this? You see this right here?Guess what? I murdered your family with it.”

Summary: Virgil is a Guardian--those chosen by the Traveler to protect the remaining strands of humanity from the Darkness. Or rather, the numerous alien races running around hellbent on destroying what's left of Earth. Together with Remy--he runs recon missions for the Vanguard, the governing body of the Guardians.

His latest mission goes smoothly until a swarm of Vex shows up. So many blinking red lights headed straight towards him. Somehow, they know. The Vex know a lot of things. They were a ruthless hive mind with the access of time manipulation the likes of which the galaxy has never seen.

It isn’t too far-fetched to assume they know where he is based on the thousand other timelines they’ve already experienced. A thousand other timelines where they’ve already analyzed his fighting style and know what to expect. He is screwed.

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy Sanders

Word Count: 4481

Triggers: Non-graphic violence, vague descriptions of robot genocide, mentions of death

Apologies for the late prompt fill! I had to modify the prompt a bit for it to work, but trust me it’s in there!

This is set in my Destiny AU, where you can find more details here. It’s essentially based off Destiny, the game created by Bungie but trust me you don’t need any prior knowledge to the game coming into this–I promise!

“C’mon, c’mon, pick up,” A man hisses.

He’s alone in hisapartment, as the streets below swarmed with chaos. Even in such a civilizedage, humans are easily reduced to savage beasts. There is not a shred ofkindness to be found as humans fight tooth and nail to escape the coffin thatearth will become.

Oh, Earth is still humming with life. But there is a shadowovercoming her—and it is certain to bring an everlasting darkness with it.Death, to put it more bluntly. There’s nothing anyone can do about it—not eventhat damn alien sphere that brought in the Golden Age. Already this Darknesshas taken over the colonies on Mars.

The man is not on the streets. He knows it’s pointless totry and fight for a place on a spaceship. He’s accepted death. He just can’taccept death without knowing the fate of his baby brother. Eighteen years oldand halfway across the country at an university. He curses himself for allowinghim to move so far away. The thought of his brother being swept up with in themass panic terrifies him.

Finally, the phone stops ringing and he’s expecting to getthe voicemail for the hundredth time, when his brother yells out his name. Healmost weeps out of joy.

“Patton, are you okay? Oh my god, please tell me you’reokay.” The words spit out of his mouth immediately.

“Yes, I—I’m alright,” There’s a crack in theeighteen-year-old’s voice and the man inwardly curses because dammit legaladult or not he’s still just a kid. He shouldn’t have to be dealing with thisalone. The man should be there with him. He promised he’d keep Patton safe allthose years ago, and today he’s finally broken that promise.

“That’s good,” The man laughs in relief, slumping againsthis bed frame, “I am so glad to hear that.”

“What about you, are you safe?”

The man takes a sweep over the contents of his messyapartment. Safe is a relative term. He is safe from the chaos of the streets—heis not safe from the impending world doom.

“I’m okay now that I know you’re okay.” He instead tells hisbrother.

“I’m—I’m scared,” His brother finally admits, “It’s awfulwhat’s happening, and I just feel so guilty getting on a ship because there’sso many others who won’t—”

“You’re on a spaceship?” The man asks, incredulously.

“Yeah, aren’t you on a ship too?”

The man leans his head back, reeling from the information.His baby brother’s on a ship. His baby brother is safe. His baby brother’sgoing to live.

“il—you said you were okay—you got on a ship, right? Pleasetell me you got on a ship!” His brother’s voice takes on a hysterical pitch.

“Patton,” He says, asthe clouds outside grow dark, as his apartment shakes, “I love you.”

His brother’s pleas are the last thing he hears before hisworld is swept up by darkness.

He awakes, immediately shielding his eyes from thebrightness of his surroundings. He groans, stretching. He had that dream again.It is the only dream he ever has—and just like all the other times, his memoryof the dream is muddled.

He shakes his head as he rose to his feet.

“Rem, how are we doing?” He whispers.

His ghost materializes in front of him. Well, not an actualghost ghost. He’s not certain why they’re called that. Perhaps it had somethingto do with them being the last remnants of the Traveler’s entity. A big whiteglobe that had been the cause of Earth’s Golden Age.

Or maybe it had to do with the fact that they were eachtasked to literally raise dead people as a last resort to protect humanity.

Now, normally dead people weren’t notorious for beingdeadly. Sure, there are zombies in horror fiction—but zombies are only reallythreatening in large packs. But apparently, the Traveler thought it’d be agreat idea to infuse dead people with Light and make them nearly immortalwarriors. Guardians.

Personally, he didn’t understand why it was usually only deadpeople who became guardians. It made more sense to give that power to those whowere already living. Not to a being that has been dead for nearly severalcenturies. He’d been quite comfortable sleeping in his grave, thank you verymuch.

He didn’t remember being dead, of course. But he also didn’treally remember anything before being resurrected. Being dead for around twohundred years really messed with one’s memory.

“Atrocious. Can you believe that there isn’t a coffee shopfor miles around here?” The ghost whirrs. He’s unsure how to describe it’s appearance,except that it’s white and has a bunch of triangular sides. It floats at hiseye-level, barely the size of his palm.

He rolls his eyes at the ghost’s complaint, “You can’t evendrink coffee.”

“Physically? No. But I can live vicariously through you.”

Which he meant in a literal sense. Ghosts didn’t pick a deadperson willy-nilly and then moved on with their day. Ghosts spend literaldecades upon decades to searching for the right soul to become their guardian.Once they chose, ghost and guardian remained bonded for life. As such, theghost was pervious to all of his senses through their bond. Something the ghosttook full advantage of, constantly pestering him to venture into The City andvisit the coffee shops.

Although, personally, he thought it was a ploy by the ghostfor him to go out and socialize more. Something that he isn’t fond of doing. He’sa hunter—he doesn’t trust easily.

Hunters are about as feral as the wild lands they roam. Theyare always vigilant and suspicious of others’ motives. They prefer the companyof the wilds compared to the company of others. To be in the company of ahunter is a honor—for it is a sign of how much the hunter places their trust inyou.

It is better for him to be alone than to be withcomrades-in-arms. He doesn’t want another Moon Mission on his hands.

He rolled his eyes, picking up his knife to twirl around inhis fingers. Having something to keep his fingers occupied kept his nervesdown.

“Well, considering the Vex are sentient murderbots, I doubtthey have much need for coffee shops, so I’m afraid that’s off the agenda fortoday,” He says.

The ghost hums indignantly, about to reply, when it freezessuddenly. Immediately he grabs the Ghost and clutches it close to his chest toprotect it.

“What is it?” He whispers, his eyes scanning theirsurroundings. They are in the heart of Vex territory—Venus. He is on a scoutingmission to scope out the recent Vex activity on this particular sector ofVenus. He’s been at this for days, and still he hasn’t figured out why such alarge contingent of Vex split off from their stronghold at the Citadel.

Remy blinks out of existence, returning to the void orwherever they went when they aren’t in the physical plane. He breathes a silentbreath. Good. Nothing can harm the Ghost when it’s in the void.

All enemies of the Light know that to kill a guardian, onemust kill its’ ghost. Without Remy, he’d become mortal and lose his connectionto the Light. But it’s more than that—Remy is his friend, his confident. Thebond between ghost and guardian are so intertwined that to lose a ghost, islike losing a part of himself.

“Don’t freak out toomuch, but you might wanna take a look at your radar.” Its voice echoes inhis head.

As soon as the ghost utters that, the edges of his radarimmediately lit up like a Christmas tree. So many blinking red lights headedstraight towards him. Somehow, they know. The Vex know a lot of things. Theywere a ruthless hive mind with the access of time manipulation the likes ofwhich the galaxy has never seen.

It isn’t too farfetched to assume they know where he isbased on the thousand other timelines they’ve already experienced. A thousandother timelines where they’ve already analyzed his fighting style and know whatto expect. He is screwed.

“Oh my god, oh my god—”

“Hey, what did I sayabout freaking about?” Remy chastises, “Eyesup, guardian. We’ll get out of this—we always do.”

“R-right,” He swallows. He puts his knife away, pulling outthe scout rifle on his back, “Okay—can you beam us up, scotty?”

He doesn’t know why he says that. The phrase comes out ofhis mouth before he comprehends. It feels like a reference to something—perhapshis past self knew the origins of it.

“On it.” The ghostreplies, “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh, what’s uh-oh?” He asks, scaling up a building togain a better vantage point. A storm forms about hundred feet away from him,fake and artificial. As energy arcs from its’ smoky haze, metallic figuresmaterialize in front of his eyes. The Vex.

“The Vex arescrambling signals—I can’t connect with the ship or your sparrow.”

“Fuck.” He mutters, heart pounding, “I guess we’re doing this the hard way then.”

He is going to die. He doesn’t even need the ghost’s inputto realize that—but Remy gives it to him regardless.

“Just so you know, ifyou die—I’m not sure if I can resurrect you here—the darkness is suffocating,”Remy shudders.

He peers over the ledge and sees the horde ofenemies—there’s Vex of every kind. Goblins, Hob-goblins, Harpies andMinotaurs—all here with the intent to kill him. Whether by the sniper fire of ahob-goblin or by the pounding of minotaur. It doesn’t matter—either way he’sgoing to die.

He had a few options. One, he could attempt fleeing. Withouthis sparrow—a speedy hoverbike that covers land distance at immensespeeds—that’d be difficult. Two, he could just stay up on this building andwait until they located him. Or three, he could fight.

He chose the third option.

The hunter summons his rocket-launcher and looks at thecluster of the Vex through its’ scope. He literally has one shot at this. Therocket-launcher will take too long for him to load it again and by that point,he’d lose his element of surprise.

“Here goes nothing,” He mutters to himself, his fingercurling around the trigger.

The rocket flies out with an alarming rate. The Vex catchsight of it and start to scatter from the blast zone. Unfortunately for them,it was a tracker rocket and it locked onto their location. Machine parts flyeverywhere—and the Vex that are hit are either dead or close to it.

Instantly, the Vex starts shooting over at the ledge wherethe Hunter had been standing. But he isn’t there anymore. As soon as he shotthe rocket, he starts his descent down the building away from the Vex.

His boots hit the ground, and he crouches—his blades inhand.

“C’mon, c’mon—” He whispers to himself, as he triesconcentrating.

There are three forms that Light manifests as; solar, voidand arc. It takes an extremely disciplined guardian to be a master of allthree. His specialty lies in the void—they call hunters like him Nightstalkers.

However, he can still pull from the other two forms, andthat’s what he intends on doing. At last, the arc energy ripples over him—cloakinghim from the visible world.

“What are you planningon doing?” Remy asks.

“Something either incredibly stupid or incredibly smart,” Heresponds.

With that, he rushes towards the Vex—his doom. He waitsuntil he’s in the middle of the Vex before he channels all the arc energy intohis blades, revealing his presence to the Vex. He immediately plunges a bladeinto of that a goblin—the foot soldiers of the Vex. As he pulls it out, he swervesaround its’ dying body and moves onto the other.

He is not a Titan. He doesn’t plow through his enemies withbrute force. Hunters are clever and crafty. They’re light on their toes andstrike when least expected. There is a reason why Hunters with an affinity forarc are referred by others as Blade-dancers.

His movements are fluid and graceful—the dance of death is somethinghe knows too well. He makes quick work of the goblins and harpies. The latterof which fly about and attempt lasering him. It’s the Minotaurs and Hobgoblinshe needs to fear most.

He hears the shot of Hobgoblin’s sniper knife a second toolate. The blast hits him point plank in the chest—causing his already weakenedshields to flicker.

“Gurl, get out ofthere!” Remy screams inside hishead.

The hunter grits his teeth, allowing the arc energy to fadefrom his body and pulls from the Void. A ball of void energy starts to appearin his right palm. The second he feels it forming, he throws it onto theground. A grey smoky mist swarms the area blanketing the Vex in a momentarystate of confusion. The Hunter takes advantage of this, running as far as hislegs could carry him.

He ducks inside a building and breathes. He needs only a fewminutes for his shields to return back to full-strength. A few minutes seemsshort, until you’re thrown into a life-or-death scenario where every secondcounts.

Remy materializes in front of him. The Ghost scanned him afew times, fussing over the dents in his armor and the damage to his cloak.

“Good news, you managed to kill around thirty of them. Badnews, there’s still a like two hundred of them out there.”

The Hunter cusses.

“Remy, please tell me you’ve figured out how they’redisrupting the signals.” He says, desperately. If they can restore the signalsto their ship—they can make it.

“I think I’ve identified the source of the disruption butuh,” The Ghost hesitates, “you’re not gonna like it.”

“What is it?”

“They got a Hydra with them.”

He cusses for the second time within five minutes.

Hydras are big bulky super-computers of death equipped withan impenetrable shield. The latter of which rotates around it, but there isonly a five second window for him to get a few shots in. Add the fact thatthere is about several hundred other Vex intent on killing him and he isdoomed.

Once his shields fully recover, he slips out of thebuilding. He can hear clanking nearby—indicating that they broke free ofconfusion and now they are heading straight towards him.

“What’s the plan?”Remy asks, resuming their role as the Hunter’s Jiminy Cricket.

“Don’t get killed.” The Hunter mutters.

“A solid plan!”Remy enthusiastically agrees, although the Hunter can pick out the nervousundertones in its’ voice.

He calls upon the arc energy once more—letting form a cloakof invisibility once more. He’ll be hidden from their radars, but he can’t domuch but sneak about in this state. The instant he starts shooting, he’ll loseconcentration.

Not to mention keeping it up for long periods of time isincredibly taxing on his Light reserves. It’s a good thing the Hunter specializedin speed, in both his training and armor enhancements. However, the invisibilitydoesn’t cloak his noise. He’ll have to be careful or the Vex will pick up onhis footfalls.

“I programmed thelocation of the Hydra in your radar—just follow the arrow and you’ll find it.”Remy informs him.

“Okay.” He mutters underneath his breath, glancing down atthe arrow that points northwest. They are in the ruins of what once had been acolony. During the Golden Age, colonies were planted all over the Moon, Venusand Mars. But they all fell, just like Earth, during the Collapse when theDarkness struck.

The colony is small, meaning the Hydra is only fifty metersaway from his present location. It just so happens that there are dozens of Vexstanding between it and him.

“Gee, wouldn’t it begreat to be on a fireteam just right about now?” A snarky voice taunts himfrom the back of his head.

He growls, and thankfully Remy keeps silent. The Ghost likelyheard the negative thought, but he knows better than to discuss it with theHunter. Especially not in the middle of a situation like this.

To be perfectly honest, he doesn’t have a clue of what to doonce he reaches the Hydra’s location. The concentration of Vex is probably thehighest around the Hydra. Meaning he would be walking right into the thick ofthings. Great.

When he catches sight of it, he almost drops hisinvisibility. The Hydra is much bigger than the other Hydras he’s encounteredpreviously. Just as he predicted, there is a ton of Vex guarding the Hydra. Hestands there, thinking for a long moment

“Not to sound like a Titan, but I have a strong urge topunch it to death.” He finally mutters, earning a chuckle from Remy.

“You need to have more confidence in yourself, I think yourfirst plan is flawless!”

“Really?” He asks.

“Hun, do I ever lie to you?”

“No,” The Hunter says without a beat of hesitation, “I just—I’llprobably die if this doesn’t work. But then again, I’m dead either way, aren’tI?”

He shakes his head, before focusing on reforming the arcenergy into something new entirely. As the energy reshapes to his will, his invisibilitydrops. He only has a few seconds until the Vex picks him up on their radar forthis to work.

Something tangible appears in his hands. A grenade made ofarc energy. He raises his arm and tosses it as far as he could away from hisdirection. The resulting sound of the nearby blast catches the Vex’s attention.A large portion breaks off to investigate—larger than he had anticipated.

With the Vex distracted, he pulls out his knives—prepared todo a repeat performance as a blade-dancer. He’s finding hard to get a firm graspon the power, as it flickers in and out like a dying lightbulb. He has reliedtoo much on his light already—it isn’t wise to use so much Light in such ashort amount of time. Especially in a dark zone like this.

He is close to burning through his reserves, and the only wayto restore them is to rest or take the lives of enemies. Neither of which areoptions he has. His body could burn up into pure light if he pushes too hard.In a safer place, his ghost could simply revive him. But he doesn’t have thatluxury here.

He continues to call out at the Light until the arc energy pulsesthrough his vein. In that moment, he is ethereal—he is a being of pure light. Witha simple flick of his knives, the arc ripples over him—rendering him invisibleonce more.

He dashes towards his target, sidestepping goblins and harpieson the way. They can sense him run past—but the time they start shooting, theyonly hit empty air. At last, he reaches the Hydra, hovering in ignorance. He slips through the discrepancy in the shieldand jabs his knives into its’ interface. It lets out a pixelated scream. Ittries shooting him down, but its’ weapons are not made for short-distance combat.The other Vex attempt coming to its’ aid, but their blasts bounce off the Hydra’sshield.

He continues stabbing the arc infused blades into the Hydra,frantically. The Hydra drops its’ shield, but it’s already too late. The Hunterhits something vital and the giant machine starts to brightly as its’ systems overheat—

“Guardian get out of there!” The Ghost screeches.

He jumps off of the Hydra, but he only gets two feet awaybefore the Hydra explodes—knocking him off his feet. His ears are ringing, andhis vision is blurry, and he feels a lot less tangible than he should. Now thatthe Hydra is gone, he hears the whispers of the Light clearly. The Light is alwaysspeaking—not in words, no. But in feelings and images. It is usually a distant humin the back of his head. But now—now it is a roar.

The Light is calling at him, demanding he rise up and getrid of the Vex scouring the area.

The Hunter attempts to ignore it—all he wants at this pointis to lay down and accept his fate which is death. But a calling from the Lightisn’t easily ignored as an alarm clock that was shut off rather than put onsnooze. He does not own his soul—the moment he was resurrected it belonged tothe Light. He is a servant of the Light and he must stay bound to its wishes.

(There are guardians who denounce the offerings of theLight. There are guardians who say that the Light can’t be trusted as much asthe Darkness. There are guardians whose light are tainted by the Darkness, bothwillingly and unwillingly. But he is not any of those guardians in that moment)

Finally, at last he gives in, letting the Light consume him—andhe rises to his feet not out of his own vocation. Remy is saying something, butthe words are unintelligible to his ears. The arc energy crackles around himonly this time he is practically a storm system of his own. The abundance inlight heals his wounds and restores his stamina.

It is dangerous to channel this much Light—he can feel himselfon the edge of slipping away. But the Light has made it clear—he willannihilate all remnants of the Vex or face death.

So, he descends on the Vex, a maelstrom of doom anddestruction. It is the stuff of legends—unparalleled to all except the mightyIron Lords of old. He slashes and cuts and stabs, leaving nothing alive in hiswake. He continues to fight and fight until there only a single solitary dot onhis radar.

It is a goblin lying on the ground—its’ mechanical limbstwitching as it clings onto life. The secret about the Vex is that they’re notpurely robotic—they are a meld of mechanical and organic. It is likely thatalthough its’ circuits have shut down, the organic part is still living and breathinginside its’ husk.

It is hard to say how the goblin reacts to the Hunter’s presence.Its’ robotic face is incapable of expression and it does not speak the Guardian’slanguage though it can understand it.

The Hunter bends down and waves a knife tauntingly in frontof its’ head.

“Thisdagger right here? Yeah? You see this? You see this right here? Guess what? Imurdered the others of your kind with it.”

Withoutwaiting for a response, he plunges the knife into its’ stomach and the red dotdisappears from his radar. He is alone again in the abandoned colony. He attemptsstanding up, his strength has left him. Thenat last the guardian’s world is swept up by darkness.

“andso, I failed because I couldn’t find the cause of their activity at Aenea.” TheHunter reports, avoiding eye contact with his superior, the Hunter Vanguard.

Heshould not be alive—he should have died out there. It is only by the will of theLight that he is still alive. Remy bumps into his chest, it’s silent way ofreassuring him. He clasps his hand around the Ghost, gently cradling them—his wayof acknowledging them.

Heis relieved that his actions hadn’t resulted in his death. Though it is rarefor guardians to die before their ghosts—there have been a few recorded cases.When it happens, the ghost’s grief is inconsolable.

“Failed?Guardian, you killed several hundred Vex—including a Hydra! That’s the oppositeof failure!” The Hunter Vanguard exclaims,raising his arms to the side widely, “Dead Vex is always better than no dead Vexin my book.”

TheHunter Vanguard, Cayde-6, is one of the friendlier Hunters around. He is charismaticand witty, which plays well into deceiving others of his hidden depth and intellect.He is an Exo—a creation of the Golden Age. Exos are different than Frames—theyare androids who can think and feel and dream just as any human or awoken. Thus,the Light also recognizes them as also being eligible candidates to its’blessings.

“So,you think this mission was a success?” The Hunter eventually asks, his eyebrowsfurrowing.

“Ifyou asked either Ikora or Zavala, they’d say it wasn’t, buuut!” He puts up afinger, “I’m the Hunter Vanguard, not them. It sounds to me like you might’vewiped their operations entirely—or at least disrupted their plans. And whateverit was—we can know for sure it wasn’t good!”

“See,I told you.” Remy says, flying out of the Hunter’s loose grasp, “now we can wego to a coffee shop?”

TheHunter looks expectantly at Cayde-6, who laughs as he waves a hand.

“Goon, you deserve it! Personally, I’d go out for Ramen, but you do you!”

Henods his thanks and turns to leave when the Exo calls out,

“What’syour name by the way, Guardian?”

TheHunter freezes, the question triggering something from the recesses of hismind.

“Virgil! Pick me up, pick me up!”A child demands, making grabby hands.

“Now, what’s the magic word?” TheHunter’s own voice responds teasingly. It sounds so foreign and distant to himnow—as if it belongs to a different person entirely.

“Pleeeease on a cherry on topwill you pick me up?” The child asks.

“Okay, Pat.” He says, picking upthe child and securing him in his arms, “can you see better now?”

“Yup!” The child chirps, wrappinghis arms around the man’s neck, “You’re the best brother ever, Virgil!”

He doesn’tknow why he remembers that out of everything from his past life. But he doesknow he had a little brother once, and his brother called him Virgil. It is theonly thing he has left that is his and his alone, and he’s not going to give upit up frivolously.

“Idon’t have a name.” He tells the hunter vanguard, “You can call me whatever youlike.”

Withthat, he strolls out of the dimly lit meeting room of the vanguard and into theshining light of the outside world.

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#thomas sanders #sander sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #destiny au #kat talks

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elliepassmore · 5 years

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Crooked Kingdom Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: heist stories, fantasy, multiple POVs, revenge, diverse characters CK picks up about a week after the end of SoC with a whole slew of new problems for our favorite gang. To recap, Van Eck the Elder has Inej, the Dregs are out 30 million, Kaz made a deal with Pekka Rollins, Nina took parem and is now addicted, but alive, and, newly discovered in chapter one, the Shu are sending weird Grisha/bird/angel things after other Grishas. Sounds like a Monday in the the Barrel. While the plot of the first book mainly focused on the Dregs getting a scientist out of the Ice Court, this one focuses on them getting their money's worth from Van Eck after he double-crossed them. Of course, nothing is ever that simple with Kaz, who has now made it one of his personal missions to not only get the $30 million from Van Eck with a little to spare, but also to ruin Van Eck's reputation. This is next to his other personal mission of tearing Pekka Rollins down brick by brick. The issues that arise as the Dregs try to accomplish this are ridiculous . Not ridiculous as in 'outside the realm of suspension of belief', but ridiculous as in 'wow, you guys just keep getting in more trouble of your own making.' Everything fits, even Kaz's admitted missteps--yes, Kaz admits a mistake aloud, I was shocked the first time reading it too--and it all plays surprisingly well into the story. I'll start with the characters that had more of an arc this story than the last one. First up is Jesper. Remember in the last book when he admitted to Inej he wagered his father's farm in a loan? Well that comes to fruition here, and his father, Colm, is dragged into Ketterdam as a trap to try and get the Dregs killed or captured. Having Colm in town drudges up a lot of Jesper's issues with gambling or, more accurately, his issues with losing at gambling. We got to see Jesper explain that gambling, much like shooting, help soothe what he referred to as 'the itch' of restlessness he has. Despite the tension between him and his father, it was nice to see the two of them interact, Bardugo wrote their relationship in such a way it's clear how much Colm cares for his son, even when he messes up. It also added some dichotomy between the group, showing that Jesper really is the only one with access to a parent who cares about them; Nina, Matthias, and Kaz's parents are dead, Inej's parents are a sea away, and Wylan's father cares more about money than him. The arc for Jesper in this story did focus a lot around his father, but it also focused on him making amends and growing as a Grisha. Jesper made some mistakes in the last book that he's working to fix now, and it leads to a pretty poignant exchange between him and Inej toward the end of the book that sticks with him. With his father involved, he's clearly struggling to reconcile the idea that he doesn't want to disappoint his father and wants to keep him safe with the reality that he's made some bad decisions andbecause of that his father isn't safe. Compounding on all these problems is Jesper also struggling with the idea of being Grisha and how to handle that moving forward. Things clearly changed for him during the Ice Court job, but he's not entirely sure how to handle that change. Nina wants him to go to Ravka, of course, but there's hesitation in Jesper that's telling him to stay away. There's also the fear of staying in Ketterdam as a Grisha. It's later discovered that this hesitation and fear is in part due to his mother being a Grisha and dying trying to help someone, and in part due to his father's reaction to her death. After being taught to shove down his powers for most of his life, the idea of living in harmony with them obviously scares Jesper, and another large part of his arc in this book is wrestling with that fear and this 'new' identity as Grisha and whether or not to let the fear stay--it is not entirely unfounded--and continue on as he has, or to embrace being Grisha and all that comes with it. Nina also has a stronger arc in this story than in SoC. At the end of the last book, she was still recovering from the effects of taking parem in order to help the group escape Fjerda. At the start of this one she's still struggling with the addiction. The danger of withdrawal is past, but she still craves the drug, even going so far as to beg Matthias for a little bit more. The toll the drug has taken on her is monumental, she's lost weight, has little appetite, seems perpetually tired, and has difficulty using her Heartrender powers, even on herself. I actually really liked Nina's story line in this book because we so rarely get to see addiction in fantasy formats, especially in the sort of light Bardugo frames it in. In other formats the addiction is phrased as a medication the character is addicted to and needs for their health or something that was forced upon them. Here, Nina took parem to save her friends, knowing what would happen, and life after taking it and becoming addicted is presented as hard and unpleasant and sometimes feels like it's not worth it. Everyone is clearly worried about Nina, taking quiet victories in her eating a little more than the day before or joking around or standing up to Kaz on behalf of the other Grisha in the city. A second part of Nina's arc, related to parem, is that her powers have become something different, something she feels isn't wholly natural. As a Heartrender, Nina had control over people's body and could raise or lower their heart rates, relax muscles, and even had a limited ability to heal and disguise people. All of this created a connection to people and to the living. After parem, her power's have manifested in having control of the dead--think, dust clouds and bones as shrapnel and, yes, even getting the dead walking--and to her it feels like a part of her is hollowed out because of it. So, on top of having to deal with still craving parem, she also has to reconcile how she views her powers and their/her place in the world. Matthias also has a lot of character development in this book. After/during the Ice Court job, he softened up around the crew and even began changing how he felt about Grisha. These changes really come to fruition here. The more he sees and learns about Grisha, their powers, and even how different cultures view them, the more he seems to understand that Grisha are as natural as humans and begins questioning just how the drüskelle and Fjerda managed to tilt so far in the opposite direction. He even recognizes something Nina did in the previous book--for all of Fjerda's dislike of the Grisha, it's almost certain the miracles of their saints and even the Ice Court itself is due to Grisha powers. As the book continues, Matthias begins recognizing more and more the toxicity of what the drüskelle preach and comes up with a loose idea that he wants to work to change the teachings and get rid of some of the hate. Wylan's story is changed in a major way over the course of the book when he realizes something his father kept from him (*SPOILER* his mother is not dead, but instead locked away in an asylum his father stuck her in when he decided he wanted a new wife and a new heir *SPOILER END*. He also advances as a character who sees more than just the good side and bad side of things, but also the middle, the idea that good people do bad things and that bad people are sometimes the most effective vessels for change for the better. Wylan also wrestles a bit with his identity in this book, as he's stuck looking like Kuwei Yul-Bo for most of it, a change he seems to not mind that much until Jesper gets the two of them mixed up. After the surprise discovery, and toward the end of the book, Wylan gets to decide what kind of person he's going to become. He seems to decide to take a page from the books of the people surrounding him try to have "every bit of bravado he'd learned from Nina, the will he'd learned from Matthias, the focus he'd studied in Kaz, hte courage he'd learned from Inej, and the wild, reckless hope he'd learned from Jesper, the belief that no matter the odds, somehow they'd always win" (427). Inej's goal for the future is clearly set in her mind during this book, and she seems eager to get her ship to hunt down slavers. That's not to say, however, that she's done with the crew. She's still the Wraith, she still sees Ketterdam as one of her homes, she's still a Dreg. As clear as her goals are, she wants to be around to help Nina and Matthias and the other Grisha get to safety, to help Jesper protect his father, to help Wylan get his back at his father, and of course to help Kaz get the money. She seems to worry more in this book, but has a greater feel of freedom about her as she does so. To me, reading her chapters, it felt like something had been lifted off her shoulders and she decided once and for all that she is Inej Ghafa, the Wraith, future slaver hunter, and that she will not settle for less, even if it means letting go of some people. I like how Inej's story line wraps up at the end of the book, and I would definitely be open to reading a book about what she does next, if Bardugo ever decided that's something she wants to pursue. Finally, Kaz. He's definitely gotten trickier in this book. Throughout the story he's playing two, three different games, arranging and rearranging people as he likes as if they're chess pieces, or whatever the chess-equivalent is in Ketterdam. He says things that hint, and sometimes almost blatantly tell, at what he's planning on doing, and even how he'll achieve it, but it's hard to catch if you aren't looking for it. Some things don't go to plan, a lot of things don't go to plan, and Kaz actually does admit to his mistakes aloud in this one, but he thinks quickly and has contingent after contingent ready to pluck from his mind. You definitely get to see how his mind works more in this one than in the Ice Court job, and with all the cogs that turn in his head I'm actually surprised he waited this long to oust Per Haskell. Of course, he plays the long-game, so it's entirely possible he had a plan like this in his head all along an the job from the first book and the issues with Van Eck just sped it along. Aside from further developing his criminal mastermind, we also get to see some development on the personal front. As opposed to the barely-held thread Kaz held onto when his skin was touched in the first book, we see him tolerating a little more in this one when he deems it necessary--bathroom scene, the Slat scene, the last scene. Further, we get to see him caring for the crew a little more overtly in this book, admitting to Jesper that he cares, working to get the Grisha to safety for Nina, trying to let his barriers down for Inej, and even essentially giving Wylan an empire (though I have no doubt Kaz plans on utilizing that at some point in the future). Bardugo left the ending for the book in a nice place. It can be complete here, the story lines from the first book are all closed, the characters each got a wrap-up, but it's also left open enough that she could come back and write more about the Dregs without it feeling forced or unnatural. I, personally, really want to know more about what Inej (Inej-Kaz team?) and the Jesper-Wylan team are up to, since I know we'll probably get to see more about Nina and the Grisha in King of Scars . Like SoC, the plot was mostly character-driven, but there was a lot of action and high-stakes moments throughout the story. There were twists I did and didn't see coming and, overall, I'm pretty happy with how the book went.

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