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flickeringart · 3 years

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Short natal chart reading

You asked specifically about your communication style, so I’ll cut to the chase.

Mercury is in Scorpio, which makes your quite impactful, purposeful and potent – you are likely very observant and able to read between the lines. You know the value of information and the impact it can have if revealed at the wrong time or presented in the wrong context or in the wrong way. You’re likely to want to keep your thoughts to yourself and only reveal selected parts to selected people – even if you do reveal yourself it is never the whole picture. You enjoy ambiguity to an extent, although there’s unease relative to what people might keep from you. You reserve your rights to be suspicious at all times - nothing is what it seems. The common stereotype for having Mercury in Scorpio is the “detective”. You might not want to leave any stone left unturned in your thinking process – which can take you into quite complex and intricate trains of thought on a daily basis. Since Mercury is conjunct the Sun, you derive a sense of self from your thinking – which can be both good and bad. Good because you feel that you are standing behind every word and thought that occupy your mind, bad because you might have a hard time differentiating yourself from your thinking. You might feel that your way of communicating is very much a reflection of who you are. This is not the case for everyone. Your Sun and Mercury are in the 1st house of Self, which means that you show up as your authentic self – people see you in your outward projected persona and what you think is a big part of who you are.

Your Sun-Mercury conjunction forms a strong square to Jupiter in the 11th. It might be that you find yourself blocked from accessing the freedom and optimism that you crave because it seems to contradict your way of communicating – even your sense of self. It would seem that, you have to spread yourself thin in order to socialize and be involved with a lot of people and causes, it would seem that you have to exaggerate to the detriment of your own innate caution and need for privacy which is natural to Scorpio individuals. Perhaps you feel that in order to have some chance of luck when interacting with people, you can’t be yourself all the way. You can’t display your true self with your friends and your network because in that sphere, you would feel the need to be purely optimistic open to experience. In your life, there’s expectance of good things to come, perhaps to the point of it being unreasonable – you might exaggerate your optimism in order to compensate for your innate caution and awareness of the impermanence of life. You put your faith in collective aspirations and although you might reap the benefits on one level, on another level you might feel frustrated that you’ve lost yourself to the group – in other words, what you gain from associating with people and forming connections is not allowing you to be yourself and communicate your opinions and thoughts in the way you would want to. Chiron in your 3rd house emphasizes the fact that you have to take a philosophical approach to cope with non-redeemable difficulties in communicating. What these difficulties and issues are exactly is impossible for me to say, possibly it has to do with the ignorance and lack of awareness of people around you – too much discipline or lack thereof in school, too much strictness and demands on how to interact, behave and think. Chiron is in Capricorn, which suggests that you would’ve felt debilitated in your ability to apply yourself effectively in your studies, feeling judged and inferior because of regrettable yet inevitable circumstances.

Saturn is in Gemini in the 9th house. It is also the ruler of your 4thhouse. It would seem that education and knowledge were promoted in your home growing up, not necessarily for the purpose of your own interest and self-fulfillment, but for the purpose of succeeding in society and developing your intellect. Saturn is in retrograde, which usually means that the native is hard pressed to personally undertake challenges for the sake of growth because they might not come on their own – and if they do, they are rarely conducive to goal of being responsible and self-reliant. In other words, you would need to push yourself and put yourself in situations that require effort, consciously. Since your question was specifically about communication, I should say that Saturn in Gemini points to insecurity and a sense of lack in mental abilities that might lead you to put on a charade of wit in order to not reveal your struggles. This is not beneficial although it’s understandable that there’s a hesitant attitude to be open an accepting of one’s insufficiencies. It’s fine to hide behind a coping mechanism as long as one is working on developing oneself from the ground up at the same time. Be honest and real with yourself in your struggle. There’s no shame in admitting to where one’s at and working toward betterment. Getting over the fear of intellectual failure is hard, yet you should keep in mind that you’re only ever truly accountable to yourself despite external authority trying to instill feelings of guilt or shame. Humility is the best antidote to prideful concealment of lack.

Your Moon in the 4th house in Capricorn points to a home with an emphasis on discipline instead of softness. The natural ruler of the 4th house is the opposite sign of Cancer, which has to do with mutual dependence and emotional nurturing within the home. Capricorn as the 4th house ruler is tough because you probably had to work to get your needs met. With your Moon in this sign and in this house, you might’ve adopted the attitude that nothing is for free and that you had to put aside your feelings in order to have a chance of stability and security in the long run. In any case, your home environment growing up was certainly serious. Neptune also sits in this house, squaring your Sun-Mercury conjunction. Perhaps it’s not too presumptuous of me to suggest that you had to blend in to the detriment of your own sense of self and your own mental assessments and opinions. With Neptune in the 4th there’s usually intense idealization as well as sensitivity to the environment and a need to blur the edges in order to cope with the less refined aspects of reality. You seek and sought complete merging within your family home, yet your yearning probably made you feel frustrated with yourself because you could never quite attain the love (Neptune square Venus) or the recognition of yourself that you hoped for (Neptune square Sun-Mercury). Your Venus in Scorpio is also in retrograde which means that external socializing, displays of love and affection was “lost on you” since you have a hard time with real understanding of what underlies social interaction. You might struggle with general unhappiness because of this, but your task is to cultivate the inner experience of satisfaction rather than seeking it in the external. Since you’re a Libra Rising, Venus is your chart ruler and it’s in its detriment in the sign of Scorpio. Your idea of beauty is tainted with themes of passion and intensity; you might enjoy reveling in the darker undercurrents, the things that are shocking, a bit taboo and forbidden.

Your Mars in in Libra, conjunct your Ascendant on the 12th house side. Mars is in the sign of its detriment, quite diplomatic and socially accommodating. Your way of asserting yourself is always aimed at being reasonable in light of the social setting and circumstance you’re in. Since Mars is in the 12th, you assert the will based on universal emotional longings that are common to every human being. You might never fight or argue on behalf of selfish agenda, it’s always in favor of trying to restore equilibrium and an experience of being emotional fused. You probably feel that anger is abstract energy and available for use, but it’s not to be employed on behalf of your separate self. Planets in the 12th can sometimes point to passed down familial issues, in the case of Mars here, personal drive and anger is “stuck in the ether”, unconscious and/or given up to live its own life “back stage”. Aries, the sign ruled by Mars, is in the 7th house, pointing out that you probably encounter your “shadow” (disowned qualities) of anger, selfishness and self-motivated action in other people. In addition, Lilith sits right on the Descendant in Aries, which suggests that you find other people irrationally independent and overly attached to getting their own way. You might even find that you compulsively display these traits in interaction with other people because you feel that you are going to be deprived of your chance to do what you want. You’re likely to feel deprived of your individual potency with these placements and you might come off as obsessively independent in relationships with other people for this reason. The whole dynamic stems from a feeling having to sacrifice personal interest and it often backfires in radical self-absorption and self-motivated action.

Let’s take a look at Pluto, your Sun ruler. It’s in your 2nd house, trine Jupiter and sextile Mars. You’re likely to be quite possessive fearfully protective of your material resources, which includes money and finances. You might be quietly and covertly acquiring your material necessities, or avoiding it all together because of the constant paranoia and threat of the rug being pulled out from underneath you. You don’t trust that you’re going to have enough for yourself to be content, ever, so you might be quite powerful and persevering in your quest for value. Pluto and Scorpio have a lot to do with impermanence and expecting crises to envelop without a moments notice so you’re always “on your toes” internally, scanning for potential chaos to break lose, especially as it relates to loosing what you value on a purely material level. This is especially true since Scorpio rules your 2nd house and Pluto is placed here. The Pluto-Jupiter trine would denote a strong sense of faith and confidence in your ability to survive ordeals, perhaps due to your sense of being part of something larger than yourself (Jupiter in the 11th house). You might be concerned with how to regenerate faith and find value in seemingly “dead matter”, metaphorically or literally speaking. Your Part of Fortune is conjunct Jupiter, which pints to your prosperity coming through the broadening and expanding of your understanding of life through involvement in groups or causes. It’s quite possibly even linked to your career. You might take on the role of the inspiring and visionary teacher that transforms people’s lives (Pluto trine Jupiter). Or, put in other terms, your teaching and sharing of yourself will make you feel powerful and impactful in the world of ideas as well as that of form (Jupiter in 11th trine Pluto in the 2nd). Your South Node conjuncts your Pluto, so it’s easy for you to wield subtle power and take control. Pluto sextile Mars gives you a relentless will; you do fight dirty even if it’s below the surface and through quiet coercing and strategic manipulation that is barely noticed. Guilt seems to be a popular tool for Scorpio Mars in attempt to control matters, and the same could be said for Pluto-Mars aspects. Mars in the 12th easily lends itself to acting out the role of the martyr or victim of circumstances and when aspecting Pluto, this can be used strategically. You can probably be a little ambiguous and subtly threatening in your actions in order to get what you want.

Finally, let’s look at Uranus. It’s in its domicile in Aquarius in the 5thhouse, trine Saturn. The 5th house has to do with activities of self-expression and it would seem that you find an outlet for breaking out of the societal bars of convention within this sphere. You might have fun exploring new collective trends and ways of expressing yourself that challenges the status quo. It would seem that you incorporate your offbeat ways nicely with the necessity to conform and succeed within society, since Uranus trines Saturn. However, seeing as Saturn is in retrograde, you are not particularly in touch with the limits and boundaries of society – they don’t make sense to you. You might set high goals for yourself and work diligently to reach them, yet you don’t experience a correlation between your effort and the payoff. Looking to what is wrong with authority, rebelling against it and pushing new, more progressive thought systems might come easily to you for this reason. You might be inclined to hop on a collective thought trend and identify with it, embody it in your own unique way. You’re likely to express alternative ideas and conceptual framework through your creativity and spontaneity.

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If you’re interested a general chart reading similar to this one feel free to message me. I do a Basic Natal Chart Reading without the use of astrological language for 13.44 USD (6-7 pages), but if you want a more casual overview of your chart or have any specific question you would like me to go into, I charge 10 USD for about 4 pages.

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

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The New Apprentice Part 8

Maul x Sith!reader

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Yall it has been a God damn week I'll tell you that. So sorry it has taken me so long to get this out. Fair warning, had to do some already known stuffs to move the story along the timeline and I just wasn't feeling it while writing, but it's important to the timeliness nonetheless.

WARNINGS: 18+ P in V sex, unprotected sex, Canon violence. Kinda angsty at the end? Idk.

PREVIOUS NEXT MASTERLIST

The following morning you awoke alone in your tent. The cool morning air aiding to shake the fog from your mind as you thought of the previous night. A smile twitched on your lips that was soon replaced with a heavy eye roll. One of your pant legs had been torn up the seam by the medic who worked on you. Shrugging, you ripped off the tattered fabric and did the same to the other to match. Sliding on your now short one piece you pulled on your boots, hung your sabers from your hips and left your little shelter.

You knew why Maul left; he didn't want anyone to think the two of you were involved until the situation was less vulnerable. You were thankful he waited until you were asleep before he absconded into the darkness. Maker, you had to stop thinking about it lest you rile yourself up again. It was time to go to work, continue to prove to your master that you deserved to be at his side. That he needed you there.

You were relieved that Savage followed behind you a few minutes later. At least you weren't the last one up. Pre and Maul strode through the camp with you and Savage following closely behind.

"We will need an army if we are to successfully take back Mandalore." Your master rumbled.

"The people will support us once we remind them who they are." Pre retorted.

"Perhaps... but the Black Suns will be able to provide us with resources beneath the attention of the Republic."

"They're a crime syndicate!"

"Yes, and a powerful one that will lead to our victory. We have but one chance to pull this off."

Boarding a Mandalorian starship with your Master and Savage was quiet. You had decided to keep your mouth shut and revel in Maul's ability to command and scheme. You stood at Savage's side with your hands clasped behind your back, back straight and chin high. Your weapons dangled dangerously at your hips. Every so often a Mandalorian would look at you curiously through their visor to which you responded the same every time. You gazed into their black where their unseen eyes lay behind, unblinking with a straight lip and an air of importance until they turned away. Savage quirked a lip slightly every time.

When you were alone he rumbled quietly.

"You make them uneasy. Much more than I do I think."

"I hardly doubt that my friend." Your voice soft and cold in the off chance someone could hear you.

"Possibly... they fear us."

"Good. Then they will stay in line under Lord Maul. A warrior should never show fear. They may be strong but they've shown a vital weakness we will exploit in time if necessary."

Maul was the only one within ear shot and he silently listened to your words. Although he didn't show it at the time externally, his chest swelled in pride.

After landing on Mustafar they were greeted with a battalion led by a tall Falleen male by the name of Vigo Ziton Maj. He chuckled when your master harshly requested an audience but he led Maul, Savage, Pre Vizsla and yourself inside the fortress anyway.

Five more men sat at a long black table upon your entrance. When demanded that they join you, you were met with exclamations of amusement and they attempted to call for your deaths.

Without hesitation you and Savage each tossed a spinning lightsaber in their direction. Effectively beheading each and every one of the leaders in single mirrored motions. After seeing first handedly that denial of an alliance would lead to death, Moj, the next in line to lead agreed to join your cause without hesitation.

The Pykes practically handed themselves over to you once news about the Black Suns had reached their ears. The offer of their alliance was a grateful surprise to you. Recognizing the slow shift in universal power only spurred your attraction to your master. Visions of you riding his throbbing cock permeated your mind and drifted to his.

On the ride to Nal Hutta these thoughts only grew in intensity as your sinful need grew. It had been days since he had last touched you and although you maintained an outward composure, your mind reeled. With only a few hours until your arrival, Maul strode past you, pausing momentarily to give you a knowing glance and ever so slight nod of his head. You waited a minute before following his force signature until a supply closet door hissed open. He grabbed you almost violently, pulling you within the small enclosure. He listened to be sure you weren't followed before he turned to you.

"My my what devious thoughts you project little one." He cooed as he pulled you into his embrace. With your back to his chest, he lowered his face into the crook of your neck, planting gentle wet kisses to your sensitive skin and lightly nipping at your ear. You took his hand and covered your mouth to stifle a whimper as he ground his hardening cock into your rear. You could feel the heat of your core as his velvety voice hummed in the ear he was toying with.

"Now, I'd much rather take my time with you but it seems you need some tension released. I'll need you clear headed on this venture. I believe the Hutt Clan will give us the most trouble in forming an alliance. Would you like my help my sweet little apprentice?"

You nodded fervently, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he slid your one piece down until it pooled on the floor. He bent you over infinitesimally, just enough to grant him entrance. He prodded his hot, firm erection against your folds letting out a silent groan feeling how wet you already were.

"God's I've hardly touched you and your soaking wet you naughty little girl."

Without warning he slipping inside you, biting one of his fingers to keep from crying out. He thrusted into at a brutal pace, sinking to his hilt with every rut. It didn't take long before you were fluttering around him and tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Maker, you're going to cum for me.. I can feel it... Let go my dear. Cum all over my cock."

The command he soothed had you unraveling faster than you thought possible. The excitement of the risk at being found out only encouraged your orgasm. Still shaking from the aftershocks, your master bit your shoulder as he throbbed and filled you.

You hastily cleaned yourself, getting ready to leave before you were caught but Maul grabbed your wrist and brought you back into an embrace. Gently pressing his forehead to yours and wrapping his arms around you.

"Soon you'll be at my side at all times my dear. Would you like that?" His glowing amber eyes meeting yours.

"Yes Master, of course."

You pressed your lips to his and trying to calm your flush you left the small enclosure with newfound resolve undoubtedly spurred by your bliss.

Maul had been correct as usual. The Hutts were in fact quite resistant. After hearing that they wouldn't be paid and that the deal was an alliance for their lives, five bounty hunters and the whole guard rushed the room. Desperate for some leverage you deflected the barrage of incoming blaster fire along with your master while leading them slowly out to the landing platform.

Finally, she's good for something you thought as Bo Katan fired rockets into the fortress, effectively killing most of the guard.

You gave chase back into the fortress and fought the remaining bounty hunters. Unwillingly admitting that they were giving you more trouble than you would've hoped. Darting away from a purple woman with orange hair you kicked a dog off of your master while the bounty hunters made their retreat. Maul was convinced that they wouldn't be a further threat so you let them escape with their lives and empty pockets.

You ended up having to travel to the gods awful desert planet of Tatooine for Jabba to finally agree to your terms.

Back on Zanbar you and Savage shared a meal while Maul oversaw the organization of the troops and mixed crime syndicates.

"You seem restless." Savage noted.

"Duuuh." You exasperated. "All this planning and waiting and organizing. Ugh, I wanna go fuck shit up. We've been so busy with the boring shit I haven't even had time to train. Aside from that bounty hunter scuffle."

"Worry not little one, you'll be terrorizing the Mandalorians planet side with everyone soon enough." You scoffed at his response to which he cocked his brow.

"No, I'm not. Master wants me in the shadows. Something about the people recognizing me later on being a problem with his grand scheme."

"He has a habit of only telling half of a truth. Trust comes slowly to him. You know this." You sighed, pushing away your plate and pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Yes, I'm well aware. More so than he would like I'm sure."

"He cares very deeply for you."

"And I him but all this sitting around will get me nowhere. I told you about what happened on Malachor... for the first time since I've joined you two it feels like my feet are taking me some where I'm not supposed to go... it's been weeks and the only thing I've learned in that time frame is how to take his cock in secret, away from prying eyes."

Savage nearly choked and also disregarded his food and sat looking at you with a pained look in his eyes.

"What will you do then?"

"Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea. All I know is that I'm supposed to 'extinguish the fear but always remember that 'the shadow cannot exist without the light' whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean."

"If you don't know what it means how do you know you're on the wrong path?" You paused at his question.

"Jedi and Sith both always say to trust in the force... I need to meditate on this."

Savage nodded as you stood from your seat walking back towards your tent. Your master was a strong force user and ever since that night you two had opened up your minds to one another, truly lay bare before the other, it was damn near impossible to keep him out. When you passed him and Vizsla you had known they couldn't hear your conversation but the way that his eyes followed you. A specific crease in his brow. You had no doubt it had anything to do with Vizsla's ramblings, you realized he probably felt your conflict.

Disappearing into your canvas enclosure you tried to push the thought of your lover, no, your master; down and away from the forefront of your mind. Gods above though, he was your lover. You loved him, so much. What if he was guiding you away from the place you needed to go? Everything felt right before you allied with the Death Watch. The weeks you spent training and traveling to Malachor felt right. But this, this felt like it was his path not yours. If your destinies didn’t cross would he abandon his to join you? Could you abandon yours to join him? You knelt in the center of your tent and straightened your back, closing your eyes. Allowing your mind to rest, allow the wild eradications to still and drift away. This was important. This was your destiny. You suddenly realized why, although you'd never admit it, the Jedi forbid attachments in their freakish cult.

#maul x reader #maul smut #darth maul #sith apprentice #savage opress #platonic savage #maul fluff #sith warrior #starwars au #star wars au #star wars #swtcw x reader #swtcw smut

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puttingfingerstokeys · 3 years

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a friend in need [reworked]

so here’s the OG if ye cared: The OG(tm)

I’ve added characters and koncepts. Shinnok IS in the amulet, Quan-Chi is around probably, uhh... some shit happened offscreen a la annihilation that I’m sure I can enumerate on later or whatever. Uh

Faraday Cage

Energy crackled and radiated outward, sparking off pavement, trees, vehicles, people—anything with which it came in contact. Fires had erupted all over and people were fighting them as best they could, but with little hope of relief. Destruction radiated outward in all directions from one point. At the center of that point was an angry god, grieved at great loss, enraged beyond his own ability to control.

Earthrealm could not be protected by a weak, fatherly deity; Raiden understood that now, and it scared him. His own weakness scared him. His foolishness scared him. The “justice” of the Elder Gods scared him. He would end this fight and all fights, because they, for some reason, had chosen the path of passive observation. He had to do this; there was no other way. Why did no one understand? He was singular in his purpose and not even the chosen of Earthrealm, Liu Kang, could stand in his way.

Raiden had taken his own advice, a frightful echo from a future as yet unknown, an Armageddon which killed them all, himself included. It had taken many trials and many more errors to realize his own, true meaning.

“He must win.”

Raiden had finally reached the conclusion that the “he” in question was not Liu Kang, Earthrealm’s chosen, but Shao Kahn, the bloodthirsty outworld dictator. Reality shivered under the threat of the merging, however, and still the Elder Gods did not step in. How far would this have to go? Did they know that Shao Kahn’s army was, even now, trampling the tenuous pact between the realms? Did they know it had been making rubble piles of Earthrealm cities for almost a decade? Did they care?

“Liu, over here!” It was Johnny Cage, long having grown from the self-absorbed jerk Liu Kang had once known. In fact, he was a father, and proud of his little girl, but right now, damn near shitting in his britches to see Raiden this way. He offered an arm and pulled Liu Kang to his feet. He and a few others were taking shelter behind a small building which shook with the march of outworld foot soldiers and presently began to flicker with a terrible energy.

Raiden had warned himself, somehow, that the merging of realms must begin, that this was the meaning of victory in his own prophetic words, for the Elder Gods to step in. Shao Kahn had begun his dark work, however, and still nothing moved, nothing in favor of the forces of light and justice, anyway. It seemed the Elder Gods had a different idea of what it meant to maintain balance.

Certainly, there had been debate at first. There was no guarantee the Elder Gods would step in to honor the ancient pact between the protector of Earthrealm and Outworld’s greedy dictator, Shao Kahn. The deal had been struck before the eyes of those gods, however, and between divinity and divine blood; it was unbreakable. What no one had anticipated was that Shao Kahn could, technically speaking, send his forces through into Earthrealm without entering himself, or even starting the merge.

The terms of his further challenge, after having lost to the warriors of Earthrealm had been untenable, however, and so, with little debate, all kombatants under the god of thunder agreed to fight for the safety and security of their realm as a veritable army, rather than allowing their fate to once more hinge on a single battle. It had not stopped Shao Khan from taking Lao from behind and nearly snapping his neck when the behatted monk was the only one he could reach. This should have killed him, but for Raiden’s quick, skilled intervention. Even then, he realized he had been afraid that the Elder Gods would see this as blatant interference, though he had never once regretted it.

The invasion was small, at first, relatively speaking, and confined to Shang Tsung’s island, the weakest place in the fabric of reality, a sort of nexus point which connected most other realms. The Earthrealm fighters were able to contain it there, using it as a funnel, but only for so long. After that, the secret invasion began. Fortunately, the marching armies of open conquest had only made themselves apparent in the last few years or so. As the fabric of reality between realms had become thin, more thin spots had appeared, making crossing realms much, much easier.

“Your tournament is canceled, puny god! I have rescinded my generous invitation!” Shao Kahn called, raising his great hammer to the sky as Outworld began finally to merge with Earthrealm, tearing down buildings and reconstructing them in hideous amalgams. People fled and were trampled; people stood and were gored. He would line the streets with bodies before the day was out and only Raiden stood before him. Raiden, who had fought his own, dear Liu Kang, who had defied him nearly to death.

Had he died? Was Liu Kang dead? Raiden could not see him. He could not see anything past the haze of fury clouding his vision and judgment. I have killed him, again, as it was said I always will, as I always must. The thought was errant, not his own, and he brushed it aside, focusing on Shao Kahn and the present. It was his only choice.

For Raiden, at that moment, there was only himself, the protector of Earthrealm, and Shao Kahn, the invader. The world around him had narrowed to a tunnel which saw only the vicious Kahn. His soldiers had massed around him, many of them clearly conscripts from Netherrealm. Quan-Chi had long been on the side of Shao Kahn. It had been his magic which resurrected Sindel, giving her Shang Tsung’s many souls and turning her into a maddened force of nature. She was gone now, but while she lived, she stole many an Earthrealm warrior from him and Raiden could see some of these, lined up near Shao Kahn, not least of all the revenant kryomancer, Sub-Zero.

Meanwhile, Earthrealm’s remaining defenders did their best to regroup. Their numbers had dwindled in recent years. They were hanging on by the skin of their teeth, but only just. Everyone was exhausted and no one could remember when last they slept a whole night in a real bed.

“He… Johnny—you should have seen his eyes,” Liu Kang gasped, slumping to his rear-end near the wall. Jacqui Briggs stooped to examine him, checking for external injuries, and wishing for a better facility in which to check for internal. She was no expert, but godly lightning probably left a nasty mark.

“I see ‘em from here, Liu, and it’s… this is fucked,” grunted the Hollywood star, handing the binoculars over to his daughter, Cassie. She shook her head.

“He said we had to let Shao Kahn win, or else the Elder Gods would never step in,” gasped Liu Kang between labored breaths. Something was definitely wrong and if it was not treated soon, it could become permanent. “They… aren’t stepping in—I knew they didn’t care about us. I…” He groaned in agony and Jacqui pushed him back down.

“Hold still, Chosen One, your guts’ve been rearranged by a pissed off god—maybe take it easy.”

“If I ‘take it easy’, we all die,” Liu Kang snapped, jaw tight. Jacqui gave him a look that suggested she would take no lip, no matter how damn chosen he was or who chose him, for that matter. She could see from the way he held himself, the way his muscles tensed and tightened, that he was going to get much worse before he got better, especially if he pushed. They might not have a choice, soon enough, but while they did, there was no point risking it.

He met her gaze—it was burning with rage and sadness—with his own. They were matched in this way, both earthrealm natives with everything and more to lose, both people who had fought, tooth and nail, against this very thing. Sitting by idly and wishing things were otherwise was not something to which either Liu Kang or Jacqui Briggs were accustomed.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Kung Lao approached, supporting a figure between himself and Hanzo Hasashi, the Shirai-Ryu Grandmaster. Behind them trailed Takeda Takahashi, Scorpion’s pseudo son and likely successor, half-carrying Lao’s cousin, Jin. The figure between Scorpion and Kung Lao was dressed all in blue, with cracked, gray flesh. He seemed to exude chill and once they had placed him, only Grandmaster Hasashi seemed inclined, or able, to stay near him.

“Is this all that is left?” Lao’s voice was not incredulous, so much as despairing. He moved immediately toward Jacqui and Liu Kang, dropping to one knee. “Where is Princess Kitana and her force?”

Liu Kang shook his head. He explained that the last he had seen her, she was leading an auxiliary force of Shokan loyal to her and her claim to the throne, plus a few Osh-Tekk warriors, a gift from the rebellious general Ko’atal. The big man himself had been nowhere to be seen, but he was resourceful. Jade, too, had been missing, but Liu Kang assumed that if they were together, they were safe. She was much more than Kitana’s handmaiden. Their party had been split by the arrival of the irate god of thunder and Shao Kahn’s largest, most potent portal yet.

“Dad!” The three looked up suddenly at Cassie’s shout, pulled from their informal debrief. She was reaching out to an empty space where Johnny had just been standing. Before she could go after him, however, Jacqui was at her back, grasping her elbow, hard.

“No,” Jacqui hissed, “you’ll be fried—we don’t know if Raiden’s friendly anymore… if he ever was.” Cassie jerked her elbow away, but Jacqui held tight and shook her head. “I mean it, Cass. Your dad’s… gunna do what he’s gunna do, just like mine.”

With effort, she pulled Cassie back and away from the violent arcs of red lightning that were even now consuming trees and landscaping, cars, enemy soldiers, anything within the dome of the thunder god’s power—an area that was growing. Cassie hated that explanation, but not because it was foolish. Jacqui was spot on, in every way. Johnny Cage was a force of nature himself and always had been. Cassie wasn’t sure, however, that he would be enough to combat an elemental who had, in her mind, clearly gone out of his wits.

Raiden and Shao Kahn met somewhere in the middle, just beyond the portal the Outworld emperor had opened to begin the final invasion and merging of Earthrealm to his blasted home. Still, the Elder gods did not stir.

Shao Kahn’s hammer swung mightily and met a fist that moved with swift violence. A thunderclap resounded, flattening the area and then cratering it. Neither hand nor head of hammer shattered, but that was of no consequence to Shao Kahn, who reached out and hauled Raiden forward by his collar.

The thunder god looked into the emperor’s animal eyes and neither hated nor pitied him. Raiden’s rage was beyond petty ire toward the man who had caused his beloved Earthrealm so much grief over the centuries. He would simply destroy Shao Kahn. It had become singularly simple in his eyes. He had been a fool. He would end this once and for all, for everyone, forever.

Perhaps it was the look, the nearly directionless fury which met his eyes that made Shao Kahn drop Raiden. Johnny Cage, who had worked himself much closer than was probably safe, watched from still a ways off and could not quite pinpoint what it was that had Shao Kahn backing away from the thunder god.

“It is forbidden for you to fight,” Shao Kahn warned, with more authority and sureness in his voice than it seemed he felt. “You cannot engage in Mortal Kombat! You are not mortal!” Even his minions began to back away as Raiden’s arced, red lightning crashed violently into them, disintegrating here, vaporizing there, starting fires all over. Raiden’s chest heaved with the effort of either sustaining the onslaught, or holding it back, Johnny wasn’t sure.

On that heaving chest, Shinnok’s awful amulet pulsed with life and light, beckoning and promising strength. Raiden reached for it, but hesitated, seemingly doubting himself for the merest fraction of a second. It was in that span of time whence Shao Kahn regained his courage, approached, and swung again. This time, he would have caught the god of thunder on the chin, had it not been for the quick footwork of Johnny Cage.

This time, boots met hammer, though the clash was not so even. The force of the impact sent Johnny into the side of a building. His back hit concrete and he was certain he felt something snap, but if he gave up now, Raiden was absolutely going to do something stupid. Johnny didn’t understand Shinnok’s power, or even who and what Shinnok really was, or had been, as the case may be, but he knew an evil piece of jewelry when he saw it. Perhaps ironically, his experience in the film industry had clued him into its potency and danger, if the sickly green glow was not enough.

“Time for a scene change,” he grunted, pushing himself to his feet and spitting blood. The tang of adrenaline was on his tongue and coursing through his veins, making him hyper focus upon this detail or that, the world around him moving in slow motion. Johnny fancied he could hear Cassie screaming somewhere in the distance, but right now, his attention was on the battle before him.

“You are too weak to use that amulet on me, or anyone, thunder god,” Shao Kahn mocked, manufacturing enough bravado to satisfy his immense ego. Raiden grimaced, as if considering whether or not the man was right. He ground his teeth and once more moved to grasp Shinnok’s amulet. Shao Kahn struck again, this time with a boot.

Raiden was forced to block this with a cross before his chest and to step back. He balled one fist and surrounded it with lightning, shaking his head. “You do not know my power,” he growled, “but rest assured, Shao Kahn, you will.” Raiden discharged the lightning at Shao Kahn, who used his hammer as a ground and laughed.

“Pathetic, and weak.” Each descriptor was punctuated with a sharp wag of his finger toward Raiden’s chest and the deadly amulet which sat throbbing with energy thereupon.

“I am not weak—I am doing as I have always done. I am protecting Earthrealm.” His hand once more rose to the amulet. “Whatever that takes, I will do it.”

With his free hand, Raiden wound up a massive store of radiant, red energy and hurled it at Shao Kahn. The tyrant was thrown back mightily, taking out a score of his foot soldiers as he flew. Raiden continued forward, his pace slow, but deliberate. The troops of outworld were suddenly cowed by this display, as if their fellows being randomly vaporized had not been enough. Something had shifted, they sensed, and they began to back away.

“You are forbidden, Raiden!” This time, Shao Kahn’s voice was laced with fear; the confidence he had earlier displayed with his first remark of this kind had evidently deserted him in the face of what Raiden had become. The deity’s hand was now resting almost lovingly, protectively covering his father’s amulet. It was as if a very small part of him still fought for his own innocence, whatever might have been left of it.

Yes, a voice whispered, emanating from the amulet, but resounding in Raiden’s fevered mind, yes, grasp the power you have earned. With it, no one will threaten you again. Earthrealm will be safe, forever. The voice which came from the cursed object was familiar and comforting. His thoughts clung to it, to the truth of it. He had earned this power. Eons of bending to the will of the Elder Gods with no reward signaled the need for it, the deserving of its power. He only ever moved to protect Earthrealm.

Meanwhile, Johnny had begun to close the distance between himself and the wrathful deity. He could feel his hair standing on end with the force of the red lightning radiating outward from Raiden’s body. He was tense; the actor could see that from where he was, and… Are those tears? He shook off the thought as a stray bolt vaporized a fire hydrant less than a yard from him; it burst into a geyser of city water which soon began raining down upon everyone in the vicinity.

Johnny ducked behind a bike rack, realized that was probably a poor choice of cover, and scuttled along on the ground until he found a trash bin that looked as if it was made of plastic composite, rather than anything that might conduct those wicked red arcs of enraged power. His heart was hammering a thousand miles per hour and for a moment, he wondered if that was the first sign of an electricity-induced heart attack. Maybe he had been struck and did not realize it.Thinking about the ramifications of that hurt his head, so he stopped and decided to do what he did best.

“Now or never,” he told himself, taking a deep breath and fully expecting to be vaporized like the fire hydrant. It would be guts, however, not water spraying about, if he was lucky. Speaking of the water... too much of it, and Johnny would be zapped for sure; he was already soaked to the bone. Oh like it’s any different than what I’m about to do, he hissed internally, covering his face to keep his sunglasses dry. He needed to be able to see for this one. Johnny simply told himself that god lightning was different than the regular stuff and, in a burst of foolish energy, tossed himself around the trash bin and ran, full tilt, toward Raiden’s position.

A wayward bolt struck his glasses, tossing them from his face and exploding stars before his eyes. Johnny stumbled and, somewhere in the distance—she sounded thousands of miles away—he thought he could hear Cassie’s voice calling his name, screaming it in raw, brutal, throat-rending panic. He prayed someone was holding her back, because if this went south, as he was almost sure it would, she would be about to fight a hurricane, armed with only a pair of pistols.

Raiden was not going to be stopped, but Johnny felt that it was his duty to try. Liu’s shouldered too fuckin’ much already—my turn, he reasoned, forcing himself to keep going, running harder and faster than he had ever done in his life.

Raiden had stopped his inexorable stride and Shao Kahn looked on in bewilderment as the earthrealm action star closed the gap, running directly into that deadly lightning. Shao Kahn had been so sure Johnny’s miserable back had broken against that building. There was something to be said for the tenacity of a cornered, wounded animal. The Outworld dictator considered the benefits of having stock like that in the breeding pits. If Johnny Cage lived through this, his life in Outworld would be relatively comfortable, Shao Kahn decided.

The god turned his head, acknowledging Johnny with eyes as red as his lightning. Sure as shit, Johnny thought, noting that Raiden was, indeed, in tears, though they did not seem to be saline, as a human’s might be—they stood out, even upon his pale flesh, catching light and reflecting it like diamonds—or perhaps rubies, stained by the power of his rage. When they fell, they seemed to solidify midair. He supposed the sound they would make might be the minute clattering of diamonds or solidified quicksilver, though of course he could hear nothing through the rush of blood in his ears and the ambient roar of battle nearly-joined.

“Stop it, man!” Johnny called, reaching a hand out. Raiden still did not move, but neither did he cease his bombardment. Shao Kahn’s forces were at a standstill, watching, for once uncertain of the correct path. Some were even edging toward the portal, back to Outworld and relative safety. “Raiden—you listening to me? You don’t hafta—”

A bolt struck him square in the chest and he dropped to his knees, eyes wide, staring with pain and fear at the man—the god—who had struck him down. Raiden seemed to shift a little at that and then to turn. Johnny had caught his attention and would have held it but for Shao Kahn’s voice. “An earthrealm fraud has halted your march, Lord Raiden—what sort of god are you?!” He urged his forces forward, but no one stirred. Shao Kahn looked around and once more met Raiden’s eyes, which were again trained upon him. The grip on Shinnok’s amulet tightened and finally, it seemed Raiden would use it.

“No more.”

Cassie continued to scream. Johnny could hear her now. He was coming to, realizing that he was not, in fact, dead, nor even too terribly scorched. At the last moment, evidently, the magic of his strange heritage had leapt up to protect him, but he could feel in his bones that this would not happen again. He had one chance. For Cassie, he thought, all those kids—for Liu and Lao and Sonya, for Jax, even Scorpion and Sub-Zero, and Earthrealm. His heart thudded and he started forward, first at a trot, the once more at a leaping gallop. For Raiden.

Before the god could respond, Johnny Cage had tossed his arms around that broad, pillar-like torso. He had never realized just how big Raiden actually was, and thought perhaps he had allowed himself to retain a human size when dealing directly with them. He had to have been at least seven feet tall and change, but Johnny held tight all the same. He could feel a surge of anger and fathomless grief within his own body, as if it belonged to him, originated IN him—and it scared him. All this time, they had though Raiden was losing his mind to the desire for power, something much more understandable to a human mind. Johnny had never held tightly to the belief, having gotten to know Raiden over the years, but others, his late ex-wife included, had been downright certain.

“Christ,” he grunted, “is this what you’re feeling?”

It was then that the Outworld dictator chose to rush them. With him leading the charge, his hordes felt renewed confidence and vigor and lunged forth as one, howling their triumph over Earthrealm. Raiden was frozen in place, but only for a moment. He seemed suddenly to come back to himself, as if he had been far away, no longer in control of his limbs or actions—certainly not of his lightning.

He wrapped one powerful arm around Johnny, who still held him, and with the other, lashed a wide, sweeping arc of blue-white lightning across the crowd, releasing his hold on the wicked amulet to do so. Shao Kahn’s hammer protected him, but his troops were not so lucky. There was a smell of ozone and charred flesh left hanging in the air when Shao Kahn opened his eyes and straightened.

“Send your champion to face me, then!” Shao Kahn shouted, beating his chest, his hubris seemingly undiminished. His tone, however, was just this side of desperate, and his stance was far too eager, too frantic, to regain and retain control over this place. Johnny looked to Raiden, then back to Shao Kahn. He knew what this meant. He’d been at this long enough. The challenge had been issued years ago and Raiden had, with the blessing of Earthrealm’s defenders, refused it. Now, it would be taken up.

“So you’re declaring Mortal Kombat?” Johnny was going to be absolutely clear on this one, since… god contracts and all that—or something. He wasn’t wholly certain on this point, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. Shao Kahn seemed actually to consider this. His troops were slaughtered or retreating, Raiden was placated for the time being, but who knew how long that could last? His konquest had begun unlawfully, but for the loophole of his not quite finishing the merging of realms. That would be his next step—because if there existed no Earthrealm champions to defend her, then who would stop him?

“Yes, Earthrealm clown,” Shao Kahn rumbled, slapping the handle of his great hammer on one rough palm.

“Mime, actually,” came another voice from across a few lanes of what would have been traffic. Emerging from the alley where they were taking shelter, Liu Kang led their friends, injured and whole, into the open. He was supported by a grimacing Jacqui Briggs and a relieved but concerned Kung Lao, but it was clear from Liu’s expression that “no you have ruptured organs” was not an answer he would be hearing today. Raiden’s shoulders sagged a little in relief; he had not killed Liu Kang after all.

“Thank you, Liu—wait hang on…” Johnny narrowed his eyes at his friend. The Shaolin fighter did not respond and seemed, for a moment, not to be able to meet Johnny’s eyes. In fact, if Johnny wasn’t tripping completely, he could have sworn that the guy was blushing. Still got it, he thought, grinning.

Before he could continue, however, Cassie broke into a gait he very much recognized as one that signaled extreme displeasure. Her face held a look of grim determination as she stomped toward her father. Johnny knew he was in for it and backed away, hands up.

“Whoa, whoa, pumpkin, easy, huh?” He looked between Shao Kahn and his daughter and realized he would rather face the Outworld tyrant. “C’mon—easy, what was your old man s’posed to do?”

“Not get fried by a pissed off god and leave me a fucking ORPHAN? MAYBE?” Her voice held an edge of hysterical panic he did not like. “Oh. Shit…” she stammered, stopping just as her path crossed Raiden’s. “I’m—sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” said the god, inclining his head toward her, “but you are not incorrect.”

Cassie was sheepish and mumbled another apology. Raiden seemed to understand her position, however, and addressed it no more. Instead, he turned his attention upon the waiting tyrant.

“When will this foolishness subside so that I can begin the konquest of your filthy realm, Raiden?!” Shao Kahn was growing impatient. “The Earthrealmer has declared Mortal Kombat and I accept, on the terms that, when I win, the merge will begin and you, pitiful servant of the Elder Gods, will stand aside and bow to their will as you have always done!”

Johnny’s jaw tightened at this hateful commentary upon Raiden’s character, but for once in his life, he held his tongue. Now was not the time to bandy words with dictators and monsters; now was the time to make them eat those words with a garnish of ball-crushing whoop-ass.

“It is my destiny to fight Shao Kahn,” Liu Kang hissed, eyeing Johnny, his gaze flinty. The hardness in his voice and tone belied the real fear that they were thwarting destiny and tempting a fate no one was equipped to handle. His eyes snapped to Raiden, then, pleading. Raiden shook his head. Jacqui echoed the movement. Even now, protesting this, Liu leaned heavily upon both people holding him up, in no condition to fight.

“Guess it’s not, Liu—stand back and watch.” Johnny would hear no more, turning toward his opponent and shouting. “I accept your terms, Shao Kahn—winner take all.” I mean, I’m not gunna take over Outworld, but like… it sounds pretty good when I say it out loud, his fevered brain nattered.

He must win. Raiden’s own, incomprehensible words came back to him in a sickening echo he still wondered, even now, to whom his future self had been referring. He had been so sure it was Shao Kahn, but that sureness had nearly killed his chosen champion. He met Liu Kang’s furious gaze.

“By the rules of Mortal Kombat, the challenge must be taken up by the one who declared it. I am sorry, Liu Kang, but this fight indeed belongs to Johnny Cage.”

Johnny heard his name, but no more. He was focused, utterly and completely, upon Shao Kahn, who stood a few yards hence, leaning upon the head of his hammer and observing the company with such arrogance, it turned Johnny’s guts. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his head upon broad shoulders.

“Okay big guy, you heard the god. Let’s fuckin’ go.” He dropped into a deep stance and beckoned Shao Kahn. The tyrant chuckled, the sound a raspy, hollow thing, mirthless and full of contempt and triumph for a victory he had not yet won. Kung Lao winced at the sound and whispered to his companion,

“This is insane…”

Johnny made the first move, using his distance to gain speed and launch into a combination of forceful, heavy kicks which utilized his size and the length of his legs. Shao Kahn blocked these with little effort and jabbed in return, hoping to push Johnny off balance.

The years had made him wily and this was not the Johnny Cage that Shao Kahn remembered, so cocksure and arrogant, his insecurities showing upon his countenance like a glowing sign, pushed by his own self doubt to showboat and make light of his own skill. This Johnny was an old veteran of many ugly fights; he was vicious, clever, and quick. The fate of his world hung in the balance. He would pull no punches and playing fair wasn’t necessarily a given, either.

Using the tyrant’s momentum against him, Johnny ducked around him and launched into a hard kick to the back of Shao Kahn’s head. This, the tyrant bore with an enraged snarl, a stumble, and a wide, arcing swing of the hammer. That swing, too, Johnny dodged, spitting in his opponent’s direction. “Gunna hafta do better’n that, slugger!”

“So your arrogance has not been tempered,” Shao Kahn commented. “Good, good. That will make your defeat all the more satisfying.” He laughed viciously and swung the hammer down, shaking the ground around them. Johnny found himself out of sorts for a moment, but it was long enough for Shao Kahn to catch him up in one hand, tossing the hammer aside and plying both powerful limbs to their grim task. He lifted Johnny over his head and began to bend. “Do you see your champion, Thunder God?”

Raiden, formerly watching with a mask of impassive disinterest, was suddenly assaulted by visions of Johnny Cage, broken nearly in two, over the shoulders of this selfsame tyrant. He could hear Shao Kahn’s triumphant laugh, the horrified scream of Sonya Blade, the heartbroken, barely-audible moan of Liu Kang. As he blinked, the entire scene flashed behind his eyes and, without thinking, he stretched forth one hand and fired a bolt of pure, blue-white lightning.

With a single shot, Raiden, god of thunder and protector of Earthrealm, ended it all.

Shao Kahn was vapor, dust in the light breeze that had begun to pick up. Johnny hauled himself to his feet, heart hammering once more, and looked between the two. Shao Kahn had been mere moments from snapping him in half, powerful hands crushing him wherever they reached, his back beginning to feel the strain of the Outworld dictator’s prodigious strength when, all at once, it was over and he was on the ground.

Coughing, brushing off, and reorienting himself, Johnny’s only thought was for the thunder god and he rushed back to where Raiden stood, staring, shocked (there was a pun here someplace), at his own hand, as if he had never before seen it. The amulet, curiously, remained upon his chest, unused, bearing no mark of having been harnessed.

“I…” Raiden stammered as Johnny reached him. The others watched the pair, who had sunk to the ground together, Johnny’s rough hands finding either side of Raiden’s face. They were murmuring—mostly Johnny, in point of fact—and no one was sure if they should get close.

Liu Kang directed them away and gestured that they ought to start dealing with the portal, which was still open and continuing its inexorable work. He hoped, silently, that the Elder Gods actually did decide to step in, because he was no sorcerer, nor was he a god and could not see himself becoming either in the near future.

Across the expanse of what had become the field of kombat, Kung Lao and Jacqui spotted Kitana, Jade, and a limping Ko’atal. They were followed by a few singed Shokan and some Osh-Tekk, bruised and battered, but alive. Kitana raised a hand and Jacqui returned the salute, made a brief gesture to the murmuring pair, and then to Liu Kang, still suspended between herself and Kung Lao.

“Hey,” Johnny hissed, “it’s okay—it’s gunna be fine… You finished it. It’s—”

“It is not over, Johnny Cage,” responded the god, eyes downcast. “I have upset the balance; the Elder Gods will be furious. The consequences—”

“Seriously,” Johnny interrupted, “fuck the Elder Gods—what’ve they done for us, huh?” Raiden’s eyes opened wide at these words of blasphemy and he reached out to grasp the lapels of Johnny’s vest.

“You know not of what you speak, Johnny Cage,” warned Raiden. Johnny hated that fearful look on Raiden’s face. It was foreign and wrong and did not belong there under any circumstances. Johnny scowled deeply.

“I know a thing or three about shit parents… Listen, this whole… fatherhood thing, y’know, it blows sometimes—no offense Cass; I love ya pumpkin—and it’s… like a never-ending cavalcade of horseshit, nonsense, and doubt.” He shook his head. “I had ONE. I can’t imagine being the… like, dad of a whole-ass world…realm… thing.” Pursing his lips, Johnny searched for his next words, choosing them carefully. “We spend our whole damn lives worrying and wondering if we did all we could—if we fucked up somewhere along the way and if that… y’know, if it caused more pain than it should’ve, or… more than we knew at the time, or could ever know.” He sighed. “And yeah, it’s gunna do that—it will do that. You’re going to hurt your kids and sometimes meaning well isn’t the be-all, end-all… the ends don’t always justify the means and all that shit, except when they do… But the bottom line here is that a good parent does THAT, y’know, looks back and… worries… about the process. Getting there ain’t always half the fun, big guy—and frankly, whoever-the-fuck got you here, where you are right now? They’re not the good kinda parents. Just sayin’.”

Raiden looked as if he had never been told that the Elder Gods were poor parental figures. He looked as if he had never considered them parents at all, which Johnny supposed made sense, since they weren’t exactly physical beings or whatever, but sometimes, one had to wonder at the “my ways are higher than your ways” explanation.

He, still holding either side of Raiden’s face, pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. “We’re gunna be all right, man—I promise. I… we… no one’s gunna let anything happen to you—or Earthrealm, or whatever.” He had clearly run out of words, for the time being

“Thank you, Johnny Cage,” whispered Raiden solemnly. “Your faith and fair words mean more to me than you can know.”

“Ah, one more thing, though.” Evidently, Johnny was not completely out of words. “Just… Just Johnny, please? Whenever I hear the whole thing, I kinda assume I’m in deep shit—y’really don’t wanna go there with a god… ‘specially not the kind who can do… y’know, what you just did.”

Raiden regarded what he had just done very carefully, then regarded Johnny. This, he supposed, was a request he could grant, but it felt strange, not addressing him that way.

“If I am correct, then we are, all of us, in ‘deep shit’.”

“Lord Raiden,” Liu Kang called, hobbling toward them having escaped, temporarily, his captors. “Forgive me, but that portal isn’t closing itself and I…”

Raiden shook his head and stood, grasping Johnny’s hands and pulling the man with him. “I will make this right,” he promised, stepping away from the mortals and lifting into the air. Once more, energy crackled all around, but it bore the tranquil, blue-white glow that they were accustomed to seeing. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at that.

Cassie approached her father slowly. He seemed dazed. She could have slapped him, but she wasn’t sure that wouldn't trigger some kind of heart attack. Johnny’s eyes were wide, fixed on the hovering thunder deity.

“You ah… okay, dad?”

“I don’t… I dunno, kid. I’m not sure. But he is… and right now, that’s kinda what we need.”

#mortal kombat #johnny cage #raiden #faraday cage #there are tons of other characters #so I'mma just leave it at that #kung lao and a few others make brief appearances

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 3 years

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Magnetic ‘balding’ of black holes saves general relativity prediction Black holes aren’t what they eat. Einstein’s general relativity predicts that no matter what a black hole consumes, its external properties depend only on its mass, rotation and electric charge. All other details about its diet disappear. Astrophysicists whimsically call this the no-hair conjecture. (Black holes, they say, “have no hair.”) There is a potentially hairy threat to the conjecture, though. Black holes can be born with a strong magnetic field or obtain one by munching on magnetized material. Such a field must quickly disappear for the no-hair conjecture to hold. But real black holes don’t exist in isolation. They can be surrounded by plasma — gas so energized that electrons have detached from their atoms — that can sustain the magnetic field, potentially disproving the conjecture. Using supercomputer simulations of a plasma-engulfed black hole, researchers from the Flatiron Institute’s Center for Computational Astrophysics (CCA) in New York City, Columbia University and Princeton University found that the no-hair conjecture holds. The team reports its findings on July 27 in Physical Review Letters. “The no-hair conjecture is a cornerstone of general relativity,” says study co-author Bart Ripperda, a research fellow at the CCA and a postdoctoral fellow at Princeton. “If a black hole has a long-lived magnetic field, then the no-hair conjecture is violated. Luckily a solution came from plasma physics that saved the no-hair conjecture from being broken.” The team’s simulations showed that the magnetic field lines around the black hole quickly break and reconnect, creating plasma-filled pockets that launch into space or fall into the black hole’s maw. This process rapidly drains the magnetic field and could explain flares seen near supermassive black holes, the researchers report. “Theorists didn’t think of this because they usually put their black holes in a vacuum,” Ripperda says. “But in real life, there’s often plasma, and plasma can sustain and bring in magnetic fields. And that has to fit with your no-hair conjecture.” Ripperda co-authored the study with Columbia graduate student Ashley Bransgrove and CCA associate research scientist Sasha Philippov, who is also a visiting research scholar at Princeton. A 2011 study on the problem suggested that the no-hair conjecture was in trouble. However, that study only looked at these systems at low resolution, and it treated plasma as a fluid. However, the plasma around a black hole is so diluted that particles rarely run into one another, so treating it as a fluid is an oversimplification. In the new study, the researchers conducted high-resolution plasma physics simulations with a general-relativistic model of a black hole’s magnetic field. In total, it took 10 million CPU hours to churn through all the calculations. “We couldn’t have done these simulations without the Flatiron Institute’s computational resources,” Ripperda says. The resulting simulations showed how the magnetic field around a black hole evolves. At first, the field extends in an arc from the black hole’s north pole to its south pole. Then, interactions within the plasma cause the field to balloon outward. This opening up causes the field to split into individual magnetic field lines that radiate outward from the black hole. The field lines alternate in direction, either toward or away from the event horizon. Nearby magnetic field lines connect, creating a braided pattern of field lines coming together and splitting apart. Between two such connection points, a gap exists that fills with plasma. The plasma is energized by the magnetic field, launching outward into space or inward into the black hole. As the process continues, the magnetic field loses energy and eventually withers away. Critically, the process happens fast. The researchers found that the black hole depletes its magnetic field at a rate of 10 percent of the speed of light. “The fast reconnection saved the no-hair conjecture,” Ripperda says. The researchers propose that the mechanism powering observed flares from the supermassive black hole at the center of the Messier 87 galaxy could be explained by the balding process seen in the simulations. Initial comparisons between them look promising, they say, though a more robust assessment is needed. If they do indeed line up, energetic flares powered by magnetic reconnection at black hole event horizons may be a widespread phenomenon. IMAGE....A simulation of the magnetic field lines (green) surrounding a black hole (left). As the field lines break and reconnect, pockets of plasma form (center of green circles). These plasma pockets launch inward toward the black hole or outward into space, draining energy from the magnetic field. CREDIT A. Bransgrove et al./Physical Review Letters 2021

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news

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tthael · 3 years

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What are your thoughts on trans eddie? I love it bc I'm trans and eddie is like one of my comfort characters. Since you're the best writer I've ever seen I'm curious on your thoughts.

Thank you, that’s so nice! I also have some Gender Trouble (transmasc isn’t quite the right word) and I think about gender dynamics a lot, and I think Eddie in particular has an interesting relationship with his masculinity in canon that makes him ripe for this kind of analysis.

Back when I was mostly interested in Hobbit fanfiction, I read a lot of good fics that played around with the gender dynamics of the characters; so while I know that genderswap fics can be a hot button issue because of transphobia and accompanying dynamics, I do like those stories when they’re well-written and taken seriously. For instance, this Dwalin/Nori fic by @thorinsmut features a genderfluid pirate captain and an identity porn romance during the Golden Age of Sail (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861419) and it’s one of my all-time favorite fanfictions (content warnings for violence against animals, discussion of sexual assault, explicit sex, and a genderfluid character experiencing dysphoria). I tend to prefer always-a-different-sex fics, but I’ve also read a couple of a-wizard-did-it fics, like this Coulson/Hawkeye fic by amireal (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173773) from back when I was into marvel (content warnings for internalized homophobia, explicit sex, and workplace harassment). I myself have had an idea for a while about a Hunger Games genderswap fic where, because 1 girl and 1 boy are always sent to the Games, Katniss can’t volunteer to go in his sister’s place, but he can volunteer to go in Peeta’s place because he plans to die to save Prim.

So, if we accept that gender essentialism treats children assumed to be girls and children assumed to be boys differently (which it does), I think that a transman!Eddie would have a slightly different experience growing up. Canon Eddie has a sort of glass closet going on and a lot of his childhood bullying is homophobic, and it’s implied that this is because he’s not performing masculinity to the expected level. Also Sonia’s abuse focuses on illness, injury, and contamination. She wants Eddie to be “safe” (goes into hysterics when he tries to get his feet scanned at a shoe-store because of the radiation), but she also wants him to be “clean” and “good to his mother.” Especially in the 90s miniseries and the Muschietti movies that take place in 1989 and 2016, a lot of that is coded to involve the AIDS epidemic, needles, and fears of transmission, which means that there’s an element of homophobia to Sonia’s influence. Also, Sonia canonically sex-shames Beverly, calling her “a dirty girl” and saying that she knows all about her, specifically singling her out of the whole group of Losers. There’s an element of sexual protection to her emotional abuse, as well as just a general unwillingness to let Eddie leave the house or get free of her control.

So if we reverse this dynamic and Eddie is a transboy, I think that the pressures he would experience would involve him not performing femininity correctly as a child, because he’s a boy. Eddie would still be very polite and somewhat soft-spoken and dreamy, and he’d be squeamish about bullies belching in his face and Richie playing in the sewers, just like he is in canon; but I think that his discomfort with his traditionally “feminine” responses would come from him instead of externally now. I’d have him lean harder into his traditionally “masculine” interests--cars and trains and other vehicles of getting away from his mother--and I’d have Sonia be even more aggressive towards Bill, Stan, and Richie, to the point of them not ever daring to enter the house the way they do in the 2017 movie because I think Sonia would be just as revolted by the idea of Eddie going around with a pack of boys as she is by Beverly in canon. I think that Sonia would be very invested in Eddie’s appearance, probably pressuring him about his hair and the way that he dressed, probably preferring him to wear skirts and nice clothes instead of things that he could wear to ride a bike or go running around in the Barrens in. I think that there would be a greater element of sexual shaming and body- and weight-policing to Sonia’s abuse, with elements of her wanting to protect Eddie’s “virtue” from “those dirty boys.” @pineapplecrushface wrote an always-women AU Nightingale (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979312) and while Richie and Eddie are women in this story so it’s not the trans Eddie fic you are looking for, I think that the mentions of Eddie’s childhood bedroom seems pretty accurate for the environment that he would grow up in if he were assigned female at birth--a pink canopy bed and looking for clothes that don’t make him “feel like a cupcake.”

Actually, I think that this might look a lot like Carrie. I know that other people have already talked about the similarities between Sonia Kaspbrak and Margaret White, but Margaret’s abuse tends to orient not just around control but also around sexual maturity and perceived virtue.

I don’t know when or to what degree Eddie would transition--I don’t know if he would take the opportunity to do it while Sonia was still living, though I believe he’d be financially stable enough to afford it very early on. It would all depend on how the writer wanted to handle Eddie’s adult life--is he married to Myra? Does Myra know that he’s trans? Do he and Myra have a sexual relationship? Does Eddie know that he’s attracted to men? Is Eddie out before he gets the call from Mike and goes to Derry? What kind of transition does he want to have, if any? There are so many things to consider and I think it would all depend on what kind of story the author wants to tell--for me, I’d probably write a story where Eddie happens to be trans, and I’ve read some good fic to that effect--Rapacious from the Very Start (https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853020) by InkandOwl (I tried to find their tumblr to tag them and couldn’t) is one of my favorites, though tbh when I read fic I’m looking for explicit sex and that seems to be the core of this series.

But yeah, I’d be down for trans Eddie fic. I think that there’s a lot to unpack there, from how Eddie’s “gazebos” confrontation with Sonia would take place because the primary issue there would not be the idea of keeping Eddie compliant and in the house as a mama’s boy, it would be the idea of keeping him locked in a tower like the witch in Rapunzel because Sonia keeps treating him like a princess; to the idea of needlephobia changing from a threat involving AIDS contamination to perhaps something empowering and self-authenticating like T injections. And Eddie’s such a well-rounded character anyway, I think that there’s a lot of room to dig into his bickering with Richie and his outward aggressiveness and see how much of that is stress and how much of that is the idea that masculinity never shows weak emotions and how much of that is Eddie is quick-witted and thinks arguing is fun. There are also several parallels between Georgie and Eddie, particularly in their relationship with Bill; I think that as a kid, Eddie would think that Big Bill is just the best role model in a real little-brother kinda way, and Sonia would be super threatened by that because she’s Eddie’s mother, Eddie’s supposed to want to be like her.

I think in general I’d be down for most trans fic, as long as it was well-written. In the book there’s an interesting passage from the perspective of Richie’s mother where she reflects on how much she wishes that she had a daughter, because she doesn’t understand Richie and Bill, and she’d feel more confident if she had a daughter she could do things with like baking cupcakes. And I think that a trans Bev would change the way that she experiences abuse from her father, who in the book prefers her to behave in a feminine way (stops being angry at her when he thinks she’s afraid of spiders, because “all girls are afraid of spiders”; becomes irate at the idea that Beverly is playing with boys; obsessive over her virginity) but would behave differently if he thought he had a son and that Bev was transgressing masculine rules.

Anyway! *hammers fist on desk* Bring me my all-trans Losers AU!

#transphobia #gender essentialism #gender roles #child abuse #emotional abuse #gendered violence

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krayfishthetypelessblob · 4 years

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can a phobic 6 turn cp6 sometimes?

For sure, it’s not as though p6 and cp6 are distinct types (ie. a 6 is always a 6). It is more accurate to consider it a sliding scale rather than a dichotomy since the cp vs p label comes from your own “personal statistics”. P6 will more often respond passively to their fears, looking for external security or creating plans and precautions to prepare for things in advance, but that doesn’t mean they don’t face their problems ever or aren’t inclined to blowing up now and then. Cp6 is more inclined towards plunging into danger and aggression or screaming wildly at the fear, but that doesn’t mean that they won't stand down or run when they don’t think they have a chance or don’t feel like putting the effort into challenging a “threat”. It’s not always super polarized either (though by nature of the attachment types, it often is, which is why so many people identify so strongly with one or another), finding yourself in between the two labels is not uncommon.

The labels specifically exist because of the enneagram types, 6 has the most “dramatic” variance in outwards behavior comparatively to other types. The focus specifically on the 6 countertype is specifically so 6s will type as 6s rather than 8s or other cp focused types.

#enneagram #typology #6w5 #6w7 #cp6 #p6 #enneagram 6 #asks #answered #cp vs p

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calleo-bricriu · 5 years

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You've got a long history of getting mixed up with people who treat you like garbage so be honest here: How badly does the war criminal treat you? Like when he thinks nobody is watching or nobody will find out because you'll just sit there and defend him anyway.

I know what answer you’re looking for and I also know you’re not going to like the answer that you’re going to get.

Regardless of what I say, you’re going to think I’m defending @absintheabsence and, to an extent, that’s correct if only because what you’re not-so-subtly accusing him of isn’t the reality of the situation.

Before I actually explain further, however, please don’t think I’m using trauma to excuse treating other people badly; it doesn’t.

It can explain it but, it doesn’t excuse it.

There is a difference, however, between someone who uses their trauma as an excuse to treat others badly and someone who knows that they occasionally overreact or react poorly to something when that trauma gets triggered and who is not only willing to acknowledge that it’s a problem with which they struggle but is also willing to work on their own mental health, coping mechanisms, and behaviours to lower the chances of it happening again as well as do the same to lessen the impact of how they behave if it does happen.

Don’t mistake here, these sorts of things are not things that anyone “recovers” from entirely; they can seem recovered (or largely recovered) to outside observers but often still struggle privately and often have to remain acutely aware of their surroundings and own state of mind.

I can’t speak to how he behaved when he was younger; I didn’t know him then.

I can speak on it as he is now, however because I know him now.

When he has episodes like that, when he’s violent, throwing things, shouting, being generally destructive, the most common things that set it off relate to how he views himself and what he’s done with his life, frustration with himself ranging from frustration at being stuck in prison, frustration over perceived failures, or frustration over the fact that he’s still alive. That last one is particularly hard to watch.

Mentioning or hearing about certain events or people, if he’s not the one who brought the topic up, can also trigger–I don’t know that anyone in the Wizarding world has proper terms for it but, Muggles call it PTSD.

I’ve heard him call them “tantrums” before and I don’t think that’s an accurate way of describing them; a tantrum is a brief thing you have over a minor inconvenience or disagreement, not something that can send you into a tailspin that lasts hours, days, or even weeks.

I used to just leave when he got like that because he was–and is–often violent, physically and verbally, toward anything he can reach and there was always a good chance that he might accidentally (and it would have been accidentally as I’m not fully convinced he knew I was there half the time, just that SOMEONE was there and an external target is easier to hit than an internal one) kill me.

The problem I always had with that was that, when I’d come back, when it was over, he’d have done a lot of harm to himself, in more ways than one; that often meant that any progress he’d made backslid significantly because he’d undone it himself. It was always incredibly difficult to get back to even where he’d been a few days prior and it was a lot of losing progress than it was even breaking even or just slightly improving.

Once the threat of possibly dying was removed, I started staying (I still put Siegfried out of the room when it happens, though, and shield the plants), and he is positively vicious at those low points; it’s made worse if I don’t ‘fight back’ as it were because what he wants to do the majority of the time is self destruct and he can’t do that if he’s not alone.

When he’s not in a situation where he’s got no target but himself he doesn’t backslide when it’s over; he’s able to get back up, discuss and go over what happened, what led to it, and work on ways to lower the chances of it happening again.

He’s been rather good at that, honestly, it’s never been the same thing twice since he hasn’t been left alone to self-destruct.

And this is where there’s another important difference that might not seem like one if you’re not familiar with dealing with people who’ve gone through trauma: It isn’t personal.

It’s never personal.

He might be shouting at me and I might be the target for whatever gets thrown, but it’s not AT me, it’s not directed at me, I’m not what he’s angry about. What he’d normally turn in on himself he can’t, because my being in the room is a big enough distraction that it turns outward and, when it doesn’t, all I have to do is remind him that I’m still present.

I don’t mean in a comforting way either, I mean in the sort of way that if I see him curling back in on himself, I just make a little noise to remind him there’s an external target.

I know how to block things, I know how defensive magic works, and I know how to duck; might get bloodied up a little but never seriously injured and I know better than to take any of the things shouted at me as even remotely personally because they aren’t personal. They’re projection.

Never mind that he’s not normally angry at all when it happens, he’s frightened or feels trapped/helpless; that sort of thing often gets expressed as anger, that’s not even remotely uncommon.

A lot of people who are quick to lash out are fundamentally frightened people at the root of it all and if you can scare everyone off and keep them at a distance, you don’t have to risk being seen as vulnerable or weak, which is also often frightening.

By this point, I’m sure you’re back to thinking I’m a spineless doormat but, the thing is, those episodes become less and less frequent due to the fact that Gellert puts in the effort to work on his own mental state and behaviour; he is continually improving and it’s fairly rare at this point that he has those episodes because he’s put the effort into recognising what it is that triggers them and how to either head it off completely by talking about what’s upsetting him before it gets to the point of actually upsetting him or to mitigate how intense the episodes are.

That isn’t something he’s done on his own, that’s not something most people could do on their own; it’s something I’ve chosen to help him with because I recognised the first time it happened that it wasn’t him just being horrible it was very literally something, at the time, that he couldn’t fully control.

It’s the fact that he does that, that he realises it’s a problem, that it’s something that needs to be dealt with and worked on, and that he follows through with it and does improve that makes the difference–for me, at least.

If he’d ever just shrugged it off and told me that was the way he was and I’d just have to learn to deal with it as-is, I would have left years ago.

None of that is anything anyone should feel as though they’re obliged to put up with, however; it’s stressful, it’s draining, it’s exhausting, it’s difficult, it’s frustrating but, it’s also something that I know I’m equipped to handle and handle in a way that’s productive for both of us.

Nobody is obliged to stick around and, if it’s something that becomes detrimental to their own mental or physical health, it’s best to leave and I would never recommend anyone stay in a situation where they felt unsafe or where they felt they were being used as a target and little more.

To directly answer the question: Not badly at all, and when he thinks nobody is watching, which is the majority of the time, because nobody IS watching, he’s pleasant, engaging, friendly, playful, involved, and a bit soft.

All of which I’m sure he’ll deny because I’ve said it where people are watching.

As for me, I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be.

#relationships #long post #hp rp #violence cw #abuse cw

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adilynia-kiden · 5 years

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The Trinity Wedding: Part 4

Writers Note: Bole text indicates something verbally said and shared with everyone. Italics is used to denote a mental/psyonic conversation.

Oh-well...I...errr...all I wanted was cake... The absolute ludicrous thought is the only one she can manage with Lycan's vibrant smile fueling the butterflies in her stomach with Lokens mischief. But, like Terens, it is a constant that straightens her back the instant her eyes set on it when paired the use of her well-earned title beyond the borders of Nishan.

Slipping her left hand into his, again the small (and still trembling knight) managed another elegant curtsy that dropped her head down elegantly in a humble display of respect. "None of my days have been complete without your gracious company, my Lord, Kiden," Addie whispered, lifting her eyes from under her dark lashes until they found Lycans and her long ears twitched as the Countess of Hyperion’s voice lifted above the din of the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Federation, we are here today to honor our Marquis's wish to solidify his future and ours through this most sacred ceremony. To that end, we are being honored to know with certainty that not only will our Lord-Marquis' heart be secured, but the legacy of his time among us will be enriched by heirs with whom we can continue the sanctity of what it means to be Nishanian. Never again will one of Lord Kiden's potentially suicidal endeavors mean the end of another Oath-Keeper's bloodlines." Nervous but heartfelt laughter ripples through the entire crowd. Nerenna turns toward Lycan with a mischievous grin. "In addition, it means a continuation of the bloodline of the finest Guardian to ever walk among us. Light and Shadows know what a tragedy not breeding him would be." She pauses for a moment before adding. "You all can take that how you like."

The audience erupts in more laughter, appreciating the humor in the evening ahead. Quite clearly, both men's reputations precede them, even on their wedding day.

With their hands in hers, the stability in Addie was noticeable, but not so much as the almost awe-struck and adoring smile that was shared for them both. There was the threat of her knees giving out at any moment, especially when the trinity turned to face the Countess of Hyperion.

For Maladir, the crowd and everything in it fades away to the singular vision of his daughter’s hand slipping from his. While externally, the man was a bastion of strength and stillness that smiled serenely, his heart thundered in his chest and ears until he’d elegantly moved back to his seat.

Immediately, both Bri and Tanner shift to his side though don’t offer anything but their presence. It’s the Commander who reaches out to tug the young man under his arm while absently running a protective hand over Brilaria’s crimson hair in a paternal affection rarely seen.

Raelin, once freed of the cords in his hands, took his place as Addie’s Heathen of Honor. Like Anne, he took his duties seriously and with the brightest smile on his face. One hand moved to rest at his lower back in a display of courtly posture, but the other wrapped the single, and only braid in the Ironfists hair that made its home at the base of his skull. A single trinket twines at the bottom, engraved with a rose.

Brilaria made a show of ‘plucking’the Baron’s sent affection from the air, but did not grace it against her crimson lips that curved into a delicious smile. Instead, she traced the line from the point of her chin down the hollow of her throat and across the exquisite rubies wrapped around her neck. It was as subtle gesture in elegant action, but none the less potent as her eyes flare beyond blue to lick with flames at the edges. With Nerenna’s speech came not pink stain on Addies cheeks, but knowing laughter that ended up muffled against her shoulder with the subjects spoken of.

Soft expressions shifted between Teren and Lycan as drew their hands closer, to bend her head gently and lay her lips against their knuckles. Long ears twitched at the joke of the Priests suicidal tendencies and the phrase 'breeding' but the flick of her eyes to Lycan seemed to imply that such things were not going to happen again, given the determined wink she gave.

Each time the mention of their futures came up, she softened all the more as the edge of her teeth set on her bottom lip gently with the swelling of her heart that overflowed. A sweet, albeit, slightly nervous nod was subconsciously offered, as if affirming in her own mind everything the Countess said was true.

Never one to leave a bawdy remark unspoken, Lycan's retort sizzles discreetly among the three of them. You eat all the cake you want. Pretty sure Teren and I are planning to dine on you this evening.

Here, here, Mate. The Priest chimes in his agreement, still grinning as his gaze fixes on Nerenna.

Her speech continues in the ribald tradition of citizen of the Marche. Quite the accomplishment for someone born in Ironwall. "I think at all new it would take more than one person to properly state your appetites. Gentlemen." The Priestess grounds salaciously at the trio in front of her; green eyes setting on Adilynia. "What we didn't realize was that immortality might be a requisite."

Pretty sure? Cause I am 1000% sure those kodo ribs I smell will NOT be the best thing in my mouth before this day is done. Leave it to Addie to pick out ribs among the event, but at least her senses were still working. Her panic, while still enough to make her energy feel like sparklers burning bright, had abated somewhat.

Maybe it was her shock, or just the intoxicating happiness that loosened the Pixie's tongue as her thoughts were shared with Teren and Lycan. This had been the surprise of a lifetime. For as salacious as the comment was, the absolute picture of serenity took hold Addie's small from from the outside. WIth posture adjusting slightly, the panic of the moment revealed had tipped the weight of the pressure and honor what she thought she only carried, not would be be given.

Finally managing enough courage to look to Nerenna, another brief moment of awe occurs in truly studying the Countess of Hyperion who she watches shyly from under her dark lashes. The connection to her green ones draws a sharp inhale, tightening of her hands on Teren and Lycans, and respectful tip of her head that set pink color at the tips of her ears. Holding the air in her lungs, a small lance of fear was felt, as she half expected disdain for the immortality spoken of.

Nerenna holds Adilynia's focused attention with enigmatic stoicism, as if the two were meeting in a battlefield. She had no need for words. Her expression says it all. *Betray these men, or our people, and I'll see you suffer an eternity in Hyperion*. Then she smiled. It was warm. Welcoming, even. "We can only assume you know what you're getting yourself into, Dame Silverfall. If not, it's a damned steep learning curve. Trust us." The crowd laughs again at the understatement.

The message was received loud and clear, but Addie hardly shrunk back in fear for the implied threat set in a focused gaze. The Countess of Hyperion likely had no idea that she too had a hand in calming the Pixie's nerves and seeing her mind cleared with a long exhale outward that settled her shoulders. A renewed determination filled gold eyes that didn't look away, but held resolute and stalwart courage that somehow managed to be humble in its offering.

The faint smile on her face faded to a solemn expression in the unwavering look. There was no challenge in Addie's, but a determined conviction to one day make the Countess smile warmly, and mean it, by proving that betrayal was never an option. One day.

Responding to the warm smile with a practiced, but sweet and gracious one that came easily enough, Addie lifted a dark brow in playful gest as she looked back and forth between Teren and Lycan as if to imply that what she'd 'gotten herself into' was over her head, but no less grandly loved. Curve? More like zero-g loops at terminal velocity.

Still, she found her strength in the hands she held close and the sapphire and almond eyes she was never too focused to look at.

Whatever Adilynia may have assumed if the nobleman's silent communion, Nerenna's discreet nod of approval to the other Guardian is telling as to her actual opinion of the Elven Knight's mettle.

Teren's warmth and pride in Adilynia is more pronounced as she subtly earns a measure of respect from the former Ironwaller. Well done, Sesh'Thuash.

Lycan's more emphatic No kidding. is just as impressed. I'd say Nerenna got that message loud and clear.

Certainly, if Nishan thought either of us would accept a spineless spring and broken fuck doll for our wife, they're in for quite a rude awakening.

Seconded. But let's not warn them to much in advance. Despite his words of caution, Lycan bustles with energy, silently willing the views to begin.

With her heart thudding mercilessly in her ears, the subtle exhale outward is surprisingly stable, though does little to stop her electrified nerves and warring butterflies. The subtle nod, while noted, garnered no reaction from the determined knight beyond a shift of her eyes downward in momentary prayer for having survived that moment with the Countess of Hyperion.

Without even fully understanding what she had done, Addie's smile turned from the easy graceful one given to everyone, to the genuine warm and open display that only those closest to her are given. Teren's positive words lifted her eyes to his, in an unabashed display of adoration and pink cheeks that only glowed more with Lycan's follow-up.

A mutual understanding, I assure you... Addie's capacity for humility overflowed with the feelings of pride, tugging the crooked half-smile shyly from her lips as their hands were squeezed gently in gratitude with the pad of her thumb tracing slow archs against their warm skin at the phrase 'our wife'. I am not ever going to get tired of hearing you call me that.

Finally, it seemed her heart rate and breathing had found sync with Teren and Lycans and eased the line of of her shoulders with relief at one more lifeline to cling to with all of Nishan currently now staring at them.

Setting aside the gold braided ribbon for the time being the High-Priestess of the Federation speaks forcefully in a dulcet soprano threaded through with the iron will of a woman of war. "There is no one 'foundation' in any relationship. Not between enemies. Not between allies. Not between friends. Certainly not within a family. The relationships in our lives are based on a collective and persistent engagement of mental, emotional, physical and material resources. We build our bonds with others by opening ourselves up to the necessity of compromise. No one will ever have 'their way' all of the time."

#The Trinity Wedding #Teren x Lycan x Adilynia

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catsynth-express · 3 years

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A Perfectly Clear Day 2021

I have on many years posted “A Perfectly Clear Day” on September 11. This 20th anniversary may be the last.

In November of 2001, I was back in New York and went to an exhibition of 9-11 photography. I purchased this print of a photo by Anthony Domino (with proceeds going to victims’ and first-responders’ funds).

It is a beautiful picture of a horrific ruin. I had it framed. But I can’t look at it often. It sits safely in a closet.

As for today, I don’t know that I could express the mixed feelings any better than I did on A Perfectly Clear Day 2018, so I invite you to read that. The thing that is different now is the pandemic. A far larger, far more catastrophic event. And this time I have not been able to go back to New York. I did not go at all in 2020, and whether or not I will be able to go in 2021 remains a question. The fear, anger, and trauma I have in 2020/2021 are no longer turned outward towards an external threat, but rather inward at people in our own country. But that is a story for another, less perfectly clear day.

So much has happened and changed in 20 years. It is time to put this tradition to rest.

A Perfectly Clear Day 2021 was originally published on CatSynth

#9-11 #9-11 memorial #new york #Personal #Photography #ruins #september 11 #WTC #catsynth

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swedna · 4 years

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While it wasn’t an official visit, the first occupant of the WhiteHouse to land on the shores of India was Ulysses S Grant, and likely not the last with, let’s say a dodgy sense of aesthetics. The 18th President of the United States, Grant served two consecutive terms in office between 1869 and 1877 and was also the Commanding General of the US Army when the Civil War was won. Soon after his term ended, Grant and his wife Julia set forth on a two-and-a-half-year world tour that aimed to project the US as an outward looking power ready to engage with the world. Grant arrived in Mumbai in February 1879 aboard USS Richmond and undertook the customary trip, on elephant back, to the Taj Mahal in Agra, whereupon the Grants thought it beautiful but not more than the Capitol Hill building. Grant met the then Viceroy Robert Lytton in Kolkata and professed admiration for his father Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s novels. In 1982, the San Jose State University instituted the annual, tongue-in-cheek Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest to award the worst possible opening lines of a novel as a tribute to Bulwer-Lytton’s “It was a dark stormy night” in his 1830 work Paul Clifford.

It remains to be seen what reluctant traveler Donald J Trump, the 45th President of the US on his two-day visit between February 24-26 makes of the spartan Sabarmati Ashram, the Taj Mahal, or the ‘Namaste, Trump’ rally in Ahmedabad where PM Narendra Modi assures there would be “millions and millions” in attendance.

ALSO READ: Namaste, Trump: A timeline of US Presidents' India visits since Eisenhower

Beyond the bearhugs and protestations of great personal bond between the two leaders, this visit carries a more transactional flavour than other recent presidential trips to India. Unlike in the past, a trade deal between the two occupies centerstage, given the context of Trump’s domestic policy priorities. Trump, the self-professed master of deal making has in recent months dubbed India “tariff king” in a tweet pointing towards India’s propensity to heavily tax US exports such as the high-end Harley Davidson motorcycles. India, instinctively wary of trade deals now has more reason to worry considering the deteriorating health of export sector after sector from gems and jewelry to textiles. India’s inability to take any meaningful advantage in return for greater American access to its domestic markets perhaps explains its lack of enthusiasm on this front. But hey, we’re at least talking business. It wasn’t like this always.

President EisenhowerPrime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru receiving US President Dwight D Eisenhower at Parliament House in 1959, before the President addressed a joint session of Parliament: US Embassy in India The first-ever visit of a serving US President took 12 years in the making since India’s independence. Dwight D Eisenhower, a decorated war hero was welcomed in India as a “Prince of Peace”. The week-long visit was a big success with Eisenhower travelling in an open car with thousands lining the streets. Despite India fronting the distinctly anti-West Non-Aligned Movement, Nehru, the romantic statesman and Eisenhower, the soldier, seemed to have hit it off. Just as Modi might personally show Trump around the Sabarmati Ashram, Nehru in 1959 offered the Eisenhowers a guided tour of the Taj. Eisenhower was lavish in his praise for India from the get-go. “In fulfilling a desire of many years, I pay in person America’s tribute to Indian people, to their culture, to their progress and to their strength among independent nations,” he declared on arrival, adding that it was a personal pilgrimage of sorts. Not only that, in his address to a special joint session of parliament, Eisenhower spoke about American support to India in the face of any external acts of aggression.

It could be that the two had cultivated more than an acquaintance when Nehru was conferred an honorary doctorate by Columbia University in 1949 when Eisenhower was its president. But matters of commerce hardly figured. Perhaps knowing Nehru’s not-so-charitable views on American wealth, there was no business delegation that accompanied Eisenhower—something that’s an essential part of bilateral head of state visits in the twenty first century.

In rising heat of the Cold War the bonhomie quickly evaporated. Nehru’s reciprocal visit to the US in 1961 during John F Kennedy’s presidency was a testy affair given India’s embrace of Soviet Union.

Richard Nixon’s visit a decade after Eisenhower could charitably be described a disaster. It was more a 22-hour stopover than a full-fledged state visit. You only need to scan the New York Times’ pages on the eve of Nixon’s visit to get a sense of its lack of purpose. So wide was the gulf of distrust between the two nations, and India’s inconsequence in the larger scheme of things that none of the issues you’d normally expect—South Asian regional stability, the Indo-Pakistan arms race, unrest in East Pakistan or the Chinese threat—made the headlines. The touring party was more worried about droppings from Delhi’s trees.

Richard NixonUS President Richard Nixon with Prime Minister Indira Gandhi at Rashtrapati Bhawan in New Delhi, July 31, 1969. Photo: White House “If Mr Nixon rides under clear skies with the top of his bubblecar down, he will have to beware the fallout from Delhi’s ubiquitous Jamun trees. Their purplish bounty, a semi-sour cherry like fruit with a big, hard pit, splatters indiscriminately on heads of passers by these days,” noted NYT. Not many were surprised when declassified US papers showed the contempt Nixon had for Prime Minster Indira Gandhi. The sentiment was certainly mutual. A year later, she returned the favour by not attending Nixon’s banquet for heads of state on the sidelines on the UN’s 25th anniversary celebrations. Jimmy Carter’s visit in 1978 too wasn’t any more memorable than Nixon’s. Carter said he loved reading the Bhagwat Gita presented to him by Prime Minister Morarji Desai. Carter in return offered Desai the two-volume Journal of American writer Henry Thoreau.

Bill ClintonBill Clinton visited India in 2000 in the backdrop of the Kargil war From 1947 to 2000, there had only been three US presidential visits to India. Since 2000, counting Trump’s, there would be five. It was perhaps an acknowledgement of India’s growing economic and strategic importance for the US. While Bill Clinton charmed Indians in 2000 in the backdrop of the Kargil war and signalled the end to post-Pokhran nuclear test sanctions, substantive gains were made during George W Bush’s visit in 2006 with signing of the landmark civilian nuclear deal.

Barack Obama is the only US president to make two state visits to India in 2010 and 2015. The second, a hastily arranged special invitation as chief guest on Republic Day. In 2010, with Manmohan Singh as PM, who Obama had referred to as a “Global Guru” at a G20 Summit for his leadership in diffusing the global financial crisis, the expectations were understandably high. Both had a reputation of being cerebral. While Obama’s celebrity quotient having become the first Black President of the US with a landslide win was at its peak, Singh too had won a second term in office with a bigger mandate for the Congress Party. The gush of warmth seemed unstoppable. If Clinton de-hyphenated India and Pakistan, Bush invested plenty of personal political capital on getting the nuclear deal through, Obama followed the path of the predecessors with greater vigour. At least that’s what it looked back in 2010. Moreover, in his address to the joint session of parliament, Obama publicly endorsed India’s candidacy for a permanent seat in the UN Security Council—the first US President to do so.

Barack ObamaPresident Barack Obama and Prime Minister Manmohan Singh chat during the State Dinner at Rashtrapati Bhavan, the presidential palace, in New Dehli, India, Nov. 8, 2010. Photo: White House By 2015, the Modi bearhug had well and truly arrived on the international diplomatic arena and Obama was one its early recipients. There was to be no parliamentary address during this short visit, but enough time for the man derided as chaiwala to personally make a cup of tea over a televised tete-a-tete in the lawns of the PM’s residence. The infamous monogrammed Modi suit too made an appearance during that visit. Pomp, pageantry and symbolism trumped over substance.

With a decelerating economy that weakens India’s hands on geopolitical issues, would Trump’s visit too go down that route? Maybe, just maybe, unlike the Grants, Ivanka and Donald Trump might think Taj more beautiful than Trump Towers. One wouldn’t bet on it, though.

#White

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giving-an-account-on-youtube · 4 years

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The apology video 101

The public apology on YouTube operates on a somewhat consistent set of rules, and differs from public apologies on conventional media outlets.

These videos are made by influencers, or “cults of 'micro-celebrity‘”, who become influential to a population by promoting themselves as idols (Cocker and Cronin 456). Cocker and Cronin propose new media micro-celebrities, also known as ‘the common people’, differ from their predecessors on traditional media outlets due to a “communal interdependence between the contemporary culted figure and his/her community of followers” (457). However, the prevalence of charisma leaves their followers vulnerable to manipulation, as influencers often act not for the better good but for their own personal gain (458).

This may help explain why the apology takes on a new form, as the persuasion and manipulation tactics these micro-celebrities have acquired allow them to avoid addressing the real consequences of their actions, leading to the least amount of actual remorse felt and expressed to their audience.

Let’s learn about how to make an apology video via PewDiePie, an influencer who has a ton of experience doing so:

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PewDiePie’s Golden Rules

1. Emphasize that making this video has been painful. Use a sigh for further emphasis.

2. Never admit you were wrong, in fact shift blame at every chance you get! You can also underplay your mistake as much as possible, for instance, emphasizing that it was 6 years ago. However, also emphasize that you take full responsibility.

3. Victimize yourself: “I’m getting cyberbullied; I have received death threats”

Oh, and these aren’t officially stated as rules but:

4. Get someone else to write a script so that it doesn’t sound like you, since you’re bound to mess up. Also use a different tone than your usual videos.

Look at Logan’s energy intonation and language in his apology:

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vs. literally ANY other video of him. Just watch the first minute of this masterpiece:

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5. Treat your apology like your audition for the lead role in the Greek tragedy put on as your eighth grade school play.

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Note: it’s obvious that PewDiePie is being sarcastic and that these manipulation tactics are antirules. Or, are they? Perhaps they operate effectively when they are used subtly as to not exceed human consciousness, and when they are not used conjunction. They are after all persuasion strategies that can evoke empathy and the illusion of remorse more than an abrupt “sorry”, regardless if they are unethical and avoidant strategies.

In other words:

An apology video is a convention on YouTube in which an influencer deemed corrupt creates an often scripted, performative account of their mistake that was uncovered. Often pressured into doing so, they are hailed into taking an account of themselves. What they try to conceal is that often, the blame is redirected to someone else while they seemingly are still held accountable. As well, they often have lawyers and PR teams telling them exactly what to say. This and other manipulation tactics can work to effectively say nothing in the entire video while seemingly addressing the audience in an intimate way.

Why would anyone worship such figures? They sound horrible.

Beyond the entertainment value inherent in their charisma, a sort of in-group mentality forms among the culted followers where their self-worth and status are elevated from being part of the collective, and they come to recognize that they are crucial factor to creating this figure in the first place (Cocker and Cronin 462). I guess you could say, they are in effect playing God.

This mentality is damaging as the followers actually are not actually part of a democracy, since there is an unequal axis of power between the consumer and influencer (qtd. in Cocker and Cronin 458). As Galloway states, network bidirectionality, once thought to promote democracy, promotes the control and subjection of users (291).

This is carried out through a decentralized network on YouTube where power imbalance is promoted. It is a system where “hierarchical star [centralized] subnetworks, the hubs of which are interconnected via backbone links into a larger amalgam” (288). YouTube itself is not decentralized, but the operations of its users make it appears as a variant of such where users aggregate on multiple channels to be controlled and influenced simultaneously by many different users at once.

According to Jagoda, it is not the form of the network that determines whether or not there is democracy; networks themselves exist in a long tradition of control and capture, leading to inevitable reconstructions of these apparatuses (14). However, Jagoda does not discount the ability for subjects to oppose this power.

In this sense, followers may revolt against an influencer if they feel they are being manipulated. This may be partially based on the fact that their self-identities are threatened by ‘discursive and productive monopolies’ and thus they react to defend themselves (qtd in Cocker and Cronin 467). Criticism towards an influencer can evolve into ‘cancel culture’, an organized boycott of a channel in which former followers delegitimize and “destroy the force, effectiveness or validity of” the influencer (qtd. in Asmelash). This is accomplished by posting hate videos, nasty comments about the person, refusing to watch their videos, unsubscribing from their channel, allegations about the person (both true and false), and/or an overall divestment from their goods and services (e.g. tickets to their live show, their ‘merch’, etc.)

While the radical cases of followers revolting on YouTube marks the potential for power to be redistributed on YouTube, it must be noted that the power structure followers are revolting against are not merely symbolic: they are too in fact people. While influencers fabricate stories and manipulate their audience, the psychological warfare of an army of criticism can lead to negative consequences. For instance, take this high schooler’s account of being cancelled: “I have issues with trusting perfectly normal things. That sense of me being some sort of monster, terrible person, burden to everyone, has stayed with me to some extent. There’s still this sort of lingering sense of: What if I am?” (Yar and Bromwich)

It’s also unhealthy for those who are doing the cancelling, as Amitay states: "For the people who are doing the cancelling, in the short run it makes them feel good. It gives them an illusion of power, of control, of virtue. Afterward, the people with insight realize, 'I haven't actually done anything good. I'm avoiding my own issues” (qtd. in Cross Country Checkup).

Cancelling someone also prevents the perpetrator from making the decision to improve from their mistakes (Yar and Bromwich). However, it could also be said that cancelling can’t prevent them from repeating their actions again in the future, nor can it reverse the damage imposed while that person was in power (Asmelash). Finally, it is clear that in many cases cancelling someone doesn’t actually work (Ellis). This means that in effect the force of cancel culture is an illusion.

So, if cancelling someone isn’t a solution, then maybe influencers must become more aware of how they impact their followers, and when apologizing address their followers in a way that they at least seem to take responsibility for their actions.

Why give an account of oneself in the first place?

The way that the “I” gives an account of itself is from a position determined by norms and structures external to itself (Butler 4). Thus the self constructs a hypothesis about its emergence, hailed by the structures of power under a ‘system of justice and punishment’ that operate on it (5). Nietzsche believes "accountability follows only upon an accusation... one made by someone in a position to deal out punishment if causality can be established. And we become reflective upon ourselves, accordingly, through fear and terror” (Butler 6). This reflects why influencers may not be regretful of their actions; according to Nietzsche, the driving force behind their account is not primarily moral.

Giving an account of oneself admits the possibility of one’s wrongdoings...

The narrative form of taking an account of oneself implies that we accept causality, albeit not necessarily blame, of our negative effect on others (6). While this does not necessarily mean giving an account is an apology, it links itself intrinsically to a mode of relationality with the world. Maybe an account is a somewhat moral form after all.

Foucault also argues that an account is not a mode of operant conditioning but an outward mimesis of moral standards (Butler 8). The subject’s creation of the self in relation to moral standards is increasingly complex and unresolvable:

“The norm does not produce the subject as its necessary effect, nor is the subject fully free to disregard the norm that inaugurates its reflexivity; one invariably struggles with conditions of one's own life that one could not have chosen. If there is an operation of agency or, indeed, freedom in this struggle, it takes place in the context of an enabling and limiting field of constraint. This ethical agency is neither fully determined nor radically free. Its struggle or primary dilemma is to be produced by a world, even as one must produce oneself in some way. This struggle with the unchosen conditions of one's life, a struggle —an agency—is also made possible, paradoxically, by the persistence of this primary condition of un-freedom” (Butler 10).

The self is always operating in a bidirectionality with others, and is not always aware of its actions, thus operates as a fractured and fluid entity that cannot fully be transparent to itself (10-11). One’s inability to fully account for oneself is insignificant in the service of one’s duty to use that account to relate to others (14). In fact, the self is a fractured, imaginary phenomenon, that only exists when it is linguistically constituted in address to another (16).

So, when an influencer gives an account of themself, they must acknowledge their subjection in the world and reliance on other people, as the social systems around them and the vastness of the other (their audience) can thrust them into this action. They can be constitutive in their self-knowledge only to a certain extent. Hence, we realize that although followers have no control over the actions of the influencer in terms of the future, in the instant of demanding they take account of oneself they have momentarily interrupted the axis of power, engaging in a linguistic levelling of the field.

Okay… So how does one actually give an account of oneself?

The ultimate goals of taking an account of oneself is to use a personal narrative to respond to said accusations. In this process you should use persuasion and accept or deny blame (6). Butler also claims that silence can be expressive in questioning. Does this seem familiar? Yes, PewDiePie seems to somewhat agree! While he may be sarcastic that you should redirect all blame (as he truly believes you should take your responsibility for your actions), Butler’s radical claim is that you can do either.

Further, since the “I” has access only to a partial and fractured account of its history, any narrative of its motives is a fictional creative exercise of making sense of past actions (21). While this means that any justification is made acceptable, since it is not possible to accurately represent the self, there should be no claims to authenticity made during an account.

Taking an account is therefore not a willing act in knowledge but a construction of the self given performative aspirations. It is a relationality with the other through speech act, affective content and persuasion. We could say, in this sense, no influencer is thus capable of learning from their mistakes, as their mistakes too will be forgotten and therefore reconstructed. Any claims to the future become redundant phantasms.

The performative

When influencers claim they will improve on their past actions, they are thus not ontologically accountable for doing so. Any speech act should be regarded as performative.

How shall we construct this performative?

Let’s look at Miller’s essay Performativity as Performance/ Performativity asSpeech Act: Derrida’s Special Theory of Performativity.

Austin’s theory of a ‘felicitous performative’ indicates the interlocutor as accountable for any speech act due to an enduring stable self (Miller 227). This already discounts the theory from being compatible with an account of oneself.

Thus we may look at its dichotomous theory, Butler’s performativity doctrine that any act is in effect valid since selfhood is an illusion and thus we can enact any identity we choose (Miller 229). This seems to be more compatible with her own conclusions of taking an account of oneself.

Derrida would be a contender except that his theory of performativity accepts the possibility of bringing an idea into the world through a speech act, denoting there is causality and truth value to a declaration (Miller 230).

James Charles’ first apology *FAIL*

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James Charles redirects his apology to extreme, avoiding taking an account of himself like the plague. This video is total bucket of hogwash, as he effectively does nothing to persuade people as to think he has remorse the entire video. The effect is that nobody believes him or takes him seriously.

Let’s go through each of PewDiePie’s and Butler’s tips on taking an account of oneself and see how James held up:

PewDiePie

1. Emphasize that making this video has been painful. Use a sigh for further emphasis.

James risks looking disingenuous as his sighs were so overexaggerated and frankly ridiculous. PewDiePie notices at one point James starts to smile but blows out air very slowly to try to mask it.

2. Never admit you were wrong, shift blame at every chance you get but also emphasize that you take full responsibility. You can also underplay your mistake as much as possible, for instance, emphasizing that it was 6 years ago.

James claims he takes total blame for what he did, but arguably the most ridiculous part of the video is when he contradicts this saying he already spoke his truth yet says receipts don’t matter. While this is seemingly in line with PewDiePie’s suggestion to contradict yourself, the less offensive way to do this is to redirect responsibility by blaming someone else, rather than underplaying the mistake to the point where you fail to address it.

3. Victimize yourself: “I’m getting cyberbullied; I have received death threats”

While he doesn’t exactly do this, the fact that he says he’s upset that he disappointed people who look up to him as a role model could be a more covert way to blame audience for shaming him.

As well, by saying ‘there will always be people who don’t believe me’ is in effect victimizing himself as someone that will be unjustly hated, while ignoring the fact he has given them no reason to believe him in the first place.

Butler

1. “use your narrative to respond to said accusations. In this process you should use persuasion and accept or deny blame” (6).

Perhaps the largest fault of James’ video is his claim that any account of himself is irrelevant. He thus reveals that relationality is not important to him, and denies the psychic damage he has imposed on those involved in the scandals and his audience, who no longer trust him.

James addresses that he has brought up ‘the Coachella Situation’ twice already and that addressing it again is irrelevant. Yet, a lot of his viewers were left confused as this was their first time hearing about the situation, so the video is in effect pointless.

James also says: “At this point, the truth really does not matter.” He is in effect implying that he has no position on his own innocence, which is exactly what Butler cautions against.

He never discusses any specific damage he has caused to people, nor addresses any of the rumours made about him. He even goes so far to address his mother, who has nothing to do with the situation, and praise her for raising him well. Neither PewDiePie nor I can begin to understand why James would address his mother over his YouTube channel instead of calling her like a normal personal. This really emphasizes how the video is overtly performative and not genuine. The least he could do is apologize to those actually affected.

James says sorry to Tati for everything he put her through over the past few weeks. But, he doesn’t apologize or address the situation with the boys he apparently harrassed to say if he is guilty or not. Nor does he apologize to his audience, who feel that he has been and continues to be disingenuous to them as well.

What’s worse is that instead of taking blame, or appearing to take blame before redirecting the accusations, for actually doing what he did (whatever that is, he didn’t address it!), he takes blame for telling people about it. This really makes him look like he is hiding something, rather than taking responsibility.

2. Silence can be expressive in questioning.

Yes, this is true, however, the amount of silence and parsing that James uses comes across disingenuous. Especially in comparison to his other videos where he talks twice the speed of an average YouTuber. Thus the constructedness of the video becomes apparent. PewDiePie’s subscribers mentioned this on his reaction video, for instance Summer H-B commented “I never thought the day would come when someone would tell James to speak faster, but here we are.”

3. There should be no claims to authenticity made.

James opens up the video by saying “A lot of my career over the past few years has been about me making mistakes and trying to learn from them... But I have always tried.”

This may seem genuine enough, but he then proceeds to say “I wish I could say this is the last time I’m going to make a mistake, but it won’t be.”

If Jameds claims that he tries to get better from his mistakes, he should not move on to claim he will continue to make them. From Butler’s account of performativity, it is okay to make promises as long as they remain empty and believable. As long as the other person can make sense of them being true, there is no reason to ask them to believe you. The onus falls on them to make a decision, as you have no moral ground to be telling the truth. While we know that the self has no real access to authenticity, to a naïve audience a promise of improvement may make his claim to authenticity admissible. Yet, his seeming contradiction takes away any validity from his account.

As he proceeds, he says “I know that I will disappoint people more and more as I continue to grow every single day.”

This phrasing camouflages itself as an attempt to improve the self, but ultimately is exposed by Foucault’s acknowledgement that the self is incapable of improvement without the constitution external to itself by others. In other words, to say you will attempt to improve yourself but do not expect the support of others poses a contradiction, as it is impossible to become a whole person without relationality. Thus any promise of improvement is at once deconstructed by the others conception of the self. James may be phrasing it this way to subconsciously excuse himself from any further reactionary and damaging actions he takes. So any attempt that James made in this video at self redemption are futile. This becomes particularly apparent when PewDiePie deconstructs his actions in the video itself.

PewDiePie’s suggestions to James:

Keep your message clear and concise, the quicker a message is to say the quicker it will spread.

Actually address the situation for those who are not aware, otherwise you do not gain the opportunity for support. As well, it invites people to come up with false accusations since you are not defending yourself.

Don’t say ‘there will always be people who don’t believe me’ because you are trying to persuade these people! You’re putting blame on them which is insulting and further victimizing yourself.

An apology video should be about and addressed to the people you are apologizing to.

James says "Other times I have acted out of impulse,” but nothing has changed in this video. By uploading it the day after Tati’s, it further adds to his image as reactionary and is released when people are still at their height of anger and prejudice against you. It would be wiser to take time to process the situation and come up with a mature and thoughtful response.

PewDiePie suggests a better narrative for James to use: “becoming famous so young has caused a negative impact on my personality and now that I realize that I will work to repair myself and the relationships I have damaged. I’m sorry to everyone that I hurt and disappointed. What I did was wrong.”

From these suggestions, it seems that PewDiePie is advocating for a performative technique to save James’ self-image. However, he closes the video by saying the best technique is to just be honest. This seems to contradict himself, as he admits that he does not know a ton about James or anything at all about the situation, yet he constructs a narrative about how James can ‘be honest’. So, maybe by ‘honesty’ PewDiePie really means to simply take account of oneself in a way that will be positively received by the Other.

Next up... James’ new and improved apology!

In this video he took Pewdiepie’s advice for making a better apology video (not self-improvement), shockingly. First we will go over paranoid reading and the function of knowledge as performative to fully make sense of his strategy.

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puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years

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a friend in need

this one like, makes no sense within the new kontinuity but like, here ya go--fuck it! Pretty much Shao Kahn is invading (as one does), Kronika is absolutely messing with the timelines, and this is definitely like 25 years in the future so you have Dad!Johnny and a Liu Kang who has just flirted with death by Raiden, who is now wielding Shinnok’s shitty amulet, which means Shinnok is also headless, but like fuck that guy amirite? This time, he doesn’t deliver the head to Revenant Kitana and Liu Kang because they aren’t revenants, there was no assault on the netherrealm. OH and as always, uh, tumblr doesn’t preserve italics so if it’s incoherent ... it’s ‘cause I’m a lazy piece of shit and I didn’t wanna go back through and dig ‘em up.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Faraday Cage (implied??)

Prevented Timeline

Energy crackled and radiated outward, sparking off pavement, trees, vehicles, people—anything with which it came in contact. Fires had erupted all over and people were fighting them as best they could, but with little hope of relief. At the center was an angry god, grieved at great loss, enraged beyond his own ability to control.

Earthrealm could not be protected by a weak, fatherly deity; Raiden understood that now, and it scared him. His own weakness scared him. His foolishness scared him. The “justice” of the Elder Gods scared him. He would end this fight and all fights, because they, for some reason, were not. He had to do this; there was no other way. Why did no one understand? He was singular in his purpose and not even the chosen of Earthrealm, Liu Kang, could stand in his way.

“He must win.”

Raiden had finally reached the conclusion that the “he” in question was not Liu Kang, earthrealm’s chosen, but Shao Kahn, the bloodthirsty outworld dictator. Reality shivered under the threat of the merging, however, and still the Elder Gods did not step in. How far would this have to go? Did they know that Shao Kahn’s army was, even now, trampling the tenuous pact between the realms? Did they care?

“Liu, over here!” It was Johnny Cage, older now, a father, and proud of his little girl, but right now, damn near shitting in his britches to see Raiden this way. He offered an arm and pulled Liu Kang to his feet. He and a few others were taking shelter behind a small building which shook with the march of outworld foot soldiers and presently began to flicker with a terrible energy.

“Your tournament is canceled, puny god! I have rescinded my generous invitation!” Shao Kahn called, raising his great hammer to the sky as Outworld merged with Earthrealm, tearing down buildings and reconstructing them in hideous amalgams. People fled and were trampled; people stood and were gored. He would line the streets with bodies before the day was out and only Raiden stood before him. Raiden, who had fought his own, dear Liu Kang, who had defied him nearly to death.

Had he died? Was Liu Kang dead? Raiden could not see him. He could not see anything past the haze of fury clouding his vision and judgment. I have killed him, again, as it was said I always will, as I always must. The thought was errant, not his own, and be brushed it aside, focusing on Shao Kahn and the present. It was his only choice.

“I see ‘em from here, Liu, and it’s… this is fucked,” grunted the Hollywood star, handing the binoculars over to his daughter, Cassie. She shook her head.

“Hold still, Chosen One, your guts’ve been rearranged by a pissed off god—maybe take it easy.”

“If I ‘take it easy’, we all die,” Liu Kang snapped, jaw tight. Jacqui gave him a look that suggested she would take no lip, no matter how damn chosen he was. She could see from the way he held himself, the way his muscles tensed and tightened, that he was going to get much worse before he got better, especially if he pushed. They might not have a choice, soon enough, but while they did, there was no point risking it.

He met her gaze, burning with rage and sadness, with his own. They were matched in this way, both earthrealm natives with everything and more to lose, both people who had fought, tooth and nail, against this very thing. Sitting by idly and wishing things were otherwise was not something to which either Liu Kang or Jacqui Briggs were accustomed.

“Dad!” They looked up suddenly at Cassie’s shout, pulled from their moment of mutual grief. She was reaching out to an empty space where Johnny had just been standing. Before she could go after him, Jacqui was at her back, grasping her elbow, hard.

“No,” she hissed, “you’ll be fried—we don’t know if Raiden’s friendly anymore… if he ever was.” Cassie jerked her elbow away, but Jacqui held tight and shook her head. “I mean it, Cass. Your dad’s… gunna do what he’s gunna do, just like mine.”

Raiden and Shao Kahn met somewhere in the middle, just beyond the portal the Outworld emperor had opened to begin the invasion and merging of Earthrealm to his blasted home. Still, the Elder gods did not stir.

The thunder god looked into the emperor’s animal eyes and neither hated nor pitied him. Raiden’s rage was beyond petty hatred for the man which had caused his beloved Earthrealm so much grief over the centuries. He would simply destroy Shao Kahn. It had become singularly simple in his eyes. He had been a fool. He would end this once and for all, for everyone, forever.

Perhaps it was the look, the nearly directionless fury which met his eyes that made Shao Kahn drop Raiden. Johnny Cage, who had worked himself much closer than was probably safe, watched from a ways off and still could not pinpoint what it was that had Shao Kahn backing away from the thunder god.

“It is forbidden for you to fight,” Shao Kahn warned, with more authority and sureness in his voice than it seemed he felt. Even his minions began to back away as Raiden’s arced, red lightning crashed violently into them, disintegrating here, vaporizing there, starting fires all over. Raiden’s chest heaved with the effort of either sustaining the onslaught, or holding it back, Johnny wasn’t sure.

On that heaving chest, Shinnok’s awful amulet pulsed with life and light, beckoning and promising strength. Raiden reached for it, but hesitated, seemingly doubting himself for the merest fraction of a second. It was in that span of time that Shao Kahn regained his courage and swung again. This time, he would have caught the god of thunder on the chin, had it not been for the quick footwork of Johnny Cage.

This time, boots met hammer and the clash was not so even. Shao Kahn drove Johnny back into a building. His back hit concrete and he was certain he felt something snap, but if he gave up now, Raiden was absolutely going to do something stupid. He didn’t understand Shinnok’s power, or even who and what Shinnok really was, or had been, as the case was, but he knew an evil piece of jewelry when he saw it.

“Time for a scene change,” he grunted, pushing himself to his feet and spitting blood. The tang of adrenaline was on his tongue and coursed through his veins, making him hyper focus upon this detail or that. Johnny fancied he could hear Cassie screaming somewhere in the distance, but right now, his focus was on the battle before him.

“Pathetic, and weak.” Each descriptor was punctuated with a sharp wag of his finger toward Raiden’s chest and the deadly amulet which sat thereupon.

“I am not weak—I am doing as I have always done. I am protecting Earthrealm.” His hand once more rose to the amulet. “Whatever that takes, I will do it.”

With that, he wound up a massive store of radiant, red energy and hurled it at Shao Kahn. The tyrant was hurled back mightily, taking out a score of his foot soldiers as he flew. Raiden continued forward, his pace slow, but deliberate. The troops of outworld were suddenly cowed by this display, as if their fellows being randomly vaporized had not been enough. Something had shifted, they sensed, and they began to back away.

“You are forbidden, Raiden!” This time, Shao Kahn’s voice was laced with fear; the confidence he had earlier displayed with his first remark of this kind had evidently deserted him in the face of what Raiden had become. Once more, the deity slowly reached for Shinnok’s amulet. It was as if a very small part of him still fought for his own innocence, whatever might have been left of it.

Meanwhile, Johnny had begun to close the distance between himself and the wrathful god. He could feel his hair standing on end with the force of the red lightning radiating outward from Raiden’s body. He was tense, the actor could see that from where he was, and… Are those tears? He shook off the thought as a stray bolt vaporized a fire hydrant less than a yard from him; it burst into a geyser of city water which soon began raining down upon everyone in the vicinity.

“Now or never,” he told himself, taking a deep breath and fully expecting to be vaporized like the fire hydrant. It would be guts, however, not water spraying about, if he was lucky. Speaking of the water, too much of it, and Johnny would be zapped for sure; he was already soaked to the bone. Oh like it’s any different than what I’m about to do, he hissed internally, covering his face to keep his sunglasses dry. He needed to be able to see for this one. Johnny simply told himself that god lightning was different than the regular stuff and, in a burst of foolish energy, tossed himself around the trash bin and ran, full tilt, toward Raiden’s position.

A wayward bolt struck his glasses, tossing them from his face and exploding stars before his eyes. Johnny stumbled and, somewhere in the distance—she sounded thousands of miles away—he thought he could hear Cassie’s voice calling his name. He prayed someone was holding her back, because if this went south, as he was almost sure it would, she would be about to fight a hurricane with a pair of pistols. Raiden was not going to be stopped, but Johnny felt that it was his duty to try. Liu’s shouldered too fuckin’ much already—my turn, he reasoned, forcing himself to keep going, running harder and faster than he had ever done in his life.

Raiden had stopped his inexorable stride and Shao Kahn looked on in bewilderment as the earthrealm action star closed the gap, running directly into that deadly lightning. He had been so sure Johnny’s miserable back had broken against that building. There was something to be said for the tenacity of a cornered, wounded animal.

“Stop it, man!” Johnny called, reaching a hand out. Raiden still did not move, but neither did he cease his bombardment. Shao Kahn’s forces were at a standstill, watching, for once uncertain of the correct path. Some were even edging toward the portal, back to outworld and relative safety. “Raiden—you listening to me? You don’t hafta—”

A bolt struck him square in the chest and he dropped to his knees, eyes wide, staring with pain and fear at the man—the god—who had struck him down. Raiden seemed to shift a little at that and then to turn. Johnny had caught his attention and would have held it but for Shao Kahn’s voice. “An earthrealm fraud has halted your march, Lord Raiden—what sort of god are you?!” He urged his forces forward, but no one stirred. Shao Kahn looked around and once more met Raiden’s eyes, which were again trained upon him. Raiden covered Shinnok’s dark amulet with his hand.

“No more.”

Cassie continued to scream. Johnny could hear her now. He was coming to, realizing that he was not, in fact, dead, nor even too terribly scorched. At the last moment, evidently, the magic of his strange heritage had leapt up to protect him, but he could feel in his bones that this would not happen again. He had one chance. For Cassie, he thought, all those kids—for Liu and Sonya, for Jax, and Earthrealm. His heart thudded and he started forward, first at a trot, the once more at a leaping gallop. For Raiden.

“Christ,” he grunted, “is this what you’re feeling?”

It was then that the outworld dictator chose to rush them. With him leading the charge, his hordes felt renewed confidence and vigor and lunged forth as one, howling their triumph over earthrealm. Raiden seemed frozen in place, but only for a moment. He seemed suddenly to come back to himself, as if he had been far away, no longer in control of his limbs or actions—certainly of his lightning.

He wrapped one powerful arm around Johnny, who still held him, and with the other, lashed a wide, sweeping arc of blue-white lightning across the crowd, thus releasing his hold on the wicked amulet. Shao Kahn’s hammer protected him, but his troops were not so lucky. There was a smell of ozone and charred flesh left hanging in the air when Shao Kahn opened his eyes and straightened.

“Send your champion to face me, then!” Shao Kahn shouted, beating his chest, his hubris undiminished. His tone was desperate, and he seemed far too eager, too frantic, to regain and retain control over this place. Johnny looked to Raiden, then back to Shao Kahn. He knew what this meant. He’d been at this long enough.

“So you’re declaring Mortal Kombat?” Johnny was going to be absolutely clear on this one, since… god contracts and all that—or something. He wasn’t wholly certain on this point, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. Shao Kahn seemed actually to consider this. His troops were slaughtered or retreating, Raiden was placated for the time being, but who knew how long that could last? His konquest had begun unlawfully, but for the loophole of his not quite initiating a merging of realms. That would be his next step—because if there existed no earthrealm champions to defend her, then who would stop him?

“Yes, earthrealm clown,” Shao Kahn rumbled, slapping the handle of his great hammer on one rough palm.

“Mime, actually,” came another voice from across a few lanes of what would have been traffic. Emerging from the alley where they were taking shelter, Liu Kang led their friends, injured and whole, into the open. He was supported by a grimacing Jacqui Briggs, but it was clear from his expression that no was not an answer he would be hearing today. Raiden’s shoulders sagged a little in relief; he had not killed Liu Kang after all.

“Thank you, Liu—wait hang on…” Johnny narrowed his eyes at his friend, a younger version of Liu Kang, one he had not seen in years, that was, before all this fuckery came about. The Shaolin fighter did not respond and seemed, for a moment, not to be able to meet Johnny’s eyes. In fact, if Johnny wasn’t tripping completely, he could have sworn that the guy was blushing. Still got it, he thought, grinning.

“Whoa, whoa, pumpkin, easy, huh?” He looked between Shao Kahn and his daughter and realized he would rather face the outworld tyrant. “C’mon—easy, what was your old man s’posed to do?”

“You did,” said the god, inclining his head toward her, “but you are not incorrect.”

Cassie was sheepish and mumbled another apology. Raiden seemed to understand her position, however, and addressed it no more. Instead, he turned his attention upon the waiting tyrant.

“When will this foolishness subside so that I can begin the konquest of your filthy realm, Raiden?!” Shao Kahn was growing impatient. “The earthrealmer has declared Mortal Kombat and I accept, on the terms that, when I win, the merge will begin and you, pitiful servant of the Elder Gods, will stand aside and bow to their will as you have always done!”

“Guess it’s not, Liu—stand back and watch.” Johnny would hear no more, turning toward his opponent and shouting. “I accept your terms, Shao Kahn—winner take all.” I mean, I’m not gunna take over outworld, but like… it sounds pretty good when I say it out loud, his fevered brain nattered.

“By the rules of Mortal Kombat, the challenge must be taken up by the one who declared it. I am sorry, Liu Kang, but this fight indeed belongs to Johnny Cage.”

With a single shot, Raiden, god of thunder and protector of earthrealm, ended it all.

Shao Kahn was vapor, dust in the light breeze that had begun to pick up. Johnny picked himself up, heart hammering once more, and looked between the two. Shao Kahn had been mere moments from snapping him in half, powerful hands crushing him wherever they reached, his back beginning to feel the strain of the man’s prodigious strength when, all at once, it was over and he was on the ground.

Coughing and righting himself, Johnny’s only thought was for the thunder god and he rushed back to where Raiden stood, staring, shocked (there was a pun here someplace), at his own hand, as if he had never before seen it. The amulet, curiously, remained upon his chest, unused, bearing no mark of having been harnessed.

“I…” Raiden stammered as Johnny reached him. The others now turned their attention upon Johnny Cage and Raiden, who had sunk to the ground together, Johnny’s rough hands finding either side of Raiden’s face. They were murmuring—mostly Johnny, in point of fact—and no one was sure if they should get close. Liu Kang directed them away and gestured that they ought to start dealing with the portal, which was still open and the merging, which was, indeed, continuing its inexorable work. He hoped, silently, that the Elder Gods actually did decide to step in, because he was no sorcerer, nor was he a god and could not see himself becoming either in the near future.

“Hey,” Johnny hissed, “it’s okay—it’s gunna be fine… You finished it, y’know? It’s—”

“It is not over, Johnny Cage,” responded the god, eyes downcast. “I have upset the balance; the Elder Gods will be furious. The consequences—”

“You know not of what you speak, Johnny Cage,” warned Raiden. Johnny hated that fearful look on Raiden’s face. It was foreign and wrong and did not belong there. Johnny scowled deeply.

“I know a thing or three about shit parents… Listen, this whole… fatherhood thing, y’know, it blows sometimes—no offense Cass; I love ya pumpkin—and it’s… like a never-ending cavalcade of horseshit, nonsense, and doubt.” He shook his head. “I had ONE. I can’t imagine being the… like, dad of a whole-ass world…realm… thingy.” Pursing his lips, Johnny searched for his next words, choosing them carefully. “We spend our whole damn lives worrying and wondering if we did all we could—if we fucked up somewhere along the way and if that… y’know, if it caused more pain than it should’ve, or… more than we knew at the time, or could ever know.” He sighed. “And yeah, it’s gunna do that—it will do that. You’re going to hurt your kids and sometimes meaning well isn’t the be-all, end-all… the ends don’t always justify the means and all that shit… But the bottom line here is that a good parent does THAT, y’know, looks back and… worries… about the process. Getting there ain’t always half the fun, big guy—and frankly, whoever-the-fuck got you here, where you are right now? They’re not the good kind. Just sayin’.”

Raiden looked as if he had never been told that the Elder Gods were poor parents. He looked as if he had never considered them parents at all, which Johnny supposed made sense, since they weren’t exactly physical beings or whatever, but sometimes, one had to wonder at the “my ways are higher than your ways” explanation. He, still holding either side of Raiden’s face, pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. “We’re gunna be all right, man—I promise. I… we… no one’s gunna let anything happen to you—y’know or earthrealm, or whatever.” He had clearly run out of words, for the time being.

“Thank you, Johnny Cage,” whispered Raiden solemnly. “Your faith and fair words mean more to me than you can know.”

“Ah, one more thing, though.” Evidently, Johnny was not completely out of words. “Just… Just Johnny, please? Whenever I hear the whole thing, I kinda assume I’m in deep shit—y’know and y’really don’t wanna go there with a god—‘specially not the kind who can do… y’know, what you just did.”

Raiden regarded what he had just done very carefully, then regarded Johnny. This, he supposed, was a request he could grant, but it felt strange, not addressing him that way.

“If I am correct, then we are, all of us, in ‘deep shit’.”

“Lord Raiden,” Liu Kang called, hobbling toward them. “Forgive me, but that portal isn’t closing itself and I…”

“You ah… okay, dad?”

“I don’t… I dunno, kid. I’m not sure. But he is… and right now, that’s kinda what we need.”

#CC #CW #Faraday Cage #mortal kombat #listen I am just fucking with this multiverse timeline thing so y'know #go wild

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freezing-kaiju · 7 years

Text

Survivors of Shards

Chapter 2

This part focuses on @apollowuzhere‘s character Calcite! Written by me, @apollowuzhere, @irazel, and @grilledwatermelon

SWITCH PERSPECTIVE: Calcite

It was foggy. I wasn’t sure if it was the environment or my mind, but it was foggy. I was floating aimlessly, not sure what to do, or who or where I was. It was orange everywhere; it was bright and dark, clear and clouded. I couldn’t make any sense of it. Then there was the one blotch of purple somewhere in the distance. Even though I didn’t know what it was, it was different. And it was growing.

I saw the shape first, tall, with broad shoulders and a pointed chin. But something was wrong. Its eyes...and body...they were shifting. Melting, almost...and tweaked...twitching. But its eyes were sad, filled not only with tears, but fear and pain. A purple flash from the figure’s center blinded me for a moment as I took it all in.

The figure spoke, but I couldn’t make out the words. It whispered and yelled at the same time, its voice shifting and layered over itself. I didn’t understand, but I could feel a strange sensation running down my cheeks as it became foggier once again.

The next sensation was a warm, tingling one...the feeling of reforming. I was blinded by a bright light as I came back to consciousness. My feet hit a soft surface and, looking around, it was nothing but rubble. Metal shards, craters, and……..gem shards. The glittering colors of my dead colleagues were scattered on the ground around me...although two shimmers came from higher up in my peripheral vision. My head raised to come face to face with an indifferent looking peridot from my ship’s crew. I hadn’t spoken to her much, but we had had passing conversations.

“Ah, you’re up. You’re one of the calcites right?” she asked with little interest.

I said nothing, just giving a slight tilt of my head in agreement. She hummed to herself and went back to organizing whole, functioning gems. They had survived.

The other shine came from a brown-gold gem on the arm of a chubby figure, an Amber. There were not many of them left on homeworld, and I had forgotten she had been on the mission. She was curled in on herself, muttering about her uselessness in this horrific situation, and trembling, her small insect-like wings buzzing with anxiety. I slowly approached the spooked gem, feeling a sense of nostalgia as I got closer.

She lifted her head to meet my eyes, and I stopped in my tracks. I remembered her. She was a bee amber I had planted only a little over a century ago. The sweet little gem was in threat of being shattered when first discovered, so I took it upon myself to plant it. Homeworld and I disagreed on what a waste was. They saw the whole race of ambers as worthless, pathetic gems; even the other calcites refused to plant ambers. I saw the waste in not planting the gem. It can’t be said who that amber could be or what they could do, and they couldn’t do any harm by trying. So when the bee amber was taken away to be shattered, I stood in the way. I took full responsibility for her, which was why she had come with us. Now we were in a wreck, and it was my fault she was here.

I had so many questions. How many others had perished? Were there any other calcites still left? Was this peridot the last one? Who were the ones on the table? Where was Beryl?

Beryl! I rushed over to the peridot and shoved her out of the way, getting a small “hey!” in return. I scanned over the pile of gems: there was a jade, an aventurine, an alabaster, a cuprite, several others, and...there! A beautiful golden gem sparkled in front of me. Yellow Beryl, one of the five who had come on the mission. There had been one beryl for each calcite, and she had been paired with me. She had been one of the only ones I had connected with on the ship. In fact, she had been one of the only ones I had connected with after…….nevermind. I felt the weight of whatever world we were on lift off my shoulders when I held the gem in my hands. Undamaged, not even a hairline fracture.

“Yeah, she’s the only beryl left,” the peridot spoke up, still sounding bitter, probably because I pushed her. “You’re the only calcite too, and I’m the only peridot. Some luck, eh? More than half the crew just...shattered.”

The smile faded from my face, and I growled in frustration. Of course I’d be the only one left, I’d always been the odd one out when it came to my sisters. They never cared about the ones they planted, but I did. They thought I was dangerous, getting so close, and they weren’t afraid of sharing it. They believed I would hurt someone in order to keep my gems safe. They were wrong. The only one I had hurt in getting attached was myself.

But Beryl was here, safe and sound, and that’s what mattered most right now.

A warm feeling soothed the palm of my hand. A growing glow coming from Beryl’s gem tinged my sight yellow, and I set her back on the ground to reform. The gem didn’t stay there long, rising into the air to make room for the growing light. A small body formed from the glow, followed by a short skirt and a long braid. As her whole body began to take form, her feet delicately touched ground, like a ballerina landing in slow motion. She opened her glowing blue orbs to look into mine, her expression one of innocent confusion.

“Where are we? Who are you?” she asked, her voice low and trembling slightly.

“Hey, come on, it’s me, the calcite you were partnered up with, remember?” Beryl tilted her head, but showed a little sign of understanding.

The peridot giggled at the situation. “Hey. Sorry to burst your bubble here, but uh...long story short, we crashed, everybody died, and now we’re screwed.”

Beryl put her hand up to her mouth, wrapping the other one tightly around her torso. “I see,” she said shakily, clearly distressed by the situation. In all honesty, who wouldn’t be? I’m just glad the cuprite survived, we’re going to need it.

A sliding sound, metal on metal, on my left caught my attention. A door had opened and a grey-and-black-striped Jasper walked out, cradling a single gem in her hands. “Hey, ‘dot. I found Bismuth!”

The peridot nodded absentmindedly. “Good, we’re gonna need her. Put her on the pile.”

The Jasper walked over and put the Bismuth on the pile, muttering, “stay safe, buddy.”

The pile of gems was both a sign of hope and a significant source of sadness. There were those who had survived, there they were, but thinking about how many there had been, this was only a fraction of the original crew. We had lost hundreds, and saved few. Even those who were alive were stranded because there was no one to fly the ship, and the ship being utterly destroyed didn’t help much either. The feeling of despair was suffocating once we recognized the gravity of the situation.

The pile of gems shifted suddenly and a single white gem rolled out, glowing harshly. It grew outwards in a mass of spikes before landing on its feet with a dull thud. It was the alabaster, and they seemed just as confused as the rest of us.

“What the hell just happened?” Alabaster asked, looking around, not seeming to recognize most of the gems there.

I was curious to see how the alabaster would take knowing their sapphire had been shattered in the accident. I knew it was dark and I shouldn’t be so unempathetic towards the situation or the poor gem, but my morbid curiosity didn’t deture. Their purpose was specific, I wondered if they would stick to it.

The peridot looked at the Alabaster and instantly straightened up. “Finally! Someone with more authority than me, I swear I was gonna shatter under the pressure. So umm...yeah, nearly everyone is dead. The other Peridots...Supervisors Shadow Agate and Purple Sapphire...there’s only one calcite and one beryl left. Mission’s ruined, communications are shot and you’re the highest ranking gem left alive.”

I felt a little annoyed by the peridot’s speech. I never understood why alabasters were so high ranking since they just protected other gems. Being a calcite was confusing; sometimes we were treated like diamonds, sometimes we were treated like dirt. The alabaster registered the peridot’s words.

“Sapphire’s dead? Shadow Agate too?” Alabaster looked like they already had a headache. “Alright. Peridot, can you access the computer files? Figure out what crashed us?”

“Already did that. The engines didn’t explode, but they were shut off suddenly mid-flight. Not a command from Main Engineering, but that reported that they couldn’t turn the engines back on. The information cuts out in the middle of that.”

“Shut off? Does that mean someone from on the ship did it?” Alabaster asked.

Treachery. I had not considered it an option, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I didn’t know all of the gems aboard that ship and I didn’t need to to know many of them weren’t thrilled about this mission. I wasn’t either, at first, but I grew to accept it. If that was the case, who would do it, and were they even still alive?

“Well...I’m not sure. They didn’t do it via Main Engineering, which would have been obvious...and whoever did it either stole, destroyed, or dumped all the fuel. They could have done it externally or through some hacking measure.”

“I think that hardly matters right now,” I said, finally speaking up. “We have gems still regenerating and others…….the point is we have more important work to do right now than solve some stupid mystery.”

Before I could continue, a soft glow began emitting from within the gem pile. Beryl noticed as well and, being closer than I was, plucked the gem out of the pile so it could reform properly. I saw the hat before I saw the body, and, once formed, it didn’t even touch the ground.

The hematite did a backflip in the air before touching down, laughing hysterically.

“HOO, what a ride!” she exclaimed, not noticing the state of our current situation. “What happened back there? One minute I was showing a couple beryls a trick and the next, POOF!” She laughed again, as if she believed she had said something funny. Her sense of humor eludes me.

Instead of letting the peridot give the same explanation, I took it upon myself.

“We crashed. There’s a lot of dead and we have no way home,” I deadpanned. I was beginning to adjust to our current position, as dire as it may have been.

Her laughing died down and her smile fell slightly. With a snort, she gave a quick, “What?”

I said nothing, only looking her in the eyes and nodding before turning to the alabaster for any instructions they may have.

“Well, the first step is securing the ship so we aren’t such easy targets in an attack. We’re on a hill, so it’s likely everyone on this side of the planet has seen us crash. We need to be ready if they come to investigate,” Alabaster decided. “Beryl, why don’t you take a look around?”

“Yes alright,” Beryl agreed hesitantly, “but do we know for sure they are hostile towards us?” Fear flashed in her eyes.

“We don’t, but this planet is marked as hostile in all of the reports I’ve read. So, we’ll assume everyone is hostile until proven otherwise.”

This didn’t seem to reassure the small golden gem. I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off, assuring me she would be alright. With that, she took to the sky and disappeared in the grey clouds hanging just above our heads.

I worry too much for her, I know that, but it never stopped me. I didn’t know what I would do with myself if she had gotten hurt and I wasn’t there to protect her. Internally I cursed myself for getting so close. Attachment has caused me nothing but grief in these past centuries, so why do it again? She would be fine.

I turned back to the hematite, her smile long gone and her eyes wide. “I know it seems bad,” I began, “but-”

“Seems bad?!” She cut me off, the smile coming back, but it was more chaotic, and her laugh more….disturbing. “A couple gems left behind seems bad. This is….terrifying! What are we supposed to do?!”

A black spike placed itself on the arm of the hematite, and a thin body made itself around to face her. It stared up at her, solid black eyes glimmering.

“There is no point in getting so worked up,” the obsidian said, her monotone voice not faltering in the slightest. “There is nothing we can do to make it so we didn’t crash. We must move forward.”

Hematite sniffled and began giggling to herself. The obsidian looked somewhat confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hematite said, “it’s just I’m surprised how well you’re HANDling the situation!” Hematite lost it, laughing so hard she fell to the ground. Obsidian looked down at her spikes and sighed before walking off. The whole interaction was as strange to watch as it probably was to have.

I felt a chubby hand on my shoulder and Amber’s soft, wavering voice asked, “Uh...is...is there anything I can do, eh? I dunno what to do and...I should be helping...instead of just bein’ useless...”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know what to do with myself, let alone what Amber should do. But this was my Amber and I was responsible for her, so I had to come up with something.

“Um, you could…” I searched desperately for a task for her. “You could do a perimeter check. Fly around the hill and see if we have any uninvited guests coming up here.”

Amber smiled and nodded. “Yes! I won't let you down.” She jumped and buzzed off, tiny wings somehow keeping her fat little body aloft, like she didn’t care what was impossible.

I smiled as she left. I knew I had done right with that one.

Beryl touched down next to me and began relaying her observations. Apparently there were three towns nearby. One had two gold sticks and was the closest, another had a few statues, which was farther into the forest of pine trees, and the last had a large water tower and located near the water. Seemed counter intuitive to have a water tower where there’s already so much water, but I don’t know how this planet works.

“What was that town’s name?” the Peridot asked, furiously taking notes.

“The stick one doesn’t have one, but the one in the woods is Gravity Falls...bit of a silly name, and the one by the water is Beach City,” Beryl explained quietly.

The peridot’s mouth dropped open. “Did you...did you say Beach City?”

“As I recall.” Beryl gave a soft smile.

The Peridot threw up her arms in defeat, startling me back a little. “WELL! That’s it then. We’re all dead. We’re good as shattered. Might as well self-destruct the ship if it had enough fuel to do that! Do you know where Beach City is? THAT’S WHERE THE CRYSTAL GEMS LIVE! WE LANDED LESS THAN A MILE FROM THEIR HOME BASE!”

I had heard of the Crystal Gems before, but I never considered them that….evil. They connected with things, like humans, in a way I could relate to. I didn’t say that though. What would they do if they thought I was a rebel? What would Beryl think?

“What’s the big deal?” I asked, a little irritably. “We haven’t done anything to hurt anyone. As far as I know, they only attack if given a reason.”

“WELL THAT’S NOT GONNA STOP ME FROM PANICKING!” she shouted.

“Only attack if given reason? They started a war for this stupid planet. And we’re here to resume plans. We’re exactly the sort of people they attack!” Alabaster said, getting louder with each word. I was pretty sure they were transferring their headache to me. “I’m supposed to protect all of you, but now what? We’re all stuck here with nothing.”

“We have the towns,” Beryl offered.

“Think of this logically,” Obsidian said from her place on top of a rock. I have no idea how she got over there, but I suppose that was her job. “There must be a reason they fought for this planet. We should figure out what it was.”

“We know why they fought for the planet. It’s got resources and they wanted them. Only logical reason to risk fighting the diamonds,” Alabaster said.

“What resources could they possibly use?” I questioned. “If they were going to take over and start their own colony, they would still need resources from homeworld to plant the gems, and they don’t have any calcites with them anyway.”

“How do we know any of that? We thought they had been eradicated until recently. Who knows what sort of gems are with them now?”

“I may not know exactly how many gems are left,” Hematite cut in, “but according to a meeting I was in before I came on this shipwreck was that there were exactly zero calcites on this planet. Well, except you.”

I raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. I felt pretty important being the only calcite here. That feeling didn’t last long, however, because I didn’t even know if I’d end up carrying out what I came here for.

“Then I suppose that this one,” Alabaster nodded toward me, “is currently the most important gem here, in terms of completing the mission.”

“What does that have to do with anything right now?” I asked them. I didn’t get an answer though, as we were all distracted by a noise coming from above our heads.

“GUYS!” Amber’s voice shouted as she buzzed back. “There’s a human driving a vehicle towards us with a fusion and an Amethyst and another peridot in it, and there’s also a Lapis Lazuli flying our way and I think she saw me and there’s also a human riding a really big fluffy pink aminal!”

I hummed in uncertainty and worry. I didn’t know the intentions of these gems, but I couldn’t quite say they were hostile. These had to be the Crystal Gems, there was no other option. I was going to stick by my claims until proven wrong.

I squared my shoulders and turned to Amber. “How long will take for them to arrive at our location?”

“I don’t know. A few minutes?” Amber shrugged. “I want to hug the animal. It looks soft.”

“Yeah. We aren't doing that,” Alabaster said. “Do we have any rooms that we can easily defend?”

“What would we defend?” Obsidian questioned, now right next to Beryl. She jumped when she heard the static voice next to her. “The ship is in ruins.”

“Bismuth’s still poofed and all the robonoids are offline. Can’t find the activation key,” the peridot responded.

“We’d be protecting ourselves. And those who haven't reformed,” Alabaster stated.

“So keep Jasper by the poofed gems and the rest of us will discuss with our guests.” Obsidian smiled, which was more terrifying than anything else I had seen today.

“And if we're all killed? You expect Jasper to protect against them all?” Alabaster asked.

“We won’t be,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I could see a vehicle on the horizon, so there was no point in hiding now. We were going to see this thing through, for better or worse.

“Fine, but if things go south, it's not my fault. Also, someone else should probably do most of the talking.”

The van and the animal came to a halt next to the rock Obsidian had been sitting on, and the people dismounted their respective modes of transportation. The Lapis Lazuli continued to hover in the air, the soft sound of her beating wings the only noise between the two parties. Beryl grabbed onto my wrist, tight, as Hematite rushed towards the group at full speed.

“Hey there! I see you’ve found our little base. You must be quite the mystery hunters! Does the lion talk too?” She cackled at the top of her lungs, but there was no turning back now. She was already on a roll. “Hey Lapis! WATER you doing up there? Come down and join the conversation!”

“Can I smash her?” the Lapis Lazuli called down, to which the taller human responded “Um...no, Lapis.” Come to think of it...they looked like a human, but there was a Rose Quartz on their navel.

“So...” the probably-rose-quartz spoke up. “Welcome to Earth! I’m Stevonnie, we are the Crystal Gems...and uh...we hope you’re not gonna cause any trouble?”

“I don’t see any reason why we would,” Beryl said, not releasing her grip on my wrist. She refused to make eye contact with anyone, and I could tell she was trying not to get too anxious. It would be unfortunate if she poofed in front of everyone right now.

“Umm...” Amber raised her hand and stepped forwards timidly. “Can I...can I pet the big pink thing? It looks soft.”

“Uh, sure.” Stevonnie nodded. “If he lets you.”

Amber hesitantly moved closer and began petting Lion. He bristled, then relaxed.

“Woow...this is soft...”

“Yeah. Don’t reach too deep though, you’ll get lost in there. Literally.”

Amber nodded. “Ok then. Sorry. I’ll go back now...” She buzzed back off to the ship.

Alabaster looked at the others, then, realizing no one was going to talk, stepped forward. “Look, I don’t know why you’ve come here, but maybe all of you should return to… wherever it is you came from. We aren’t looking for a fight, but we don’t want company either.”

The tall fusion stepped forward, her visor flashing in the obscured sunlight, and said in a calm, unemotional voice, “We understand. You are welcome in Beach City so long as you leave the humans be and don’t brandish any weapons unless attacked.”

“That shouldn’t affect our plans or mission at all, so fine. We will agree to your terms,” Alabaster said, standing straighter so they were nearly as tall as the fusion.

The fusion nodded. “Agreed, then. If you need anything, I am Garnet. We’ll go now.”

They piled back into the car, and were soon on their way back. I swore I felt a sigh of relief emit from the group.

“That went well. We’re not dead!” our peridot declared.

“And I suppose that, as long as we follow their rules, we’ll be left alone to figure out our next plan of action,” Alabaster agreed. “But I don’t trust them. Whatever we’re going to do, it’s best we do it soon.”

“Well...we got nothing to do till Bismuth wakes up...” Peridot shrugged. “And Cuprite...we’re gonna need her...I think everyone here but Jasper needs a therapist. Speaking of, where are the Rubies?”

#survivors of shards #su #steven universe #my fics #apollowuzhere #irazel #grilledwatermelon #my ocs #my friends' ocs #d&d #sos part 1 & 2

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