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dorevenge · 3 years

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where ignorance is bliss - chapter 1

SUMMARY: Maria Collins Carbonell is a young woman in a man's world, fresh out of college and ready to take on the '60s with Obadiah Stane on her arm, until she meets an older and mysterious Howard Stark - who's on his way to change the world, and he wants to take her with him. [AO3 LINK] Rated Teen

CHAPTERS: [1] 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

PAIRINGS: Maria/Howard, Maria/Obadiah, Peggy/Daniel, Edwin/Ana, Carol/Maria

… Where ignorance is bliss,

Tis folly to be wise

– Thomas Gray, 1742

If you ever met Howard Stark, you only knew half of the man.

He was lauded as a genius, a gamechanger in every field, a philanthropist for tomorrow, the best of humankind – yet he managed to be the worst of it at the same time.

I met him at a casino in ‘60, charmed and overpowered after losing millions for the thrill of it, and we married shortly after. It was the beginning of the last twenty years of my life.

September 17, 1959 – Queens, New York City

“Obie, dear, we’re going to be late.”

“Darling, it’s check in four. Entertain me for just a few more minutes.”

“Chess minutes are longer than normal minutes, and being late in normal minutes makes Giulietta mad.” My eyes flash across the board, and the moves come to me. Hovering my fingers above the pieces, “I move my rook here, you’ll be forced to move this pawn, then my bishop here… Check in two, love, let’s go.”

I check in the mirror that every blonde hair is where it’s meant to be and adjust the pearls around my neck. Obadiah always wanted me to look good – not too good that other men would chase me, but enough that they would look at him because he was standing next to me. “They’ll look at the beautiful dame, then the businessman who’s arm she’s on, then ask to invest in his company just for a chance to be near her longer.” I wasn’t convinced that his plan worked.

Obadiah and I have been together for seven months at this point, long enough to grow tired of his perpetual tardiness, but not long enough for us to be seen leaving the same hotel room together. We slept in separate beds last night, of course; Obie is a man of high morals but tight checkbooks.

Purse hanging from the crook of my elbow, I call out over my shoulder, “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He hums in response, still curled over the chessboard trying to figure out where he went wrong. I close the door behind me.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Obie says, coming in from the elevator, fiddling with the cufflinks he bought just for the occasion – more than he could afford, he’ll probably return them at the end of the trip – the light from the chandelier above reflecting on his scalp. We leave the lobby to wait outside.

“Stop fretting. Your presentation will be flawless.” I straighten his tie as the taxi slides to a stop outside the hotel doors.

“I don’t want to let Howard down. Everything is riding on this.”

“I know, Obie, I know.”

I talk with the wives of the other businessmen in a corner, while they over-sip on over-sweet drinks. Obie didn’t send me to spy, but it’s hard not to notice when their loose lips spill secrets not meant to leave the boardroom, and surprises meant to wait for the expo. The first day of the event was reserved for socialization, for inventors and investors to shake hands, tease each other about what they might be presenting and prod for any information they can get. The women are undermined, seen and not heard, but always listening. Always listening.

This was my second Stark Expo; last year I attended as an intern at the Future Foundation, frequently dismissed as a secretary or spouse before I got the chance to share that I was about to graduate from Columbia Business School with Honors. I was put into a box before I opened my mouth. The fifties are a terrible time to be a smart woman.

Tired of the gossiping, tipsy wives, I leave to find Obie. He was almost always easy to find, taller and broader than most of the scholars who have never known a hard day of work in their life, and his bald head shines like a lighthouse. Unsuccessful, I wander off alone.

A waiter hands me a martini, and I find myself in front of the exhibit dedicated to Captain Steve Rogers. It was the same every year; there’s no new information about the man since he crash-landed in the Atlantic, but the fanfare and mythos around him has only increased. The shield and empty suit sat behind a wall of thick glass, carefully preserved by the curator, who was a close friend of the Captain. Several pictures of him decorate the exhibit. Tall, blonde, steel blue eyes. He was handsome, with wide shoulders and an even wider jaw. The perfect American specimen.

I stand in front of the suit, the reflection of my head barely coming up to its sternum, imagining how differently the war might have ended had he survived. A silhouette joins from my right and makes me jump, my senses a little dulled from the drink. I turn around.

“Peggy!”

The brunette Englishwoman takes me in her arms, and I breathe in her perfume. I had met her at last year’s expo when she tried to convince me to learn some self-defense, promising it wouldn’t make me too muscular and unfeminine.

We let each other go, and I notice her cast a sad glance at the exhibit before looking back to me. “Maria, how are you? Are you still working for the Future Foundation?” She looks perfect, as always, with her signature red lipstick.

“I’m well. I graduated from the internship and am working elsewhere. I’m here with a man.” Her eyes widen curiously as I continued. “He’s presenting an invention on Saturday.”

“Is it serious?”

“It’s… Comfortable.”

“If you need some excitement, my offer from last year still stands,” she offers. I smile at her politely, looking down at my shoes. I don’t think I was meant to be a secret agent.

“Maria, there you are! I have someone I want you to meet.” Obadiah blunders into the exhibit, a drink in his hand, and it is clearly not his first. He places a large hand on my shoulder and turns around to point back into the party. “Oh, I don’t know where he went. Howard was just here.”

“He’s probably off in a corner with some blonde,” Peggy smiles. “I need to speak with him, I’ll send him your way once I find him.”

She leaves, and once she’s out of eyesight, Obie’s hand slips from my shoulder to my waist. The forwardness brings me out of the martini-induced hazed, and I stand straight up. I move his hand for him.

“Sorry, Mar,” his breath reeking of alcohol, releasing me. “I’ll find something to eat, get something to soak it all up. I’ll need to stay sharp tonight.” He kisses me on the cheek, and I’m alone again, the swell of music and murmur of guests in the background.

Obadiah’s presentation went smoothly, but not as fantastical as he had hoped. The inventor before him showed something very similar, and the crowd was unenthusiastic and less receptive. Some investors bit at the bait, handshakes and promises were exchanged – but no money, which is what Obie desperately needs to continue this charade of a rich man. He came from very little, but he is very good at multiplying anything that crosses his path, a paradigm of the American legend. I do not know much of Obie’s past, but I do know it is grim enough to make him cry in his sleep some nights. Maybe I should invest in gasoline, he would ponder, or some new kind of energy. I need to create a legacy.

His legacy. We talked more of his legacy than anything else, more than chess moves or what to have for dinner or even the weather. His legacy. And he was positive his legacy would start with the two of us, flowing from our descendants, a watershed to admire for decades to come. While he hasn’t asked my father for my hand, he has dropped more than enough hints about his intentions, and I dodge every one of them best I can. He was 29 – six years older than me – and it was time he started a family by society’s expectations. I just wasn’t sure I that wanted to participate.

He lives in a tiny apartment in the Bronx – an apartment, not a house – and invests every penny he earns back into his machines. My father, a realtor, tried to convince him into investing into some real estate in the Upper East Side, but Obadiah gently refused his help, believing the only way to make in this world is to make it on your own.

I am asleep by the time he returns from the second day of the expo, and his entrance wakes me in a start. I had retired early, not wishing to entertain the drunken wives any longer.

“That bastard,” Obie trails off, locking the hotel door behind him and setting the key on the dresser. He sits on the second bed in the room and collapses into a sunken posture, his head falling heavily into his hands.

I slip out from under my covers and sit next to him. I run my hand up and down his back, trying to bring comfort to the defeated man. He would never tell me what had occurred that day, no matter how many times or ways I tried to ask, only the aftermath and resentment that followed, and it is my duty to pick up the pieces.

“God strike me down if I ever willingly enter business with a Stark,” he finally sighs into his hands. “That man is the worst of them all, a piranha and a coward. I told him my next great idea, and not five minutes later I hear him pitching it to an adoring crowd like it was his own. The rich get richer, and I’m still at the bottom. Hold me to it, Mar, if I ever shake his hand, it better be when I’m buying his company out from under him.”

“Yes, dear.”

#where ignorance is bliss #wiib reading #marvel #howard stark #what if #fanfiction #canary writes a fanfiction

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vaguely-functional-directions · 3 years

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Fandom ask: A, T, U and Y ✨

A-> Current OTPs?

Asoue: Quigley x Violet

Uhh, I think that's actually all for right now, but I do like Emma x Paul too and I hope they get to have a happy ending in at least one Hatchetfield universes

T->Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all?

Ok the only headcannon/theory that right now I would die defending is the one where Violet is Lemony's biological daughter. I don't know why, but something about this headcannon is so perfect to me and I 100% believe it to be true. I feel like the timeline is so ambiguous that it's definitely possible and something about it just fits. It adds something a bit more tragic to the entire series as well if you consider that Lemony is following the Baudelaires not only because they are the Beatrice's children, but that he is following his own daughter that he never got to raise and who, in a way, represents the life he could have had with Beatrice had things worked out differently. I also love that in TPP Kit would have been referring to her brother when she says Violet looks like her father, which I find makes it a more touching moment that she's having with her niece. Honestly, the only thing that would make me change my mind is if Daniel Handler himself released a statement saying that Violet isn't Lemony's daughter. And even then I would be in denial for a long time

U-> 5 favourite characters from 5 different fandoms?

Asoue: Violet; one of the things I think is really cool about her is that even though she's so smart, her character develops beyond just her inventing. In so many books, I find that if there's a female character in a stem field, she's usually just a side/supporting character and doesn't have a huge role other than being the intelligent one working in the background. But with Violet, we definitely get to see the inventing side of her but she's shown as so much more than that with her relationship with her siblings and with everything they go through together. So it's like, yes she's a great inventor but that doesn't mean she can't be one of the heros of the story too which I love about her.

Starkid: (Way too many to choose from!) but Jafar, Emma, and the Son from Trail to Oregon are some of my favorites

Secret Series: Other than Cass, Owen was always one of my favorites. I think there's a lot more to him than is shown throughout the series and I like his relationship with Cass, with how he treats her like a little sister. His disguises are also great and I really want to know where he learned all that. I headcannon that he's actually related to Cass on the side of her family not descended from the jester and he joined Terces to be closer to her because he somehow found out about her being the secret keeper.

The Mysterious Benedict Society: Constance; I love how she doesn't take anyone's nonsense especially since she's so young

Atla: Katara; she reminds me of me a little bit and she has great character development throughout the series. I particularly liked seeing how strong she got with her waterbending and I don't know why but I love how she is able to bloodbend too. But I really don't like that she ended up with Aang. I never liked that pairing.

Y-> What are your secondhand fandoms (fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

I don't have too many second hand fandoms I don't think. Most of the stuff on my dash I'm familiar with other than the occasional screenshot or short post about something else. But from real life I'm fairly familiar with a bunch of anime shows I haven't seen thanks to my brother.

#I did not mean for this to be so long #But it was fun to write

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lesbiedykes · 5 years

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aY’all wanna hear an AU I have for Carmen Sandiego? No? Well I’m gonna rant anyway.

TLDR; V.I.L.E. is a Coven of Vampires.... more under the cut. Warning: goes not extremely explicit but does get dark, and contains spoilers for season 2.

AU Where VILE is a coven of vampires. These vampires are the stereotypical vampires. They cannot walk in sunlight, fire and silver are dangerous to them. They need sleep albeit not as much as humans. They can eat human food, but it tastes bad. Ultimately, vampires can only be made, not born (or so they believed...)

Approximately 400 years ago (1600′s), Gunnar Maelstrom was reborn into his new life as a Vampire. A noble in his human life, he was soon hunted down by vampire hunters when they realised he had stopped ageing. He is forced to flee and live in the shadows, resentment growing. He spends a century wreaking havoc upon humanity, a gory murder spree that soon bores him. He wishes to return to his life of luxury.

In the early 1700′s, he meets Dexter Wolfe, a talented human thief who manages to rob a group of wealthy individuals blind, making off with their property. Maelstrom is witness to this and follows Wolfe. Wolfe is homeless and stealing to survive, but strives for more. He and Maelstrom strike a deal, and Wolfe is turned into a vampire by Maelstrom.

Maelstrom and Wolfe, for a few years, work as a team. They travel the world, stealing whatever the need to live lavishly. In the late 1700′s, they meet Countess Cleo. She is from a fairly wealthy family and knows much about high society, culture, and art. While they were attempting to rob her, she discovered their secret and then asked to join them. They agreed, due to her valuable skills.

They meet Saira Bellum soon after, an absolute genius for her time. Cleo falls in love with her immediately. The group is impressed with her abilities, and decides to welcome her into their fold. Together they sail to the New World in the 1800′s, where they meet Brunt, a widow put on trial for murdering her husband, who would be sentenced to death. Maelstrom takes an interest in her, and decides to turn her.

The five of them continue to travel for another couple decades, before finally deciding to open V.I.L.E. Academy with their accumulated wealth, and expand their coven.

Each year, they would accept forty students from across the world. Any promising thief could attend and at the end of the year, 15 students would pass. Because the transformation into Vampire was potentially fatal and only the strongest could survive, usually only 5-8 agents survived each year. Those who died during transformation are disposed of and those who survived wake up to an unquenchable thirst, and participate in their first hunt - their old classmates, set loose on the island. (This would, after all, keep V.I.L.E. a secret, two birds with one stone.)

Shadowsan/Suhara was raised to be an actual samurai, deflected days before his first battle and stealing one of his brother’s (who was a samurai) swords. He eventually makes it to V.I.L.E. island, where he is amongst the graduating class and the survivors of the transformation.

Flash forward over 150 years. Dexter Wolfe has grown bored of the island, taking off constantly to explore the world once more. His absences grow more and more frequent. The faculty, his coven, are deeply betrayed believing he might be attempting to run away, and send Shadowsan to kill him.

Shadowsan tracks Wolfe down to Buenos Aires, Argentina, where he sees that Wolfe is intending to run, and.... has a child? Which surely, should be impossible - but it’s not.

Recovering from his shock, Shadowsan plans on killing Wolfe, but is stopped when the police arrive on a raid. He watches as Wolfe puts his daughter in a closet, talks sweetly to her to calm her down, and takes off. Chief shoots Wolfe, which would have been fatal if he were not a vampire.

Shadowsan prepares to do damage control - kill all witnesses, after dealing with the target. He begins the fire in the house, planning to move outside afterwards. What he does not expect is for Wolfe, upon seeing the flames, to run back into the house to save her daughter. (Oh, how his teacher has changed.)

Shadowsan takes the girl and gets out of the house just as the roof collapses. Knowing there’s no way for Wolfe to have survived that, he opts to return to V.I.L.E. without taking out the police.

Shadowsan takes credit for Wolfe’s death and for bringing Black Sheep back to the island. They puzzle over her existence and have Bellum run a few tests that prove she really is half vampire. This being completely unprecedented, they decide to raise her and study her, with the plan to make her their secret weapon.

Through her youth, Black Sheep shows little to no signs of her Vampire lineage. She eats human food and runs around in the daytime (although the sun may hurt her eyes, at times), and grows at the rate of a normal human child. She does seem a bit faster and more agile, but that could just be the fact she was raised by professional thieves. Because of this, the faculty keeps the vampire thing a secret from her, which she generally accepts.

Things continue as they do in canon, with her getting in contact with Player, requesting to attend the academy, and failing (although she does not get fed to her passing classmates, talk about preferential treatment). She follows them out on their mission and has the same realisation about stealing. She is surprised to see that her classmates have changed, but she cannot describe how or why.

She is returned to the island and eventually makes a break for it after stealing the hard drive. Things continue as normal. She meets Ivy and Zack and they join her, the has multiple successful capers....

And then she gets sick.

Her vampire awakening as truly struck. Carmen spends a few days writhing in pain, mimicking an actual transformation. When she comes out of it, she is bloodthirsty. She tackles the first person she finds on the street and begins to drink their blood.

Carmen comes to just as the person looses consciousness, and she’s left with a limp body she rushes to emergency. Carmen rightfully panics, having no idea what has happened to her. Player does his best to research, coming up with only urban legends about vampires. They both agree its ridiculous and instead agree that VILE most likely did something to her to make her like this. She continues her missions, fighting the desire for blood. She is also suddenly more sensitive to sunlight (though not nearly as much as a full vampire) and has lost part of her appetite for human food.

When Chase is taken prisoner and used for bait, she saves him and is almost killed by Brunt. Shadowsan saves her and reveals that he is the one who found her, and that she is half vampire. He gives her a kinda half-assed explanation about her past and tells her that V.I.L.E. is indeed a Vampire Coven. He leaves her with the hard drive and a bottle of pills.

The pills are an imitation blood substitute that vampires can add to beverages and drink to survive between feedings. They were invented by Bellum for the operatives to drink to reduce the need for blood. Carmen, not being a full vampire even after her transformation, wouldn’t need to drink them as often, but they help the cravings.

Meanwhile:

ACME does not know they are hunting Vampires. They genuinely believe it’s just a large criminal organisation. Chase, however.... is a descendent of a long line of vampire hunters, and believes that Carmen is a vampire before she even began to wake up as one. While the claims feel ridiculous, he is still the only agent that has managed to get close to Carmen Sandiego, so ACME wants him on their side.

I have more but I’m tired so maybe I’ll add more tomorrow. If you read this far, thanks!!!

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego spoilers #carmen sandiego season 2 #carmen sandiego season 1 #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #Shadowsan #Ivy #CarmIvy #i didnt really mention it in the post but this IS a carmivy au #its also #cleobellum #bc lesbian aunties for the win #dexter wolfe

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sciencespies · 3 years

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Ten Innovators to Watch in 2021

https://sciencespies.com/nature/ten-innovators-to-watch-in-2021/

Ten Innovators to Watch in 2021

This past year left us with no shortage of incredible innovations, chief among them Covid-19 vaccines. Following a harrowing 2020, we’re excited to see how innovators continue to push the envelope and bring forth what they think the world needs. From celebrating and honoring black history to improving the mental health of K-12 students, we’re keeping our eyes on these ten groundbreakers as they share their visions with the world.

Chicken-less Egg Connoisseur Arturo Elizondo

Arturo Elizondo

(Clara Foods)

“Like any good Mexican, I had two eggs for breakfast every morning, and like any good Texan I had my barbeque every Sunday,” says Arturo Elizondo. But when he learned about the devastating impacts that livestock has on the environment, he set out to find a better, more sustainable way to produce animal protein. In 2014, he co-founded Clara Foods with cell biologist David Anchel with a mission to take animals out of animal proteins.

Similar to how brewers use yeast to convert sugar into alcohol for beer, Clara Foods uses yeast and sugar to produce animal protein. Specifically, Elizondo and his team are working to produce egg proteins—one of the most challenging to find alternatives for. One trillion eggs are consumed across the globe each year, but it takes a whopping 600 gallons of water to produce a dozen eggs, he says. Since they’re so versatile and globally loved, Clara Foods is offering a cleaner alternative so that people can still enjoy eggs in all their culinary forms without the tremendous environmental impact.

Clara Foods has been knee-deep in research and development for the last six years, but the company is officially coming out of their “eggshell” in 2021 when they launch the world’s first egg protein made without a chicken, Elizondo says.

Problem-Solving Wunderkind Gitanjali Rao

Gitanjali Rao

(Gitanjali Rao)

As a 15-year-old, Gitanjali Rao is the youngest innovator on our list, but she’s certainly one to watch. She’s already tackling some of the greatest problems affecting current generations: lack of access to clean water, opioid addiction and cyberbullying.

After hearing about the water crisis in Flint, Michigan, Rao was shocked to learn that people in the United States and beyond still don’t have access to safe, clean water. In response, she invented Tethys—a sensor that can detect lead in water and upload results from the water sample to an app, allowing users to quickly and affordably see if water is safe to drink. She’s also worked to address the opioid crisis by developing Epione, a way to diagnose prescription opioid addictions for patients at the onset of addiction, after hearing about a family friend who developed an addiction after a car accident. And to address cyberbullying—a problem especially relevant to her age group—Rao developed Kindly, an artificial intelligence-powered software that detects hurtful or harmful messages and then prompts users to rephrase what they send. Her thoughtful, problem-solving innovations earned her the title of TIME’s 2020 Kid of the Year.

“My motivation to solve problems in society started in a very simple manner: to solve problems that we face on a daily basis,” she says. “I try my best to understand them and look for ways to address them. I am not always successful, but the few times [I’ve succeeded,] I feel like I have contributed in some way.”

To inspire others to innovate, Rao has connected with about 35,000 students across four continents and has more events planned in the coming months. As she moves forward in 2021, Rao says she has more ideas in the works and that she’ll continue developing her current innovations as she searches for the partners to help her out.

Storytelling Composer Barron Ryan

Barron Ryan

(Daniel Charles Folkers)

On May 31, 1921, a mob of white residents attacked the Greenwood District, a predominantly black neighborhood, in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in what’s known as the Tulsa Race Massacre. The attack—one of the worst acts of racial violence in American history—continued through the next day as the mob killed more than 300 black Tulsans, displaced 10,000 others and burned more than 35 city blocks to the ground.

To commemorate the 100-year anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre, Chamber Music Tulsa commissioned composer and performer Barron Ryan to tell the story of the tragedy through a piano trio. As a Tulsa native, Ryan says that it’s important for him to tell this story—a story that needs to be remembered. “It’s an integral part of who I am, and I’m honored to do it,” he says.

“Music can tell a story without using words, [and it] has an unparalleled ability to communicate” Ryan says, which is what he aspires to do with his trio. In composing the piece, he looked through firsthand accounts of the massacre. He read about a woman who hid with her daughter and read psalms as the attack raged on. Psalm 88:3 spoke to Ryan, and it ultimately inspired the melody. One of the verses reads, “My soul is full of troubles,” which Ryan borrowed as the title of his trio.

He hopes that his music inspires people to reflect on the Tulsa Race Massacre and to be courageous—to do what’s right and not simply what is easy, he says. “I’m hoping that it’s well received, and that we remember our history as Tulsans and learn the right lessons and not repeat something like this again.”

Transit Trailblazer Andrea Ponti

Andrea Ponti

(Andrea Ponti)

The Covid-19 pandemic brought public transportation to a screeching halt as people who had the means to travel in their own private vehicles opted to do so. Andrea Ponti, the founder and director of Ponti Design Studio, took the opportunity to re-think and re-plan how we get around. Inspired by social distancing, he developed Island, an electric tram designed for a post-pandemic Hong Kong, the city where he resides.

“When the pandemic took over Hong Kong, many people turned to private transport causing a dramatic increase in traffic, pollution and noise,” he says. “What makes Island attractive is that it helps to solve all those problems. The bottom line is technology needs good design in order to be efficient and accessible to most people, and I think Island might be an example of that.”

Instead of sitting in rows, the tram’s seats are organized in circles, or “islands,” seating people with their backs towards each other so they can look out the window instead of facing others. “To me that is a safer way to commute and a fun way to take in the city sights and see Hong Kong from a different viewpoint,” he says. Plus, the tram is electric and driverless, making it eco-friendlier and more efficient.

“As a designer I really like the challenge of re-imagining products and services that we often take for granted and that can be greatly impacted by social changes—in this case re-designing trams at the time of social distancing in a metropolis like Hong Kong where social distancing is hard to practice,” he says.

Ponti started developing Island in March 2020 and has since modeled the tram and produced a number of prototypes. Moving forward in 2021, he is working to scale the protypes, move into the testing phase and secure a partner to produce Island.

Honoring Black History with Anitra Belle Henderson

Anitra Belle Henderson

(Lemaris Alston)

In 1860, a plantation owner smuggled in a shipload of 110 African people to Alabama on the Clotilda, the last known slave ship to arrive in the United States, decades after the U.S. had banned the importation of enslaved people. When enslaved people were freed in 1865, survivors of the Clotilda couldn’t afford to return to Africa, so they founded Africatown instead, a bustling town rooted in their homelands and cultures.

After years of searching for the long-lost Clotilda, a team of historians and archaeologists finally discovered it at the bottom of Alabama’s Mobile River in 2019. Now, the City of Mobile will open a heritage house in the summer of 2021 to tell the story of the Clotilda‘s survivors and of Africatown.

“We are excited to help the community tell their story,” says Anitra Belle Henderson, the executive director of communications and external affairs for the City of Mobile and the lead on all the Africatown projects. “Our goal is for visitors to understand more about those who were enslaved. They have a name and a story.”

The heritage house is designed to be an immersive experience. Visitors will feel the waves of the ocean like the enslaved people felt on their voyage, read stories of the slave trade and be introduced to the survivors of the Clotilda. They’ll also be able to visit Africatown, where many descendants of the Clotilda‘s survivors still reside.

“Each detail of the heritage house was designed with reverence to the ancestors, descendants and the community,” Belle Henderson says. “Those who are curious about African culture can visit an African community on American soil—a community that was built with hope and promise.”

“The many stories show the diverse brilliance of black people,” she says. “Since the [discovery] of the Clotilda there has been a new excitement in the community. Educating people about Africatown’s past will definitely create a bright future for a community that so deserves the attention it is receiving.”

Nautical Visionary Brett Phaneuf

Brett Phaneuf

(IBM)

In April 2021, the Mayflower Autonomous Ship, one of the world’s first full-sized self-navigating ships, will set sail from the United Kingdom’s Plymouth Harbor and traverse the Atlantic Ocean to Cape Cod, Massachusetts. It will retrace the voyage made by the original Mayflower in 1620 that brought Pilgrims to New England, but instead of looking back at 400 years of history, it represents what the next wave of nautical advances will look like.

The Mayflower Autonomous Ship is a collaboration between the marine research organization ProMare and IBM, which developed the ship’s artificial intelligence systems that will allow it to navigate unassisted across the ocean. The Mayflower team is hoping to revolutionize ocean research by creating an affordable option for scientists to study the ocean without necessarily being on board a ship. Without needing to worry about the logistics for housing people on board, like sleeping, eating and sanitation, the ship can accommodate more technology, like cameras and sensors, and stay out at sea longer.

“If it works as designed, then it will substantially drive down the cost of collecting data at sea,” says Phaneuf, a co-founder and co-director of the Mayflower Autonomous Ship project. “This will lead to [a] better understanding of our oceans and climate.”

Phaneuf’s biggest hope for the Mayflower is that it makes it across the ocean and sparks the conversation about how autonomous ships can be used to study the high seas. During this first voyage, the ship will collect meteorological and oceanographic data as well as water samples to study microplastic distribution.

Student Advocate Samantha Pratt

Samantha Pratt

(Samantha Pratt)

Two thirds of all U.S. youth face at least one trauma by age 16 that can stem from poverty, racism, domestic or community violence, or substance abuse, says Samantha Pratt, the CEO and founder of KlickEngage.

“Students carry heavy emotional backpacks into the classroom every day that they cannot put down,” she says. “I was teaching high-need students in an overcrowded classroom and could not check in with each of my students every day in order to address their issues. Out of urgent need, I decided that I had to find a way to streamline student self-report.”

To do so, Pratt designed KlickEngage—an app that allows users to self-report their mental state each day by completing a two-minute survey. The app, which has reached thousands of kids,then provides students with targeted coping mechanisms while delivering real-time data to educators so that they can identify and supports students carrying heavy emotional loads, Pratt says. Schools have the ability to make a huge impact for students by providing health services and resources, but they’re often limited and underfunded.

“By directly serving students, teachers and schools, we limit the impacts of adverse experiences on school engagement in early years of education so that there is a higher likelihood of student success in later years, breaking the cycle of trauma and poverty,” Pratt says.

Students are still facing adversities, plus the compounded issues brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic, such as unemployment, food insecurity and fear-based anxiety, Pratt says. Since KlickEngage is able to be adapted for a physical or virtual learning environment, it can help educators check in with students, even from a distance. In 2021, KlickEngage is planning to grow its impact and reach more classrooms.

Pandemic-Inspired Architects Jing Liu and Florian Idenburg

Jing Liu and Florian Idenburg

(Vincent Tullo)

In 2020, homes transformed into all-in-one offices, gyms, daycares, classrooms, vacation destinations and restaurants as people’s lives became confined to their residences. As a result, people noticed just how important their home environment is to their mental and emotional wellbeing, say Jing Liu and Florian Idenburg, the founding partners of SO–IL, an architecture and design firm.

At the outset of the Covid-19 pandemic, Liu and Idenburg were in the beginning stages of designing a new 30-unit residential building in Brooklyn. They also found themselves adjusting to living and working from home with their two daughters, and they say that experience helped shape the design for the new building, to be completed in 2022. Now that people are home all the time, Liu and Idenburg needed to create a space that was both multi-functional and comfortable for residents. For example, they moved bedrooms to opposite sides of the apartment to muffle noise and distractions, which are typically clustered together. They also incorporated multiple outdoor spaces for each unit, creating easy access to fresh air and sunshine.

The pandemic has highlighted what people really need in their homes, and architecture trends in the future will reflect that, they say. “The main lesson to take away is that the lifespan of a building will be longer than the interval between pandemics,” they say. “From a sustainability standpoint, we should endeavor to build buildings that last ‘forever.’ It means we need to design for future pandemics.”

Mosquito-Trapping Mastermind Kennyjie

Kennyjie

(Eric Lau)

When industrial designer Kennyjie (he prefers to go by just his first name) was 12 years old, he contracted dengue fever—a flu-like disease transmitted by mosquitos—while living in Indonesia. “Being able to afford long hospital care, I was one of the privileged kids who walked out alive,” he says. Mosquito-borne disease prevention has remained an issue close to his heart, and it’s the driving force behind his new innovation, Quito.

While visiting Bali, Kennyjie noticed that the mosquito prevention tactics were inconvenient and ineffective, so he set out to design his own. Quito, which made the International Top 20 for the James Dyson Award in 2020, uses a simple chemical reaction to produce carbon dioxide and an artificial human odor to attract mosquitoes, and then it vacuums them into a chamber. By luring mosquitoes in instead of repelling them, Quito reduces their local population and the chance of disease transmission. It’s designed to be placed in tropical resorts to lessen the likelihood of an outbreak as people travel in and out of the region.

Kennyjie traveled through multiple Indonesian villages to ensure that Quito’s design is informed by the local culture, economy and climate so that it fits into the “geographical context in which it is needed,” he says. This year, Kennyjie will continue running more tests from his home in Melbourne, Australia, until international borders are open and he can start pilot tests in Indonesia.

#Nature

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shemakesmusic-uk · 4 years

Photo

INTERVIEW: Girl Friday.

LA band Girl Friday's debut full-length Androgynous Mary will be out August 21 via Hardly Art.

Burning deep in Girl Friday's music is an unquenchable will to survive. The LA-based band don't blunt the impact of the themes they work through in their ferocious, knotty rock songs, but they don't let the more harrowing aspects of being alive and young in the 21st century daunt them, either. Taking full advantage of the dystopian shades of post-punk and noise rock palettes on their arresting debut LP, Androgynous Mary, Girl Friday nevertheless suffuse their music with abundant optimism. The world is a hellscape, but the four of them are in it together.

With bold, dramatic guitar lines and tightly wound vocal harmonies, Girl Friday negotiate the stress and alienation that comes with being sidelined from normative society on Androgynous Mary.

We had a chat with the band all about Androgynous Mary, the music industry and much more. Read the interview below.

Hi! How are you? How have you been spending your time during this pandemic? How has it affected you as a band?

Libby: "Hello! How are YOU? These days, generally diving into some long forgotten projects. I have been chipping away some music that may or may not ever emerge into the world."

Virginia: "I’ve been able to give some more time to working with other bands and collaborators which has been really nice. Outside of that, just using this time to reflect and learn."

Sierra: "Welcome to this interview. I am stocking up on metaphysical paraphernalia in the hopes that the spirits in my house will finally relent and participate in my long-awaited masquerade ball."

Vera: "Initially I was making tunes and learning Spanish and hanging with my family - now I’m always working but for the teachers union here in NZ so some important work and there is lots to learn."

You are gearing up to release your debut album Androgynous Mary in August. What can you tell us about the record?

Virginia: "In the words of the late Steve Irwin, “She’s a beauty!” I think we’re all very proud of dear Mary."

Sierra: "Mary likes to explore the entire emotional world at her disposal and say whatever she wants about it."

What were your musical influences for the LP? Who were you listening to around the time of writing it?

Libby: "The movie Hole."

Virginia: "Definitely second Hole. Pretty sure I had also started descending into my first Cheap Queen deep dive at the time."

Sierra: "I was photosynthesizing in a Placebo hole that I have yet to claw myself out of. And also a lot of Blaenavon. Every answer must include the word “hole.”"

Vera: "Holy moly mother Mary, literally holes what we dug and sat in."

Please talk us through your songwriting/creative process for Androgynous Mary.

Sierra: "On the third try, we successfully meet in the center of a dark room, under the disco ball. We scream in anguish into assorted jars and shake them violently until we can’t deny the brilliance of the sound contained therein."

What do you hope fans/listeners will take from the album?

Vera: "I just want people to be weird and feel ok about that."

Virginia: "I hope it’s as satisfying as eating a home cooked meal with your chosen family."

Sierra: "I hope they can listen to it on repeat for an extended period of time and feel like they are being held by a loving entity who is just as confused as they are."

Libby: "I hope they like me."

Were there any other songs written during this period that didn’t make it onto the album, and if so, will you revisit them again in the future?

Virginia: "Wouldn’t you like to know..."

Sierra: "We have a staggering and comical number of voice memos that, and I promise you will thank us for this, will likely never emerge from their technological encasings."

Libby: "Nah."

Which new artists/bands are you listening to right now? Anyone you think we should be checking out?

Libby: "Kills Birds, Ulrika Spacek."

Virginia: "Mod Pods, Suzie True, Cry Babe, Hot Moms, Genevieve Artadi."

Sierra: "Hayley Williams’s Petals for Armor. And my brother is about to release an album with our friend Brian that he’s put so much love and work into, and the entire universe needs to hear it! It’s called Silo by The Altogether. (Disclaimer: I am on it, but I can assure you I’ve contributed very little to its perfection)."

Vera: "At the moment I can only listen to this one album by Brian Eno and John Cale, Jesus is King by Kanye, Gracie Fields and Nina Simone."

If there was one thing you could change about the music world today, what would it be?

Libby: "More Trans A&Rs. More Black A&Rs, More POC A&Rs. More accountability in safe spaces."

Virginia: "More safe music venues open to minors!"

Sierra: "Fair pay for artists too."

Vera: "Agreed with all. And yes we really need the unionization of musicians and artists and understanding our value in society. Because it is labor and the fact we ‘love to do it’ is really exploited. Going off Libby's point, I think we need to acknowledge the major influence that music created and invented by BIPOC has had and continues to have in genres (including rock) where the main profiteers today are white men. We got to dismantle that."

What challenges, if any, have you faced in the music industry? And how did you overcome them?

Sierra: "We’ve been really lucky overall in terms of the people we’ve worked with, but we have gotten some not-so-sexy commentary from people assuming our genders and what that means about the music we’re able to make. We rename them all “Chris,” quietly hex them, and move on with our lives."

Finally, what do you have planned for when we're back to some sort of normality? I expect you're excited to get out on the road to tour the album following its release and when it is safe to do so?

Sierra: "You are absolutely right about that. Other than fantasizing about future tours, I’m taking it one day at a time."

Vera: "I don’t think there is a return to ‘normalcy’, but honestly if normalcy is Trumps America with a complacent public where cops intimidate and murder and money takes precedent over life, I don’t want to go back to that anyway. Let’s keep pushing forward."

youtube

Androgynous Mary is out August 21.

Photo credit: Al Kalyk

#interview #girl friday #this is not the indie rock i signed up for

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carriagelamp · 4 years

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February 2020 Book Review

The Last Wish / Sword Of Destiny

Let’s start with the books that currently have me in a stranglehold. I apologize to everyone that actually follows me and watched me descend into fandom pits but whatcha gonna do. So, I was aware of the video game when it came out, but not being a prolific gamer I was intrigued but never bothered getting into it. Then the Netflix series came out, and I was again intrigued... but I suck at sitting down and watching shows. So what the heck I decided, it’s probably mediocre hypermasculine high fantasy but let’s try a book to see what the fuss is all about.

Good god. Guys. It’s real good. And so fucking different from the show. Geralt is actually a really emotional, well-meaning guy who’s starved for positive social interactions and is just trying to do his best. And the books’ consistent themes of colonialism, environmental destruction, forced extinction, and changing eras is... chilling and fascinating and honestly a little too relatable at times. These books have made me laugh and shout and frankly sob. Still a little sexist, cause 90s fantasy, but Geralt is so not the gruff, heartless, manly man character I thought he would be. I am so deeply into these and have just cracked the spine of the next book in the series. If you like high fantasy, I can’t recommend these enough.

The Silver Eyes

I just learnt that there were Five Nights At Freddy’s books, and honestly picked this up from the library as a joke for my brother. We’d played the games back when they first came out, and were into the lore, but lbr they’re more of a meme at this point. Anyway, we ended up reading this out loud to each other, a chapter a night, and I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. Probably wouldn’t have liked it as much on my own, but the main character was complicated and messy, and the book’s way or portraying trauma was neat. It was nominally horror, and did have the occasional chilling moment, or times it was fun to speculate, it over all it was pretty run of the mill middle grade fiction.

FRNK

Probably the best graphic novel I’ve read this month.

I was howling with laughter while I read it. Good quality Belgium comics, always a treat. This story is about a modern day boy, Frank, who is accidentally thrown back into prehistoric times, where he’s stuck with a bunch of cavemen who haven’t invented the concept of vowels yet. Admittedly my French isn’t great, so it made trying to decipher words with half the letters missing a challenge to say the least, but plenty worth it. I really want to get my hands on book two. I believe there’s an English translation, and I’d recommend giving it a try.

Best Friends

A neat little graphic novel that addresses common growing up issues, about what it means to be friends, stay friends, how to cope with people changing and when it’s time to walk away. Anxiety, being yourself, fitting in, all that sort of stuff. It’s a quick read, very pleasant, and has nice art.

Karen’s Witch

Another cute graphic novel with charming art. I read this at the store while I was waiting for a prescription to be filled. It’s about this five year old (or thereabouts) who is absolutely determined that her neighbour is a witch and by god she is going to prove it or at least scare herself and her friend silly in the process. A fun little read!

Endling: The First

The second book in the Endling series, and all my praise for the first book apply here as well. A super unique high fantasy that gives extinct and threatened species a voice. The book explore themes of war, environmental destruction, sacrifice and loss. You really get to see how much Byx has grown and how much she needs to continue to grow. This book has me so excited for the third, I haven’t read such an emotionally rewarding quest novel in a long time.

Bleach

I found out my library has a billion books of this series and decided to jump into it again for the first time in over a decade. Honestly it’s even better than I remembered? The art is absolutely stunning, Ichigo is such a power fantasy hero, and it’s one of those series with a lot of really loveable characters and a lot of heart. Ichigo is a good guy who you actually feel good liking, which can’t be said for all shonen protags by any means. This is just such a classic and it holds up man. And if you like manga and have never read it? Jump in and enjoy a normal human getting supernatural powers and kicking absolutely enormous monsters’ asses.

Dinotopia: Sabertooth Mountain

This was my favourite Dinotopia book as a kid, and it was still fun to reread. The world of Dinotopia is one separate from the rest of the world, where humanity lives in perfect harmony with many prehistoric creatures that have managed to survive and evolve on the island of Dinotopia. This story is about a crisis brewing, as the sabertooths are cut off from their food supply and are in danger of not only starving but of bringing death to the rest of the mountain as well. While surveying the situation with his older sister, the main character finds himself falling from the airship in the middle of a storm, directly into the valley of starving sabertooths.

I read a bunch of this author’s graphic novels, and they are such feel-good queer lit. This was probably my favourite of the lot, but I also read Tea Dragon Society, Aquicorn Cove, and Princess Princess Ever After. Taking place in a picturesque mountain community, it’s about a girl meeting a guardian dragon who accidentally fell asleep in the mountains a century ago rather than watch over the village like intended. It’s about coming to terms with and loving yourself (and also about super cute little tea dragons).

Just Jaime

Another story that focuses on the complications of middle school, and how friends can grow and change, and when sometimes friendships become toxic and cruel. These are novel/graphic novel hybrids that are very visually appealing, and really do manage to tell very heartfelt stories. This one takes a side character from the earlier two books, and turns her from a very one dimensional, somewhat annoying character, into a fully realized person with her own issues and her own need for growth.

The Life-Changing Magic Of Tidying Up / The Life-Changing Manga Of Tidying Up

Given that I’m not really a non-fiction person and DEFINITELY not a self-help book person, I really enjoyed these (though I didn’t read Spark Joy). I read the manga first, out of curiosity, but enough of it struck true that I decided to try the book as well. Have I cleaned anything up yet? No. But honestly, I can genuinely say that despite being repetitive at points I do truly feel like I got a lot of good out of it, and I feel much more excited and prepared when I do decide to do a big clean next. It really does reframe the relationship you have with your belongings and with yourself. I genuinely love the concept of “sparking joy”.

Bigfoot Boy: The Sound Of Thunder

Technically the last book of the series, whoops. Though honestly having read it I didn’t feel like I missed that much. It’s a Canadian graphic novel and I had... mixed feelings about it. Interesting and exciting in some ways, but the pacing was odd, and honestly I don’t think indigenous voices went into making it (I could be wrong but...) and it reads as kinda... eugh. Problematic. Having a none indigenous author write about a white boy being the guardian of a first nation totem and turning into a bigfoot isn’t a super cool optic.

Bloodchild

I was told “hey this is a really fucked up short story” so I read it, and guess what? It was a really fucked up short story. Would recommend if you want weird alien sex slavery bullshit-- it was a wild ride. And the overall themes obviously went a lot deeper than that, but honestly, it’s like a few dozen pages long if you wanna dig into all the philosophical shit, just give it a read! Uh, heavy content warning, tw tw tw, but a really bizarre, unsettling look at gender and power dynamics and oppression through a scifi lens.

Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIHM

I hadn’t read this book since elementary school so I reread it on a whim. It really is such a charming story. As far as animal stories go, this feels almost like the platonic ideal. Mother mouse is worried about her sick son and winds up compelled to seek out the mysterious rats who live in the rosebush for help, and is not only thrust into her own adventure but learns about the strange past her late husband shared with the rats of NIMH. It’s such a relaxing read, while still managing to be exciting and compelling.

Exploring According to Og the Frog

And one last animal story to round us off. I’d read one of the Humphrey books last month, and check out a couple more from the library for fun. I didn’t enjoy Mysteries According to Humphrey that much, but this one was charming, showing the world through Humphrey’s frog friend Og instead. The same charming type of adventure, but being a frog, Og has a very different attitude and view of the world, which was fun. Very cute elementary kid lit.

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sirjustice265-blog · 4 years

Text

Points money method

The monies can be points where central bank can credit institutions with such as new units into the market even in forex. And 1 must have the that smartphone 4 such operation not necessarily 2 of ya as the govt can place like telephone booth joints to transact minus the phone. The system can be of armored glass touch system or with pads among the armored glass described above to protect it from crime as much as different food with their vending armored machines like cigarettes, Liquor and even groceries cut placed on bags b4 being place in the vending machine to avoid quarrel as seen with shop keepers and monitoring ya spending habit to the point of ambushing ya. Cameras with speakers can well be placed under bright lights to even warn 1 who tries to mess with the machine as gun armed drones can be sent even to hurt ya to stop or guns can be fixed along with camera inside to shoot ya from above as the govt employ people who check such via a computer room as in the link below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjfG1xWigLE

The shakir entourage ambushed me taking my 4 dime cash from my pocket, now they are sending hooligans to do the same thing to tell guys i was lying as now they have known i got no that dime as above but my answer aint that, to take my bottle, hustle, sweet, which i sell to a client who wants them from me not from any1 which if so selects another person. Looks 4 frustrated men in life to help as can acquit ya out of hell fire as giving the deal to 1 with money may land u in hell what Mr Hindu wants, those in Minneapolis knows the same but just deludes ya that Hell aint on earth to still rule dude.

The Angle judge in the link below and Yesus have know been hurled down as in the revelation verse in the link below. He was a woman lover in 2 fold, to be gotten back to earth as he is tired of sitting all day through and 2 to own the things of this life to make people fear him as to say the motor/dynamo invention in the tumblr a/c sirjustice199 is his 4 folks to worship and follow him again. Christ with prostitute, hurl her with stone if u have not commit sin was an investigation another why he was sent to the Earth which again in Judgement he is still steadfast with it. If u eat neem leaves u see him hurled in Minneapolis to hell fire 4 deluding the nations as signaling Kebi when kidnap at Kisii and the angles to tell Mr-Hindu to use it agaionst those they frustrate dude. Beware of such trick dude, waaacha maneno ya yesus bro, Jesusnake, was acquitted of the same as forgiven, had lived b4.

https://biblehub.com/revelation/12-9.htm

Makonge coast province main export or cash generating income as the bags are used in charcoal and potato carriage but with charcoal the most use its dead as those bags can be made in boom process without cutting the sisal 4 factory process which many suppliers now makes locally and with waru the same reducing the profits of those who pluck few leaves of such and make many in the boom process b4 taking to factory or the factory profits itself laying many unemployed. With port of Mobasa POm-be is over with E-cargo drones that can be set and other neighboring nations being served with the same port now making their own tools which they used to export shrinking the port carriage or good being and led by almost 70% meaning Coast dead as only tourism left which they are screwing up by putting up with bad behavior instead of opening up dude and the sisal business makes Dar as well collapse like at 80%. Literally u see its skyline collapse. Wanna fight with hunger as above and come back to those u fight with in the morning to eat in their house, cant happen dude, look 4 other amicable way to resettle ya tussle not with other people bro, that's the challenge homey. Also remaining is cooking oil which we got substitutes like groundnuts and sesame with others having home mini-oil crushing machines to buy directly from the farms to cut the jobs on the factory out of less demands. Think twice dude.

With buses system under or behind every seat a gadget with armored glass technology where u transact as driver has a screen to monitor those seat which have not transacted as the a/c no is written to see inside or inside the armored gadget where if u got ya phone u can pay as u enter b4 the driver takes ya receipt 4 records provided u know the van a/c number dude. It eliminates all conductor nuisense thing with women and hidden profit giving ventures like Hotels, supermarket etc that facilitates the birth of bad kids who cant hustle but able to sit all day synonymous with people described above. Wants to eliminate all hooligans in 1 way or the other bro to get the right generation of mutual understanding and respect.

In hell you became short like 30% of ya height taken away as if u get to heaven u be tall of or ya age, the younger u die the younger u look in hell and vice versa, so decide to die young to look young that way afterwards or vice versa dude.

Those who incarnated can get to hell even if young and that’s the fear 4 you not me as am not incarnated. Was sturbon and ya spirit given to a new born baby, should try to induct others to get by and escape hell fire. Learn on how u can escape hell fire with excuses displayed below, Luke 21 st Signs of the End dude

Online money can have transaction receipt like the M-pesa 1 in the link below to monitor dubious business transaction to thwart the moves of such which 4 along time have jeopardize our progress like with lies i have given ya this and that, Carry ya own luggage as burden dude

https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/FMfcgxwJWXQclbCGMCTBNxrgTdPFsRhV?projector=1&messagePartId=0.1

When money no-more u will not be able to buy unless u got the a/c from the international company 666, in their regional office or in the web/internet as in Revelation book mark of the beast software as brave as beast in USA in a genius in electric things or mechanical gadgets or 1 who knows much but secretly of may issues in Govt, business and Trade.

https://www.google.com/search?q=brave+software+logo&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwiHxJuEtpXqAhULXxQKHYJzCygQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=brave+software+logo&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzoCCAA6BggAEAcQHlCYUVjqWGCwX2gAcAB4AIABsQKIAewJkgEFMi0zLjKYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZw&sclient=img&ei=36PwXsfYNYu-UYLnrcAC&bih=910&biw=1280&client=firefox-b-d

U wanna fight with 1, he increase in body and height better stop dude to investigate if they can partake like bitter lemon or soda solution like Fanta lest they confuse ya mind and dismantle ya bro

Sikutowa mbolo changu kwa longi, nikatiya kwenye kuma bure bilashi bila mpira to disturb me with ya kid it was ya own decison not mine and i was not there as 1 arousing ya, carry ya own burden dude, take ya kid off schooling system when out of junior class to start up a small business with machines we now know how to make as every1 knows, dude what do u want, cut my back with machete then to end when on news, leave me all alone

The water sprayer, cold water placed can be used in drone, plane, jet technology to carry such in hot humid air, reasons sometimes u see a fire extinguishing truck running to a descending plane to do the same as in the link below

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ALeKk030BQFRJP1zDtOhRxP-e7dg45pqmg:1592829343416&source=univ&tbm=isch&q=lawn+water+spraying+machine+in+use+images&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiew87Zt5XqAhURzhoKHVfgBK4QsAR6BAgIEAE

The manual timer in the link below can be used to produce power using another 1 same on induction type of generator coil, so that is also yours dude

Manual timer images https://www.jumia.co.ke/generic-chanical-counter-palm-clicker-tally-training-timer-toys-red-29785167.html

Canada now got pay 1st green-card method as opposed to USA 1 which u r selected 1st b4 paying making getting to Embassy not a guarantee as the previous, so no corruption but just if u got the money and qualification as USA should resort to the Canadian way as maybe we know not but a problem to our society as it breeds class and jealousy. Now they wanna say where they wanna get is poor just soliciting cash from poor people en-mass, you rich open yours u don’t charge the same to other nations to take the day, don’t place us in reproaches, blames and excuses dude as in the link below. Geuza Kichwa ya kebi

http://lp.canadianvp.com/CVP/Canada_Your_New_Home?utm_lang=en&af=cvp_2587&utm_subid2=VIP&gclid=Cj0KCQjwirz3BRD_ARIsAImf7LMavVJKNoyYByCrs2FssJxvmkeXwtmO5wqiwcmnQU9nBj99eU5Ej-UaAj8EEALw_wcB

When drones have been legalized and many can fly such like in Scandinavia, they got their schedule or flying times not anyhow dude to create confusion in the air. As in the morning between 7:00 - 8:00 in the launch time at 1:00 pm and evening between 5:00 PM - 6:30 PM lest u r arrested if taking off but landing has excuses as the save can have GPS services to monitor the same lest u pay fine or face jail.

Judgement photos taken from Minneapolis, MN and Philadelphia, PA in the link below, where Angel Gabriel signals the angels descending to attribute to what is happening around in the world like with Kebi. Kinda, he wants the earthly life, tired of sitting, wanting not incarnation but to be taken back to earth in his form 4 people to fear him. That’s Kenneth Tonydelanu when he was burning kinda, giving into cry at those time, he was about to be hurled into hell. The water at Bar kalare spring makes u insane to change ya characters as Hindu changes ya mind, so if u were in jail u can say that as an excuse and be acquitted of hell fire and if ya spouse used soaps and cosmetics made of such on u, the same can be done to ya. This was in place to remove the Hindu cause, they get many people off fire more than they thought the reverse and that spring water can be many people excuse but not equally true so must be monitored as Solo breakdown services want to take a big shinny silver tank near the road to store that water 4 sale in paints industry. The water will be pumped to that Silva big tanks from the spring falling source, where a small borehole dug to infuse the water b4 the same above is done. Click the side bars 4 more

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVmlg7EUqh8

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=judgement+jesus

If u don’t cut me with a panga, then the whole community will be killed then formalin injection done and u walk dead as me alive and we ask each other question of what u thought of me is 1st done to ya. U stupid and insane of no definite speech while u want others to listen to u. Enda will be to ya not me, lets make matters a reality and U Russians we are finishing ya, don’t again come to us like u want from us, continue with ya rudeness, maybe can give ya respect than relenting as the rule of the thump dude

The type of timer upper shaking nod can be tied to the solenoid engine using a technician not fake as Kebi to produce power when they are 2 to replace the rotating option and the same method can be used to make a dredger then digs bore/oil holes on the earth crust from above and even up-to the outside of the earth from below. Ask the Italian fellow in those links below where they got the same b4 sending me such on my FB using my fb as i gave them the password to post on my former block fb pages as text where i check and get the same. Now I am Dady of Bar kalare phone repair shop friend with Tito and a fellow who has transfigured into images of Kevin nelson Omondi as per the ID to delude people he is the owner of such donge Genta. Look b4 u leap dude

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3Bh_N1dRjg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRIDI06U2AQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUDsu6aiGPk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_l3VUItLRk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xc14jBSlD64

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ALeKk03juEjdYVAfZ6d3UIeoq-oh19Dgeg:1592809020025&source=univ&tbm=isch&q=solenoid+engine+generator+images&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjImtX-65TqAhXtyYUKHb79CPEQsAR6BAgJEAE

Get a glimpse of airplane made in Hungary as it manufacturing date back dated bro in the link below

https://www.123rf.com/photo_19415966_budaors-hungary-april-21-li-2-aircraft-ready-to-take-off-april-21th-2013-this-plane-was-made-in-1949.html

Hungary has resorted to making big alternator generators as in the link below to avoid power importation from like Russia Cole and nuclear plants or Hep from nations nearby with large water network like Germany reducing their fore on those areas as many nations have done the same and not yet alerted us on social media as Hungary have done bro. The above saves such countries as Hungary which have installed the same

https://www.wdl.org/en/item/601/

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fupload.wikimedia.org%2Fwikipedia%2Fcommons%2F7%2F74%2FGorskii_04414u.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAlternator&tbnid=_JBQVlmqlC1gQM&vet=12ahUKEwiyydns7JTqAhXN5eAKHbeUAGYQMygAegUIARCaAQ..i&docid=tfUbuXbMRvSfdM&w=3329&h=3010&q=alternator%20generators%20made%20in%20hangary%20images&client=opera&ved=2ahUKEwiyydns7JTqAhXN5eAKHbeUAGYQMygAegUIARCaAQ

China made machine 4 roasting maize as Mahindi mbichi choma machine in the link below, so such people doing the same on road sides take heed dude as well as groundnut counterpart of it dude. Life made easy mzeya to make others furious if u did not know, the enemies of progress like many black skinned people!!!

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=china+made+maize+roster+machine&client=opera&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiTlOv07ZTqAhUMmxQKHRzJCgAQsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=984&bih=658

https://zzgfmachine.en.made-in-china.com/product/PSNmvuUdEYrw/China-Groundnut-Roaster-Machine.html

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wa-sabi · 5 years

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Once upon a time in...Hollywood.

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

I am very happy with Once upon a time in Hollywood, a plotless movie. The absence of a specific storyline made totally sense in my opinion as this isn’t a movie about people, but rather a movie about a microcosm that is cinema, with its ascending and falling stars in a very specific time in history, 1969, which becomes the perfect laboratory to observe dynamics that are as old as Hollywood: the rise and fall of an actor’s career. I believe it’s important to stress that in the case of Rick Dalton’s, it doesn’t occur because of a specific reason. Nothing or no-one can be blamed for the descending path of his career, actually when we see him he is in the middle of his professional crisis. Yet never is implied that he lacks talent, professionalism or that someone came to replace him. His alcoholism is the consequence rather than the cause of the crisis he goes through and, again, is not a personal crisis but much wider as it involves a whole genre. I believe this is well portrayed through Rick and Cliff’s friendship and even if at first I had the impression of the latter being nothing but the mirror of Leo’s character, the ghost of his past career lingering around to give him something to hold onto when his success slowly disappears, actually he is far from being Dalton’s mere acting double. Cliff has a distinctive personality and we see the story even from his perspective. He is much diverse from Rick, remaining solid through the struggles he is evidently facing no differently than his fellow friend: indeed he is suspected of murdering his wife, his frustration is violently released against the hippies he meets at the ranch, but I believe he was given the most beautiful piece of metaphor in this movie. If Rick lives on top of Hollywood, Cliff’s house is a caravan instead, one that happens to be located behind a Drive in: just like on set we can find him behind the scenes, so his home is behind a screen.

Their roles in the industry are different and so are their reactions: Cliff doesn’t despise the idea of making spaghetti westerns in Italy to keep working, but Rick Dalton rejects the possibility of it because he is deep into the myth of his own persona. He wants to defend his status in Hollywood more than his career, it seems like he isn’t clinging onto acting itself but on the fame it brought him. Yet his character experiences an evolution, as we see him put his greatest effort in the scene he acts out with the little girl and Luke Perry. It’s where we see in him a passion for acting, the wish to prove his talent to himself and his on screen partners before exiting with dignity the scenes as he finally comes to terms with the end of his era. But even if at opposite stages of their careers, Sharon and Rick are somehow comparable. They both experience the feeling of “not being recognized”: we see Rick in the changing room, talking with Lancer’s director about his costume and he complains that with the hair and the mustache Sam Wanamaker suggested to put on him “people wouldn’t recognize his face”. On the other hand we see Sharon Tate at the cinema hall, to watch the movie she stars in The Wrecking Crew, taking a minute to have herself recognized as one of the actors. It was an interesting juxtaposition, showing how a the beginning and the end of a career collide right in the moment when not many people recognize you: not as many as before or not many yet. A further parallelism can be seen during the airport scenes (hello Jackie Brown!): Sharon is returning to LA with Polanski at the beginning of the movie; later in the movie Dalton and his Italian wife do the same, but within a much different context. Sharon is received by a crowd of photographers, Rick passes by unnoticed while Cliff is carrying his baggage, both material and emotional.

Yet if Tarantino could rewrite history, we owe it to Rick Dalton and his successful series Bounty Law: the members of the Manson cult can readjust their murderous intents and target him instead (with no success) just because they recognized him, after being redirected away from the private street where he and Tate live. So no differently from what he did with inglorious bastards, Tarantino changes the turn of events to serve his narrative intent and in this case, saving Sharon’s life was the only correct epilogue to a story meant to celebrate cinema and its ability of making everything possible. Just like Tarantino proved by changing Sharon’s fate. If the title of the movie is supposed to recall a fairytale, it’s exactly a happy ending what we get: Rick is not discarded as only a memory of the past, as both him and Cliff triumph as the heroes of the night. At the end of the movie he is invited to Tate’s house and he is reminded as a great actor, praised for his talent and received by Sharon herself, hugging him as if to welcome him on her side in the Olympus of the legends of Hollywood, where Rick earned his righteous place. He lives on in the memory of the new generation, Sharon herself remains in our and they will know no death, ever, because cinema, just like every form of art, is what made them immortal.

I have to say this movie pleasantly surprised me because the Manson cult had no space in it, if not to be ridiculed as they were by the hands of a stunt man and the bite of a dog. There was nothing intriguing in the representation they receive in this movie because they are shown for what they actually were: a bunch of toxic freaks, lobotomized by the words of a charismatic leader who isn’t shown for longer than a couple of minutes. I loved the distance it was visually created in the movie between him and Sharon on the day he walks up the hill and peeks at her who is standing by the door: she appears high and unreachable, somehow holy as the light in the scene of her dancing in her house envelops her in gold, as if she was a goddess. I believe Tarantino to be helplessly in love with her.

Lastly the theme of television and violence. It is very clearly explored in the scene where the four Manson followers are in the car, discussing on what to do after Rick scared them away from his house and one of the girls( which is supposed to be Susan Atkin, Sharon Tate’s actual murderer) comes up with the plan of killing Dalton. Indeed they recognize him as the lead of the series Bounty Law and decide to cast punishment above him: tv shows have taught them nothing but violence and killing, and so as a sort of counterbalance, they come up with the idea of killing one of their tv mentors, which is Dalton himself who made a career off the role of a bounty hunter. Now the motif they fabricate is absurd as it’s only meant to be an alibi for a wish of revenge that originates elsewhere, being it in a disturbed personality, marginalization or a profound social unrest. When Cliff visits the commune at the ranch we see Squeaky and others stuck in front of a television, but their perversions cannot be blamed on television they so avidly watch: It’s more likely that it was the isolation from society, the large use of drugs and being brainwashed by Mason’s prophecies to shape the members of that commune into murderers. But after all Tarantino’s movies aren’t meant to be a social or psychological analysis and in this movie, where he is dealing with real life people, there is no real violence. None of the real characters is hurt or is hurt for real: Sharon isn’t killed; when Cliff is fighting the cult members (which portray real people) he is tripping off a cigarette soaked in acid and Rick is hella drunk, giving us the impression of it all being an hallucination. I believe that Tarantino was very careful in dealing with the killings in this movie, making sure violence remained confined to fictional characters and fictional ways. Realistically, who would ever die by getting hit in the face with a dog food can and burnt in the pool by a famous Hollywood actor who happens to keep flame thrower in his backyard? It’s the absurdity of it all that makes it acceptable. Real life violence on the other hand is a different matter, and Tarantino doesn’t even try to approach it.

Conclusively, this movie was not the movie of my life, but it was something from a point of view I never saw and very fun to watch. It was romantic, yet realistic, and I’d love to watch it again.

FUN FACTS!

In the credit scene Rick Dalton advertises a cigarette brand, Red Apple, which Tarantino invented and we can see in both Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill (and more).

A special mention goes to Brandy, who won at this year Cannes film festival the Palm Dog award. Speaking of Tarantino’s brand, we find a new one dedicated to her: Wolf’s tooth. Good food for mean dogs!

The movie is also FILLED with references to other movies, a lot of which are actual Spaghetti Westerns from Italian directors (Sergio Corbucci is a real director) and we find a reference to Polanki’s own movie Tess which is based on the novel Tess of the D’Urbervilles: we see Sharon Tate buy a copy for her husband the bookstore before going to the movie theatre.

#once upon a time in hollywood #spoilers #spoiler #my personal thoughts.

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transracialqueer · 5 years

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'When I Was White' Centers On The Formation Of Race, Identity And Self

by Hope Wabuke

When one thinks of American blackness, there is the unsaid ugly truth that nearly all American blacks who have descended from the historical African diaspora in America have one (or several) rapacious white slave owners in their family tree at some point.

Here, in the early days of the United States, was the invention of racism for economic necessity. From 1619 until 1865, white male Americans chose to breed a black enslaved workforce through the state-sanctioned rape of black women to build the new nation and support their white supremacist class. Race became the single unifying identifier — determining everything about one's life starting with this most basic division: enslaved or free.

The American law was that the "condition of the child followed that of the mother," backed up by the "one drop rule," the legal framework that dictated even one drop of blackness made an individual black, never white. The idea of blackness as a pollutant, a taint that would erode the purity of whiteness, was seized by politicians around the world then — and now.

Because of this legacy of sexual violence and anti-blackness, black and white mixed individuals have long been considered black in America.

To a much larger degree than many people would like to admit, race still determines a vast part of one's life — social networks and mobility, birth and other medical care, employment opportunities and so on. Indeed, there is an entire genre of literature and film, popularized in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, composed of blacks "passing" for white to avoid this racism. Some of the most famous examples are Nella Larsen's 1929 novel, Passing; James Weldon Johnson's 1912 opus, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man; and the 1959 film The Imitation of Life.

Sarah Valentine, the author of the memoir When I Was White, did not choose to pass for white; her mother made the choice for her. So Valentine was raised as white by white parents in white middle-class communities — only to discover as a young woman that her biological father was actually black. As Valentine endeavors to explore what her new identity means to her, she searches for ways to connect to her blackness. For Valentine, learning that she is black is to reject whiteness; she cannot comprehend how the privileges of whiteness can be held hand in hand with the racism the black body is subject to.

Valentine has good reason to feel this way; her space of "passing" for white puts her in situations where, because they assume she is one of their own, she hears the racist things white people say when there are no black people around — starting with her own family. Valentine's pain when her mother refuses to let her attend a school dance because her date is black, dismisses black people as lazy welfare spongers who live in the ghetto or bans Valentine from watching TV shows with black people is palpable.

Because of her white mother's ongoing racism throughout her childhood, Valentine's first understanding of blackness is as other — as negative, dangerous and wrong. "I got the message that black was undesirable," Valentine writes.

At the center of When I Was White is this immensely complicated relationship between Valentine and her mother. As Valentine seeks to learn more about her biological father, her mother will only say: "Your father was a black man who raped me in college." Valentine tries to reckon with this, seeking more information from her mother — and in the aftermath of her mother's ever changing narrative of Valentine's conception and constant refusals to answer Valentine's questions, she seeks answers from her mother's college friends as well. Valentine, torn between respecting her mother's trauma and wanting to connect with her biological father, struggles to come to terms with the many layers of the situation, navigating the line between the importance of believing women's accounts of rape and the awareness of the history of white women's false rape accusations against black men as an excuse for lynching and other racial violence throughout American history.

Valentine is at her best when we see her sift through this history, creating well-crafted scenes that resonate with depth and emotional weight in a commitment to get to the truth — even if it paints her in a negative light. She reveals that everyone suspected she had black heritage — friends, teachers, even she herself — but to prevent jeopardizing her family dynamic, no one spoke of it. Scared, the young Valentine had also remained silent.

"I worried that acknowledging I was black and had a different father than the one I grew up with could shatter the unity of the family my parents had worked so hard to create," Valentine writes. Indeed, after taking a DNA test and finding out they are not biologically related, the man Valentine knew as her father moved out of the home he shared with Valentine's mother and into an apartment of his own 300 miles away.

Black and white biraciality in this country has long been understood as a type of blackness, and the presence of biracial individuals within blackness has added to the power of the black cultural block. Without biracial being considered black, for example, America would not yet have had its first black president.

But why, then, is biracial not also a type of white? If you look past the racist origins of the "one drop rule," what happens to our thinking of racial duality?

One wonders: Why is this mutually exclusive? Why must Valentine choose either black or white? One wonders, too: If the author was Latina and black or Asian and black, would discovering her blackness mean losing her Latinx or Asian identity? We are beyond black and white, beyond the "one drop rule," in American society. So, should our understanding of multiracial identity evolve too? Can it evolve?

Or is the history and continued presence of white supremacy in our culture so virulent that whiteness cannot be held in the same conversation as other multiracial identities?

These and other questions are tackled in When I Was White. But in a larger sense, Valentine's memoir documents an experience any black individual in the U.S. has had: From birth you have seen yourself as a normal human being, worthy of just as much respect and personhood as anyone in America. But then, upon that first pivotal experience with racism, you realize that in this society, because of your skin, you are seen as other; because of your skin you are seen as less than and treated accordingly — and always with the threat of violence against your body ready to rise.

As the United States continues to become more brown and black and less white — resulting in a xenophobic backlash against brown and black Americans and a nostalgia by some for white European immigrants — the ideas in When I Was White become even more necessary. Here, quite simply, is a masterful explication on the formation of self and identity — of learning to trust yourself instead of the lies other people, no matter how close, tell you about who you are.

(Emphasis mine, source in notes)

#transracial #racism #antiblackness #biracial #rape mention #transracial mixed #tq posts

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en-temerant-voistra · 5 years

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Auri has a special place in my heart.

I made a playlist for her with songs, that remind me of her.

If you want to know more about the reasons why I chose those specific songs and pieces of music, you can read the explanations under the cut.

Enjoy.

In the following parts I will talk about the pieces I chose and the reasons why I think they fit. Sources are most often provided. Obviously this part contains spoilers about the character Auri from the king killer chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss and I will quote from the 2014 edition of the slow regard of silent things (tsrost) as well as from the tenth anniversary edition of 2017 of the name of the wind (tnotw).

Precious joy:

The piece of music “precious joy” was heavily inspired by a piece of bach called “Jesus bleibet meine Freude” (translation from the german: Jesus remain my joy). It was played by the band “the modern jazz quartet” and can be put into the genre of jazz.

In this piece elements of jazz and bachs style of playing mix in an unique way.

This fits Auris character in many ways.

Bachs style, built on a rigorous system of rules (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Sebastian_Bach#Four-part_harmony, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Sebastian_Bach#Structure,_lyrics) clashes and mixes with the style of modern jazz, which in many ways represent a detachment from the current rules of music.

This is similar to Auri, who is detached from society at large and still acts according to rigorous rules.

The melody also fits to Auri. It is written in G-major and while pieces of music written in major often only sound happy, this piece does not. The melody sounds not just happy, but also has parts where it sounds melancholic and sad/somber. The mix results in a often bittersweet sounding melody.

The feelings that are conveyed fit quite well to Auri, who seems happy at many points, but has also her sad and melancholic moments (page 77 of tsrost, “On the third day, Auri wept.”).

Concerto RV 156 in G minor: I Allegro:

I picked this piece mainly because of the sweetness of the melody.

It is written in G minor and while “precious joy” had notes of sadness even though it was mainly happy, this piece has notes of happiness even though it is mainly melancholic.

It symbolizes the aspects of Auris character that are often hidden from Kvothe, who sees her mainly as happy (page 370 of tnotw, Auri was scrupulously clean and full of joy.).

Prophecies:

The piece of music “prophecies” was written by Phillip Glass. It is an example for minimalistic music. The music was written for the Movie “koyaanisqatsi”.

The movie Koyaanisqatsi, whose title means life out of balance in the Uto-aztecan language Hopi, is an experimental film, that shows footage of nature next to footage of human made technology and structures. The directeur of the movie stated, that the interpretation of the movie should and can only be done by the viewer itself (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koyaanisqatsi#Meaning).

Leo Hickman from the guardian stated how many people interpret the movie. His statement is that the movie is “a transformative meditation on the current imbalance between humans and the wider world that supports them”.

This fits nearly perfectly to Auri, who is obsessed with finding balance and who sees other humans as a big factor, which destroys balance (page 47 of tsrost “they would be coming, all hard boots and arrogance and not one bit of proper knowledge of this place”, page 51 of tsrost “it led to the same thing. Upset. Folk finding keys. Folk opening doors. Strangers in her underthing, shining their unseemly lights about. Their smoke. The braying of their voices. Tromping everywhere with hard, uncaring boots. Looking at everything without a single thought of what a look entails. Poking things and messing them about without the slightest sense of what was proper.”)

This interpretation holds true even if we ignore the background of the movie and only listen to the one piece of music, because Koyaanisqatsi which again means life out of balance is sang in the second part of the song.

The minimalistic style that is used also has elements, that fit Auri, who lives a simple life full of repetition, which fits to the style of minimalistic music.

I chose this piece and not another from this movie, because the first part of the piece has a bright melody, which fits Auri more than just the darker parts of the music.

Particles, Island songs VI:

This song represents the melancholy of Auri. While “precious joy” and “concerto in G minor” had elements of sadness, this song represents that aspect fully.

The melody is very melancholic in a soft way, which fits to Auri.

In this song the lyrics have also an important role, that makes the song fit very well to Auri s character.

As example the lines “And i try to keep the balance right. And I try but it feels like wasted time” represent both Auris struggle with the chaotic world around her and with her own chaotic emotions.

All the rowboats:

I chose “all the rowboats” mainly because the lyrics fit very well to Auri.

In this song the artifacts in a museum are depicted as having a will on their own.

The whole song sings from the injustice of the imprisonment of the “masterpieces” in this museum, which the singer once calls a public mausoleum, which is filled with the living dead.

In the refrain the singer sings how she feels pity for the violins, who forgot how to sing.

This general sentiment fits very well to Auri, who also thinks of artifacts as having a will on their own. It is not absurd to think, that Auri would also think, that the display of things only for the sake of being seen by humans, was deeply wrong.

The melody of this song is not only sad, but also angry. Anger and Auri is not often connected, but there are some instances, when the text depicts her as angry (page 51 of tsrost “Auri realized her fists were knots of knuckle white.”, page 84 of tsrost “then her mouth grew furious. Her eyes went hard. […] Hot from bakery, and all asweat with rage and the unrightness of it all, Auri turned and stormed away…”, page 92 of tsrost “…and stuffed the blanket angrily into the wine rack.”). It is only fair to have a piece of music, that symbolizes that side of Auri in this playlist.

Variationen zur Gesundung von Arinuschka (translated from german: variations for the healing of Arinuschka):

This piece of music was made by the estonian composer Arvo Pärt, who invented the Tintinabuli style, which is a minimalistic approach of and to music.

His music, even though it sounds simple and is often not difficult to play, is the result of rigorous rules through which the piece of music gets constructed.

“I have discovered that it is enough when a single note is beautifully played. This one note, or a silent beat, or a moment of silence, comforts me.”

This is a direct quote from Arvo Pärt and it shows, that his relationship with music is different than the one other artists have.

His music lives through silence and careful slow playing of perfect notes.

A lot of the pieces, that Arvo Pärt wrote, remind me of Auri. I chose this specific piece, because it not only has bright and not only dark parts, but parts, where the two mix.

Its bright parts also include parts, where the music sounds light and amused and childlike.

All of those parts are important to Auris Character.

Auri is seen as light and childlike by Kvothe, but gets heavily influenced by feelings of sadness and anxiety.

The style of the music is also very important. Like the Tintinabuli style Auri also acts according to rigorous rules.

Like the Tintinabuli style her life is simple and has a lot of routine and repeating parts.

Like the music of the Tintinabuli style, she also lives and acts on her environment through silence and careful slow perfect actions.

Year of the dragon:

Year of the dragon is from the album “enjoy your rabbit” by Sufjan Stevens and was released in 2001. It fits the genres glitch, electronica and IDM.

Year of the dragon is different from the other pieces of music on this playlist. It is fast, seems chaotic, loud and is shockingly electric.

I was unsure at first, if i should put it on this playlist, but i think it fits Auri.

For many the piece is a lot in the first hear through. It seems very chaotic and at some times it does not even sound like music.

At a second or third hear through, some of the chaos of the tones start to vanish. monuments of sound bloom out of the chaos.

For me this piece of music does not sound like chaos anymore.

Every moment is wanted. Every tone masterfully placed.

A thick tapestry of sound is made and the more you listen the more patterns can be seen.

I think Auris life is similar. To the outside observer her actions seem weird and chaotic. But they are not.

I also think, that Auri sees the world in that way. Everything seems chaotic at first, but there are ways the world should be. Patterns that should be followed.

I also chose this song because of the power of some of the melodic patterns.

The main example for this is the part in the middle, where the background base starts to descend in heavy pulses.

This is also symbolic for Auri.

Many see Auri only as the sweet childlike figure that Kvothe also oftentimes only sees.

This is not the big picture.

For people that have read the slow regard of silent things it is obvious, that she is more than just a childlike figure.

She probably endured terrible things and something changed her drastically, but she is still more than just a child.

She knows secrets that few know. Not just about the underthing, which she discovered. Not just about alchemy which she studied under master Mandrag. No. She knows about the world and how the world works in a way, that we only really know about Elodin and maybe Magwyn.

She is Auri and under her will all things bend to please her.

#the name of the wind #The Wise Man's Fear #the slow regard of silent things #Auri #Kvothe

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years

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Quinquagesima Sunday

The third Sunday of Septuagesima is known as “Quinquagesima,” which means “fifty” and which comes roughly fifty days before Easter.

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1876

“For He shall be delivered to the Gentiles, and shall be mocked, and scourged, and spit upon: and after they have scourged Him, they will put Him to death.”–Luke 18: 31.

The Gospel of today refers to the preparation of the Church for the great festival of Easter. This time of Lent was especially instituted in order that we might have a time, in which to meditate, with more than ordinary seriousness, on the passion of Christ. All those who, believing in Christ, obey this invitation of the Church, feel their hearts filled with bitterness and aversion for the ungrateful Jews; but how few consider that when they, as Christians, sin, they become more guilty towards the Redeemer than were even the Jews!

This we will understand if we refer the words we have just read: “He shall be delivered to the Gentiles and shall be mocked and put to death” to the life of a Christian sinner. O Mary, refuge of sinners, pray for us that we may recognize the foulness of sin, and from today banish every trace of it from our hearts! I speak in the most holy name of Jesus, to the greater glory of God!

Christ prophesied of Himself: “The Son of man shall be delivered to the Gentiles.” This complaint is also directed to the Christian sinner. Each sin is treachery. A child of the Church who commits sin is a traitor to Christ, as Judas was; for at baptism he swore to be true to God; and, in addition to this, he has, perhaps, received Him frequently in Holy Communion. A sinner is a traitor to Christ; for if he be a child of the Church, he generally prays and lives outwardly as though he were a genuine follower of Christ. He becomes a hypocrite, confessing with his lips love for God above all else, and outwardly seeking only to know and fulfill His holy will, while all the time he is acting exactly the opposite. Thus his whole life is a life of treachery.

Christ prophesies of Himself: “The Son of man shall be delivered to the Gentiles and shall be mocked and scourged.” Every sinner scourges the Lord anew! St. Alphonsus Liguori tells us that the Lord once appeared in Rome to a great sinner in the form of a young man. The woman rejoiced at His coming; but when she asked Him who He was, the figure of the youth changed, and Christ the Redeemer stood before her crowned with thorns, and His body lacerated by scourging. “Do you know Me?” asked He, the Lord. “Behold how I have suffered for and through you. When will you cease to scourge Me?” The woman, weeping bitterly, cast herself repentantly at the feet of Christ, and abandoned her evil ways.

This vision concerns not only this one sinful woman, but all sinners, and to each Christ addresses the sad question: “Do you know Me?” And to each the Apostle says: “Whoever sinneth, crucifies Christ in his heart.” The sinner revives the passion of our Lord; he scourges Him anew.

Men who live in the state of mortal sin are generally guilty not only of one sin, but of many, both in number and kind. A man offending God by impurity is likewise often angry, envious, full of hatred towards others, and intemperate. He braids all these sinful fetters into a lash with which he scourges the Lord in his heart.

Even to a single sin several guilty acts may concur. Thus the seducer offends not only in deed, but also in thought and word; then how long, how broad, how sharp the lash becomes with which he scourges Jesus!

And not only this, but he gives scandal by his sinful life, and is the cause that others offend God and scourge Jesus by their sins of thought, word and action. We can understand how the number of these scourges is increased, if we but consider how those corrupted by one sinner lead others into the path of evil, and these again others, and so on, God only knows how long, even to the end of time.

Have you ever thought of this dreadful lash with which you yourself have scourged Jesus by your sins, and by the scandal you have given? Has not Christ the right to address the same words to you which He spoke to the sinner in Rome: “Do you know Me?”

Behold how I am scourged by the number and greatness of you sins! Oh, cease to scourge Me with your countless sins! Christ prophesies further: “The Son of man shall be mocked.” The sinner mocks and derides Christ as God and as Redeemer. To comprehend this, we need only think of the Lord's prayer, and then consider how the sinner derides God when he repeats it!

He calls God “Father,” and yet, as Christ says, he is born, through sin, of his father, the devil! He says with his lips: “Hallowed be Thy name,” and desecrates it daily by sin! He prays with the mouth: “Thy kingdom come,” and yet destroys it in his heart by sin, and in the hearts of others by his vicious life and the scandal which he gives!

He prays: “Thy will be done,” and follows only his own sinful inclinations, and this with an ingratitude, a wickedness that is worse than that of the devil, because his soul has been redeemed with the blood of Christ.

He asks: “Give us this day our daily bread,” and works as hard as though he thought there was no God, and every man had to take care of himself. He gives no thought to nourishing his soul by the frequent reception of holy Communion; he lives for this earth only, and cares nothing for heaven. He prays that God may forgive him as he forgives others, and yet he refuses to pardon; what mockery!

He entreats: “Lead us not into temptation,” and does not avoid, but seeks temptation. He begs God to deliver him from evil, and remains voluntarily in a state of sin, which is the source of all evil.

Lastly.–The Son of man is, according to the prophecy of Christ, to be crucified. Every Christian who sins crucifies the Lord in his heart. He crucifies Jesus, and can not prevail upon himself to take Him from the cross of sin. The three nails which fastened the Lord to the cross are: Custom,–the forgetfulness of eternity,–the example and society of others! These are the three obstacles which generally prevent the conversion of a sinner.

Divine grace, however, is all powerful; may its triumph be celebrated, and may every sinner now present profit by it, in order that the Lord may, during this Lent, arise in his heart; and, celebrating Easter within it, dwell therein from this day on for evermore! Amen!

“When He drew nigh to Jericho, a certain blind man sat by the way-side.–Luke 18: 35

Today's Gospel, besides relating to us the prophecy of Christ concerning His approaching sufferings, speaks also of a “blind man who sat by the way side begging.” It might at first sight appear that there is no connection between these two circumstances, and yet there is.

This blind man, begging by the way-side, personates the sinner. No one is able to restore to him his sight but He Who came into the world to suffer and die for sinners. The particular fact to which I wish to draw your attention today is: The blindness of sinners. I desire the more particularly to speak of this blindness as we live in a century which boasts of its enlightenment, and of its progress in art and science.

It is true that in a temporal point of view we have reason to marvel at the inventive genius of men, but at the same time we have no less reason to wonder that these same men should be so blind and grow daily more so in regard to everything that concerns their future life.

O Mary, thou first bright beam of Christ, the rising Sun, pray for us that we may receive light to see the misery of that blindness with which sin encompasses men! I speak in the most holy name of Jesus, to the greater glory of God!

At the siege of Assissi by the Turks, when the latter were attacking the cloister in which St. Clair and her sisters lived, the saint had the Host brought before the gates of the convent and cried to the Lord for help. Christ heard her prayers, and while the Turks were scaling the walls of the convent, they were suddenly struck with blindness and precipitated to the ground.

Blindness, spiritually considered, is the state in which all sinners live, especially those who, though belonging to the Church of Christ, conduct themselves like heathens. Let us draw a comparison; a blind man does not perceive that the rays of the sun descend upon the face of the earth; the darkness of night surrounds him. The sinner passes his days in spiritual blindness. He who looks with his physical eyes upon the world, sees the wonders of the wisdom, power and kindness of God. He recognizes how Providence cares for everything, preserves every thing, and leads all things to the end for which He has destined them.

And when we look about us with a heart filled with love for God, how many causes greet our sight to love, honor, worship and serve Him! The divine attributes become clearer to us, if we think of all that God has done for mankind by the work of Redemption. What proofs of His Wisdom, Power and Goodness we have in the creation of divine grace! But of all this the Christian sinner seems to see nothing. For him it is night, as it was night for Judas when, on the evening of Holy Thursday after having unworthily partaken of the Lord's supper, he went away and betrayed Christ.

The Catholic sinner confesses with his lips all the tenets of his faith, but they do not influence his life; he remains in utter darkness, and in the light of faith lives like a blind heathen. This is especially the case if he has never been thoroughly instructed in his faith. Oh! how many spiritually blind people there are in this enlightened century, even among the children of the Church. Whatever may be the size of an object the blind can not see it. So it is with the spiritually blind. The truth of faith stands in its eternal grandeur before the eyes of his mind, but he does not see it, he does not deign to regard it.

A blind man knows nothing of the beauty of colors, nor of the harmony which unites all things in nature and forms of them one great picture. Thus it is with one who is spiritually blind, it is as if he had no perception of the beauty of true holiness and of a virtuous life.

He experiences no longing after perfection, and regards all aspirations to a higher life as unfeasible. He is hardly aware that there have been saints upon earth. He never raises his eyes to these glorious stars in the firmament of the Church, and if he does accidentally, these far-off luminaries, these worlds of holiness, appear but points of light, and it never occurs to him, while contemplating them, that they shine for his illumination.

The blind man does not become convinced of the existence of a thing until his hands have felt it. Thus one spiritually blind believes only that which he can seize, so to say, with his hands; he thereby dishonors his intellect and reason.

A blind man passes the most costly diamonds, the most brilliant jewels, and stretches out his hands towards a pebble which lies in his path. He is incapable of earning his livelihood, and would starve; if no one took care of him. Thus, one spiritually blind starves mentally, though he is in the midst of plenty and could gather with every breath merits of incomparable worth for the life to come. He is heedless of this fact, and wastes the precious time of his life in groping about in the darkness until the approach of that night when no one can work.

A blind man is unaware of the abyss that yawns at his feet; one step more and he will be precipitated into its measureless depth. If he is in danger, he does not perceive it, and would not leave his place if a wild beast came rushing towards him ready to tear him to pieces. Thus with the man spiritually blind. He must, as a Christian, be aware that the dangers besetting salvation are manifold, and he must know what Christ has said about the broad path leading to destruction and the torments awaiting the sinner, yet he never gives a thought to his danger, and is not concerned even if he is reminded of it.

A blind man, when threatened with some calamity, does not see the means of escape even if they are within his reach. This is exactly the case with one who is spiritually blind. He does not perceive that sureness which the Catholic faith imparts, but wanders about without a guide; or if, retaining the appearance of a Christian, he seems to perceive the light of revelation, he nevertheless sits motionless, like an owl on a withered branch, turning his eyes in every direction, but seeing nothing in the clear light of the sun.

Large numbers of these night-birds, of these spiritual owls, are to be found in the streets of cities. A true conversion to God by His preventing grace will restore the sight to these blind men when, on some occasion in their lives, the Lord passes by, and they perceive His presence by the grace that arouses their conscience.

It is especially on great festivals of the Church, in Missions and Jubilees, that the sinner feels the approach of Jesus, and is moved to follow him like others. Well for him if he then open his heart to the light of faith streaming upon him, or, should this light be still flickering in his heart, well for him if he endeavor, with the help of grace, to revive its feeble flame.

Christ said to the blind man: “Thy faith hath made thee whole.” Sinners, and all ye who are spiritually blind, take this admonition to heart, reanimate your faith, and you will see clearly the path of salvation. Then will you make rapid progress upon this path, and one day behold Jesus and understand the miracle which His power and love hath wrought to enlighten and save you. Amen!

“Now it came to pass, when He drew nigh to Jericho, that a certain blind man sat by the way-side begging.” Luke 18: 35.

The holy time of Lent is approaching, and the Church endeavors to prepare the hearts of her children for this solemnity. She would have us not only believe that Christ came into the world in order to save us by His bitter passion and death, but also wishes us to use strenuous endeavors to make His merits our own. Unfortunately the words of Christ to the Apostles, or rather what the Gospel says in regard to their mental condition, may be applied to many children of the Church: “They understood none of these things.”

The principal cause of this intellectual blindness is the state of sin which prevents them from understanding the true import of religious truths. We have a picture of this pitiable state in the blind man who sat by the way-side begging. The sinner is blind; we considered this truth last year on this Sunday. Today I say: he is also a beggar. I shall endeavor to show you the truth of this comparison, and to draw thence some important lessons.

O Mary, restorer of divine grace, pray for us that we may turn to God, and, forsaking the misery of sin, grow rich in merit as true children of God! I speak in the most holy name of Jesus, to the greater glory of God!

St. Chrysostom, commenting on the parable of the prodigal son, says that the unfortunate young man feels particularly one circumstance of his miserable condition, which sinners, whom he represents, seldom take into consideration.

This circumstance is, that he served as a swine-herd, and without stated wages. He was hungry, but had nothing to eat. With how little would he have been satisfied! He craved the insipid husks which the swine devoured, yet no one offered them to him. Sinner, does your master give you bread ? Do you not serve him without recompense? Are you not obliged to beg your food of the swine?

Yes; even so! The master whom the sinner serves in capacity of swine-herd, is Satan! He serves him without stipulated wagers. There is no doubt of it. For what can Satan promise man in return for the slavish service of sin? He possesses nothing, nor does he rule the world. But even were he to promise something, the sinner could not be certain of his wages; for “Satan” according to the testimony of Holy Writ, “is a liar, and the father thereof.” All reward is uncertain, even the very husks of enjoyment which man receives from the indulgence of his passions. How often is sin the cause even of man's temporal misery! How often does it not weary him of life, and hurl him into the suicide's grave!

But even if all the enjoyment of the world were the sinner's, his heart, created for God, would remain empty and sigh with Solomon: “Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity,” except to serve God, to love Him, and possess Him. Oh! that the sinner would bear this in mind, and say to himself like the prodigal son: I am the son of a rich father; “the hired servants in my father s house have plenty of bread, and I here perish with hunger.”

Sinner, miserable beggar, are you not ashamed of yourself? Why do you not cease begging? God alone can give you that which you ask of human creatures. He alone can satisfy the longing of your heart. Men are poor themselves, and can give you nothing for food save husks, which can not allay the hunger of your soul.

We will see the truth of this if we consider the intrinsic value of those goods which the heart of man yearns to possess. First, man desires an occupation by which to earn a living; then he wants this occupation to be profitable enough to enable him to amass wealth. To succeed in this he becomes a beggar–begs of men. And yet what would it avail him were he to gain all the gold of the earth? It is but dust, and he can not take it with him to the other world. More over, he often receives for his labor only poor wages, and frequently the harder he labors the less he is repaid.

How many such beggars are there in this world! If they did for God and heaven only a tenth part of what they do for the world they would become, as Thomas a Kempis says, great saints, and immensely rich in the goods of heaven.

Yes, thou blessed Thomas, if men would do but a hundredth part of what they do for the world, what a great number of saints we would possess. But as it is, they are indolent in the service of God, and go begging, ask for wealth, honor, and renown. And how soon death deprives them of all they have gained by begging, while whatever is done for the service of God is gathered and kept for evermore in heaven!

The human heart craves not only possessions but also esteem, and what will not a sinner do to win distinction? and what will he not endure not to be disgraced before man or to gain his good graces? And yet of what worth is the honor bestowed by man? It is like vapor, which rapidly dissolves. Yet how many sycophants there are upon earth! Of those, however, who serve Him, God says: “Whosoever shall glorify me, him will I glorify.” A holy life renders us an object of admiration even to the angels, and secures for us a throne in the kingdom of God.

Ambitious human creatures, why do you not think of this? why do you persist in asking man for what God will give you bountifully, if you only live in such a manner upon earth as to be worthy to be called His child?

The human heart does not alone desire the possession of wealth and honor, but it also craves enjoyment and the sinner goes begging to human creatures for it. But all in vain! St. Augustine rightly says: “Thou, O Lord, hast created our heart for Thee, and it can not rest, until it rests in Thee!”

The joy which man seeks from his fellow-man, how unsatisfactory and empty, how frivolous, and often debasing! The sinner deservedly merits the reproach of the Apostle: And what benefit did you derive from that of which you are now ashamed?

On the other hand, how great the enjoyment which God prepares for those who serve Him, and who unite themselves to Him in prayer! As we read in the lives of the saints, they enjoy a foretaste here below of the bliss which awaits them in eternal life.

How vain, then, for man to beg created beings to fill the void in his heart, for he can receive nothing from them which is capable of satisfying his craving; on the contrary, after he has emptied the cup of sensual pleasures, he is forced to sigh with bitterness and repentance: O joy! why hast thou deceived me?

Well for him if he feels his misery, and turns to the One Who alone is able to give all that the heart desires. Many will endeavor to silence him, when his soul sends forth her first cry to God, as the beggar was hushed in today's Gospel; but if casting off all fear of men he heeds them not, he will be heard, and filled with the riches of the children of God. Those who love Jesus and follow Him will give thanks and honor to God for the grace bestowed upon them.

God grant that during this Lent all begging sinners, all spiritually blind, may have the happiness to sigh from the depth of their heart: Jesus, Thou hast cured me of my blindness, and delivered me from my misery! Now I see Thee and follow Thee, and I am rich through Thee, O my Lord and my all! Amen!

#quinquagesima sunday

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sometimesrosy · 5 years

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You really think they’re going to go back to earth?? I mean, I could see Bellamy and Clarke landing at the dropship site all ready to rebuild humanity with radioactive playing softly in the background, fade to black. But I can also see them really leaving earth in book one.

It is, of course, only a speculation. I don’t know. I recognize that I am leaping ahead of canon evidence to make that speculation, but then, I have done that before and been correct. I guessed, from out of nowhere that cryo sleep would be a solution, but my guess came too early. I guessed that for the COL they would save everyone instead of losing everyone like MW, because that’s the kind of twist that would keep an audience on it’s toes. Once i accepted the time jump and clarke left behind, I guessed that she would become a mother, although I said it woud be bellamy’s child. So i got the motherhood right but not the shipping spec. When you spec on this show based on shipping it’s almost never right, that’s not how they make their narrative choices. I guessed that s5 would end with Bellamy and Clarke would lose the war for Eden (McCreary cheated) and take their people who stopped fighting into the wastes for an exodus. As the season went on it became probable that the exodus would be in the stars instead of on earth. So like, these big conceptual stories? I’m picking up on. I think it’s because I speak the same language as JR, 90s scifi geek who went to college to study writing. We have the same references in our heads. Once I started LOOKING for his symbolism and allusions and archetypes, the whole show fell into place and made a lot of sense to me. This show is NOT random. He’s not changing the story to please fandom or to hurt them (except in cases where he can WORK with the changes.)

I’m not intending to brag, I’m intending to show you that although my spec seems like it comes out of left field and there’s no basis for it, the basis actually comes with the TYPE of story he’s telling and the common language in the GENRE. Like, I started picking up on his symbolism in s3, but if I didn’t keep getting confirmation that I was right with the themes and archetypes and symbolism and allusions, I would have changed my theories. But I keep getting confirmation that I’m on the right track. JR is going down a familiar path for me. So I’m trying to find the street signs and show them to you so you can follow the path too.

So WHY did I come up with this wacky theory about Clarke and Bellamy returning to earth? HOW? It didn’t happen until s5 was over and I started getting asks and started reading/watching those references he told us about and started thinking how all the storylines converge.

long and involved, so, below the cut.

Snarky foreshadowing– This was when I first went, wait, what? Raven, when she flew the last ship off of earth said, “Just once I’d like to take off from a planet while it wasn’t burning.” TWICE she’s done that. Third time’s the charm. They’ve been fixing the traumas, I think we’ll get this one again too, only this time the planet won’t be burning. They’ve got ONE planet left. The new one. Therefore, they will be leaving the planet and it won’t be burning. But WHY would they leave the planet when it’s not burning? Then I had to find a REASON for them leaving the safe haven planet.

History repeats itself– This story is about how pre-apocalypse humans were ruining the world. Becca is the real wanheda. She, her creation, eradicated humanity. That’s the genocide. She started the harshness of the Ark because of her madness. She started the harshness of the grounders as Pramheda. She came back and we saw her trying to fix what she’d done. She ALSO had to do with the eligius program and invented their nightbood. THEREFORE, the new planet colony is a descendent of Becca’s original crimes against humanity. Was it all an accident? Sure? But also it was the result of her choices, her hubris, her genius. She is Doctor Frankenstein. (Actually I just made that connection and I feel stupid for missing it. Does it work? Anyone see it also?)

You are responsible for your monster when you let it out– Lincoln’s words. VERY IMPORTANT. This makes EVERYTHING in the story make sense. If people don’t take responsibility for their evil, they are the monster. If people TRY to take responsibiilty for their evil, they are the hero. That’s why leaders sacrificing others is not a sacrifice, they aren’t taking responsibility they are using people. But Clarke or Bellamy risking their lives to fix their mistakes IS heroic. It’s not always smart, but that’s the good guy move. hero/monster has been a theme since s1.

The structure of the story is a spiral– They are returning to their greatest traumas and FIXING them. Making the right choice this time. Teaching others to make the right choice, learning from their mistakes instead of doubling down on their evil actions in order to make it worth it, like Octavia all season 5. Or Lxa in s2. Or Jaha the whole show. Or Cage Wallace. Redemption comes through recognizing your monster and DOING BETTER. Redemption is a MAJOR theme of post-apocalyptic stories.

Eligius 3 are Colonialists, NOT refugees– Monty said that they went to the new planet to USE the resources because the resources of the earth were used up. They aren’t looking for a home, they’re looking for another planet to consume. THIS IS WHAT STARTED THE ORIGINAL FALL OF HUMANITY. They reflect the values of Mount Weather who believed the earth was their birthright and treated the people on the surface as cattle to be used and tortured. This is a repeat of the MW conflict.

Eligius 3=Mount Weather– that means we’ll be getting a redo of the biggest and most traumatic “failure” that Clarke and Bellamy had. Except, it never really was a failure. It was the RIGHT thing to do. It happened also to be best for their people, but it was GOOD, even though it caused harm to some innocent people, because as Maya said, none of them were innocent. They were the disease. Clarke (med student, remember?) had to KILL the mountain to put it out of its suffering (like Atom) and to save the rest of humanity. This means that Eligius 3 will ALSO be the disease. They ARE the disease that caused the apocalypse.

JRs reading/viewing list: all about the aliens– Weird non linear, non reality hybrids of alien and human. Consciousness. AI. Philosophy. Religion. I have not gotten to see ALL of the films or read the books, but I’ve researched them all a bit and they share themes. Also Avatar (blue not airbender) And I believe that we’ll have a non-humanoid kind of alien that bonds with the humans to create something new (also if you’ve ever read Ender’s Game which JR certainly did, it actually moves on to tell the story of Ender as Speaker for the dead, and his psychic connection, facilitated by an AI in his head [JANE!] who brings back the dead species and allows another very odd species to be recognized as sentient. HOLY CRAP Madi is the speaker for the dead. omg i just realized!

If humanity is to be redeemed, they have to be responsible for their monster – They have broken the cycle of violence amongst themselves. They encounter a society that will be JUST as poisoned as the pre-apocalypse society that started this all. Russell’s people will BE the monster. Their enemy (the aliens who are NOT their people) will be the victims. To be the good guy, they will have to CHOOSE their enemy over their people. Lincoln did it. Maya did it. They were The Good Guys. Clarke and Bellamy will have to end Russell’s people. In doing so, they will replay the MW trauma, but this time they will understand WHY it had to happen and will heal the trauma of the past, because they are HEALING humanity.

If humanity is to be redeemed, they must FIX what they have broken, that is The Earth itself– They can’t drop Earth when it’s no longer providing for them and move onto another planet that they can use up. If you look at The 100 in terms of environmentalism, which you can, you can see this would make them the bad guys. To be the good guys, they have to go back to what they did and start over. This fits the spiral structure, as well as being the Good Guy and being responsible for your monster.

They aren’t going to discard the earth, or humanity– Why? Because they wouldn’t let Octavia martyr herself. She represents humanity. She will now be forced to WORK to redeem herself and fix what she did. So will humanity. They do not OWN the Earth, the Earth owns them and they are the caretakers. Octavia needs to go back to earth and treat it like her responsibility, not her property. She needs to follow what Lincoln believed. The attempted martyrdom was a reference to Lincoln. But she was cheating. She can’t cheat redemption.

THEY CAN’T CHEAT REDEMPTION: THEY HAVE TO GO BACK TO EARTH. In real life, none of this would have to happen, but this is not real life. This is JR with a story he wants to tell. The story is about the redemption of humanity and two mythic heroes who save humanity, not by keeping them from dying, but by leading them to redemption. THIS IS EPIC.

When I started thinking about all these thematic questions, I saw that it started to form into a narrative, and many of the characters had roles to play within this narrative, some more than others. When I looked at those characters and their relationships, it completely connected to the long game stories of the relationships of the delinquents and the storylines that are actively being told and have been left open at the end of season 5.

This theory slots the character arcs into the themes of the show as a whole AND the new main plot story of aliens, new planet, russell’s “peaceful” (yeah sure) society, bellamy and clarke’s commitment to be the good guy.

So yeah. I see them leaving the new planet to take responsibility for the planet humanity killed, destroying russel’s peaceful society so they can’t destroy the new planet, and leaving Madi behind (she is special) as the steward for the new people.

Because of the ORIGINAL foreshadowing that brought on this spec, Raven wishing to take off of a planet that isn’t burning, we know that they won’t destroy the new planet. They will save it. And leave it. In order to redeem humanity.

leaving madi and echo behind with the aliens is not necessary for this redemption plot, but it fits the youth shall inherit the earth generational story and reflects Abby’s struggle with letting go of Clarke, and also Echo’s story of belonging and family and loyalty, and with her stated backstory. You see how this theory connects the larger themes to the character arcs? it just makes sense to me. It isn’t convoluted to me. It is a direct if this, then that, kind of logic. It’s just that it is bringing together MANY past concepts and lessons to save humanity. I don’t know if it sounds convoluted to other people, so if it does, ask me question and we can see if i can get it any clearer.

I can tell the entire story now, with places for the main characters dealing with their personal stories. And it all fits. It’s CRAZY but I’m so excited about it, I can’t wait to see if I’m on the right track. Because if I am it is going to be SO GOOD. Like REALLY. Like miraculous. And everyone who ever hated on this show is going to have to eat their words. Just. I mean. WOW.

And all the characters people think were discarded and deserved better? They all have an important place, too. Wells has the vision for a life well lived. Lincoln’s idea of being responsible for your monster. Lxa’s power will actually be related to how they can save the new people (the flame), Maya’s conviction that she needed to stop her people because they were doing the wrong thing. Jasper’s belief that the problem WAS humanity and it might not be worth saving. Luna’s desire for peace. HOLY SHIT.

#the 100 #the 100 speculation #speculation #return to earth theory #aliens theory #i'm not really interested in 'no it's not' commentary because no one can KNOW if it's not because it's a spec #but i am interested in questions about how it would work or things i haven't considered or haven't seen #even if those things seem to oppose this spec #if something disproves it i'd like to know and see if i can fit it into the spec

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e123omega-playdespacito · 5 years

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Worldbuilding and Analysis - The Four Echidna Clans

Canon-Divergence AU, In Essay Form

In canon, there were only two major groups: the Knuckles and Nocturnus clans. In my canon-divergence AU though, there were four; the original two with fixed names, and an additional pair that were left behind when Angel Island ascended. They were called the Apoctus and Sowton clans.

Each of them had a specific set of strong suits that they used to keep the others in balance so none of them could be chased out by the others without dire consequences. Thanks to the large families that led these clans (except the Sowton, but I'll explain that in a minute), members of each clan generally had one primary color somewhere in their fur or painted markings that showed their allegiance. The Otunus bore blue tones, the Na-Kkuru bore red, the Apoctus bore yellow, and the Sowton kept their markings in black and white, though echidnas of any fur color were welcome.

Otunus Clan

The Otunus clan, which would later be recorded as the Nocturnus after they adopted a new language, lived in underground tunnel systems with religious centers based around the night sky. They had observatories dotted around their empire, and even within the territories of other clans when they offered truces. The Otunus emperors generally tried to keep some distance between themselves and the people of the surface, but knew they wouldn't be able to sustain their lifestyle without resources from the other clans, so the observatories were established as places of faith where members of all four clans could come to pay worship to their respective gods without fear of being attacked by their neighbors. As the caretakers of these observatories, the Otunus also taught a small class of fortune-tellers who would give guidance to anyone who might need it. Though they worshipped the stars, their opinion of alien creatures was not as welcoming; they believed that since they payed such respect to the night sky, and the newcomers did not, the Otunus had earned the right to exploit the "gifts" given to them by their gods in the form of living creatures. This would be the beginning of their slow spiral into forming a slave trade of not just aliens, but other Mobians. The only creatures they saw as sacred and untouchable were the Chao, as they were viewed as the stars' gift to Mobius itself from a time long before Mobian echidnas learned to walk and talk. Disrespecting such a blessing would be a direct attack on the property of their gods.

Most of the Otunus trade routes followed sprawling underground tunnels.

Although they were best known for their religious status, the Otunus also held power in scientific fields. For the most part, the Apoctus clan was regarded as the most advanced, but the Otunus had access to more metal, crystals, and stone than any of their neighbors due to their tunnel systems. It is also theorized that they made contact with the Wisps and Hylerite (original species) aliens, and undeniably were connected in trade to the Black Arms. For most of their history, the Otunus were a fairly secretive, but open-minded and honest empire; however, after reaching out to the Black Arms, their methods fell to slavery and experiments on still-living people. It is hypothesized that their sudden decline was due to Black Doom manipulating the current emperor. Once the other clans heard of the Otunus' new habits of kidnapping people from the observatories, the holy sanctuaries were abandoned - or torn down, if they happened to be in another clan's territory.

The iconic Nocturnus Warrior armor was a relatively new development at the time they disappeared. It was engineered by a team of smiths and alchemists working alongside captured Black Arms, who were fed large amounts of salt, and were then sheared, similar to sheep, for the biocrystals made as a result. These crystals wound up as an incredibly important part of Otunus metalworking and chemistry, but the armor made with them was by far their greatest accomplishment with the new resource.

Along with their feats in physiology - reached through immoral means - the Otunus also held advancements in chemistry, and although they vanished off the face of the planet before it could be unveiled to the world, they also had prototypes of time machines and teleporters. It is theorized that said prototypes were the reason they disappeared; perhaps they were just a bit too overzealous with their new inventions. The loss of almost ninety-four percent of the Otunus clan shook the four empires, but at least it freed their slaves.

The remaining Otunus, all members of the lower classes, joined the Sowton clan after they escaped from the ruined tunnels. Originally, the term "Nocturnus" was reserved only for warriors in uniform - "Otunus" meant "of the stars, masters over ground", but "Nocturnus" meant "of the night and moon, conquerors over unholy ground" - but most survivors were slaves and servants, who didn't know how to read the outdated imperial language in which it was based. They took what remained of the Nocturnus armor and reclaimed the oppressive Imperial Guard's name, although it was later changed and shortened to "Nucnor" after descendants of the Otunus survivors gathered and formed a monastery, with the help of their fellow religious Sowton, where they would study the faith of their ancestors, learn how to fight like them, and usher in a revised version of Otunus astrology. The doors of this monastery are open to anyone willing to learn.

Na-Kkuru Clan

Otherwise known as the Knuckles clan due to centuries of translation debates, the Na-Kkuru were by far the strongest clan in terms of military strength and agriculture. Similar to the human Aztecs, the Na-Kkuru built their capital city on an island in the middle of a lake, then expanded outwards with the use of floating gardens and bridges. They held great pride in their gardens, which they upheld as the symbol of their society, but other clans knew them better as soldiers and warlords. The Na-Kkuru leaders were never satisfied with what they already had; instead, they constantly turned their eyes to their borders, hoping to push back the other clans and take their land. The mistranslation of their clan name wasn't entirely a coincidence; they did, in fact, name themselves after their fists.

Their society was anything but a one-to-one parallel, architecturally, Na-Kkuru cities could be best compared to the Mayan capital, Tenochtitlan, as the emperor in power when building them took fond inspiration from ancient humans who had once owned the land they now controlled.

The Na-Kkuru believed war and conquest was the best possible way to gain glory, but other clans saw them as marauders and barbarians. They refused to trade with other clans most of the time unless faced with starvation otherwise. The Master Emerald wasn't even theirs originally; it originally stood as a unifying force for all four clans, who were meant to stand together in its defense, but once the first clan war started, the Na-Kkuru claimed its shrine for themselves and destroyed any records they could find that implied otherwise. They even went to such lengths as burning libraries - including some their own, if there was information stored that encouraged rebellious sentiment - in order to secure their status as the most powerful, feared clan of the four empires. In the control of the Camac family, they flourished, but only under an iron fist.

In addition to the usual cloth and metal, the Na-Kkuru would wear plants and animal skins or feathers on their garments as a statement of skill in gardening and battle. Over time, though, most stopped using skins and only used feathers from the food they caught, as pelts became a staple of the Apoctus clan and their haughty attitude instead of Na-Kkuru strength.

Early on in their legacy as the "destroyer clan", they cut ties with the Otunus and Apoctus, trading only with the Sowton, but the Sowton refused to help them. They also declared full war on the Otunus shortly after, claiming they wanted to free Otunus slaves, but their original goal was quickly forgotten after three chiefs were killed in a row on the battlefield and the war shifted to vengeance. Chief Pachacamac was the eighth chief to fight in the war; his motivation centered on his late wife, who he was told died at the hands of the Otunus emperor Ikun - otherwise known as the son of Imperator Ix. Princess Tikal, skeptical of her father's story, would do her own research on the subject a year later and discover that her mother had been trying to form a treaty with Ikun and stop the war once and for all - but had been assassinated by a Na-Kkuru soldier, acting on the orders of one of Pachacamac's political rivals. If not for the chief’s attack on the Chao, Princess Tikal very well could have repaired the Na-Kkuru system and brought back the honor they once had before the clans split.

Apoctus Clan

The two neighboring clans, left behind when Angel Island rose and took the Master Emerald with it, spent the next few thousand years until the present in relative peace, now that their two most dangerous enemies were gone. This is not to say that they got along much better, though. The Apoctus clan was best known for their masonry and innovative art, alongside their scientific discoveries, reminiscent of the human Inca. However, they acted more like Tolkien's elves; arrogant, aloof, and self-aggrandizing. Of course, this wasn't true of all Apoctus citizens, as the individual in a society is generally not exemplary of the whole group's problems, but a large majority of the leaders and traders shared the sentiment that they were better than the other clans by virtue of their discoveries and massive infrastructure. This made them butt heads with other clan leaders almost nonstop - including the Otunus, who they shared territory and resources with before the clans split into four groups.

Just like the Na-Kkuru emperor who modeled his metropolis after Tenochtitlan, the Apoctus leaders at the time of building chose to take notes from the Inca city of Machu Picchu.

The Apoctus citizens, however, were often much more independent from their leaders than they were given credit for by modern archaeologists. While the politicians were busy fretting over which new coin to put their faces on and which small clan they wanted to scam next, the middle and lower classes worked together to prepare a new, adjusted political structure that would serve to break down the gap between them and the rulers. When they attempted to put the new system into place, though, the upper class seceded, making a deal to stay out of the new Apoctus order's business as long as they were supplied with servants and resources to live comfortably for the next five generations. The deal broke down quickly, though, and after multiple attempts to regain power, the upper class was banished - except for members under age twenty-five, who were allowed to choose whether they would return to their ancestral cities under the same laws as everyone else, or stay with their outcast families.

After the split, the former upper class resettled in the desert on the opposite side of the mountains from the rest of the four clans' empire. After their fall from grace, they argued over whether to try and take back power somewhere else, or start over from the ground up. In the end, they chose to rebuild their kingdom around an oasis. They first established it as a new trading post, but soon found themselves with an abundance of a new resource they hadn't considered as the basis of their economy before: glass. Thanks to the nearly endless supply of sand, they changed focus back to art, and rather than turning their city into a lucrative con, they became well-known for their hand-crafted glass sculptures. Their new city, dubbed Vitrosa, eventually earned a new, honorable reputation, and after a few centuries, they renewed ties with the Apoctus clan, linking their trade routes through the mountains.

While the Vitroites rediscovered the passion for art and honor that made the Apoctus so noble in the first place, the clan was busy fixing the flaws in their new system. They remained seclusive until they were certain it was stable enough to take the next big step towards a treaty with the other clans. The Na-Kkuru and Otunus were already long gone, but until they stopped fighting with the Sowton and the smaller clans found peace, it would be impossible to bring back balance in the echidna homeland.

Sowton Clan

This clan's history was fairly simple, despite how often they swayed the actions of their neighbors. Technically, the Sowton didn't fill the definition of a major clan, according to the other three. Rather than having a family that started the ruling class, they held elections and relied on each other for guidance and government. As with any political system, it had its flaws; big decisions would often take years instead of months, and when one part of the clan went hungry, everyone else did, too. They stood by their system, though, and formed treaties with smaller clans in order to not only protect themselves, but everyone else who might need help.

The Sowton method of socialist democracy was installed due to its status as an aggregate clan, consisting of outcasts and runaways from hundreds upon thousands of minor clans, as well as the Na-Kkuru, Otunus and Apoctus. Sowton echidnas thrived by leaning on this sense of community. Though other clans looked down on them at first for disregarding the old rules of bloodlines and purity, they quickly proved themselves as a match for anyone else's strength in battle, securing their safety as the fourth major clan. While their neighbors wore primary colors to show loyalty, the Sowton chose to use white and black, refusing to show favoritism to any of the other three. Eventually, when the Apoctus became the only surviving primary clan, the Sowton helped them get their feet back on solid ground, but reserved judgment until they were certain their once hubristic neighbors had turned over a new leaf. Without the Na-Kkuru and Otunus to worry about, they formed a new treaty, marking the change by adding a yellow Apoctus emblem to that year's Meyavar Festival flag.

In contrast to their neighbors, who took inspiration from Central and South American empires, the Sowton tended to lean further into mediterranean motifs, specifically Greek and Roman architecture. However, they still had a fondness for Mayan roots related to old echidna heritage.

The name for the festival came from their capital, dubbed "Meyavar Burach" as a quadruple-portmanteau of their words for the ocean, cliffs, forests and valleys, which rested on the lower curve of the Gulf of Nakkuri. It was originally Na-Kkuru territory, hence the name, but the land was gifted to them before the "destroyer clan" earned its nickname, and the four clans were still in balance with the Master Emerald shared between them all. An invading army of Spagonian raccoons, mice, rats, rabbits, shrews, and various other soldiers had attempted to conquer their homeland in search of gold and spices, but the four clans deflected their attacks with ease by joining together as one defensive force. Even when the four clans started fighting over the Master Emerald, the Sowton remembered that they were strongest as a unit, and repeatedly tried to restore peace until they could no longer deny that their alliance had fallen apart at the seams.

The Meyavar Festival was, and remains to modern day, as one of the oldest non-religious holidays on Mobius. Similar to the Olympics, it is best known for the games and competitions held in the early morning on every day of the festival. The Sowton used sports and battle not only as a means of defense, but also friendly competition and stress relief. While the clans were still in unity, it was established as an event celebrating the blood of the covenant, as well as both the differences and similarities between individuals, ignoring the factor of clans completely. Once again, the Sowton were the only ones to uphold hosting the Meyavar Festival, but representatives and tourists from every clan, minor and major, were always welcome. In fact, even the Na-Kkuru and Otunus representatives never skipped a year's festival, until they were spirited away by Chaos and the Black Arms. It is no longer quite as popular as the Olympics, due to the fact it is always held in the same place, but among athletes, it is held in higher regard.

The Sowton are also recognized as revolutionaries in medical fields. They served as a mediator while the other clans fought, and whenever a soldier was cast out in poor health, they would take that soldier in and heal them. At times, the other clans would consider attacking them directly for their resources and for refusing to pick a side, but the risk of losing Sowton medical support was always far too dangerous. Each clan insisted they would be able to take over the entire echidna homeland if they "really tried", but, once again, the Sowton knew better. Whether or not their neighbors would listen, they would prove time and time again that the clans were stronger together - and incredibly weak when pulled apart. Medicine turned out to be the one thing keeping them all from tearing each other apart, so the Sowton withheld their secrets, forcing the other three to rely on them for their skills. However, once the homeland settled back into balance, they shared most of their methods, but even now, few can hope to replicate the miracles Sowton healers can.

Conclusion

The Sonic universe is full of blank spaces, and has tons of potential to grow. However, there are a few canon notes that don't make sense, and it's up to us fans to work around them. There are lessons we can learn from each of these clans, in both their failures and virtues.

The Otunus teach us that with ambition, creativity, and elbow grease, anything is possible - but sometimes, the path to reaching the stars leads us to make choices that are not ours to decide. People have infinite potential for greatness, but that comes with a price. You can't afford to sell your humanity. Horrible people made incredible advancements that still benefit us, but we can't make the mistakes they did by losing what makes us, as people, "good". For every action, there is an equal-opposite reaction; for every misdeed, there is an act of charity, and vice versa. Regardless of whether or not we are good, though, we do not have the right to take away someone else's choice solely for our own benefit.

The Na-Kkuru teach us that there are people who remember us as better than we really are, and there is always hope for us to earn that high regard. No matter what, you can redeem yourself and become somebody worthy of love. However, if you simply try to bury that darker side and hide it from others while continuing to feed it, it will eventually come back to bite you. The legacy of our ancestors - political figures, great-great-great-great grandparents, historical role models, and everyone else who came before us - is skewed by a lens of our culture and individual perspective. It's important to learn how to remember the negative as cautionary tales, remember the positive as things to model ourselves after, and always keep in mind the whole picture and how it shaped who we are today.

The Apoctus teach us that people are fundamentally good, and despite all the problems in our society, we can still hope and fight for better. However, though we can't let ourselves be walked on, we also can't condemn people for their faults, no matter how evil they may be. With time and work, there is a chance that they can grow into better people once the situation is defused - but even then, we are not obligated to forgive them easily for the harm they caused. Struggle is a necessary part of redemption, and by that same rule, justified anger is a part of grief and growth.

The Sowton teach us that although an individual is strong, a community is stronger, for better or worse. It's impossible for everyone to agree, but when pitted against a common enemy, even the worst enemies can work together as something greater. Sometimes, though, we are forced to stand against former allies, whether they are friends, family, or any other loved ones. In these cases, it's important to remember that you are never alone. People at their worst still have room to be saved. You can't usually tell whether you're truly on the side of good, but even if you stray from your path, there are people waiting for you when you find your way again.

#sonic theory #sonic au #mobian echidnas #knuckles clan #nocturnus clan #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic adventure #sonic lore #sonic headcanon

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willpowerbutch · 5 years

Text

Willpower Butch: In Profundis

Dawn clambered over the LA quarantine like a wearied soldier storming a hill – the hill that has become the burning bosom of the Gay-Transgender. Since NASA identified God in the night sky, flying toward earth to assess His children, society has been thrust into a state of nihilistic chaos. The Christians rejoice, and the Gay plot on how to turn Him over to their wickedness. The Transgenitalists, banned from public restrooms, desecrate suburban streets with their bodily fluids in an expression of protest, making neighborhoods where once children could freely get hit by cars while playing Pokémon Go into a biohazard.

(God, who is due to arrive this summer, is shooting through space right now.)

Morning threw these degenerates into relief as they staggered over the pavement of Duplass Avenue and into oncoming traffic, waving stolen underwear on long strips of decrepit building vinyl: the art gallery spinsters who invented Mitski; adults who cosplay as memes; “grandfathers” who loiter in the Youth Bibles section of book stores; and, most troublingly, the bodies of fallen straights, levitating up through the storm drains on the wands of gay necromancers – in short, the entire Green Party – were only the first denizens I encountered along the harrowing road to James Franco’s homo-cidal circus. Everywhere, there were the remnants of bar food and suspicious in-laws. All this was the plutonic vision which greeted my trusted correspondent and I as we strode heterosexfully down the block.

Paragon Shag beside me had not been the same since our eviction from the House of Those Motherfuckers Who Wear Sandals. Only the whiff of pedicure oils on a passing European businessman would send him into such extravagant declamations on the aesthetics of marginalization that I would be impelled to beat the fuck out of him.

“Shag,” I spoke unto him as we arrived at our destination, the Villa de Hermaphrodita, that crypt of human bipedalism. “What is this stench wafting from your chest?”

“Deodorant,” said he.

“I fear for you, Shag. You are aware that deodorant is a witch’s brew intended to inculcate children into the homosexual lifestyle.” He knew as I did that those who use it too much become ravenous beasts, mere British culture journalists, addicted to the scent of Orientalism and male crying.

“Precisely so. We cannot allow ourselves to be overtaken by those limping nancies. With this, we shall confuse their predatory instincts.” And just then, a furious piss communist passed us by, navigating by the odor of listless pretension to James Franco. “You see?” said Shag, turning to me suddenly. He took my arm in the manner of the Romans, up to my elbow. “We are brothers, Mr. Butch, and not in a YouTube Red sort of way, nor in the sense that two different-looking male roommates claim to be, nor in the manner of college boys who make out at strangers’ house parties and tell everyone that it’s part of their fraternity hazing ritual, nor like bohemian male friends who have a large age gap in a hot way, nor indeed like the Quakers, who we all realize developed oatmeal as a gateway to eating spunk.”

He spoke prettily, and I could do nothing but convert my doubt into glorious masculinity. We had come to investigate Franco, after all, whom we suspected of creating twinks to try to turn himself gayer.

We entered the villa -- and there he was, directly before us, barefaced and shockingly confident for a man who looks like a toilet squeegee, licking chocolate off the thighs of a servant boy. James Franco: provocateur of the Gay and war poet of their slick uprising against biological persons.

“Wow,” he greeted us running a hand through his hair. “This is, like, crazy. I haven’t been tag-teamed by two bears since I was on the set of Milk. Did you come to see how I kidnap women and transform them into twinks to make myself gayer?”

We were speechless before this display of arrogance, but Franco’s attention had already been diverted. The servant boy’s epaulet had come unbuttoned.

“Well,” said Franco, hooking him by the shoulders, “the evidence is piling up, huh?”

“Sir?”

“Tell me,” Franco mewled in a squalid attempt to sound erotic, “while you’re existing in a state of, like, untroubled happiness because of straight privilege, do you ever wonder how it feels to have ornery fetish sex with glamorous-yet-blasé strangers every second of your life like the Gay-Transgender are expected to do?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, now you’ll have nothing but time for that, man – as the newest member of the Heterosexual Circus.” Turning mercurially, as if astonished to discover that Shag and I had not moved, Franco addressed us. Raising his arms, he shouted, “Birth is Death! Reason is Treason! Empiricism is Imperialism!”

We could not bear to witness the poor boy’s torture by being forced to be bad at dancing in front of gay perverts. As Shag and I shuffled back onto the street, idly kicking the shit out of a taxi that had parked on the sidewalk, I was emasculated by a notion unrelated to the sweating power of my manhood: that we had not heard the last of these frightful slogans.

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

It did not take long for us to find a trap door at the other side of the villa, under a cypress tree. It was locked, but not for a man. Reducing it to smithereens with a mere touch of my beard to it, we descended into a lively disco club where, clinging to the shadows, we moved about curiously. There was in one of the dance-floor cages a sight which startled us.

“Gayflame!” called Shag. “Reddie Gayflame!”

“It’s just Sexchaynge now,” she whispered above the music, on the verge of tears because her body was undergoing a dramatic change.

“But, Sexchaynge,” Shag advanced fretfully, leaving enough distance so as not to be endangered by her femininity, “I thought you were a Gay as well.”

“I was, but I gave it up. You see, I believe in doing things as hard as I can, like Hugh Dancy -- but I knew that I would never be the gayest of all. Not while Ben Whishaw still has a career as an international sex fae... So, why not become a transgender instead, I thought to myself, since there’s less competition?”

Shag nodded sagely.

“Anyway, there is somebody else here that you ought to meet. Follow me.”

My correspondent and I were led into the adjacent hallway, where loomed a misshapen yet familiar silhouette. Suddenly recognizing it, I cried out, “It is the Lord of Lust, the fluent horizontal dancer ‘himself,’ Ben Whishaw! You fiend! You devil!”

But when the vampire stepped into the light, it turned out to be only Twinkathee Charlotterampling, who is merely probably an insatiable fairy.

He threw himself into Paragon Shag’s arms, weeping. “I knew you would never go back to Italy, so I came here to find you. Oh, please say that we can stay together, Daddio. Listen, I can even help you out: Gay Franco isn’t only turning women into twinks, he is then cloning the normal homos! Next, there will be enough fit gay guys to have sex with each other, and Franco will be our only option. Then where will I get any action with men who don’t look like a rejected Muppet? It’s a direct assault on bottoms, and not the fun kind, like when Benedict Cumberbatch gets turnt on Corvo and tries to turn my ass into Christmas lights,” spoke Timpani, gulping. “It’s against my huwoman rights.”

The dimensionless sex balloon’s discourse rained down upon me the spume of flaccid object permanence, and I was forced to rebuke him. “You skinny-jeaned Socratic, you purveyor of gay lies. Humans are not women. And the only right you have is to stop dangling your driftwood in front of every sailor you lay eyes upon. Knave!”

We resumed our progress down the hallway, the two of us and our limpid sidekicks, who stopped every so often to slather their tongues over errant broomsticks. At last, we cruised into a large room, which contained in its rear a glass chamber that held a strange, dark machine within.

“It’s the TRANSporner,” said Timpani Gayparade.

Turning to Shag, I asked, “What do you suppose it is, my macho companion? I cannot well understand the cartoon elf’s French.”

“It must be how Franco transfigures women into the Gay. My God,” Shag exclaimed, “it’s full of emo music.” Grabbing Gayparade’s weird jaw, he brought him into his line of sight so he could address him. “You – What else has Franco created?”

“He has an entire lab devoted to cloning the Gay,” Timpani laughed drily. “And it’s completely, like, impenetrable. Any man who goes in there is brainwashed into Franco’s horde. Only a woman could do it.”

“A woman?” we shouted together.

Twinkathee nodded.

“But we have so few in our warehouse. What if Franco merely kills them? We cannot afford to risk one,” Shag bemoaned.

“You see this?” Twinkathee peered up at Shag and shook his head despondently, pendulating his curls like Quentin Crisp’s spinal column. “This is only the first step. Once Franco masters cloning, the gays will be able to have orgies with themselves, and then they’ll spend eternity competing to see who can suck the most of his own dick. We can’t let God know that we ripped off twincest from Leviticus; he’ll think that we’re total fucking nerds. Shag,” Timpani huffed Frenchtastically, “I know this is the last thing you want to hear–”

“Silence, you animated meringue.”

“—but Ben Whishaw is the only homo who still dares to manufacture women. We need him.”

(A diagram of some of the unique anatomical characteristics of women.)

There was little sound then – nothing but the shaking swallow of breath and a distant applause, floating down from the circus where Franco was, variously, receiving his latest recruits. Tears of frustration had sprung up to rim Gayparade’s eyes. There was something accusatory in his gaze at my friend; such a look might have paused me in my celebrations of erectile power, if it had been produced by a man and not by a melancholy bagel fingerer.

Twinkathee lifted his chin, which surprised me because most homosexuals lose executive function of their necks by his age. “You know I’m right. And you know that you have to make him come.”

“He already has,” I interjected, “Whim Bitchaw, Colin Firth, Tom Tykwer, Patrick Stewart, and Judi Dench all at the same time. Oh, you mean come here.” I turned unto Shag, who shirked his eyes. “Why, Shag? What can this eroticized bungee cord mean?”

Slowly and with great shame, Shag reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, right above his heart, and pulled out a condom. “This – this is how we summon Ben Whishaw.”

“With a condom?”

I was surprised, but my skepticism soon changed to heroic terror as Shag tore at the wrapper with his teeth and emptied its contents onto the floor.

“Ben cannot resist the scent of a condom that is left unused. He will come now whether we want him to or not.”

Soon, Ben Whishaw came.

He came – in a flourish of glitter and sharpie tattoos -- attended by his insidious Cummunists: nudists brandishing firecrackers at uncomfortably-pretty busboys, male lingerie models, lions mounted by braless Valkyries, weeping Bavarian youths, the entire population of Barcelona, Michael Shannon, and a parade of cats, all singing “Cake” by Rihanna at the top of their lungs. BBC4 was empty that day; all the mouthwash Mary-Janes were on earth, rutting against children’s harmonicas, instilling fear in all but the most excellent specimens of manliness.

“Rejoice,” Ben Whishaw sang as his silky knees folded to the ground, chafing immediately. “Rejoice, you who have beheld the bawds of my bedchambers, the Greeks of old beachfront restaurants, the harbingers of fantasy sex tours like Ezra Miller’s career. I have come, and so shall you.” Swanning over to address Shag, he bit his lip. “Darling, I am here for you! What do you need, hot stuff?”

“Women!” he shouted manfully.

“What for? You aren’t still trying to figure out which hole is the mouth, are you?”

“Nay,” he replied, “my brother Butch told me. We need them to infiltrate Gay Franco’s hideout and destroy his cloning technology.”

“And you,” the hunch-hip padded towards me, “this is your brilliant plan? You send women to do your dirty work for you? What are you afraid of, big boy, and what can I do to ease that stress?”

“Naw, son,” called out Michael Shannon from afar, “do you want a garden salad with that skewer, or should I just serve you a knuckle sandwich?”

But Whishaw held up a slim, delicate wrist, jangling his fetish jewelry, silencing him. “I will say it to you strai—” he hacked painfully, “directly. I will give you my women, whom I had intended to use to lure fathers into a gay orgy, thereby undermining their paternal confidence. This, of course, would homosexualize the youth. But I will command them to join your cause instead... for a price.”

“Speak, elongated child!”

“Your beard,” said he.

I was struck silent.

“I need your beard,” he repeated, endless tears gathering in his eyes. “It’s for my play. The director is afraid that I’m not hairy enough to be Marilyn Monroe.”

“Why,” I puffed my chest, but it didn’t look gay or like breasts, “of all the evil perversions your kind have committed against man, this is the one that I shall never entertain to forgive.”

“That is the deal, Comrade Butch: your sublime brush for my women.”

There was no canon fire, there were no memorial barbecues where suburbanites play a game of subconsciously adulterous cat-and-mouse over the grill, for the sacrifice I made that day. Dear reader, it is a day that shall be marked forever with infamy, for that is the sin that hangs over whatever circumstance impels a straight man to give any piece of himself over to a queer Nancy. Do not mourn for Faust, do not pity Dante the Pilgrim for his travails in Hell; in the flash of a scalpel, I fell into a greater damnation than those dramatic homos could ever conceive.

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

When he had his ill-gotten prize, Ben Whishaw parted our company as he has left each of the tens of thousands of men he’s seduced around the world, with a lachrymose little smile, a wiggle of the ass, and a soliloquy on the transient beauty of tricking straight men into thinking you’re a woman until they’ve already removed their pants. Being a consummate phallic god, I was immune to his European witchcraft; Paragon Shag, I’m afraid, was somewhat awestruck by this coy display. But there was no time for either of us to dwell on his fabulous sorcery. The deal was done, and there awaited before us creatures yet almost as feminine as that enchanted nymph.

“So,” I said, stalking around their strange mass, “these are the notorious ‘women.’” A slim shadow fell across my face, and a chill entered my heart. “Shag, what do you make of all this?”

He proceeded to inform me, “It is supposed that women were invented by the early Catholics, at the decree of the Pope.”

“The Catholics?” I interrupted him. “But what do those queers need from women? They themselves gave rise to the two cruxes of gay culture: old men who sort of cross-dress, and bottoms who think they can top.”

“Like Michael Kors,” added Shag, “but with less herpes.”

“So, what, by God, did they want with women?” Yet Shag could only shake his head. “Women!” I shouted unto them, for their ears ring incessantly from all the cock they swallow. “What are you for?”

They seemed to consider my question. “We like Shakespeare!” shouted one. “We create life, and we perpetuate culture,” replied another thoughtfully. Said the third, “We’re trying to eliminate baby-faced depressives from the gene pool.”

“Then you’ve certainly backfired on the Catholics.” I stroked the remnant of my beard and turned to Shag. “Sir, we should waste no time in bringing them to the safety of our suspicious roadside barn. Send Gayparade back through the TRANSporner and let us put a plug in James Franc’n’o in a firm and impressive way.”

Shag nodded apprehensively, taking the marionette by the elbow and helping him toward the entry port. “Fear not,” he advised the waif, “for soon you will have no rap career again. Iggy.”

“Iggy,” Gayparade murmured after him. “Iggy, Iggy.”

They came upon the threshold of the TRANSporner, its dilated cavern of unnatural lust that had given Iggy Azalea talent and genitalia so many years before. The twink gulped, appraising it, unsure of how to proceed.

“Timpani?” Shag inflected. “What is the matter?”

But the twisted, hollow-cheeked spaghetti said nothing, impelling Shag to grip him by the hair, repeating his query in a low growl.

“Oh, Paragon!” cried the gimp at unimpressive length, “I can’t do it, brother! Being a girl is bullshit!”

“Truly,” said Shag. “I’ve read Nietzsche.”

“I won’t go back into the TRANSporner,” he wailed. “I would rather die than look like an adult human.”

Shag leant down, menace in his eyes. “Then we must leave, Timpani, quickly -- before Master Butch is able to transfer sufficient power from his penis into his legs to follow us.”

“You mean...?”

“Yes,” my noble friend, my eternal companion responded, turning to me. “I am prepared to accept my animal nature, the amoral truth of my life: there can be no more good taste, because that is for the straights. I am a total gay forever.” And thus, Shag tore the bomber jacket from his shoulders, and it fell away like his erection, revealing a strapless silver gown and taffeta stole. Rising by fabulous vampirism, he glared down at me; nevertheless, I could discern a cold and implicit sadness in his gaze, the gaze of young man after the golden summer of 1914.

“Shag,” said I, my loins quivering, “get ahold of your senses. There is no future in the Homosexuality. Every country where gay queers establish their warrens, penises shrink. This is because the Nancy makes healthy public arousal impossible by constantly bringing up Madonna.”

But he had already vanished, along with Gayparade, into a vortex of passionate mid-century female friendships.

The silence that prevailed in his wake was deafening; it was interrupted, at last, only by the genital whir of the TRANSporner and the soft, incomprehensible chattering of the women. And after much prayer, my noble witness, I still cannot say which of us in that final instant had been more the queer Dorothy: Shag, his crystal-blue eyes darkened with looming cocks, cutting loose to spend his life spoon-feeding treacle to a preteen girl’s gay skeleton; or myself, at the realization that, more than my box of horse condoms, more than my brass knuckles, more than even my beard, I needed Paragon Shag with me. It brings me shame to confess this, but we live in such times as make masculine pride scarce, and I do not foresee Western civilization’s return to glistening worthiness until the metrosexuals have been pounded back into almond butter and adult coloring books.

I crossed myself, still in a state of disbelief, and turned toward the threshold of hell, where Sexchaynge stood waiting. She had pressed her cheek against her fist, and her gaze lifted to me sympathetically. “What are you going to do now, Master Butch?”

In a supreme display of muscular eminence, I diverted my erection away from the heart of the sun, boring it into the ground, quaking the earth with my righteousness. “I must pursue Shag, and I must put an end to his delirious transsexual rampage at any cost. Even at the cost of his life. Before he encounters God and offends Him with Sapphic literature.”

“Take solace,” Sexchaynge whispered. “I don’t believe it will come to that. Shag has become a gay slut, so you will always know where to find him...” She smiled sadly as I considered her words. “And lucky for you, sweet-meat sandwich, I know just the ‘man’ to get you in.”

To Be Continued

About the Authors

In preparation for the BAFTA ceremony, Admiral Willpower Butch is studying how to act prissy and entitled by sitting in on liberal arts film classes. His former beloved companion, Paragon Shag, hasn’t been seen in public since he scandalized a group of children with a flamboyant Broadway medley at their school vape bar; now, he prefers the privacy of the abandoned crime scene he shares with Timpani Gayparade and his twenty-two hot brothers. Their secretary, international murder victim and street gastroenterologist Dead Summer Days, will never get into heaven, but he will loiter around the gate smelling of weed.

#willpower butch #paragon shag #jesus this turned out long #my dumb sense of humor as always #manly men! magazine

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syzygyzip · 6 years

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The Downward Climb: Plumbing the Depths of Lordran

This is a psychological essay about the lower geography of Dark Souls 1. It was originally published on Haywire Magazine last year. All the cool impressionistic photos that accompany the article were taken by Haywire editor Josh Trevett.

Many folks have pointed out the world of Dark Souls resembles a map of the psyche, but little has been done to cartographize this terrain. If we begin with the basic premise that the hub world, Firelink Shrine, is the starting point of a psychological unfolding, then the next assumption is to see upward trajectory as aspirational and emancipating, and downward trajectory as reflective and inward. This latter leaden path is rarely the first one selected by the player, a little harder to find and more treacherous, but its symbology is quite rich. When the Crestfallen Knight of the Shrine mentions this direction, it’s with sardonic caution.

As in dreams, each successive layer of descent in Dark Souls indicates deeper and deeper domains of the psyche. The further down you go, the more fantastic the landscape becomes, and the more primal the mythological material. We shall look at these stages in terms of successive depth, but keep in mind that it is impossible to make progress in the game solely by going down. At certain points, one must take a break and reach upward for a while in order to plumb further down again. So this essay is structured geographically, rather than directly following gameplay trajectory – and while some of these stages can be skipped, they cannot be meaningfully reordered.

The expected path of descent begins in the township. The chosen undead opens a door and takes a long ladder down to the poorer part of town, where the houses are much smaller, and fires go unchecked. Thieves threaten to murder and rob anyone brave enough to walk through the derelict streets. This area is the “wrong side of the tracks,” where the undesirable things go: the criminals, the hungry, the desperate. As a psychic landscape, it is only partially unconscious. It still has order: houses, people, and a clear direction to follow. It lies in shade, indicating that it is on the threshold of escaping consciousness. The downward incline at this point is gradual, but clear. The people who live here are violent and not wholly integrated into the relatively civil upper undead burg, but are nevertheless part of the same city, acknowledged by the ego to be functioning psychic components.

The incline briefly plateaus in the chamber of the Capra Demon, who ambushes you in a tiny room with his rabid dogs. The player is cornered by relative realism – it as though they are trapped, ambushed, mugged – threatened by very “real” dangers. The discomfort and fear of navigating the psychological shadow is here at its most rational: projecting the fear of the Other onto real people in a community. The Capra Demon is a creature of Capricorn, which symbolizes the limitations of matter, and the business of the superego: obligation, societal order, infrastructure, systems which can empower or disenfranchise. Here is Dark Souls doing realism: a reasonable situation (turning a wrong corner in a bad neighborhood) is punished by a cruel and unfair encounter (dead end ambush with dogs). This battle is touted as a milestone in Dark Souls for its difficulty, and it is likewise a milestone in the psychological individuation process. Here you are confronted with the cold, hard facts: opportunist humans in a damaged and impoverished society. But you see that this is not the source of your suffering. And by overcoming the devil of external, organized materiality, you receive the key to the next challenge: the internal materiality, the personal body.

The digestive tract, the toilet, and the sewer are all classic dream symbols of the body – in particular, the aspects of the body that inspire disgust, revulsion, rejection. So we can see how the sewer is a more sophisticated and yet more blatant metaphor for repressed psychic contents. This is where Dark Souls begins its toilet humor. Remember: the Capra Demon represented a “breakthrough” moment. For the first time, the player goes underground, burrowing into a solid wall, and gets a sense of how huge is the house of unconscious material. This revelation has reframed the unconscious as an elaborate, dark maze – though it retains the tight passages of its previous form. The tight passages indicate, as above, the trepidation and constraint one feels when exploring this uncomfortable side of the psyche.

Here we have the animalistic scramble of hungry hollows as they await their supper from the mother-figure of the butcher, who intimidates with large castrating cleaver. Directly below the mess-hall there is a small thick pool (is it mud? waste? grease?), which we briefly trudge through in the tightest quarters yet. Thick beams support a low ceiling. Dogs outmatch your agility in the soup. This is perhaps the first time that a weapon with an overhead swing is useless. Claustrophobia and inertia emerge as a theme and a threat. On the other side of this small but intense pool, a genuinely optimistic native of the swamp is trapped, inert, in a barrel, and rescuing this fellow allows you to learn pyromancies. The main encounter with fire in the previous stage was a useless hazard; here, it becomes our ally, Laurentius. It is our first vague indication that the birth of fire lies somewhere at the bottom of this unconscious realm. We accept this pyromancer as our friend (we recognize the part of ourselves which is native to the swamp) and in doing so we are given our first opportunity to make use of fire, the animating force which created and consumed the world.

The sewer is obviously not in great condition: wads of slime and blocked passages suggest an ailing intestinal tract, or that the digestive role of the psyche is in disrepair, disrupting fluid communication to the more primal unconscious material which lurks below (symbolized by Izalith et al). If we hunt around we find the disturbing revelation of the preacher presiding over a throng of rats. Let’s take moving downward to be moving into the past, into that which is buried. So to find a holy man / father figure commanding a group of rats which he empowers against us, on a rampart overlooking the arena of confrontation… there are a number of ways to interpret this, and I leave you to your imagination.

The son (pyromancer) and father (trident) figures are minor scenes, skippable fragments of trauma in our memory-maze of abjection, but the mother recurs to us throughout. Julia Kristeva introduced the idea that the original object of abjection is the mother, because that’s the first form from which we differentiate ourselves. “We must abject the maternal, the object which has created us, in order to construct an identity.” This is a major keynote of this dungeon. In addition to the butcher, the image of the mother is given to us as a big mama rat, and by leaping creatures with frightening, boob-like heads. Literally they are “basilisks”, the sight of which immobilizes the player (but the frog is also an interesting comparison, as it is a classical symbol of Venus, feminine beauty – except here it has been corrupted).

At bottom, we encounter the image of the mother rephrased as a malformed dragon. It is a great gaping and tooth-filled yoni. This is a particularly revolting and primal form: the “devouring mother” who threatens to overwhelm the player, consuming our being back into her body, into dormancy and total dependence, like Laurentius in his barrel.

As others have pointed out, this creature is a descendant of the everlasting dragons. Those dragons, who exist outside of time, symbolize the Mother in her highest conceivable state: the matrix of creation from which all phenomenal experience is derived. The image of a dragon represents a cardinal pattern within that matrix, currently unmanifest within the primary sphere of our experience. The Gaping Dragon, this distant descendant, has been corrupted within the psyche of the chosen undead by a poisonous relationship to the Mother. If the Capra gave us the keys to the body, we find that the body’s memory extends back to the point in which it was surrounded by the Mother. And here the Mother still lurks in a dank chamber, transformed by repression and lack of sunlight into a corrupted state – a one dimensional feeding machine. So, like many dragons of mythology, it must be slain so that the process of self-understanding can proceed. The key the dragon gives us brings us to the first wide-open unconscious arena.

—

Those who are not fortunate enough to live between the damp stone walls of a pestilent sewer must make their home below it: on rickety scaffolding above a valley of shit. Blighttown is the scourge of Dark Souls, its repugnance reaching a gameplay-disrupting level. Here, by a large leap, we reach a finer metaphor for the repressed psyche: the dark cave. We again retain the dimness of the above levels, and the constraint of passage, but now it is far more dangerous, situated upon a treacherous structure which could give way at any moment. The lattice of understanding we have built for this level of consciousness is pathetic. An undead dog runs in a hamster wheel to power a continuous elevator, in mockery of the inventions of the surface/ego. The ladders which further our descent are hard to see, but resting at this precipice is not possible due to the endless intrusion of bloodsucking mosquitoes.

The style of enemies have changed dramatically: rather than typical desperate and confused hollows, we have obstinate dart blowers and ogres. Already these beings have mutated through prolonged drought of humanity, but the situation gets worse as we go down. The infested ghouls are contaminated past the point of human, consumed by hunger, madness, rage, and soon we find horrendous semi-humanoid “cragspiders”, beings who are hopelessly malformed and animalistic in their behavior.

These creatures follow us to the very bottom of an enormous shit-valley, where at last the arena opens wide, and again we adjust our understanding of the repressed psyche to a more sophisticated and expansive scope. This is a moment where the attitude toward the repressed changes. No passages restrict our movement here, only the muckiness of the omnipresent poisonous waste, a metaphor for depression and torpor. In the distance we see an enormous spider nest, which summons conflicting feelings. It inspires fear and foreboding, but the idea of “nest” also suggests, for the first time, home. Things have gotten a bit brighter down here, and the white spider’s nest faintly glimmers almost like a castle in comparison to the sludgy wasteland. It is an indication of beauty and architecture buried in the abominations of the deep unintegrated psyche. We are reminded there is something here to retrieve.

Like any well-designed boss, Quelaag is philosophically emblematic of the environment. She is a grotesque sight: from the waist-up she is a naked woman, and from the waist down she is a gnarly, fiery spider. The mythological motif of a feminine being with the lower half of a beast is a common one (mermaids, deer-legged or chicken-legged demons). It describes a complex in the psyche which hasn’t fully formed into autonomous realization, but is partially “embedded” in the undifferentiated psychic environment. I’d prefer to ignore the fanservice intro to this battle, but it does reveal a few key things about the character: her relation to desire, and her incongruous placement in the general thematic palette of Dark Souls. In addition to the cutscene, it’s her general design — her character model, moveset, and item drops — that portray her as someone who has stepped out of some other, more sensational franchise.

She and her 6 sisters are something like multivalent capitulations of anima, the otherworldly spark of inspiration. Quelaag herself is the base corruption of artistic impulse into superficial thrills: a creature that is half hot girl, half horrible beast, and when u beat her u get a badass sword. The Fair Lady is the atrophied, unappreciated anima. She is an even more feeble archetype than Quelaag: she is the most helpless of all damsels, incapable of speaking in common, sickly and immobile, easily deceived and killed – she is at the mercy of the player, essentially. The only other sister with a name is Quelana, who is encountered before the spider’s den, inconspicuously resting against a wall in the filthy basin. This is the only sister who retains her sanity, and who becomes your ally, teaching you the most powerful flame sorceries in the game. Her spells are primordial, essential fire – long predating the invention of pyromancy, which is to say, before intellect and science sought to control this raw, libidinous power. She is difficult to see in the dark swamp, and won’t appear at all unless the player has reached an eminent level of mastery over fire.

The arson fire of lower undead burg marked our initiation into the downward climb, and became more important in each successive layer of subconscious darkness, and the flame took on more complex forms. The lad we rescued from the sewer represented indirect knowledge of fire, passed on through cultural traditions, and was our first integration of this animating power. This next plateau introduces us to the sisters, beings born from the flame, and if the player is able to engage with Quelana, they receive a higher integration: explicit tutelage from a master, from a daughter of fire.

After Quelana and Quelaag, the brief womb of the spider nest, we are born again into yet another renovation of the unconscious: an expansive hellscape. There is no sign of human habitation down here: no more semi-conscious undead or ramshackle structures, only ruins, monsters and mountains. To formalize this new chthonic threshold, we are given our robes of initiation – or rather, we seize them from under the nose of a giant, mourning beast. The Ceaseless Discharge is the sole son of chaos, and we find him looming over the corpse of his unnamed sister, which bears the robes. When the player takes these robes, Ceaseless attacks in a rage.

Ceaseless is raw, untamed energy, hastily crammed into a form that spews excess and emotion. In the lore of the game, he was with born with wounds inflamed by lava, and his sisters gave him an enchanted ring that kept the lava from hurting him. He “foolishly” dropped the ring and it sprang into a centipede demon – though the game suggests that he lost his entire hand in this incident. The player can wait for Ceaseless to get his injured stub-hand stuck in the cliffside during the battle, and then knock him off the cliff in a few hits – this is the most well-known boss exploit in Dark Souls. At first encounter, the player is overwhelmed by the unrestrained emotions in the deep unconscious – they are huge, ugly, intimidating, and dish out a ton of damage. If the player gives way to this intimidation, by keeping distance from this boss, the fight becomes much harder. One must either run up right next to the boss, or lure the boss to the gate and take advantage of the exploit. By doing the latter, we are taking this difficult and childish emotion and bringing it toward the surface. It is already crippled and nearly immobile, and once we see its injured hand (indicating its lack of strength and utility), we can trap it and conquer the beast. Only in doing so will the lava below harden, permitting our progress, because the “Discharge” has stopped: the malformed, unprocessed emotion has been listened to and released.

Now we see that we are not among nature, but among ruins; there was at one time an awareness of this psychic level, but it has been lost long ago. It is crawling with Taurus and Capra demons, foes that were at one time represented critical discoveries but are now found in multitude and will be conquered repeatedly. Lava burns the feet, and statues come alive, signifying that the psychic terrain itself has become hostile to your exploration, and boundaries have started to dissolve between enemy and environment. Here we can go no further until we have also gone Up. That is to say, one cannot venture infinitely inward without stretching the other way a bit. After the Lord Vessel is acquired in Anor Londo, we can return to the lowest levels of the mind, where form breaks down into undifferentiated soup, and we find the contamination at the heart.

Any lower than this and individual personalities are lost. The personal is replaced entirely by the archetypal as we seek a nameless witch. The placement of enemies is no longer biographically descriptive. The few NPCs who make it this far below are the most heroic, and have until now kept their optimism and idiosyncrasies. But they too find themselves overcome, and surrender to the ugly heart of nature, leaving the player with no model for a course of action. At the same depth we find four legendary kings who are now indistinguishable as a single spectral force, and a barren lake of ash where the player becomes incongruous among the boundless silence. So when the Bell of Awakening is rung, a few floors above, after the defeat of Quelaag, it marks an important boundary. Perhaps not the moment of awakening, but the surrender of individual grievances, as to fully reckon the roots of Lordran’s collective sorrow. By the time we reach that bell, finding it covered and nearly immobilized by rotting spiderweb, we know first-hand why the Crestfallen Knight sits around Firelink Shrine, unwilling to make the descent.

#dark souls #dark souls 1 #lordran #downward climb #haywire magazine #blight town #blighttown #crestfallen #lower undead burg #gaping dragon #the depths #depth psychology #quelaag #julia kristeva #powers of horror #the abject #abject #lost izalith

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