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stillness-in-green · 1 year

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Chapter Thoughts — Chapter 383: Meek Spirits

Pre-cut Positivity—

O Rule and Mount Lady are a fantastic team-up. Mount Lady is, in general, pretty boss this week. I want to combine this and my last fandom and give her Barbatos’s mace-chan. I also have to admire her exercise routine, given that winging around a solid metal wrench as wide as your leg and almost as tall as you are must take considerably more strength than e.g. wielding a similarly sized spear or club made mostly of wood.[1]

O The effects of Mina's efforts on her appearance are neat. The way the blacks of her eyes melt off?? I wonder if Curious’s could do that too, under the right circumstances. Also, her horns extending out is a cool look, one that I don’t recall ever seeing before. I wondered briefly if it was meant to represent a quirk evolution like Koda growing in that horn, but Mina’s seem to go kind of droopy afterward, so I don’t know if they’ll be permanently different in shape the way his seems to be.

Hit the jump for the rest. Note that I have seen the leaks, but I’m leaving the writing below as written pre-leaks, if only because I am very much going to want an accurate translation before I start talking in-depth about the Machia content in 385.

On Gigantomachia and the Limits of Emergency Situation Excuses—

The bit about Machia embodying “pure psychological scarring” is very… Like, guys, That Is A Person. He is not a symbol, not a metaphor. He is a human being. Apart from being a bad look in general, it's especially bonkers to dehumanize Machia in this specific fashion—“From the standpoint of ordinary people”—when the first thing the heroes’ do upon bringing Machia, the soul-numbingly terrifying symbol of everyday peoples’ trauma, under their control is to—stampede him fifty miles back across the landscape over the same path he took before? What are they going to do, stop to yell at everyone they see between here and Jakku not to worry, he’s working under hero auspices now, please refrain from having any PTSD-induced panic attacks!

As I said last time, turning Machia against his own is the sort of thing trial-at-the-Hague war crimes are made of, or would be if this were an international conflict. What’s even more maddening is the stench of double standard hanging over it: when Spinner turns up intending to rescue his ally use a mentally conditioned victim as a tool, he got a moralistic scolding from Mic about how “that guy ain’t gonna be your ace in the hole.” But as soon as the heroes find themselves in a tight spot, all concerns about not using mentally conditioned victims as aces in the hole go right out the window.

The only difference between Kurogiri and Gigantomachia that matters in this context is that the person Kurogiri was pre-mental conditioning was friends with a hero, whereas Machia, so far as we know, has always been loyal to AFO. That’s it. If Machia had been best school buddies with e.g. Ryukyu, we would never have seen him used like this; the heroes would never have even thought about it. We even know that’s the case because the heroes could just as easily have had Shinsou brainwash Kurogiri to open all the portals they needed to kick off this combat; instead, they had Monoma copy the Warp Gate quirk and use it under his own power.

Kurogiri is not to be used as a tool. Eri is not to be used as a tool. But Machia? Break out the psychic hammer and tongs and start beating him into shape; the heroes have lots of uses for him.

I know there’s a measure of shrugging and saying desperate times call for desperate measures out there on this topic, and, indeed, that’s the way Kirishima and Tsukauchi both frame this—a back-up plan, a massive gamble. But the heroes of BNHA are not just any sort of protagonists; they’re called, by both the narrative and as an in-universe job title, heroes. That carries a connotation of ideal, of role model, of a character/person viewed as worthy of admiration and acclaim for their nobility and courage even under duress.

@robotlesbianjavert reminded me of a quote by Rich Burlew, author of the webcomic The Order of the Stick, that really encapsulates my problem with the heroes’ tactics and the big shrug those tactics elicit from certain portions of the fandom.

Burlew said, “Being heroic often means rejecting some tactical options that, while potentially effective, violate your personal moral beliefs.” While he was talking in the context of D&D characters with specific moral alignments, I feel it’s applicable when it comes to superhero comics, as well. Certainly it's a plot that comes up with marked frequency in the U.S. comics Horikoshi draws so much of his heroic iconography from.[2]

If I may use a more widely recognized sentiment, “The ends don’t justify the means.” That’s the issue with the calls the heroes keep making, over and over again. They condone things being done to their enemies that they would never condone in any other context. This isn’t admirable Plus Ultra determination; it isn’t heroic. It’s pessimistic and inconstant, useful only for securing short-term victories.

By all means, that’s a valid story to tell, and heck, sometimes the short-term victory is all you can get, so you do what it takes to get it. That’s true in real life, too. Certainly, if the narrative just wanted its leads to be able to do whatever it takes to get the job done, it could have framed them as being harshly pragmatic, doing whatever it takes to get the job done, dirtying their hands and making hard, uncomfortable decisions in order to keep people safe. That’s the bread and butter of spy dramas and political thrillers! Heroism, however, especially in the sense of cape comic imagery and tropes that Horikoshi is using, requires harder decisions still.

A hero is someone who doesn’t take the easy way out. They not only have to get things done, but they have to get things done in a way that doesn't betray the ideals they uphold. That means they don’t get to use villainous tactics and still call themselves heroes. They certainly don’t get to castigate their enemies for their methods and then turn around and use those same methods themselves.

(More on this next time.)

Moments with Mina—

You know, I thought it was a little weird, back in the Class A vs. Deku fight(‘s aftermath), that Kirishima’s “thing” he tells Deku is that he saw the news story about some kid facing the Sludge Villain. It felt so out-of-left-field, so random—surely there could have been something more relevant to Kirishima than a callback to the Sludge Villain that he had never once indicated he knew about? But now I wonder if the selection wasn’t about Kirishima in that moment, but rather, undercooked set-up for this one. Bringing the Sludge Villain back here instead of any place he might confront a character he faced before just felt like such a non-sequitur, but with the earlier setting, at least there’s that tiny bit of connection. Save that it doesn’t come to anything here, either—I don’t even get the impression Kirishima recognizes him?

Instead, we get a moment for Mina, and—it leaves a bit to be desired, I’m very sorry to say.

O Firstly, okay, Mina failed against Machia before—froze up when she recognized his voice and had a brief, vivid flashback to the fear she felt when she first crossed paths with him. Yet here, when she comes up against him again, he’s basically incidental to her. Which, yeah, I guess you could say is progress—she’s come so far she saves Mount Lady from Machia as an afterthought. On the other hand, though, we’re deprived of a big moment of her facing the fear she failed against before—which Kirishima got!—and instead get her taking out the Sludge Villain, with whom she has no prior interaction, to save Shinsou, so Shinsou can stop Machia.

Not only does her action, then, come down to another example of a girl’s action being crucial to enable and support a boy’s more decisive action, but she even credits it to the training she got from two boys—Bakugou and Shouto—rather than her own efforts.[3]

O Mina being the one to talk about Midnight continues to feel a little strange. Midnight never had a close-close relationship with any of the students, but surely both Momo and Mineta had more significant moments? And Momo’s not here; she’s being criminally wasted on the Sky Coffin battle. Mineta certainly is here, though, and he gets a sum total of bupkis to say or do when faced with Midnight’s killer.

O I wish I didn’t find Hose Face’s writing this week so overwhelmingly exhausting (more on that shortly), because Mina’s line to him about heroes and villains both finding strength in numbers is interesting on its own merits and would be even more so if it weren't being wasted on such a flat caricature.

It has echos of things like Jeanist calling heroes and villains two sides of the same coin and Spinner spitefully accusing the MLA of being the same as him (bandwagon jumpers). It’s also somewhat ahistorical in the sense that the story alludes a few times to the fact that groups of villains were fairly rare prior to the rise of the League of Villains/the fall of All Might. Hero teams were likewise uncommon until they had to start banding together to fill the gap All Might left. The MLA has certainly been cultivating strength in numbers for generations, but it’s still a pretty new thing to both “sides” of the conflict Mina’s talking about.

Anyway, it’s interesting, but I wish I knew where it was coming from. The closest Mina’s ever been to facing the humanity of her enemies is keeping Shouto company in the wake of the Dabi reveal. There’s Aoyama, too, of course, but there’s been no collective effort made to extend the class’s experience with Aoyama—forced into “villainy” against his will—to empathy about other villains they don’t know personally. So wherefore this sudden empathy with villains looking for closeness with like-minded people?

O My final issue with Mina’s big proclamation is that it carries zero weight for her to disavow revenge when she’s never been shown to have a vengeful personality. Mina’s cheerful! She’s upbeat! She doesn’t hold onto anger; she doesn’t brood; she’s extremely well-adjusted in that she cries when she needs to, to get it out of her system, and then she bounces back.

If Mina had been shown to have a particular fondness for Midnight,[4] then maybe I could buy her having to struggle with a darker turn. In the story we have, though, she lacks both: she has no personal connection to Midnight more significant than “teacher whose classes I enjoyed,” nor did the story spend even a breath of time prior to this on Mina struggling to cope with Midnight’s death.

It’s the same issue I have with, say, Deku’s “mad drive to save.” I can’t accept the characterization of Deku’s saving instinct as so intense it’s like a form of madness when the story continually fails to treat that instinct as in any way aberrant or alien to the people around him. Likewise, I can’t applaud Mina for overcoming her rage or desire for revenge when the story never portrayed her wrestling with either.

Way to keep forcing Shouji to be the model minority for everyone else, though.

Hose Face and the Incongruous Belief Set

The PLF material this week is mostly just sigh-inducing and difficult to muster up much enthusiasm for discussing. To recap, though, the members of the erstwhile MLA are taking every opportunity in this second war arc to double down on quirk supremacy despite tiny little issues like the fact that a great many ranking officers and members of high command have quirks that aren’t suited to getting them ahead in a society built around quirk supremacy.

I mean, really. Here’re some impromptu categories and characters that fit them:

Good but unrelated to the function they actually serve in the organization/plot:

o Skeptic – Makes active use of his puppets exactly once; otherwise does nothing that isn’t connected to electronics. o Curious – Quirk has combat applications, but they have little to no relevance to her day job of running the MLA’s propaganda arm.

Okay but not so impressive that you’d think they’d have what it takes to rise to high positions in the society they themselves profess to want:

o Hose Face – His emittance lets him float, and does—what else, exactly? It’s clearly not lethal to the touch, given that he uses it to float a bunch of his allies, so at best, I can see it giving him a bit of extra punch if he boosts his attacks with it. Not all that impressive or stand-out compared to things that hit harder or are more versatile. o Galvanize (Taser Dude) – Lightning is a great quirk, except for the fact that elemental quirks seem to be relatively common, so you’d be up against every other asshole in your town that has the same power as you but with some barely more than cosmetic variation. Hard to make a name for yourself that way!

Just kind of whatever:

o Slidin’ Go – If he were getting as much mileage out of a slip-and-slide quirk as e.g. Captain Celebrity or The Crawler, he’d be more famous and recognizable instead of being basically a joke. o Brand (Pinstripe Shark)– If his quirk is so impressive, why does he bring a katana to the battlefield with him? o Scarecrow and Nimble - Are their heteromorphic appearances all they have going for them? If not, we sure didn’t see them do anything else, even in the middle of pitched combat.

Functionally useless in an every-man-for-himself world:

o Trumpet – If he had to live in a dog-eat-dog world where only the strength of one’s own quirk, zero other factors, determined who got ahead, he might as well be quirkless.

There are other issues, of course, but another one that’s on display this week is how quirk supremacy is nowhere to be found in the words of Destro or Re-Destro. Nowhere in any line Rikiya has ever spoken, even in the privacy of his own mind, has Might Makes Right-style quirk supremacy been in evidence; he has unfailingly thought of nothing but liberation and building a better, freer world. Here this week, Hose Face’s flashback entails a memory of Re-Destro calling himself and whatever audience he's speaking to comrades, equals, “one and the same.” What part of your supreme leader calling himself and you equals is in accordance with the law of the jungle?

Seriously, guys, if the MLA were actually supposed to have believed all this in such a heavy-handed way all along, why was Geten[5] the only one who actually brought it up during MVA? MVA is the arc that introduced the CRC; surely Hori wasn’t worried about the League fighting a bunch of violent extremists! Or is it rather that he didn’t want to show the League allying with a bunch of violent extremists, so he downplayed the truth as much as he could?

Is it doublethink/groupthink, a cult-enforced unwillingness to ask logical questions if they run you into trouble with the dogma? Is Hori just simplifying them because he’s rushing the ending and doesn’t have time to resolve their plot lines in the way that would be necessary if they were written as having valid points?

On both the Watsonian and the Doylist levels, I’m completely at a loss.

Stray Notes—

O Hose Face’s face hose gets torn apart, and I have some seriously pressing questions about whether he just lost a limb to what was functionally a hero’s attack. I suppose it could have been a support item, but no lines between his quirk, his briefly glimpsed fighting style, and an enormous fucking hose on his face leap to draw themselves in my mind. Again, if his quirk is a biohazard of some kind and he needs a mask to protect him from its effects, like Mustard, surely he wouldn’t use it to float his unmasked allies around the battlefield? So what is it, just dead weight on his mask to make him look creepier?

Anyway, there’s none of the blood spray that has tended to accompany traumatic limb loss in the series to date, but I do wonder. It would be, I think, the only instance other than All Might pulping AFO’s face of heroic action maiming a villain to such an irrevocable degree.[6] You know, just to exacerbate the severity of turning Machia on his allies even further. God knows Shinsou doesn’t tell Machia to hold back, and those claws were plenty lethal against heroes, as we all well know.

O Not sure why Shinsou had to base his Persona Chords arrangement on recordings from Tartarus when he could have just gotten it from the phone call to the Aoyamas. I wonder how much time he needs to program those voices in? It definitely drives home that the heroes had been contemplating using Shinsou against Machia for a long time, though. Which, again, would be perfectly fine if all Shinsou were doing were making Machia stand down. Not so much all the rest of it, though.

O Would it kill Horikoshi to stop telling us the outcomes of these flashbacks before we spend whole chapters on them?? At least when Mirio came back during the war, we spent like a page and a half on the foregone conclusion before getting on back into the swing of things. The reason the fight with Spinner at the hospital had tension is because we didn't know the outcome in advance. What exactly would have been the issue with ending Chapter 382 with Machia showing up and hurling a mountain at the combatants without revealing that the target is AFO and showing Shinsou and Kirishima?

(Tune in next time for: trying to make heads or tails of what exactly Shinsou thought he was doing.)

------------------ FOOTNOTES ------------------ [1] I’ll take Scale Considerations the Author Probably Wasn’t Thinking About for $600, Alex.

[2] Consider, for example, Bad Future Timelines where the present-day heroes have to debate and, ultimately, defeat jaded dystopian future versions of themselves. Or the perennial question, "Why doesn't Batman kill the Joker?"

[3] This after crediting her Acid Man move as being inspired by Kirishima’s Unbreakable, too, recall.

[4] And I’ll note that both times she’s brought up Midnight, here and in the war arc when Mineta is fretting, it’s in the context of going back to Midnight’s classes. She never actually brings up Midnight as her own person, Kayama Nemuri, because Mina doesn’t know Kayama Nemuri. It’s always and only “Midnight-sensei, whose classes I like.” It can’t be stirring and personal when it’s so staunchly removed from being personal.

[5] The kid whose name means Apocrypha, to repeat myself for the umpteenth time.

[6] Give or take the way the heroes have been pretty openly using lethal force against Shigaraki ever since he got out of the tube.

#bnha #chapter thoughts #bnha 383 #gigantomachia #pink alien on parade #meta liberation army #plf advisors #ethics of heroism #my writing

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twilightknight17 · 5 months

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Yesterday on P3Re: sadness, desperately wishing Kenji would butt out, and a question for Atlus.

Fuuka has been staying up to monitor things during the Dark Hour, since we don’t know what’s going to happen now, and gets a reading from the base of Tartarus that she recognizes as Strega. This is a shock to everyone, since as far as they knew, Takaya and Jin died after their fall from the Moonlight Bridge.

I’m more shocked by the fact that navigators can hijack each other’s communication channels.

We immediately head for Tartarus, and find Chidori there alone.

Time for a boss fight.

Chidori, I think, fits somewhere between Mitsuru and Fuuka in terms of persona powers. She’s clearly got navi abilities that are stronger than Mitsuru’s, but also offensive spells and physical attacks.

(The axe on a chain is cool.)

But this boss fight isn’t normal, and after a while, Chidori stops.

Being around Junpei has changed her. For the better, I’d argue. Anything other that Takaya’s assassin club is an improvement. But it’s also given her a whole new range of feelings that she really wasn’t ready to cope with.

Now that I think about it, Chidori’s arc is pretty similar to Makoto’s in the movie. Give someone a person to care about after they’ve had nothing, and they’re going to be scared of losing them.

But, as is becoming routine for big emotional moments, Takaya and his gun are here to ruin it.

Honestly, being around Chidori has been good for Junpei, too. He’s been growing as a person now that he has a Someone he wants to fight for beyond just the team. It’s nice.

Unfortunately Takaya’s gun is still real and he just fucking shoots him.

Junpei finds himself in the hospital, where Chidori is actually being 100% honest about her feelings for once. It’s a mental thing, because she’s using her healing abilities to bring him back.

But the problem is, as Fuuka points out, her healing requires energy proportional to what she’s healing. So to bring him back to life… it’s going to take a life.

Junpei, understandably, freaks out, and instead of a normal persona evolution, he gets a fusion. I’m assuming because of how Chidori transferred her life force to him, if we’re going literal with it. Or maybe it’s just a metaphor. Either way, it’s great.

Takaya and Jin wisely decide to make themselves scarce, because Junpei is ready to kill. And… there’s nothing more we can do. Fortunately, Monday is a school holiday, so we don’t have to go, but Junpei spends all day locked in his room.

There’s nothing any of us can say to help.

On Tuesday, it’s the start of career experience week! Which I’m realizing is the sort of thing I’d like to have. Go and try out a job in a low-stakes environment to see if you vibe with it.

Unfortunately, Minato is stuck working at Wild Duck Burger. Which is basically free work for them and a hideous uniform for us.

Four days of this. God. At least the week is flying by.

Wait, is that Ryoji’s voice?

No. Please. It’s the last day. Don’t look at me in this stupid outfit.

...oh. Yeah, of course we can.

Kenji, who is also working here apparently, butts in to join us, because apparently our breaks are at the same time. So he’s also here. Ryoji wants to talk about Junpei; apparently they were working at the same place, and Junpei didn’t even show for the first day.

Yeah… I don’t know how to explain, dearest. It’s an entire backstory.

...Kenji, get out. Go away.

He does go away eventually, and Ryoji admits that he was worried about Minato, too.

I dunno if I’m doing “just fine”, but it wasn’t as hard a blow to me as it was to Junpei. It’s sweet of you to be worried, though.

But it’s okay. I’m gonna go slam through any bad feelings by killing stuff in Tartarus. We’re almost to another border floor, which means the last document is here!

Oh, hey, I was right! The antiques lady did used to work for the Kirijo Group. Nice.

Now we can just fuse some personas, and we’ll be ready to head home for the night.

…Liz, are… are you okay?

Welp, career experience week was kind of a bust, but at least we finally got Junpei out of his room. We want to help, and it’s not healthy for him to wallow alone.

The hospital sent over Chidori’s sketchbook. She apparently left it behind.

Junpei, the person you were in love with died in your arms. You do not have to ‘snap out of it’. No one is asking you to get over it right now. We just want you to let us help.

He says we won’t understand Chidori’s drawings, but I think we can understand perfectly.

I guess I should check in on my social links… How are things, Maya?

...so, the ethics teacher doesn’t even LIKE her fiance? Great. Wow. This school is so functional.

Ryoji is over that evening, but he’s hanging out with Junpei. I can’t even be mad, because Junpei’s mood has improved significantly.

I’m glad he’s doing better. It’s going to take a while to get back to normal, but he’s not being crushed under the weight of his grief anymore.

Back to school Monday, hang out with Chihiro, back home to the dorm, and…

Hon. Babe. Love of my life. TELL ME that you’re coming over and I’ll be here. We’ve already established that I’ll ignore all my social links for you. It’s like you’re getting more shy after Kyoto. Is it too hard to talk to me after realizing you’re in love with me? :P

Aigis doesn’t like that he’s here so much, though. And she’s acting weird.

No. You are a person and you are our friend. Don’t talk like that.

And lastly, Mitsuru has stayed up past midnight to take a phone call, with some interesting info.

So, Atlus, what was that about wanting to maintain the core P3 experience? Because there was no way to save Chidori in original P3. That didn’t come til later.

I wonder what I did that saved her. Was it buying the flower?

Either way, what a bunch of bozos. “Core P3 experience” my ass.

Oh well. December is next, and I am ready to get my heart broken! Bring it on!

#Li plays P3Re

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impalementation · 3 years

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spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 1

I said a long ways back that I thought the switch from Angel to Spike as Buffy’s primary love interest represented an interesting evolution in the show’s attitude towards—and interrogation of—romanticism, and I finally felt like expanding on what I meant by that. This is very long, very meandering, and not terribly academic or well-edited, but I hope there’s something of interest in it nonetheless. It is about 20,000 words in total, and will discuss, in more or less chronological order, the arc of the show’s attitude towards romanticism as it is embodied in Spike, Angel, Buffy and Buffy’s relationships with both of them. I was going to release it as one long post, but because it’s so long, I figured a series of posts might be more readable. Here’s the first one.

“When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

Both Spike and Angel are at once capital-R Romantic figures, and lower-case romantic interests, and in both cases that Romantic/romantic duality is what makes them such effective avatars for ideas around romanticism. In the case of Angel, the show is aware from the beginning that he is very much a Romantic idea of something. In “Welcome to the Hellmouth” Buffy describes him as “dark” and “gorgeous”, evoking the “tall, dark and handsome” cliche. He’s mysterious. He gives her a necklace and his coat, gestures out of high school romance fiction.* In “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Giles lampshades the romance of him: “A vampire in love with a Slayer. It’s rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way.” Initially, Angel is basically designed to be a teenage girl fantasy, and it’s no coincidence that his successors like Edward Cullen or Stefan Salvatore conform to similar tropes.

*(Think of how five seasons later, a vampire will give Dawn his letterman jacket in “All the Way”. It’s hard not to read as a deliberate echo of Angel’s gift in season one. Once again, a vampire makes romantic gestures towards a high school version of “Buffy”, and later turns on her. But more on this much later in the series.)

The difference between Angel and those other, more typical Supernatural Romance love interests however, is that the show ultimately attempts to subvert the romance of him. As part of its commentary on Gothic themes, season two makes Angel more Romantic than ever (the Claddagh, the tormented past), and makes the romance between him and Buffy central to the story in a way it wasn’t in season one. And then, of course, the season tears it all apart. The first time we learn what Angel did to Drusilla it’s horrifying, but still somehow abstract. Something that seems more like it’s meant to contribute to Angel’s dangerous, Byronic image. As in, something to make him more Romantic. And then suddenly it becomes real. Suddenly, it’s something that Angel could do to Buffy, or the people Buffy cares about. It turns out that his darkly romantic aura was not just an aura, but genuinely dark all along.

In turn, Angel’s devastating transformation is a metaphor for broader disillusionment about romantic ideas. It’s less to me about a “guy going bad after sex”, and more about what it means and feels like to have the scales fall from one’s eyes in that sort of situation. As Buffy copes with the fallout of Angel’s transformation, and later is forced to kill him, I see it as being about the tragedy of having to see the world in ways that are less simple, easy, or pretty as one gets older. As Buffy and Giles say in “Lie To Me”:

BUFFY: Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get.

GILES: I believe that's called growing up.

For more on this, I recommend this livejournal post on “Lie To Me”, which goes into great depth on the way season two frames stories as pretty lies that one needs to look beneath, and how Buffy’s romanticization of Angel symbolizes that.

The whole arc of the season is Buffy’s failure to see the danger presented by Angel. In this opening scene that danger is foreshadowed. More to the point for this essay, Angel goes on to lie to Buffy about having encountered Drusilla. He doesn’t want Buffy to know about the nature of Angelus – which means that his first inclination is to mask the danger he presents to Buffy. This is one episode after Halloween, where Buffy’s romantic fantasies about what Angel wants (a damsel) nearly get her killed. Nor is she completely over those fantasies, as she notes that the mystery woman talking to Angel had a pretty old-fashioned dress. So against the backdrop of Buffy’s fantasies about her dark and mysterious boyfriend we have the truth about what he is, which is quite horrifying.

Season three then takes this to another level, by not just pointing out the darkness of the romance of Angel, but in fact puncturing his romantic image. Instead of emphasizing his dangerousness, as season two did, season three emphasizes his adulthood. It emphasizes the way that Angel is someone Buffy sees in secret, or away from her friends. He’s not integrated with her teenage, high school life, and doesn’t fit with the peppy, high school movie aesthetic that characterizes a lot of season three. By doing this, the writing indicates that at this point in their lives, Buffy and Angel are ultimately incompatible and holding each other back. Regardless of however much they might care for each other, Angel can’t fully appreciate her teenage longings like dances, and college, and having a boyfriend. And Buffy can’t fully appreciate his adult need to find himself on his own terms. By the end of season three, Angel is less of a shadowy, tragic figure, and more just an adult man who needs to finally grow up a bit.

Season three also starts making jokes where the punchline is that Angel isn’t living up to the romantic aesthetic he embodied in seasons one and two. In “Helpless”, for example, he and Buffy have an exchange where he waxes sincerely about wanting to “keep [her heart] safe, to warm it with [his own]” and although Buffy says the sentiment is beautiful, a second later she deadpans: “Or taken literally, incredibly gross.” To which Angel replies, “I was just thinking that, too.” Or in “Graduation Day, Part 1”, Angel trips on a doorway instead of making a silent entrance and Buffy again deadpans: “Stealthy.” Angel’s romance slips at moments when Buffy herself is feeling weak, either because she has lost her Slayer powers, or she’s investigating the scene of her sister Slayer’s crime. Her Romantic Slayer half is betraying her, and her romantic girlish half is feeling insecure. This is echoed by the reminder that Angel is no longer a straightforward fantasy man--or a terrifying, larger-than-life villain--but a guy who is sometimes both verbally and physically inelegant.

(Notice how one of the few times season two makes similar jokes about Angel it’s in “Lie to Me”, the very same episode that begins to peel off the layers of deceptions and unknowns about him. Angel slumps around Willow’s bedroom and jokes about “honing [his] brooding skills”, he insists that the vampire wannabes know nothing about vampires right before a guy walks by wearing his exact outfit, and Xander runs color commentary, saying “you’re not wrong” after each of Ford’s observations. In “Lie to Me” one of Angel’s hidden faces is his dangerousness, yes. But another hidden face is simply his human awkwardness.)

There’s an interesting Slayage piece by Elizabeth Gilliland that discusses the idea of Angel as a Gothic double for Buffy, specifically connecting him to the story of Jekyll and Hyde. It argues that Angel’s split identities represent Buffy’s fears that her human and Slayer halves are irreconcilable, and she cannot fully control either half. In season three, the fact that Buffy and Angel must continuously resist a loss of control with each other, and are treated as romantically incompatible, reflects this fear.

In Season Three, replete with various factors in Buffy’s life that threaten to put her role as Slayer and girl into imbalance once more [...] Angel once again returns [...]. The season culminates in an attempted attack on Buffy’s classmates during graduation, which essentially forces her to “out” herself to her community and combine her roles as Slayer and daughter, classmate, and friend for the first time publicly (“Graduation Day: Part 2” 3.22). The worst has happened: her secret has been revealed, the entire school knows about both of her personas, and she has not only survived, but emerged with a stronger sense of self [...] Buffy has conquered her first Gothic fear, and proven to herself that she can not only exercise control over both dualities of her persona, but allow them to peacefully co-exist. Thus, Angel’s continuing struggle with Angelus can no longer act as her shadow, and he literally and metaphorically leaves her to continue the rest of her journey.

It’s an interpretation I mostly agree with, and see a lot of evidence for. But in keeping with the focus of this series, I think you could also read Angel as embodying a duality between the romantic and the unromantic. In this view, Buffy’s struggle between her human and her Slayer halves is not just a struggle between personas, but a struggle to see the world correctly. In season one, it’s not Angel that revives Buffy in “Prophecy Girl”, because Angel is a vampire trope just like the Master. He cannot help her, because he is exactly the kind of traditional romantic concept--like a candle-lit cavern, an ancient Nosferatu-looking vampire, or a Chosen Hero duty--that Buffy is trying to escape. In season two, loss of control is specifically associated with passion, romance, and romanticism. Buffy’s human half longs for the romantic, but her Slayer half, and Angel’s vampire half, prove that sometimes the romantic is something dangerous and violent. The fact that Buffy’s Slayer identity and Angel’s Angelus identity both end up being outed by the end of the season (especially to Joyce, a figure of Buffy’s human home life), echoes Buffy’s loss of innocence. Season three then continues this suspicion of passion. Buffy fears that like Faith, enjoying the violence and power and desire of being a Slayer, means that she will go down a dark path. She also fears that indulging in her sexual and romantic desire for Angel will unleash Angelus. To some extent, these fears are even borne out, given that her love for Angel results in her attempted murder of Faith, and near death at Angel’s hands. But to some extent they also aren’t, given that she, Faith and Angel all live.

To me, what really gets resolved at the end of season three is not quite the issue of Buffy’s human and Slayer halves, given that Buffy will continue to struggle with that duality until the end of the show. Rather, what gets resolved is the need for binaries. Binaries are romantic things. When Giles gives his speech to Buffy at the end of “Lie To Me”, it is the language of binaries that he uses:

GILES: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.

BUFFY: Liar.

In season three, Buffy thinks she must resist both Faith and Angel. She thinks she can only be either a human girl or a Slayer leader. Many plots in season three have to do with the danger of binaries, whether that’s the witch-hunting parents in “Gingerbread”, Willow dealing with her vampire self in “Doppelgangland”, the various alter-egos in “Beauty and the Beasts”, or Cordy choosing a Buffy-less world in “The Wish”. And no character in the Buffyverse embodies the concept of binaries so starkly as Angel does. Thus by the end of season three, Buffy collapses the binaries within herself by merging the human and Slayer parts of her life, as Gilliland observes, and taking on Faith’s traits. She acknowledges her shadow by kissing her tenderly on the forehead, and bids farewell to the illusions and binaries that Angel embodies. Buffy is leaving that part of her life behind, and starting a new chapter where she can no longer split either the world, or herself, into any one thing or another.

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

#romanticism series #buffy #angel #s1 #s2 #s3 #s6 #gen #spike #btvs

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theshedding · 3 years

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Lil Nas X: Country Music, Christianity & Reclaiming HELL

I don’t typically bother myself to follow what Lil Nas X is doing from day to day, or even month to month but I do know that his “Old Town Road” hit became one of the biggest selling/streamed records in Country Music Business history (by a Black Country & Queer artist). “Black” is key because for 75+ years Country music has unsuspiciously evolved into a solidly White-identified genre (despite mixed and Indian & Black roots). Regrettably, Country music is also widely known for anti-black, misogynoir, reliably homophobic (Trans isn’t really a conversation yet), Christian and Hard Right sentiments on the political spectrum. Some other day I will venture into more; there is a whole analysis dying to be done on this exclusive practice in the music industry with its implications on ‘access’ to equity and opportunity for both Black/POC’s and Whites artists/songwriters alike. More commentary on this rigid homogeneous field is needed and how it prohibits certain talent(s) for the sake of perpetuating homogeneity (e.g. “social determinants” of diversity & viable artistic careers). I’ll refrain from discussing that fully here, though suffice it to say that for those reasons X’s “Old Town Road” was monumental and vindicating.

As for Lil Nas X, I’m not particularly a big fan of his music; but I see him, what he’s doing, his impact on music + culture and I celebrate him using these moments to affirm his Black, Queer self, and lifting up others. Believe it or not, even in the 2020′s, being “out” in the music business is still a costly choice. As an artist it remains much easier to just “play straight”. And despite appearances, the business (particularly Country) has been dragged kicking and screaming into developing, promoting and advancing openly-affirming LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 artists in the board room or on-stage. Though things are ‘better’ we have not yet arrived at a place of equity or opportunity for queer artists; for the road of music biz history is littered with stunted careers, bodies and limitations on artists who had no option but to follow conventional ways, fail or never be heard of in the first place. With few exceptions, record labels, radio and press/media have successfully used fear, intimidation, innuendo and coercion to dilute, downplay or erase any hint of queer identity from its performers. This was true even for obvious talents like Little Richard.

(Note: I’m particularly speaking of artists in this regard, not so much the hairstylists, make-up artists, PA’s, etc.)

_____

Which is why...in regard to Lil Nas X, whether you like, hate or love his music, the young brother is a trailblazer. His very existence protests (at least) decades of inequity, oppression and erasure. X aptly critiques a Neo-Christian Fascist Heteropatriarchy; not just in American society but throughout the Music Business and with Black people. That is no small deal. His unapologetic outness holds a mirror up to Christianity at-large, as an institution, theology and practice. The problem is they just don’t like what they see in that mirror.

In actuality, “Call Me By Your Name”, Lil Nas X’s new video, is a twist on classic mythology and religious memes that are less reprehensible or vulgar than the Biblical narratives most of us grew up on vís-a-vís indoctrinating smiles of Sunday school teachers and family prior to the “age of reason”. Think about the narratives blithely describing Satan’s friendly wager with God regarding Job (42:1-6); the horrific “prophecies” in St. John’s Book of Revelation (i.e. skies will rain fire, angels will spit swords, mankind will be forced to retreat into caves for shelter, and we will be harassed by at least three terrifying dragons and beasts. Angels will sound seven trumpets of warning, and later on, seven plagues will be dumped on the world), or Jesus’s own clarifying words of violent intent in Matthew (re: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” 10:34). Whether literal or metaphor, these age old stories pale in comparison to a three minute allegorical rap video. Conservatives: say what you will, I’m pretty confident X doesn’t take himself as seriously as “The true and living God” from the book of Job.

A little known fact as it is, people have debunked the story and evolution of Satan and already offered compelling research showing [he] is more of a literary device than an actual entity or “spirit” (Spoiler: In the Bible, Satan does not take shape as an actual “bad” person until the New Testament). In fact, modern Christianity’s impression of the “Devil” is shaped by conflating Hellenized mythology with a literary tradition rooted in Dante’s Inferno and accompanying spooks and superstitions going back thousands of years. Whether Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, Scientologist, Atheist or Agnostic, we’ve spent a lifetime with these predominant icons and clichés. (Resource: Prof. Bart D. Erhman, “Heaven & Hell”).

So Here’s THE PROBLEM: The current level of fear and outrage is:

(1) Unjust, imposing and irrational.

(2) Disproportionate when taken into account a lifetime of harmful Christian propaganda, anti-gay preaching and political advocacy.

(3) Historically inaccurate concerning the existence of “Hell” and who should be scared of going there.

Think I’m overreacting?

Examples:

Institutionalized Homophobia (rhetoric + policy)

Anti-Gay Ministers In Life And Death: Bishop Eddie Long And Rev. Bernice King

Black, gay and Christian, Marylanders struggle with Conflicts

Harlem pastor: 'Obama has released the homo demons on the black man'

Joel Olsteen: Homosexuality is “Not God’s Best”

Bishop Brandon Porter: Gays “Perverted & Lost...The Church of God in Christ Convocation appears like a ‘coming out party’ for members of the gay community.”

Kim Burrell: “That perverted homosexual spirit is a spirit of delusion & confusion and has deceived many men & women, and it has caused a strain on the body of Christ”

Falwell Suggests Gays to Blame for 9-11 Attacks

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

Pope Francis: Gay People Not Welcome in Clergy

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

The Pope and Gay People: Nothing’s Changed

The Catholic church silently lobbied against a suicide prevention hotline in the US because it included LGBT resources

Mormon church prohibits Children of LGBT parents to be baptized

Catholic Charity Ends Adoptions Rather Than Place Kid With Same-Sex Couple

I Was a Religious Zealot That Hurt People-Coming Out as Gay: A Former Conversion Therapy Leader Is Apologizing to the LGBTQ Community

The above short list chronicles a consistent, literal, demonization of LGBTQ people, contempt for their gender presentation, objectification of their bodies/sexuality and a coordinated pollution of media and culture over the last 50+ years by clergy since integration and Civil Rights legislation. Basically terrorism. Popes, Bishops, Pastors, Evangelists, Politicians, Television hosts, US Presidents, Camp Leaders, Teachers, Singers & Entertainers, Coaches, Athletes and Christians of all types all around the world have confused and confounded these issues, suppressed dissent, and confidently lied about LGBT people-including fellow Queer Christians with impunity for generations (i.e. “thou shall not bear false witness against they neighbor” Ex. 23:1-3). Christian majority viewpoints about “laws” and “nature” have run the table in discussions about LGBTQ people in society-so much that we collectively must first consider their religious views in all discussions and the specter of Christian approval -at best or Christian condescension -at worst. That is Christian (and straight) privilege. People are tired of this undue deference to religious opinions.

That is what is so deliciously bothersome about Lil Nas X being loud, proud and “in your face” about his sexuality. If for just a moment, he not only disrupts the American hetero-patriarchy but specifically the Black hetero-patriarchy, the so-called “Black Church Industrial Complex”, Neo-Christian Fascism and a mostly uneducated (and/or miseducated) public concerning Ancient Near East and European history, superstitions-and (by extension) White Supremacy. To round up: people are losing their minds because the victim decided to speak out against his victimizer.

Additionally, on some level I believe people are mad at him being just twenty years old, out and FREE as a self-assured, affirming & affirmed QUEER Black male entertainer with money and fame in the PRIME of his life. We’ve never, or rarely, seen that before in a Black man in the music business and popular culture. But that’s just too bad for them. With my own eyes I’ve watched straight people, friends, Christians, enjoy their sexuality from their elementary youth to adolescence, up and through college and later marriages, often times independently of their spouses (repeatedly). Meanwhile Queer/Gay/SGL/LGBTQ people are expected to put their lives on hold while the ‘blessed’ straight people run around exploring premarital/post-marital/extra-marital sex, love and affection, unbound & un-convicted by their “sin” or God...only to proudly rebrand themselves later in life as a good, moral “wholesome Christian” via the ‘sacred’ institution of marriage with no questions asked.

Inequality defined.

For Lil Nas X, everything about the society we've created for him in the last 100+ years (re: links above) has explicitly been designed for his life not to be his own. According to these and other Christians (see above), his identity is essentially supposed to be an endless rat fuck of internal confusion, suicide-ideation, depression, long-suffering, faux masculinity, heterosexism, groveling towards heaven, respectability politics, failed prayer and supplication to a heteronormative earthly and celestial hierarchy unbothered in affording LGBT people like him a healthy, sane human development. It’s almost as if the Conservative establishment (Black included) needs Lil Nas X to be like others before him: “private”, mysteriously single, suicidal, suspiciously straight or worse, dead of HIV/AIDS ...anything but driving down the street enjoying his youth as a Black Queer artist and man. So they mad about that?

Well those days are over.

-Rogiérs is a writer, international recording artist, performer and indie label manager with 25+ years in the music industry. He also directs Black Nonbelievers of DC, a non-profit org affiliated with the AHA supporting Black skeptics, Atheists, Agnostics & Humanists. He holds a B.A. in Music Business & Mgmt and a M.A. in Global Entertainment & Music Business from Berklee College of Music and Berklee Valencia, Spain. www.FibbyMusic.net Twitter/IG: @Rogiers1

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notnctu · 4 years

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nct 127 as cliche quotes❀

『 nct 127 as cliche quotes about love & some more 』 genre - pure fluff member x gender neutral reader (i tried my best ;-;) [a/n] hi yall this is author doie❀ i really ditched watching my lectures to write this so pls leave me feedback if u like dis bc would really appreciate it hehee i am now behind on school work hahaha i love bad decisions!!

➳ MOON TAEIL - ❝ i love you to the moon and back ❞

“sugar”, “my only one”, “bubby”, long phone calls, suffocating hugs, goofy dancing to loud music, jumping on the bed, picnics in the field, regular date nights, goodmorning/night kisses, food adventures, light snores, tiny grins at the mention of you, wherever he goes: the sun follows, you are his stars.

taeil has the whole universe to thank for your simple existence. he’ll take you star gazing and point out everything he loves about you. because if there is anything he loves more in the world, is how his night sky complemented you. His love for you runs deep and stretches far, resonating high in the galaxies. Incomparable lengths of love that cannot be expressed without metaphors. He’s constant reminders of how fitting you two are. he’ll make way for your shining light, even if that meant he disappears during the day. but he’ll always be there for your nights.

➳ LEE TAEYONG - ❝ love is patient ❞

“darling”, “bub”, “angel”, 3am cuddles to calm your nightmares, hours of gentle whispers of sweet nothings, softest touches, nose kisses, quick pecks on the lip, afternoon naps, long walks in the park hand in hand, he is the light in your darkness.

taeyong would wait until the ends of the earth for your healing. for your journey to self love, he’ll be there every step of the way. he’ll make sure every hurt disappears, if that had to mean small sacrifices of himself. because to him, you always come first. he’ll listen to your complains, he’ll understand your burdens, he’ll remember your heavy sighs. he’s the first call you make in the morning. you are his last call he makes at night. he is meaningful talks and supportive words. he’s the reassurance that never falters. he’s the strength at your weakest.

➳ SUH JOHNNY - ❝ i love you, not only for you what you are, but for what i am when i am with you ❞

“hottie”, “tiny” (regardless of height), “babygirl/boy”, most comforting hugs, humbling conversations, piggy back rides, hand on your thigh while driving, comfy hoodies and pj pants, weekend adventures, long road trips, polaroids, subtle matching outfits, he makes you a better version of yourself.

johnny’s big heart had the ability to touch even the coldest of people. he’ll hold you in his lap and tell you to reach beyond the stars. he is your number one supporter in every aspect of life, the world’s best hype man. you complement everything. he’s lucky to have you. he wants absolutely no one else in the world, but you. you are an evolution to be explored. he has an attracting personality that you can’t get enough of. he’ll show you the world through his modest lens, correcting your ignorance in the most respectful way. role model, constantly improving. he is your guide through a complex world.

➳ NAKAMOTO YUTA - ❝ love has no flaws ❞

“cutie”, “love”, “your name”, intense admiring stares, a love that cannot be contained, cheek kisses, kissing to the sunset, happiness at your fingertips, constant teasing, small screams of excitement, honey dripping praises, you are his daydreams.

yuta acknowledges you for who you are, what you make up. there is no effort for change because he genuinely loves you for all of you. to him, you are the perfect human being, where flaws are seen as a part of your beauty. he loves you enough for the both of you. encourages, versus criticism. he has nothing but admiration for your physical attributes and stunning personality. all he needs from you is a simple loving gaze, or a comforting hold. you could do no wrong. you are excellence in your own uniqueness. you are the reasons behind his growing smiles. he never asks for more than needs, though over extends himself to you. he sees you truly for the real you.

➳ KIM DOYOUNG - ❝ actions speak louder than words ❞

“sweetie/heart”, “honey”, always reaching for your hand to hold, flustered compliments, nervous laughter, sweet red cheeks, dainty promise rings, comfortable silences, homemade dinners, reassuring hand on your knee, your favorite book of poems, thick skin, confused funny facial expressions, you are his comfort.

doyoung often times stammers over his thoughts. he is usually a collected person, but you always break his guard down. he is unspoken words, and sweaty hands. he’s tender touches and quiet looks. the mutual atmosphere of knowing you love each other. Sweet talks on your end, and shy, bashful smiles on his. he’s at your will and call. he’s drop everything for you. he’s daily gestures to minimize inconvenience. if his love for you is questioned, he’d respond with a snarky none of your business. because frankly, he didn’t need anyone else to know besides you how much he loves you.

➳ JUNG JAEHYUN - ❝ it was love at first sight ❞

“baby”, “princess/prince”, “my dear”, charming smiles, arm around the waist, bouquet of your favorite flowers just because, the sweetest love you’d ever find, shy gazes, butterflies in your stomach, comfort in his cuddles, blissful sugary kisses, don’t blink! or you’ll miss him: he’s every meticulous, beautiful detail of life.

jaehyun knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he wanted to spend his days with you. on the contrary, he loves your personality the most but never fails to boast about how you are the most beautiful person ever. you take his breath away. he makes your heart race. gets shy at the thought of you, but drones on for hours about how happy you make him. he’s every love language combined into one. he’s sometimes a timid character, a bit shy. you are the center of attention because he loves to see you glow. he knows he’s in love with you. he’s found the only you, who makes him fall in love with life. he’s a happily ever after.

➳ KIM JUNGWOO - ❝ opposites attract ❞

“bud”, “babe”, “pumpkin”, staying up and loving you until dawn, teary eyed uncontrollable laughter, loud confessions of love, a love so random that it keeps you on your toes, love bites that are purposefully hard to cover, gentle hand squeezes when he holds your hand, adorable sound effects, half of a whole: he completes you.

jungwoo loves your differences the most. it gives him another perspective to marvel in. bc it gave you two a stronger bond. he didn’t believe in a perfect love --- no --- he believes in hard work and dedication. he knew the day you two met, he was determined to make things work. because he fell in love with everything you were that he was not. you are the caution to his wind. unknowingly, you fill the rest of who he has always admired and wanted to achieve. and together, you two are unstoppable. you are his missing puzzle piece. he is the acceptance you needed. he’s an one in a million.

➳ LEE MARK - ❝ loving you is too easy ❞

“my person”, “best friend”, “love of my life”, truly a boy next door who falls for the person next door, always thinking of you, secret kisses when no one is looking, playful shared giggles, the widest smiles, never a doubt in mind, late night drives, you are his match made in heaven.

communication is your strongest asset in the relationship. the best parts of mark are his understanding and considerate nature. he gets you better than anyone you’ve ever known. he makes sure you’re seen, appreciated. you are everything he’s been searching for. you are the definition of an ideal partner. there’s never a question of your relationship, he makes sure you are loved. whether that be through grabbing you lunch out of his way. whether that be asking about your day. whether that be forehead kisses in the mornings. whether that be a long speech of why he loves you. he is the true meaning of good vibes. he didn’t have anything to dislike. loving him was the best and easiest decision of your life. he is the best you’ve ever had.

➳ LEE DONGHYUCK - ❝ love comes when you least expect it ❞

“wifey/hubby”, “my everything”, “soulmate”, the emotional 4am thoughts of self worth, a cathartic epiphany, a love that’s always been in front of you, light banter, snarky sly smirks, always holding you in some way, belting notes in the shower, late night serenades, cheek squishing, he’s a wish upon a star.

donghyuck has always been there for you and that is something unchanging. he’s bringing you dinner after long nights of studying. he’s showing at your door step when you need someone to comfort you. he is there for every lost cause of a relationship. the pick up the pieces and mend you back together. when you had given up on love, he never gave up on you. it took one fun drunk night and a lingering touch on your cheek for you to realize that his love for you had always been there. he wanted you more than any person in your life. all it took was him to realize that he was never going to leave you. he is the last person you would expect to be your’s. but you are the first person he wishes happiness for. he is a one true love.

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

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falling feels like flying ['til the bone crush]

Someone should revoke her title.

They’re trying, Emma supposes. Inevitable death probably means people can’t call her savior anymore, but they shouldn’t call her that now and that’s almost entirely because of what an absolute and complete liar she is. Telling Killian she would have done the same after he admitted he didn’t get rid of the shears isn’t her most massive lie, although it might be her most ridiculous. And they both know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do the same thing, she has. More than once.

AN: That gif has nothing to do with the story! Here is approximately 3.5K where I once again force Emma and Killian to acknowledge their trauma. Not in the Underworld this time, though! So maybe we’re all evolving here. I blame this gif set, which I saw this morning and felt compelled to write something about. Maybe that evolution is also a lie, actually.

———

“I lied.” Killian hums, exhaustion clinging to the sound, and Emma understands that. Less so why she’s talking right now, but neither one of those words seemed particularly interested in preserving the quiet calm of this particular moment, and she’s never been a lightweight quite like this. In more ways than one, she supposes. Hazy thoughts drift through her brain, muddled as it is by buttered rum and the steady flicker of flames in the fireplace because naturally this is the sort of house that has multiple fireplaces, and she burrows her face closer.

To Killian’s chest.

Takes a deep breath, not quite slow, but maybe a little greedy, and they ordered both things. Pizza and Chinese, half-finished egg rolls and beheaded slices of cheese with extra peppers strewn across the coffee table because Emma always likes that extra bit of crust and Killian’s nothing if not a frustratingly endearing sort of pushover.

With her, especially.

She closes her eyes.

“I lied,” Emma repeats, “in the hospital, I mean. Wrong verb tense.” “You’re not making any sense at all, darling.”

Her nose must be cold — if the way Killian tenses as soon as it brushes his skin is any indication, but Emma knows it’s far more than that and far deeper than that and she might be the world’s biggest idiot. Looming death does that to a person, she supposes.

Breathing isn’t particularly easy. And that’s not only because she ate four pizza slices worth of crust. Still, using death as an excuse again seems like an emotional crutch and an unreasonable reason, her muddled mind capable of clinging to every single letter in that particular endearment. It might be her favorite.

She’s not sure she’s ever told him that.

Stupid, really.

“I told you that I get it; what you did today, and that part’s definitely true. But, uh, the rest of it. That I would have done the same thing? Total lie, right? I mean, I did it. That’s what happened.” Nothing. Just flickering flames and the quiet hum of a TV, neither one of them has been interested in actually watching all night. Emma doesn’t even know what channel they’re on. For all she knows, the remote’s in the kitchen.

She counts inhales. Tries to keep her exhales measured, most of her face still pressed into the collar of Killian’s shirt as it is. And it takes about five full seconds before his hand moves, starts tracing a calm line up her spine, following that path until he reaches the base of her neck and the goosebumps that have already exploded on her skin and oxygen is overrated anyway. Holding her breath as soon as his fingers card through the ends of hair is basically instinct at this point.

“Felt wrong to point that out at the time,” he mutters, “all things considered.” “Been kind of a long day.” “Reuniting with long-lost relatives will do that.” Scoffing is not the best reaction. Nothing about this is funny. Includes far too much death and dismay, and Emma’s gaze flickers up. Of its own accord and something much deeper, like the absolute refusal to accept a world where he does not exist.

Goddamn Captain Hook.

She loves him so much sometimes she thinks she’ll simply burst with the force of it all.

It’s a gross thought, honestly.

And they’ve already spent far too much time in the hospital today.

“Is he ok? Li—” Cutting herself off, Emma grits her teeth, but one side of Killian’s mouth is already tugging up, and the kiss that lands on her forehead is as soft as anything. Maybe bursting isn’t so bad, actually. So long as she can come up with another word for it. “God, that’s so weird.” Killian hums. “Indeed.” “Thoughts, feelings, et cetera?” “Vast. And none of them particularly pleasant.” “Seems fair. That sort of day, huh?” “Indeed.” They need more blankets. Need more things that are theirs in a collective sort of way, but that’s a dangerous and disingenuous train of thought, and Emma’s fingers twitch towards the fire. To ward off the sudden chill that’s settled between her shoulder blades, and it almost works, but it does absolutely nothing to help the sway of her stomach and the acid lingering in the back of her throat, threatening to burn far more than what these meager flames are able to do.

“Should have finished high school,” Emma mumbles, “then I could choose more accurate verb tenses from my inevitably vast vocabulary. Did. Have done. Would do again, several thousand times over.”

“That’s the future tense.” None of his words come with any kind of pointed emotion, but Emma hears it all the same. Can see the tightness that lingers in the corners of his mouth and the way he’s holding his shoulders, straight as a line, and some joke about rigging that she no intention of making, and the furrow between his brows makes every muscle in her chest twist. Ache too, for good measure.

With the promise of everything she wants to say and everything she hasn’t or can’t and—

Fuck magic, quite honestly. And the rules no one’s bothered to mention until now. Seems like poor planning on everybody’s part.

“You heard me.” “I did,” Killian agrees lightly, and his hand has never actually stopped moving. It’s nice. Steady. Something Emma can almost nearly time her breathing too. “I would also choose that particular tense. If given the choice, that is.” “Do you not think you have that?” “I don’t particularly enjoy the thought. I’m rather partial to the option of whim, you see. Pirate and all that. We don’t much abide by schedules and fated decision.” “Seems like it’d be in the by-laws.” “Well, by-laws by their very nature are rather contradictory to the entire pirate notion, but you’ve got the gist of it at least.” Emma laughs. Doesn’t quite regret the sound, even as out of place as it is — just presses it into the edge of Killian’s shirt and the buttons he never bothers to do, trying to brandh the smell of him and the feel of him into every corner of her memory and she’s not really sure what happens after. Once the prophecy is fulfilled, and all that.

She’s got too much unfinished business.

To totally leave this particular plane of reality.

She doesn’t mention that either. Not when the crux of that business is breathing steadily under her hand, and Emma can’t remember when she moved her hand, only that Killian’s warm under her touch, and he’s always so much warmer. Than just about anything else she’s aware of.

“I thought you were dead.”

Of all the things Emma expects to happen in the midst of this night and this moment — and it’s really not a very long list, admittedly — that did not even make the cut. Wasn’t a consideration or a fledgling idea in the back of her mind, several different vertebrae almost audibly objecting when she jerks her head up. To find Killian staring straight ahead, lips not much more than a thin line across his face.

Seriously, the rigging jokes almost write themselves. Which is more than Emma can say about her clearly piece of shit list, as metaphorical as it might be.

“I don’t—” “—When I saw you,” Killian interrupts, and none of the words shake. Come out like a stream of consciousness and memories neither one of them have able to shake yet. Or talk about. Can’t possibly be healthy. “Chained to that stone, blood dripping into my mouth, and then all of a sudden, there you were. Worried I’d simply dreamt you up, couldn’t imagine how you looked quite that lovely in that hell hole, otherwise.” “Oh, that’s kind of insulting, actually.” “Hair like the bloody sun.” “Better,” Emma murmurs. Reaching up, her fingers tangle with the charms around his neck. Pieces of luck and trinkets she hasn’t learned all the stories to yet. The idea that she won’t makes her nauseous. “You told me ‘you shouldn’t be here.’” “Aye, and I meant it.” “Because you thought…” “Living people don’t often appear in such a God awful place, do they? Not without something tragic happening, and my mind was impressively efficient on that front.” “Which one is that?” “Every threat that’s ever lingered, every person I would have gladly run through if it meant you were safe. Half of goddamn Camelot.” Emma might snicker. Killian’s arm tightens, though. And that’s all she’s really worried about. “I think I could have taken Arthur. Y’know if it had come to that.” “Likely not a very good swordsman,” Killian nods, but that’s only so his lips can trace Emma’s temple and the top of her hair. More than once. Like he’s still making sure. “Pampered prince—” “—He was totally a king, babe. That’s like...the most basic Camelot knowledge.” “Ask me in five minutes if I care at all about anything to do with Camelot.” “Should I time it, or…” He scoffs. Presses another half dozen kisses to any spot he can reach, and he can actually reach a fair amount of places. Emma’s impressed. Swooning too, but also pretty impressed. “I kept thinking about you,” Killian says, softer than the last few words have been, and it sounds like an admission and another promise, and it’s weird that it can be both. At the same time. “This house. What it was and wasn’t. All those possible verb tenses.”

“I’m sorry.” “Ah, that’s not your fault, love. None of this is, really, but—well, it did make it so seeing you, realizing you were there...left all of those thoughts crashing down around my ears, so to speak. Falling apart, like an avalanche of what hadn’t been and what I still wanted so desperately. No matter what Hades did.” “Stupid stubborn.” “I believe there’s something about a pot and a kettle in this realm.” “Don’t have that cliche in the Enchanted Forest, huh?” “Not that I’m aware of, no.” “Maybe you just didn’t go to a good college.” “Tell me every Greek word you know,” Killian challenges, and Emma rolls her eyes. Ignores the first few flutters of a headache brewing at the base of her skull. “It didn’t seem fair.” “Which part?” “All of it is also rather vast, but mostly that if you were there, then it happened again.” Narrowing her eyes, Emma tries to piece together those letters and the syllables they make, only to be marginally annoyed when she can’t make sense of them. Killian kisses the bridge of her nose.

She might have to go get Tylenol soon.

“Losing you without fighting, without challenge the goddamn reaper myself, was worse than anything He could have done,” Killian continues, and he doesn’t have to be more specific. “Worse than whatever pain I’ve ever suffered. Cut off twenty more limbs; it wouldn’t even come close.” “Do you have that many?” “Your humor lacks a little something; you know that, Swan?” “It’s a defense mechanism.” He noses at her hair. Drags the soft hum of what could very well be either an agreement or the opposite, or maybe even the sort of deep-rooted understanding that’s allowed him to sneak his way into the center of everything, across her skin. The specifics don’t matter, only that Emma’s magic roars under her skin, an inferno, and a symphony, meeting the challenge that no one has really laid down yet.

“Do that again,” Killian mutters, a low chuckle as Emma’s scratches at his side.

“I’m not sure I can, honestly.” “Pity.” “Something like that, yeah. And you’re not totally right, you know?” “Ah, and that’s almost rude.” “I’m serious,” Emma says, “that’s—none of that was your fault either.” Tilting his head only ensures that several strands of hair he still hasn’t bothered to cut fall almost artfully across his forehead, and Emma is grateful to a variety of gods, Greek or otherwise, that Killian doesn’t mention how much her hand shakes. When she tries to brushes them away. His hook finds her wrist instead, cool metal against freezing cold skin, and the state of her tongue is going to be a problem. Large as it is in Emma’s mouth, making it all but impossible to properly swallow while Killian’s lips sweep the bend of her knuckles.

“Charmer.” “Aye, that’s my endgame.” There’s not enough room between them for him to run his hand across his face like Emma knows he wants to, and part of that isn’t really a bad thing, but the rest just seems like another entirely unfair thing, and Emma knows the rest is coming. Makes tears burn her eyes all the same. “They were just...gone, you understand? No chance to do anything about it. One moment they were living and breathing. Then Liam was dead. Slumped in my arms in the corner of a cabin he was supposed to spend the rest of his career in. He—he would have been a very good captain.” “So are you,” Emma says, fierce and determined, and Killian kisses in the inside of her palm. She’s moved her hand again. To cup his cheek.

“For a time, maybe. But then she was gone too, and I thought I could feel it, you know. The exact way her heart crumbled in his hand, tiny bits of dust that I never wanted to blow off the deck. Like some of her still managed to stay. Is that—” The muscles in his throat move, jaw clenching, and Emma has to blink. She hopes the moisture on her cheeks isn’t tears. She’s not sure what’s a better option, really. “Must sound daft.” “No. I—I get that too.” “Do you?” “Not the only one who’s watched Rumplestilskin hold the heart of someone you loved.”

He can’t be holding his breath. His chest is moving much too quickly, but the burst of air that all but flies out of Killian is enough to ruffle the ends of Emma’s hair and possibly even dry some of the tears she’s still refusing to acknowledge, and she can’t get closer to him.

She makes an admirable effort all the same.

Like occupying the same few inches of space will ensure that she stays there.

“Did you—” Killian starts, looking almost pained as the words war for his voice on the tip of his tongue. “Did you like her?” That didn’t make the list, either. It’s entirely possible that Emma is just garbage at making lists. She nods. “Anyone who loves you as much as I do is fine with me. Better than, even.”

His expression shifts again. Light lingers in his gaze, cautious hope, and misplaced optimism, gears whirring in his head that Emma can’t almost convince herself she hears. Her verb tense was on purpose that time.

That’s a confidence boost, all things considered.

“She was something fierce,” Killian says, sounding reminiscent and not as sad as Emma has worried he must be. “Once she got away from him. Could get a grown man to do her bidding with a single look, the kind of glare that’d set you on fire from the inside out. It was—they loved her too. Men on the ship, would have followed her to the ends of the Earth if she’d asked. Probably even if she hadn’t.”

His next inhale becomes an exhale almost immediately.

“She never would have asked,” Killian adds, almost entirely to himself, but then his eyes are back on Emma, and they’re a little glossy and just as blue and she’s holding her breath now. “She liked you too, I know it.” “I think she thought I was crazy, actually. Gold didn’t really have much tact in the...introductions.” “Ah.” “Right?” “Right,” he echoes, a pale imitation of her voice that makes Emma’s cheeks ache. From smiling. Legitimately smiling. Huh. “But I suppose that’s part of it, though. She was there again, and I—” “—I’m sorry. For...for all of it.” “Still not your fault, love.”

“How did you know?” she asks, and her voice doesn’t sound much like her either. Wobbles and warbles and some other word that fits the alliteration. “About me. And not being…”

“Dead?” Killian’s eyebrows jump. “Strawberries.” “Excuse me?” “That soap you use in your hair. Smells like strawberries, or strawberry adjacent maybe. Manufactured just a bit. I think it’s my favorite smell in the world.” “Backhanded compliment.” “No, no,” Killian shakes his head. His hair moves again. “It’s not. It’s—well, it’s you, love. Smells like everything that you are and—”

“—I’m manufactured?” “If you let me finish,” he chides, and Emma all but yanks her lips behind her teeth, “It smells like home. Smells like falling asleep next to you and a distinct lack of blankets.” He nips at the tip of her nose. She scoffs again; that’s why. “And your distractingly cold feet, and leather jackets, and how the smell clings to the collars, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve worn them. Lingers on your pillow too, and the fronts of my shirt. You fall asleep against me quite often, you know that.” “Can sleep anywhere,” Emma reasons. “Might be my greatest talent.” “I don’t know about that.” “If I call you charmer again, will you hold it against me for lack of synonyms?” “Tell me how charming I am again.” Emma scrunches her nose. “Now it sounds like my dad.” “Let’s leave the prince out of this. He’s only a prince, aye?” “Far as I know, yeah.” “Good, good. Strawberries, love. Touching you helped too, though. If we’re being frank.” “Anything except blunt force honesty seems silly now, doesn’t it?” Killian nods. Slow and measured, like anything else will snap this tenuous peace, and maybe they can just sleep on the couch. Getting up is an impossible prospect right now. Maybe they can make out a little before they fall asleep.

“It’s a very big house,” Emma whispers, and they should really figure out a schedule for conversations like this. Talking about it all at once is exhausting.

“It is.” “You don’t want to expand upon that?” “Oh, I want a great number of things I shouldn’t,” Killian admits, “but as much as I appreciate this fresh round of honesty we’re engaging in, the false hope would—” “—There’s no such thing,” Emma interrupts. “False hope. It’s an oxymoron, ask my mother. And I think you should get some sort of crew again.” “How would you suggest I populate such a thing?” She shrugs. Nearly hits Killian in the chin in the process. “Untold stories. Dwarves.” “I will not have dwarves on my ship.” “See, I knew you’d have opinions. And there was a possessive pronoun in there that time.” “Was there not before?” “No,” she says. “Just called it the ship. Like it’s not the most important thing you have.” “Well, it’s not.” Emma’s cheeks warm. “That was very smooth.” “Someone did guarantee I was a very good captain earlier.” Space continues to be relatively minimal between them, but Killian’s nothing if not adaptable, and he works with what he’s got. Swinging Emma’s legs perpendicular over his, she’s nearly sitting on his lap, an arm slung over his shoulders, which makes it even easier to get her fingers into his hair and his head to rest against hers, and he takes another deep breath. “I know you understand, Emma,” he says, soft and serious, and she doesn’t bother doing anything except cling to him. With everything she’s got left. “All of it, from the very start. So I don’t think I’ll apologize, actually. For what I’ve done, or what I’d still be willing to do. I won’t give up on you, do you understand me?” “Didn’t,” Emma says, only a little optimistic that’s the right verb tense. Maybe she can get her GED, or something. Before all of this ends. “In Camelot, or after. Accept or acknowledge, and I probably would have—”

Announcing that killing Gold for what he’d done to Killian regularly crossed her mind in the twenty-four hours or so before they finally made it to the Underworld doesn’t really have the right sentiment for this conversation. Far too violent, and just as honest.

She’d consider killing him now, too.

For everything he’s doing, and everything he hasn’t, and she should have shoved him in that river.

Killian doesn’t smile. At least not in a way that reaches his eyes, the same ones that are looking at Emma again, all blue and earnest, and his shoulders shift. When her fingers graze his chin, more than stubble there because, she imagines, spending a day or so underwater with a sibling he only sort of wants and kind of knows doesn’t leave much time for facial-type grooming.

It’s a good look, though.

Most of them are, in Emma’s experience.

“This entire time,” she continues, “you haven’t given up on me yet.” “Works both ways, darling.” “That one crosses realms, huh?” “Pick up things spending so much time with you.” There’s nothing extra in the words. No sap-filled sentiment or promises she’s only a little hopeful will become actions. And they haven’t talked about the rest; might not even have time, but Emma will let herself think about all these empty rooms anyway, of the exact shade Killian’s eyes go when he stands at the helm, and she hopes he doesn’t cut his hair. Not yet, at least. Longer strands make it easier to touch him, to leave a lasting mark, and settle into his center the same way he’s taken root in hers.

They fall asleep on the couch.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #laura writes canon #force characters to talk 2k4ever #also remember when i wanted to write about killian not getting to see milah in the underworld?#have some of that here too #just for fun

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 4 years

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Being in an evangelical family is bizarre.

My sister and I went out for dinner tonight to celebrate our stimulus checks, and we got into a big argument. She told me she was applying for a job at a Christian school she wants her son to go to, and I told her I had qualms against it because it will be a conservative education. My sister is a Democrat, but she’s married to a redneck trump supporter, and they’re both hardcore Christians; she has been slipping further to the right since they got married. I fear she’s becoming a Stepford wife because she used to be so strong willed and independent, and now she just parrots whatever he husband says.

I didn’t say any of this, I just said it will be a conservative education. She looked at me confused and said that it’s not conservative if it’s true, saying that evolution and physics are bad and fake. She used to be a straight A student, she loved science, always asked questions, and now she looked me straight in the eyes and said that she wants her son to be a young earth creationist. She is staunchly anti-intellectual because it disagrees with her religion, and her husband never went to college because he thought it would poison his mind with liberals propaganda. I will bet you $100 that she votes for trump in 2024 because her husband convinces her that Democrats have been lying for years and that he’s actually a great guy and a model Christian.

My entire family thinks I’m some godless heathen because I don’t just accept “God did it” as the answer to every question I have about the universe. I’m not even an atheist! I believe in God, I like Jesus’ style, I just don’t buy into the right-wing bullshit of the modern church. The best way to describe my views on religion would be Deism; I believe God exists, but that he doesn’t interfere in our day-to-day lives. He set the ball rolling 14 billion years ago, and has been pretty hands off since. It’s more nuanced than that, but my point is that I have reasons for what I believe, but I don’t think it’s my duty to shove it down anybody else’s throat like my family members do.

My mom is a hardcore southern Baptist evangelical, and a diehard Hillary Clinton worshipper; she is pro-choice and believes in marriage equality, but thinks abortion and being gay are sins. She hates Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders equally, and thinks Joe Biden should resign so Kamala Harris can be president. My sister has no political opinions whatsoever. She doesn’t care about anything, she’s totally unengaged, she just parroted my mom growing up and now she parrots her husband and his family

I feel like they’re all acting ignorant on purpose. They’re doubling down on their ignorance because they’ve decided that knowledge is evil. If they don’t already know something, then they never need to know it. It’s the Republican MO; they misunderstand stuff on purpose so they don’t have to think about refuting it. My sister thought she had the final word in our argument by saying “if we came from monkeys, why are their still monkeys? Checkmate.” When I started explaining that that’s not how it worked, and that the scientific explanation is internally consistent, she rolled her eyes and told me to stop talking because I sounded defensive. In her mind, if it takes more than one sentence to get your point across, it’s wrong and you’re just tying to save face by making stuff up. Because she doesn’t understand evolution, it must be non-understandable.

“Evolution is just a theory,” she says.

“Theories are not hypotheses,” I counter, “you don’t know what the word theory means.”

“Yeah, but it’s still just a theory,” she repeats, “you don’t know for sure.”

I believe the Bible is fallible. I believe it is just a book, written by biased humans trying to push political agendas throughout history. Why else would they keep translating and changing it? Christians are loosey goosey with translations, making the Bible say whatever they want it to say, they don’t think about historical context or metaphor. I don’t believe the universe was created in seven days, I don’t believe man was made of mud and woman from man’s rib, I don’t believe there was a global flood and an ark. I don’t believe the Old Testament is a literal history book, and for this my family thinks I’m going to hell.

I hate the south. I hate this culture. I hate how stubborn everyone down here is, how purposefully obtuse they are, how much pride they take in not knowing things. How can they be proud of being stupid? Why do they only care about what their book club tells them to care about? Why is this behavior rewarded?

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astrochiron · 4 years

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The Signs :: Channel Orange // Frank Ocean

Aries- Sweet Life

“You've had a landscaper and a house keeper since you were born The starshine always kept you warm”

This line refers to an easy life, one of luxury and means. What’s more, this person has had these things since birth, not even earning these things themselves. An Aries rising chart is called natural, as their houses are led by their associated signs, their life tends flows easily and this person has had a similar life.

“So why see the world, when you got the beach? Don't know why see the world, when you got the beach”

Aries is the sign of self and your own experiences that you don't have to reach out for. This person has trouble seeing outside of their world and, in fact, refuses to branch out. They have the “beach” in their own mind allowing them to ignore the things going on around them.

Overall

This song is a challenge to look outside of oneself and your own comforts to empathize and experience the ways of others. Frank wants her to step outside of her privilege and her pretty surroundings to maybe experience something else, something less curated for them. The lyrics imply a sense of immaturity exhibited by the subject, not fueled by the search of fun but by circumstance.

Taurus- Pink Matter

“That soft pink matter Cotton candy, Majin Buu, oh, oh, ohh Close my eyes and fall into you, you, you My God, she's giving me pleasure” close my eyes and fall into you”

This line provides sensory imagery of softness and pleasure, two things Taurus is associated with. Cotton candy and Majin Buu (a DBZ character) conjuring up safe and comfortable imagery of childhood and happiness. Frank’s moved on to another source of pleasure though, as this line alludes to sex and the pleasure of it. Taurus is associated with the physical pleasure of sex.

“Pleasure over matter”

Both pleasure and physical mater are associated with Taurus. Taurus is an Earth sign, associated with physical matters like money, possessions, and even your relationship with your physical body. Pleasure is the ultimate goal and that is bolstered by the maintenance of physical means.

Overall

This song’s focus on the body, especially the feminine one, links it to the feminine sign of Taurus. While Virgo is linked with physical health and routine, Taurus shows how we view and worship the body. This song also focuses on desire, another Taurean trope.

Gemini- Thinkin’ Bout You

“A tornado flew around my room before you came Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain in”

The chaos and air-related tornado is a perfect symbol for Gemini, a restless and powerful force made of fluent thought and free-ranging speech (Air related things). Frank is also lying to this guy, saying his room is messy because of a tornado. I’m not implying Gemini’s lie, but they certainly have fun with the truth more than most signs.

“Since you think I don't love you, I just thought you were cute That's why I kissed you”

This song displays the inquisitive and impulsive nature of Gemini. Frank kissed the guy because he thought he was cute, plain and simple, almost like school kids on the playground. This also displays the dismissal of romantic disinterest (common in the manner of most air signs) for inquisitiveness.

Overall

The title literally has “thinking” in it, which is Gemini’s superpower as the mutable air sign. The whole song is something of a train of thought ramble that Frank is well known for, honestly. The whole song has a childhood vibe, even supported by Frank saying this is about a time when he was 17 or so. Gemini is linked with our formative years and though, 17 is a bit old for Gemini’s range, it’s still cerebrally nostalgic and witty.

Cancer- Forest Gump

“Forrest Gump You run my mind, boy Running on my mind, boy Forrest Gump”

Cancers have a tendency to linger on thoughts, especially the emotional nature of them. I don't think Cancers are crybabies (I'd give that more to Pisces who cry from happiness, frustration and sadness all in the same hour), but they are very emotionally strong and emotionally stubborn. Their emotions are forefront in memory and so is the way Forest made Frank feel.

“Forrest green, Forrest blues I'm remembering you If this is love, I know it's true I won't forget you”

The “Forest blues” points toward Frank being in feelings over a past situation. Whether over something that happened when they were together or over the break-up itself, Frank is sad and a cancer will never forget how someone made them feel.

Overall

This song has a focus on past feelings for someone, not specific memories. Cancers are very subjective and, instead of remembering facts about a memory, they'd be remembering how they were feeling during the time. As a bonus, the song is named after an older movie which was itself based in nostalgia.

Leo- Super Rich Kids

“Real love, I'm searching for a real love”

Leos are associated with romance and unconditional love. Their search for joy and the uninhibited feeling of childhood makes them crave and seek true love, sometimes at the detriment of their well being, but aways for the better in the end. No matter how unhealthy, these two searching for genuine love from one another, though finding temporary joy in drugs.

“Caddy-smashing, bratty ass He mad, he snatched his daddy's Jag And used that shit for batting practice”

Earl’s whole rap discusses the more self-destructive traits of Leo. This line in particular shows the sometimes self-centered nature, expressing their anger by inflicting pain on others. Leos are very expressive and, despite their genial nature, are still passionate fire signs. This also a very childish expression of emotion, and our inner-child is linked with this sign.

Overall

Immaturity is often a negative trait associated with fire signs. Leo’s exhibit this immaturity when they may make bad decisions trying to seek love and acceptance, as well as looking for fun and enjoyment in the wrong places. And while not outright said, the subjects of this song seem to blessed (or cursed) with the fame and fortune associated with Leo.

Virgo- Lost

“And I just wanna know Why you ain't been going to work Boss ain't working you like this He can't take care of you like this”

This line display’s Virgo’s focus on work and duty. It also exhibits their often gently direct nature. This is very much a line a Virgo would say to their out-of-work partner, “This place is a mess! And I just wanna know; why you ain’t been going to work?” Virgos also take great care of their partner, even to the extent of being servile at times. He’s taking care of her and giving her a job.

“Hand me my triple weight So I can weigh the work I got on your girl”

Frank’s weighing out his product, showing the minutiae of his drug life. The song could focus on all the stuff he could buy for her, selling all these drugs, or even getting high on them himself, but instead he discusses weighing it up and strapping it to her. Frank employs this girl as a drug mule, being her boss and her lover; providing her employment and care (6th house).

Overall

Frank shows Virgo’s tendency to get caught up in work and the money coming in as opposed to the things that can be done with the money. Frank is always selling to give himself and the girl a better life, every drug run aways being the last one, but never really being the last one. The woman shows Virgo’s dedication to their partner, disregarding their own safety or comfort for their love.

Libra- Pilot Jones

“You're the dealer and the stoner With the sweetest kiss I've ever known”

This line represents the dichotomy of the user and the supplier. She’s both the source of his addiction and she enjoys the outcome of the addiction herself. This shows’s Libras’s tendency to be all things to all people. The last part also points toward Libra’s geniality and tendency to cover up ills and pains with kisses and sweet words.

“But if I got a condo on a cloud Then I guess you can stay at my place”

Despite all the bad decisions and toxicity, Frank is sayin that if he’s in a good place, she will be too. If he gets a raise, she benefits; if he buys a cheesecake, she gets a slice, if not half. When Libra’s are happiest, they want their partner there too, even if their partner was the reason for their unhappiness sometimes.

Overall

This song equates drugs with love, a metaphor I'd definitely associate with Libra. They don't need to be in a relationship, don't get me wrong; but it feels good. Librans lacking in self-expression or happiness or even stimulation, may turn to relationships just out of habit, even if they’re not with a “good” partner or one that is ultimately good for them. Frank is laid back in this song, allowing her to guide his high and really the whole relationship, taking Libra’s laid back and often lax attitude.

Scorpio- Sierra Leone

Spendin' too much time alone (And I just ran outta Trojans) Horses gallop to her throne

We all know about Scorpio’s focus on sex and the intimate connection formed behind it. This includes the first part of this line, as Scorpios tend to have intense relationships, often most intense in solitude with partner. This obviously doesn't involve only sex, but the intimate moments shared between two lovers when by themselves.

“And a new day will bring about the dawn And a new day will bring another crying babe into the world”

Scorpio is linked with self-transformation, and the imagery of the new day bringing the dawn paints the picture of the whole world being renewed, as well as specifically the characters of this song and their evolutions. The last part of this line points to the birth of the characters’ child. The ultimate rebirth and the ultimate result of Scorpio’s sex and alone time, is a birth itself.

Overall

This song discusses an alternate Frank that got a girl pregnant young. It focuses on how different he’d be and how his life would be. This hypothetical thought experiment is very a very Scorpio thing to me, analyzing “what ifs” and “might be’s”. This song also focuses on the transformation of the characters, especially Frank, from stupid teenaged lovers to responsible parents by the end.

Sagittarius- Monks

“Mosh pits and bare chest Stage diving sky diver Spray the crowd with cold water Now it's mosh pits and wet tits I think I need a cold shower”

This whole verse gives Sagittarian vibes. Sag is ruled by jovial and beneficially social Jupiter. Each line exudes freedom, fun and physical exploration. The parties, lewd behavior, and stimulating music would all be perfect for Sags huge energy and need for experiences.

“African girl speaks in English accent Likes to fuck boys in bands Likes to watch Westerns And ride me without the hands”

This song represents the foreign interests of Sagtttarius. They love accents and different cultures and foreign people (romantically as well as platonically). There’s actually a hodgepodge of cultures represented with the African girl and her English accent with an interest in rock or grunge bands who watches American western movies and an... expansive physical repertoire.

Overall

This song chronicles a meeting with a groupie, which gives to Sag’s rockstar vibe. Traveling countries, writing songs, and positively affecting masses are all things that Sagittarius is interested in. The groupies, they also probably wouldn't mind. As for the title, a monk, as defined by Oxford is “a member of a religious community of men typically living under vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.” While the latter art of this definition sounds more like a Capricorn, evolved Sag’s are very monk-like once they’ve found their cause and their moral path.

Capricorn- Pyramids

“We'll run to the future, shining like diamonds In a rocky world, rocky-rocky world Our skin like bronze and our hair like cashmere As we march to the rhythm on the palace floor”

This line represents Capricorns focus on the future. Frank aims to be decked in gems, sun kissed and confidently walking even in a rocky world. Like Capricorn, he aims to dominate his environment and get the best out of it to his own benefit. He’s focused on improving themself and being presented as prestigious and as a king.

“The way you say my name makes me feel like I'm that nigga but I'm still unemployed You say it's big but you take it, ride cowgirl”

Capricorn’s get off on respect. Capricorn is one of those signs that has a link to sex, but primarily because of the power of it. She says his name like he’s the best, she compliment’s his assets, even if they’re still not too big for her. Even though he’s unemployed, he's still the head of household while they’re having sex. This points toward Capricorn’s sense of joy coming from others’ good perceptions of them, even if it’s not the right one. He’s broke, he may not have the biggest penis, and he may not even be the only one, but she makes him feel like all of those things aren't true.

Overall

Though metaphorical, this song focuses on history and royalty. Cleopatra may have been a Capricorn by some calculations and her outright rule of an empire as woman would support that. She was intelligent and business-minded and well-known. This song also shows a shift in status typically associated with Saturn and Capricorn. Though Saturn typically brings slow-but-sure progression, if the lessons it presents us aren't learned from and taken into account, it can take us down as high as it would drive us up. The character in this song goes from queen Cleopatra to Cleopatra working weekends at the Pyramid. Both demand attention, beseech respect, and accumulate wealth, though society sees them so differently.

Aquarius- Bad Religion

“And you say "Allahu akbar" I told him, "Don't curse me" "Bo Bo, you need prayer" I guess it couldn't hurt me “If it brings me to my knees, it's a bad religion, ooh’

The “bad religion” here shows the Aquarian distrust of religion. The driver tries to bless him, but he isn't interested in spiritual intervention, even though he did mention demons earlier in the song. Aquarians aren’t necessarily interested in or focused on religion because of the typical outright devotion involved in it. It’s a turn off for Aquarians and Frank is associating this with the unrequited love he's experiences with his crush.

‘This unrequited love To me, it's nothin' but a one-man cult”

I have a long analysis behind this next statement that I’m willing to back up one day but: Aquarians are attracted to odd social constructs especially things like cults. Every Aquarian I know has expressed interest in cults, dictatorships, or supreme leadership in the New World Order. That being oddly said, this line points toward Frank seeing himself as a worshiper in one of those cults and he wants the hell out.

Overall

In this song we see how Frank made his love for this person his God and having it unrequited either caused or further proved his own negative feelings toward the whole idea of devotion and love. Aquarians also aren’t known for expressing their feelings in a conventional sense. Instead of going to a therapist and having to discuss feeling or going to a confidant and having to burden a friend or expose yourself to them, Frank chose to make his taxi driver his shrink, since he’s paying him anyway.

Pisces- Crack Rock

“You don't know how little you matter until you're all alone In the middle of Arkansas with a little rock left in that glass dick”

I’ve noticed that Pisceans have a bit of an inferiority-complex. This is typically portrayed a martyrdom but can even be expressed as. complete feeling of inadequacy and ineffectuality. This is due to their more tendency to outwardly exude peace even if they are in distress. This line also explicitly mentions crack, an extremely addictive substance. Pisces does have a link to addictions, though crack is bit extreme. We could replace crack with any momentarily-good but terminally-bad thing like constant sex, alcohol, less deleterious drugs, or even sleep and food.

“Don't no one hear a sound Don't no one disturb the peace for riot Don't no one disrupt nirvana Don't no one wanna blow the high”

This line points out how Pisces tends to zone out and escape, especially when the world is a bit too much. Sleep is a common one, as Pisceans tend to have amazing dreams that likely beat a shitty or stressful life/situation. Nirvana, the ultimate escape, is associated with Pisces. They’re constantly trying (whether purposefully or subconsciously) to connect with the Great Other or the Universe or God. Anything blowing their high or disturbing their nirvana is cut off.

Overall

Frank said that he sung this song so it would sound like a smoker singing it. He wanted the fractured breath to show a long past and pain, as well as the self-abuse often an unintentional result of substance abuse. “Crack Rock” could also speak of a physical crack in a rock, separating from himself from the ones he loves due to the addiction. Isolation is common theme for Pisces.

check your moon sign (for the song that makes you comfortable and puts you in your emotions), sun sign (the song that makes you happy and the one you ride around to) and venus sign (the one that speaks to your inner artist).

#music #astrology #channel orange #frank ocean #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquairus #pisces #mine

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #408

“tied to the rat race / a big bird in a small cage”

Who, whether a person or company, emails you the most? I really don't check my email enough to even know. If you were given an assignment to draw anything besides stick figures or just doodles, what would you draw? A meerkat of course, ha ha. Do you play the games on MySpace/Facebook? I never did. Well no, I did play "Dragons of Atlantis" when Facebook bought it or whatever, but now that it's a mobile game, I don't play anything on there. When was the last time you were sunburnt? Ha, actually now. It's from riding an hour to and an hour back from the TMS office every weekday; the sun coming in through the window got my arm. Who all do you live with? My mom and my two pets. Has a guy ever let you wear his jacket? Yeah. It was so comforting when Jason gave me his leather jacket to wear if I was cold; it was pretty big on me at that time and just really cozy. Thanks survey, now I feel like crying. :^) How many friends do you have of the opposite sex? Like, one. Do you have bird feeders hanging up outside? What about any hanging plants? No. Does your house have sliding glass doors? No. Was the last food item you ate part of a meal or a snack? A snack. What color is your hair brush? I don't use a brush, but a white comb. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? I think I prefer sunny for the sake of helping keep my depression at bay, but sometimes I really do enjoy some nice steady rainfall at the window. Who’s the last person that you hugged, not family? I have no idea. What will your next piercing be? Probably getting my nostril re-pierced. How many people have you kissed, that you can HONESTLY say you loved? Two. Can you recall the last time you liked someone a lot? uhhhhhhhhhh now What’s scarier: spiders or worms? Worms gross me out, but a spider is more likely to actually scare me, but at the same time fascinate me. Do you play poker for real money? No. If you were pregnant, how long would you wait to tell the dad? I'd tell him immediately. Would you ever date out of your own race? I have in the past, and I would again. Do you still watch movies intended for children? Yeah. Hell, more than half the time they're better than "grown up" movies. What’s your favorite movie trilogy? Uhhhh does TLK count? ha ha What would you like to take lessons in? German. Whose Facebook password do you have? Just my own. Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school? No. Have you ever crawled through a window? Yes. Are you too forgiving? Yuuuup. Ever have a sleepover with the opposite sex? Well, we were dating. Have you ever gotten someone suspended? No. Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? No. Would you live with someone without marrying them? Yes; I believe you really probably should before getting married so you see if you "fit" as far as household habits and such go. Have you ever wanted to strip naked in front of someone? Yeah no. I'd feel way too awkward. What are you listening to? A John Wolfe video. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My mom. Did anyone watch you the last time you kissed someone? I mean possibly, it was a public place, and some people are definitely caught off-guard by seeing two girls kiss. Do either of your parents have any tattoos or piercings? No. Mom wants a tattoo, though, dedicated to all of us kids and her grandkids. Are you desperate for anyone’s approval, in particular? -_- Would you ever stalk a celebrity? Um, no???? You don't stalk ANYBODY. It's a violation of space, privacy, basic respect... Do you have any National Geographic magazines lying around? No. Have you ever been mistaken for the opposite gender? No. Do you use liquid foundation, mousse, or just powder? None. Have you ever picked out a song to listen to on a juke box? Maybe? I don't remember. Have you ever eaten 3 meals from 3 different fast food places in one day? Oh god, I hope not. I don't remember ever having done that. Have you ever ridden in a limo? No. I always wanted to as a kid. Have you ever tried to put a huge puzzle together? Yeah, I have. I used to like to do that with my mom especially. Ever wake up early on Saturdays to go garage sale shopping? Yes, actually. My family used to love to do that. Do you keep magazines by your toilet? No. Ya better just bring your phone. What did you last take a picture of with your camera? On my actual camera, a hydrangea bush. On the camera on my phone, I believe my cat. Are you proud of who you are? Not... really. If you were a waiter/waitress, would you make good tips? Nope. I'm too awkward and I would NEVER write the orders down quickly enough. I write so slow. What are the best kind of Girl Scout cookies? The chocolate and peanut butter ones. If you hit an animal while driving, would you stop to see if it was okay? Well I doubt it's okay, but I would absolutely stop to move it away from the road and sob my eyes out. I'd probably try to find some flowers to rest on it. What's your favorite kind of pasta? Spaghetti. Have you ever played computer solitaire for hours on end? I don't even know how to play solitaire. What's the dumbest thing you've heard of that supposedly causes cancer? Who the hell knows, everything does apparently. If you saw wet cement, would you place your handprint in it? No. Can you honestly tell the difference between DiGiorno and delivery pizza? Absolutely. Do you own a lava lamp? No, but I would looove one. What charity or cause would you donate $1,000 to if possible? Off the top of my head, the Trevor Project. I'd probably research before actually donating, though. What would you say is your greatest strength? I guess that I care a lot about people. What's one food that you find too disgusting to eat? Things like clams, es cargot, sashimi... just ew. What's something that will never bore you? Uhhhh good question. Pizza Hut or Domino's? Domino's, by a long shot. What's something that always, no matter what, makes you laugh? Stupid Vines, lol. Have you ever been in a canoe? No. How many vehicles does your family own? Just one, my mom's. Are you generally afraid of taking risks? Yes. Have you ever caught/swatted a fly in/with your hand? Ew, no. Would you ever dye your hair bubblegum pink? Yeah. What was the last thing to happen that you really weren't expecting? The woman whose wedding I shot TWO YEARS ago finally reaching out to me about buying some pictures. What does it mean when you start eating less? What does it mean when you start eating more? If I'm eating less, odds are I'm extremely serious about losing weight. If I'm eating more than usual, high odds are I'm depressed or bored. Or I'm on my period. What’s the strangest named pet you’ve ever had? Harry Potter, ha ha. He was a guinea pig. What are some defense mechanisms you find yourself using when in an argument with someone? I'm very likely to just metaphorically flee from it because I fear confrontation so much. Do you know if there is anyone who was once important to you that you will never talk to again, even though you could? If I have any say in it, I'm never talking to Colleen again. List the initials of every person you have ever kissed, from first kiss to most recent kiss. (Put “?”s in the place of initials you don’t know.) I'm not listing their last initial, but anyway: J, T, G, S. Does your face break out right before your period? Not "break out," no. I'll just get a pimple or two. What did you dream about last night? All I remember was that it focused on Jason and his late mother. I miss her so much. I hope so much that whatever exists beyond death, she found the peace she was so worthy of. Do you think the United States health care system needs reform? FUCK yes I do. Our health care system is a disgusting fucking nightmare. Who was the last person you cried over? Jason. My PTSD has been doing quite well, but I had an emotional episode recently nonetheless. Do you prefer ceiling fans or fans that stand up on the floor and you plug in? I use both, but I think my preference is ceiling ones. What would you do if your son was at home, crying all alone on the bedroom floor because he’s hungry, and the only way to feed him was to sleep with a man for a little bit of money? Hypothetically, if I had a child, if I'm totally honest, I probably would. I would hate it, but I'm not letting my child starve to death if I can do something about it. Why do you think evolution is true/false? Because there is substantial evidence for it and imo is the most logical theory we've thought up. Some things about it seem kinda far-fetched, but I still have faith in it. I trust scientists and the evolution we see firsthand, such as caterpillars to cocoons, tadpoles to frogs, etc. Who came through for you at a time when you really, really needed it? Colleen. She let me live with her when I was technically homeless. What turned out better than you thought? Good question. What object did you used to, or do you still, keep hidden? My drawings. I've flipped my shit when Mom's found them in the past, even though she went on and on about how "amazing" they were. I don't draw anything "bad" at all, but still, I don't like people seeing my creativity. Who can’t you figure out? My damn self. What are you hoping for? The most recent thing would be hoping Shonda buys a lot, if not all, the wedding photos I took. I desperately want to use the money along with what I have left from Christmas to buy Venus' terrarium and proper supplies all by myself. What’s the best physical object that you kept from a previous relationship? Idk, there's a few things. What is the most socially unacceptable thing that you have no problem with? Maybe women not shaving. Like I couldn't care less. What have you done that you surprised yourself by doing? *shrug* What used to be a secret about you? Hm. Anything that used to be a secret probably still is one. What is the most stalky thing you’ve ever done? Just Facebook digging, and that's not something I've done a lot off. What did you wind up liking that you didn’t want anything to do with at first? The only thing that comes to mind at the moment is something sexual, so let's not go into that. Who do you owe your life that you can never pay back? Mom and Jason have both saved me from what would've been suicide attempts.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''monkey tree'' by mother mother

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troger · 4 years

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TLDR: How the Coronavirus Hacks the Immune System

At a laboratory in Manhattan, researchers have discovered how SARS-CoV-2 uses our defenses against us.

By James Somers

November 2, 2020

Some four billion years ago, in the shallow waters where life began, our earliest ancestors led lives of constant emergency. In a barren world, each single-celled amoeba was an inconceivably rich concentration of resources, and to live was to be beset by parasites. One of these, the giant Mimivirus, masqueraded as food; within four hours of being eaten, it could turn an amoeba into a virus factory. And yet, as the nineteenth-century mathematician Augustus de Morgan said, “Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ’em, and little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum.” The Mimivirus had its own parasites, which sometimes followed it as it entered an amoeba. Once inside, they crippled the Mimivirus factory. This trick was so useful that, eventually, amoebas integrated the parasites’ genes into their own genomes, creating one of the earliest weapons in the immune system.

We tend to associate “survival of the fittest” with lions hunting antelope. But disease—the predation of parasites upon hosts—is actually the most potent force in evolution. “Every single phase of life has been selected to try to avoid parasitism,” Stephen Hedrick, an immunologist at the University of California, San Diego, told me. “It’s driven evolution as hard as it could be driven. Because it’s life or death all the time. And it’s a co-evolution.” Whenever a host develops an immune defense, it perversely rewards the survival of the very parasites that can defeat it. Hosts, meanwhile, tend to be at an evolutionary disadvantage. “Bacterial or viral populations are truly vast in size,” Robert Jack and Louis Du Pasquier write, in “Evolutionary Concepts in Immunology,” and the wide variation among them gives natural selection many candidate organisms upon which to work. Viruses and bacteria also reproduce half a million times faster than we do. Given this “generation gap,” Jack and Du Pasquier write, “one might well ask how on earth we could possibly have survived.”

A clue comes from the amoeba Dictyostelium discoideum. It spends much of its life marauding alone, eating things. But, when food is scarce, it releases molecules that serve as a flocking signal to others of its kind; the amoebas merge, forming a superorganism of as many as a hundred thousand members. For this multicellular “slime mold” to be effective, almost all the amoebas must give up their ability to eat, lest they prey on one another. The few that retain it don’t eat for themselves; rather, they swallow up debris and dispose of it to protect the organism. The other amoebas, freed from the burdens of offense and defense, form a “fruiting body” that releases spores for reproduction. Although none of the individuals would survive on their own, the collective thrives.

A human being is likewise a society of cells, with a coördinated defense. Our circulatory system doubles as a communications network; our blood vessels have an “endothelial” lining—a surface that is charged with the intelligent routing of immune cells. When ordinary cells are infected by a pathogen, they send signals to their neighbors, who pass them on until they reach the endothelial cells. In response, the blood vessels swell, creating off-ramps through which white blood cells, which are part of the immune system’s circulating defense force, can flow toward the site of infection. This is merely the beginning of our immune response.

Our bodies, like the United States government, make a startlingly large investment in defense. Our bone marrow produces billions of immune cells each day, and then discards most of them. Almost every one of our cells is perpetually scanning itself for evidence of invasion. The system is complex—ask a microbiologist about immunology and she’ll whistle, wishing you luck. Those who describe it often resort to metaphor. Contemplating the enormous amounts of information that it collects and synthesizes throughout the body, Jack and Du Pasquier suggest that “the immune system can be regarded, above all else, as a computational device.”

This device is so finely tuned that we seldom notice it at work. Our guts burble with foreign microbes outnumbering human cells roughly ten to one, but the good are seamlessly sorted from the bad; every day, some of our cells grow into cancers, but the immune system dispatches them before they become dangerous. On a recent camping trip, I was bitten three times by some kind of insect while putting my arm into a jacket sleeve. Who knows what entered my bloodstream. Almost immediately, three welts formed; a few minutes later, the welts came down. In moments like that, it is easy to assume that we hold the advantage over the parasites.

On Friday, March 6th, a purified sample of the novel coronavirus arrived at the laboratory of a virologist named Benjamin tenOever, at the Icahn School of Medicine, in East Harlem. Many virology labs focus on a single pathogen, but tenOever’s studies dozens of viruses and how they change the cells they infect. During the winter, tenOever and his team were focussed on the flu. But, as the coronavirus pandemic began to escalate in the U.S., they initiated a side project, infecting lung cells in a dish with sars-CoV-2, the virus that causes covid-19, and studying the results. TenOever posted their preliminary analysis to Twitter on March 14th. Within a week, a program manager at the Defense Department e-mailed to ask about the research. Two weeks later, Defense gave tenOever a $6.3-million grant to find out what the new virus was doing to our immune systems.

Born to Dutch parents, tenOever grew up in rural Ontario. Now forty-three, he approaches his work with an amused, easy confidence. On March 26th, he gathered his team and they discussed their plan. They would take half a dozen viruses—including sars, mers, and the new coronavirus—and induce infections in hosts, starting with cells in a petri dish and graduating to ferrets. They’d study the results to understand what made the new coronavirus unique. Their goal was to have results in three weeks.

The infections took place inside the lab’s Biosafety Level-3 facility, a series of nested rooms in which each is kept at a lower pressure than the one surrounding it, so that air flows inward and up an exhaust chute containing sensitive filters. In the “warm zone,” where there is always the danger of being exposed to a live virus, you must wear a gown, two sets of gloves, two sets of shoe covers, a respirator mask, a face shield, and a bouffant cap. You work with your arms under a hood, protected by an extra set of disposable sleeves. When you’re finished with your experiment, you disinfect this gear and throw it into an autoclave—a kind of kiln—where it cooks for twenty minutes. To return to the “cold zone,” you remove your shoe covers before stepping over a red line. In New York, at the end of March, these precautions had a whiff of the absurd: in a city where around three thousand new coronavirus cases were being diagnosed each day, you were more likely to be exposed to a highly pathogenic virus in your neighborhood.

A Ph.D. student named Daisy Hoagland, who had herself just recovered from a mild case of covid-19, prepared the samples for analysis. Using a shaker machine and test tubes loaded with sand and ceramic pellets, she turned a suspension of ferret lung cells—some from infected animals, and others from members of the control group—into a homogeneous juice, then separated the solution in a centrifuge that generated fifteen thousand g’s. It is painstaking work. (“I listen to a lot of podcasts,” Hoagland said.) Using a pipette, she carefully transferred the topmost layer, a pink liquid, into another tube, which she centrifuged again, until she had a purified sample of RNA. This she handed off to her colleagues Rasmus Møller and Maryline Panis for sequencing. The process takes sixteen hours to complete, and Møller, who during the height of the pandemic lived in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, often biked home at dawn over the Pulaski Bridge.

Whereas the sequencing of DNA defined molecular biology in the early two-thousands, the sequencing of RNA defines it today. If you imagine a cell as a kind of computer, then your DNA contains all the software that it could possibly run. It is a somewhat astonishing fact of life that the exact same DNA is shared by every cell in your body, from the skin to the brain; those cells differ in appearance and function because, in each of them, a molecular gizmo “transcribes” some DNA segments rather than others into molecules of single-stranded RNA. These bits of RNA are in turn used as the blueprints for proteins, the molecular machines that do most of a cell’s work. If DNA is your phone’s home screen, then transcription is like tapping an icon. By sampling the RNA present in a group of cells, researchers can see which programs those cells are running at that moment; by sampling it after the cells have been infected with a virus, they can see how that virus substitutes its own software.

TenOever’s team quickly discovered that sars-CoV-2 was uncannily good at disrupting cellular programming. A typical virus replaces less than one per cent of the software in the cells it infects. With sars-CoV-2, tenOever said, about sixty per cent of the RNA in an infected cell is of viral origin—“which is the highest I’ve ever seen. Polio comes close.” Among other things, the virus rewires the alarm system that cells use to warn others about infection. Normally, as part of what is known as the “innate” immune response—so called because it is genetically hardwired, and not tailored to a specific pathogen—a cell sends out two kinds of signals. One signal, carried by molecules called interferons, travels to neighboring cells, telling them to build defenses that slow viral spread. Another signal, transmitted through molecules called cytokines, gets a message to the circulatory system’s epithelial lining. The white blood cells summoned by this second signal don’t just eat invaders and infected cells; they also gather up their dismembered protein parts. Elsewhere in the immune system, these fragments are used to create virus-specific antibodies, as part of a sophisticated “adaptive” response that can take six or seven days to develop.

Usually, the viruses that humans care about are successful because they shut down both of these signalling programs. The coronavirus is different. “It seems to block only one of those two arms,” tenOever told me. It inhibits the interferon response but does nothing about the cytokines; it evades the local defenses but allows the cells it infects to call for reinforcements. White blood cells are powerful weapons: they arrive on an inflammatory tide, destroying cells on every side, clogging up passages with the wreckage. They are meant to be used selectively, on invaders that have been contained in a small area. With the coronavirus, they are deployed too widely—a carpet bombing, rather than a surgical strike. As they do their work, inflammation distends the lungs, and debris fills them like a fog.

In late May, tenOever’s team shared its findings in the biweekly journal Cell. In their article, they argued that it’s this imbalanced immune response that gives severe covid-19—which can sometimes cause blood clots, strange swelling in children, and ultra-inflammatory “cytokine storms”—the character of an autoimmune disorder. As the virus spreads unchecked through the body, it drags a destructive immune reaction behind it. Individuals with covid-19 face the same challenge as nations during the pandemic: if they can’t contain small sites of infection early—so that a targeted response can root them out—they end up mounting interventions so large that the shock inflicts its own damage.

The gears of the immune response that come apart in covid-19 were discovered slowly, in a blundering way, as though science itself were recapitulating evolution. In a sense, there are several immune systems. In health, they coördinate with and balance each other. But a machine with so many moving parts is, inevitably, vulnerable.

Immunology as we know it began in earnest in 1882, at the Italian seaside. Ilya Metchnikoff, a Russian zoologist who would later help popularize yogurt in Western Europe, had developed an obsession with digestion, and with the process by which one cell eats another. In his memoir, Metchnikoff described the insight that would define his career. His family had gone to the circus, but he’d stayed home, “observing the life in the mobile cells of a transparent starfish larva” through his microscope. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him:

It struck me that similar cells might serve in the defense of the organism against intruders. Feeling that there was in this something of surpassing interest, I felt so excited that I began striding up and down the room and even went to the seashore in order to collect my thoughts. I said to myself that, if my supposition was true, a splinter introduced into the body of a starfish larva . . . should soon be surrounded by mobile cells.

Metchnikoff immediately performed the experiment, using a thorn from a rosebush in his garden. Sure enough, he saw cells surrounding the foreign body.

At the time, leading biologists, including Louis Pasteur, didn’t think of hosts as actively defending themselves against pathogens. If it was often impossible to get diseases twice, then that was because we became inured to them, like alcoholics to liquor, or because some unknown quantity of illness within us was “used up” as each disease ran its course. Immunology had advanced only haltingly since 1730, when the clergyman Thomas Fuller speculated that each person was born with “Ovula, of various distinct Kinds, productive of all the contagious, venomous Fevers we can possibly have.” According to this theory, an infection was actually an impregnation; each “egg” could be fertilized only once.

Using dyes to distinguish cells under a microscope, Metchnikoff helped show that the body actively defended itself. In fact, specialized cells responded to intruders in a process he described as “phagocytosis,” or cell-eating. One kind of cell-eater, called a “neutrophil”—because it can be stained only by pH-neutral dyes—swarmed to the site of the infection first. Larger cells called “macrophages” followed, absorbing both the invaders and the neutrophils into their “amoeboid protoplasm.” Neutrophils and macrophages, Metchnikoff found, lived in tissues throughout the body—a standing army.

Metchnikoff’s findings were promising: he had uncovered what would become known as “cellular” immunity. At the same time, other researchers seemed to be making progress in an entirely different direction. Emil von Behring and Shibasaburō Kitasato, two biologists working in Berlin, injected guinea pigs, goats, and horses with diphtheria and tetanus toxins. They found that, from the victims’ blood, they could derive “antitoxins” capable of conferring protective immunity on other animals. (Von Behring won the first Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for this work, in 1901.) It wasn’t clear what these antitoxins, later called “antibodies,” were made of. Still, von Behring and Kitasato had discovered what came to be known as “humoral” immunity, and it had nothing to do with cells eating other cells.

There came to be two camps: the cellularists, aligned with Metchnikoff, and the humoralists, aligned with von Behring. The feud over the origins of immunity was political and cultural as well as scientific. Metchnikoff was working at the Pasteur Institute, in Paris, and his followers, who believed that cell-eating was the basis of immunity, were mostly French. Von Behring’s supporters, who focussed on antibodies, were German. The humoralists won the mainstream in 1897, when a biochemist named Paul Ehrlich published a theory explaining how antibodies might work. In his paper, Ehrlich drew a toxin as an amoeboid blob with small nubs jutting out of it, each differently shaped; the antibodies were like little tadpoles whose mouths sometimes fit exactly onto the nubs. It was these variations in shape, Ehrlich argued, that allowed the antibody system to adapt to new pathogens and cripple them. For the first time, the elusive concept of immunity to specific diseases, so important and yet so poorly understood, felt tangible. “Helped in no small measure by the pictures which Ehrlich published,” Arthur M. Silverstein writes, in “A History of Immunology,” antibodies became “the principal object of interest to almost all immunologists.” Although Ehrlich and Metchnikoff shared a Nobel Prize for their contributions to our understanding of immunity, Ehrlich’s account eclipsed interest in Metchnikoff’s cell-eaters for nearly fifty years.

As biologists grew expert in the distillation of “curative serums,” the great quest in immunology became figuring out how antibodies were made, and how there could be so many kinds. It seemed that a person’s antibody repertoire was limitless: biologists found that the immune system could quickly create antibodies to fit synthetic chemicals never before seen in nature.

For the first half of the twentieth century, the going theory was that the invading element—the “antigen”—served as a template around which a corresponding antibody was molded. Only in 1955 did scientists discover the much stranger truth. It turned out that the cells that produce antibodies—called B cells, because they were first discovered in the bursa of Fabricius, an organ that does for birds what bone marrow does for humans—can produce only one kind each. Its structure is random, and nearly every B cell is discarded unused. If, however, an antibody created by a B cell happens to match some part of an antigen, that B cell will not just survive but clone itself. The clone incorporates many mutations, which offer the possibility of an even better match. After a few generations, an antibody with the best fit is “constructed” through a process of mini-evolution that occurs continuously in our lymph nodes and spleen. (Our ancestors the bony fish adapted the machinery of the B-cell system from an even more ancient parasite.)

The vividness of this picture—a weapons factory deep in our bodies, working on the principles of Darwinian selection—further etched the formula “immunity equals antibodies” into the biological imagination. And yet problems remained that only the cellularists could solve. During the Second World War, severe burns treated with donor skin grafts became more common. But the donor skin was often rejected by the body. When scientists examined the site of a rejected graft, they didn’t find antibodies. Instead, they saw swarms of a previously unknown kind of immune cell. Later, the attacking cells were shown to come from the thymus, a small, spongy organ, then thought to be vestigial, that straddled the esophagus. They were named T cells as a result, and became an object of fascination. T cells were incredibly destructive but somehow selective. They knew the difference between self and other.

The balance between protection and self-destruction had always been a theme in immunology. Since Ehrlich’s time, allergies had been seen as a misdirected immune response; in the nineteen-forties, scientists learned that certain precious parts of the body—the eyes, the reproductive organs, the brain—are actually walled off from much of the immune system. (Ehrlich himself discovered the “blood-brain barrier,” a mesh too fine for phagocytes and even tiny antibodies to penetrate.) Now the question of how the body distinguished between foreign and domestic tissue focussed itself on skin grafts and T cells.

Earlier, in mice, researchers had identified genes that affected the success of organ transplants: they called this collection of genes the major histocompatibility complex, or MHC, from the Greek histos, for “tissue.” In the sixties, a human version of the MHC was found. The genes turned out to be a blueprint for a remarkable system designed to distinguish self from non-self. Fragments of proteins built inside our cells are loaded onto tiny molecular rafts, which ferry them to the cell surface for inspection by T cells. Meanwhile, in the thymus, T cells are trained as inspectors: they are presented with rafts containing protein fragments, some of which are natural to the body. Any T cell that ignores its raft, or that goes on the attack in response to self-generated fragments, is destroyed. Competent inspectors are set loose to search for foreign material. They look for cells that display unfamiliar protein parts in their rafts and kill them.

This is how skin grafts are detected and rejected; how incipient cancers are disposed of; how cells that have been co-opted by viruses are rooted out. Together, B cells and T cells allow the human immune system to update itself as fast as our cells can replicate. But their power comes with risks. The immune system’s adaptive weapons aren’t always precise. Allergies affect somewhere between ten and forty per cent of the global population; as many as four per cent of people suffer from debilitating autoimmune diseases. And parasites could find ways to hack the system. “The invention of acquired immunity was like escalating a war with an omnipotent opponent,” Hedrick, who is a T-cell expert, writes. Our new weapons could be turned against us.

By the late eighties, it no longer made sense to contrast cellularists and humoralists. They had both been right; it was just that they saw different parts of the immune system depending on where and when they looked. Phagocytes were often present at the moment of infection. Antibodies in the blood, which could take days to emerge, pursued invaders outside the body’s cells, while T cells used MHC to peer inside those cells, destroying the ones that had been infected by viruses or corrupted by cancer.

Still, mysteries remained. At a 1989 symposium, the immunologist Charles Janeway described what he called the field’s “dirty little secret”: a vaccine containing an antigen designed to elicit antibodies wouldn’t work unless an extra irritant, or “adjuvant”—usually a harmless chemical or bacterium—had been added. Why wasn’t the antigen enough to jump-start the creation of antibodies? “To be quite honest, the answer is not known,” Janeway said. His suspicion, though, was that the process couldn’t begin unless the innate immune system—with its interferons, cytokines, and epithelial cells—had sounded its alarms first. Without marching orders, the standing army remained on call.

An innate system has to anticipate its enemies—a seemingly impossible task, given their stupendous variety. It wasn’t until around 1997 that Janeway began to understand how such anticipation might be accomplished. About a decade earlier, a pair of biologists named Christiane Nüsslein-Volhard and Eric F. Wieschaus had found a gene that affected development in fruit flies. Nüsslein-Volhard had called it Toll, using the German word for “great.” (“Das ist ja toll! ” she exclaimed, upon making the discovery.) Another scientist, Jules A. Hoffmann, learned that the same gene was involved in the fruit-fly immune response; Janeway, with the help of Ruslan Medzhitov, showed that a version of it was also present in humans, and employed in some of the white blood cells that are the innate immune system’s first responders. Through experiments with human cells, they showed that the gene coded for what came to be called a “Toll-like receptor,” which could recognize a particular molecular motif—a building block of bacterial membranes. It was as if evolution had noticed that, while many cells built their houses out of oak or brick, dangerous bacteria always seemed to use pinewood. Why not make a pine detector?

Immunologists soon discovered a second Toll-like receptor, then a third; they started giving them names like TLR4 and TLR5. Whole new families of “pattern-recognition receptors” were found. Each receptor, ingenious in its design, recognized some characteristic microbial or viral signature—a kink in a virus’s RNA, a crenellation in a microbial cell wall.

At long last, a picture of the whole system was coming into focus. It was all interconnected. Innate immunity kicks off the immune response, as cells at the site of infection use their receptors to recognize and combat invaders, and release interferons and cytokines to raise the alarm. Various types of white blood cells respond, having been routed to the infection via the bloodstream. They identify and eat foreign cells, returning the digested bits, via the lymph nodes, to the thymus and the bone marrow, as intel. In the days that follow, antibodies and killer T cells—the weapons of adaptive immunity—are built to spec. Everything plays a double or triple role. Antibodies, for instance, don’t just attach to invaders to block their entry into cells; they also tag them so that they’ll be easier for white blood cells to find and eat. The innate and adaptive arms ramp up each other’s destructive abilities.

Here, again, Hedrick sounds a cautious note. “Such a scheme should worry any systems analyst,” he writes. “A potentially lethal mechanism controlled by positive feedback is a recipe for runaway destruction.”

In late March, a thirty-two-year-old man of Dutch ancestry was admitted to a hospital in the Netherlands. He had difficulty breathing, and a CT scan showed an opaque haze spreading in his lungs. He was given a diagnosis of covid-19, and spent sixteen days in intensive care; four days after he was moved out of the I.C.U., one of his lungs collapsed. He recovered enough to be sent home nine days later. His twenty-nine-year-old brother, who lived in a different house, got sick at roughly the same time, and died. Their parents had moderate symptoms.

When scientists learned that a second pair of young brothers—twenty-one and twenty-three years old, of African ancestry—had also had severe cases of covid-19, they sought to study all four men. By sequencing the genomes of the men and their parents, the researchers hoped to find an anomaly that might explain why some young people, particularly men, had such bad outcomes.

The Dutch team found something that echoed tenOever’s theory about the way in which sars-CoV-2 rewires the cellular alarm system. The four men all had an ineffective variant of TLR7, a Toll-like receptor that recognizes viral RNA. When it works, TLR7 helps produce interferons, which tell nearby cells to increase their antiviral efforts. When it doesn’t, the alarm is silent, and the infection spreads. This genetic abnormality had made the virus’s work dramatically easier. The raiders had come to an unlocked house.

This spring, a clinical trial in the U.K. gave interferon-beta, a synthetic version of the molecule, to a random selection of a hundred and one patients hospitalized with covid-19. The trial found that those who received interferon early in their infection were seventy-nine per cent less likely to become seriously ill. Researchers agree that timing is crucial. In the early days of a coronavirus infection, an interferon boost might help your innate immune system contain the virus. Later, though, it might be harmful; at that point, your adaptive immune system could already be out of control, and you might need an immunosuppressant, such as the steroid dexamethasone. (Last month, President Trump received dexamethasone as part of his treatment for covid-19; he was also given a drug that contained lab-engineered antibodies capable of fighting the virus alongside, or ahead of, his body’s own adaptive response.)

The genes for TLR7 are on the sex-linked X chromosome. That could be a partial explanation for why men suffer from severe covid-19 more often than women. But a TLR7 deficiency is likely to be rare—far rarer than the incidence of severe covid-19 among young people. There are almost certainly other genetic or environmental factors that weaken the interferon response. In mid-September, research published in Science showed that some covid-19 patients with bad outcomes had “autoantibodies” that were attacking their own interferon; another article published in the same issue outlined a genetic flaw related to TLR3, which is also involved in the interferon response. (As many as fourteen per cent of severe covid-19 cases may be attributable to one of these two conditions.) The more researchers study our immune response to the virus, the more complexity they find. According to some theories, how things go for you could depend on how many viral particles you’ve inhaled, and on whether they reach your lungs when you breathe them in. If you’ve had a cold recently, it’s possible that the T cells you developed to fight it could partially fit the coronavirus. Vitamin D levels might matter, because Vitamin D can help control inflammation. Harmful autoantibodies could be responsible for the persistent symptoms suffered by covid-19 “long-haulers.” All of this is still being explored.

The immune system uses feedback to stay balanced, like a gymnast on a beam. If a light breeze blows, the gymnast might sway a bit; sensing this, she’ll shift her weight to return to center. But, given a strong enough push, she’s prone to overshoot with her reaction and, from the other side, overshoot again until she falls. Many factors contribute to the slip—a tight hip flexor, a strained calf, moisture in the air—each magnifying the force of the shove.

Older gymnasts tend to be less agile. The same goes for the immune system, which is why covid-19 disproportionately affects the elderly. The already high case fatality rate for sixty-five- to seventy-four-year-olds more than triples in people seventy-five and older. This age distribution is unique to the coronavirus. Kids are more susceptible to the seasonal flu; children and young adults who had the swine flu in 2009 were hospitalized the most, while the pandemic flu of 1918 hit adults in their twenties and thirties the hardest. (Perhaps their immune systems overreacted, or older people had acquired immunity to similar strains.) “The difference of risk and profile, young versus old—I don’t think anyone has seen an infectious agent behave quite like this before,” Richard Hodes, the director of the National Institute on Aging, part of the National Institutes of Health, said, of the coronavirus.

The lopsidedness of the virus means that vaccines might not be as effective in older patients, even with double the dose, or after repeated inoculations. The beauty of a vaccine is that it relieves us of the task of completely understanding the virus; its package of antigens simply presses the On button of the great machine. Helping older people may require a more fine-tuned approach, tailored to the particular way this virus destabilizes the immune system. What we have learned so far suggests that it isn’t just that being older makes you weak, and that covid-19 preys on this weakness; the disease’s mechanism of action is actually amplified in the aging body.

For this reason, about a month after beginning their coronavirus investigations, the researchers in tenOever’s lab switched from ferrets to hamsters. Ferret immune systems are highly responsive, and the animals were getting better too quickly. “They look a lot more like kids,” tenOever said. By contrast, some hamsters, when infected with the virus, “actually develop respiratory distress. We see a lot more infiltration in their lungs.” In older hamsters, as in older people, innate immunity is less likely to contain the virus and adaptive immunity is slower to turn on and off. The hamster ends up wildly dysregulated. “The difference between these two outcomes really comes down to, as you get older—” TenOever paused. “Getting older sucks. Everything breaks down, even at the simplest of levels.”

As we age, our immune systems stiffen up. “If I had to respond to an insult—bacteria, a virus, a trauma, a lesion—the response is slower and is less strong,” Luigi Ferrucci, who studies the aging process and the immune system at the National Institute on Aging, told me. But, at the same time, the system becomes chronically activated. Cytokines circulate at a constant, high level in the blood, as though the body were at all times responding to some attack. This is true no matter one’s health. “Even in individuals that are extremely healthy, extremely well nourished, have no disease, and they’re taking no drugs, there are some inflammatory markers whose concentration increases with aging,” Ferrucci said. Think of the welt that rises with a bite, then imagine the same process—swelling, redness, stiffness, the accumulation of pus—slowly pervading the body. Your level of inflammation contributes to your “biological” age—which is not always in perfect lockstep with your chronological age—and increases your risk of developing cardiovascular disease, cancer, and dementia; it contributes to what geriatricians call “frailty.”

A phenomenon known as cellular senescence is partly responsible for the body’s increasing inflammation through time. As cells age and divide, small errors accrete in their DNA. These errors could lead to cancer, among other maladies. And so cells police themselves. When they detect decay in their DNA, they stop replicating and begin emitting cytokines, as though asking the immune system to inspect and destroy them. The accumulation of senescent cells may contribute to severe covid-19: according to the current theory, Ferrucci said, they could “expand tremendously the cytokine storm,” in which a runaway feedback loop leads to a sudden spike in inflammation throughout the body.

Adaptive immunity suffers with age, too, but for different reasons. The thymus itself atrophies. (On a restaurant menu, thymuses are called sweetbreads. “Sweetbreads come from young calves,” Hedrick told me. “If you were to try to harvest the thymus from an old bull, you’d get . . . nothing.”) When you’re young, with a short history of exposure to pathogens, your thymus produces new T cells at an extravagant rate. But as you age production slows, and the cells differentiate. Some live indefinitely as “memory T cells,” carrying with them a record of their defeated foes.

Certain viruses use up more T-cell memory than others. Around twenty per cent of an older adult’s T-cell repertoire is devoted to fighting a single virus: human cytomegalovirus (HCMV), a strain of herpes that usually has no symptoms. It would be ironic if, in some small way, HCMV makes it harder to survive covid-19. Unlike sars-CoV-2, which spreads without hiding and so causes extensive damage, HCMV is a master of disguise. When infecting a cell, the virus turns off that cell’s MHC system. No cellular raft delivers evidence of the infection to the surface. Still, this isn’t enough to avoid detection. Our immune system has invented a weapon, the “natural killer” cell, that looks specifically for cells without functioning MHC systems. And so HCMV evolved to create a decoy MHC raft, designed to fool the natural killers.

As a parasite, HCMV is almost perfectly adapted to its host; able to spread without attracting attention, it does nothing but consume resources. The thymus is one place where such cleverness leaves its trace. The practice of science is another. Many of the workhorse tools employed by molecular biologists—including the enzymes used by tenOever’s team to sequence RNA, and the crispr gene-editing system, perhaps the most important scientific discovery of our time—were once either weapons or defenses in the microbial arms race. It’s there, at the crucible of life and death, that biological innovation happens fastest, leaving us with technology for mounting a new kind of defense.

The last time I spoke to tenOever, in late July, his team had begun a search for treatments. In the BSL-3 lab, Møller was infecting hamsters; the plan was to give the animals candidate drugs, sequencing their RNA through the entire process of infection and treatment. By examining patterns in the data, the team could find out which drugs were better at undoing the coronavirus’s reprogramming. TenOever made use of a handy way of visualizing what was happening in the cells. He could turn the genetic analysis into an inkblot-like map, showing which parts of its genome each cell was activating. “You can build a landscape, if you will,” tenOever said. If the coronavirus shifted the landscape to the northeast, they would look for drugs that pulled it southwest. They were testing four good candidates a week like this.

It was an impressionistic way to look at an immune system. But the system was not designed to be legible; it was, of course, not designed at all. For years, Robert Jack, one of the authors of “Evolutionary Concepts in Immunology,” taught a class on immunology to students just beginning their Ph.D.s. Bright and enthusiastic, the students struggled to untangle the immune system’s feedback loops. Jack told me, “We tend to look at these systems and say, ‘Wow, who would have thought of that? That’s incredible. That’s so fantastic. It does this incredibly complicated job, and it does it really well!’ ” He took a breath, then continued. “Whereas, in reality, the immune system has simply, in the face of pathogen attack, staggered from one emergency to the next. It just uses whatever is lying around. It is hoping against all possibilities to try to survive a little bit longer. Whatever crazy solution it comes up with—so long as it works, it will be accepted.” The result is a system of great flexibility and power, which, pushed the right way, can be made to collapse upon itself. ♦

#covid19 #newyorker #tldr #health

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kaesaaurelia · 4 years

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balder12 replied to your post

“me, watching DS9 when I was 13-14: I like Kira, she’s angry and tired...”

Kira somehow manages to make all her casual space elf looks seem hot. You didn’t say much about the s1 finale so I have to ask - any thoughts on Vedek Winn?

Honestly the finale was kind of rough going for me? Like, not as much as the labor camp filing clerk one (which hit way too close to home in a few ways, not least of which is that growing up, I had a neighbor who grew up in a Nazi labor camp and man I was so fucking pissed at the character who helped run the Cardassian labor camp) but there was a lot going on and I was having trouble saying anything, really?

Anyway this got long; sort of a ramble under the cut about religion and politics and metaphors.

Basically they brought up so many real life issues in that episode (offhand I can name evolution vs. creationism in schools, school segregation, a whole lot of different aspects of colonialism, orthodox vs reform religious teachings, and terrorism) and through it all -- well, obviously I wasn’t supposed to like Vedek Winn but I could not separate my distaste for her from my actual very squidgy embarrassed awful feelings in real life when people I want to be on good terms with assume I’m Christian, and then I have to decide whether to say I’m not and what kind of a conversation about Judaism and Jewishness I’m comfortable with, and then I run the risk of them trying to convert me; even if not, they might still try and fit me into the idea they have of Judaism as Diet Christianity, Now With Less Jesus. (And the thing is, these people are almost always much better-intentioned than Vedek Winn, and they’re never extremists or anything. They just want to get along with me, and they just want to think that I’m a good person, and that’s what they think good people are. But they still make me very uncomfortable and they’ll never realize it.)

On the other hand I wonder a little bit if people who don’t have those feelings normally experienced them while watching that episode? I kind of hope so, but also I feel like a lot of people who are culturally Christian and relatively socially liberal will be reading the Bajoran religion primarily as a stand-in for Islam in that episode, and secondarily as a stand-in for (specifically) Creationism and other aspects of fundamentalist Christianity. (To be VERY CLEAR, I don’t want to equate this fictional alien sci fi religion with any real religions, I’m just thinking about how people might have interpreted it.) They’re in a place where they can say, “what a strange backwards planet, glad I don’t live there, they remind me of this group I don’t understand at all, hopefully Sisko can show them the error of their ways by the end.”

And I feel more like, “Wow, this is where I have always lived, surrounded by people who can’t imagine I don’t share their culture and philosophy,” and then I have to ask, but wait, why are the Federation officers so surprised, why do they argue and get mad? Can’t they just say “yeah, sure, the prophets, actually that’s not my thing but it’s totally okay if it’s yours but just, it’s not mine, I must have missed the prophets memo, ha ha, that’s on me, I really don’t want confrontation here, anyway, gosh, lovely weather on the promenade today, hope we don’t get rain, how ‘bout them holographic baseball teams.” Because that’s what I do! (Man, you don’t even know how many awkward conversations I’ve had about the Cubs trying to avoid making someone feel bad about my lack of their religion. I don’t even like the Cubs.)

And then I realize, well, of course that’s what I do, I’m not part of a massive, well-armed empire that’s trying to absorb the people who talk to me like this into my culture. They’re the ones trying to absorb my culture, in fact.

And then Sisko makes his big rousing speech that assumes that, really, deep down, everyone kind of wants to be like the Federation, that the Federation being good is self-evident, and I’m like, “oh no, they ALSO can’t imagine people don’t think like them! That is going to alienate the Bajorans as much as Vedek Winn is alienating the O’Briens and Sisko, and it’s all going to be a big mess, you can really only have one group of smug everyone’s-like-me-deep-down-assumers or it all breaks down because no one knows when to change the subject and talk about the space weather.” And then it was fine? I don’t know. It was off-putting.

(I realize “it was fine” is a funny way to say “there was an explosion and an assassination attempt but fortunately no one died.” In the end O’Brien was betrayed by a non-regular and Kira was sad but like, none of the main cast’s relationship was really in peril in the end, so... it was fine.)

I think also I was a bit taken aback that Kira identified so much with Vedek Winn’s interpretation and cause initially? I think that would sit better with me if I understood more about Winn’s ideas than “wormhole science bad, it’s a celestial temple.” Like, is there some kind of philosophy Winn puts forward that Kira found a lot of strength in? Did she write beautiful religious poetry? Was she willing to stand up to the Cardassians when most of Bajor’s religious leaders capitulated too easily for Kira’s taste? I don’t know! We don’t get any discussion of that, she’s just Misguided for siding with Winn, and then she changes her mind because she has eyes and Winn is obviously evil.

Also, actually, on a worldbuilding note I’m very skeptical about the sheer... organizedness and unity of Bajor’s religion. You can’t tell me there wouldn’t be sects and splinter groups and a rival religion that decries the orbs and the so-called Prophets as some sort of evil force, and at least a few religions that don’t have orbs in them at all, and well-known temples with orbs that turned out to be like, quartz with LEDs and part of the very important temple ritual experience is eating shrooms so you still have weird hallucinations.

Anyway, back to Vedek Winn. In the end, she was awful and I didn’t like her and I’m sure she’ll be back to be an asshole but, yeah, it was hard for me to parse my reaction to S1 as a separate thing from my own feelings about religion and politics, and it’s difficult to talk about some of that stuff for me anyway. I have a lot of feelings and I’m not good at them. I don’t really know if any of this was coherent but you did ask.

#balder12 #kaesa watches ds9 #religion #jewishness #judaism #christianity #text #meta #genuinely I hope I haven't offended anyone in this long rant #but also I feel like a terrible jew for admitting my fear of confrontation about this stuff #(well I *am* a terrible jew so that's fine)#aNYWAY I'm genuinely not trying to say 'this episode was bad' bc I did enjoy it #like it's star trek I expect a lot of current-for-the-era politics?#just it was an odd and uncomfortable thing to watch in places #and didn't entirely jive with my experiences in conversation as a religious minority

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saintheartwing · 4 years

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Invader Zim: The Pigshit Troll, Part Three

"So it's coming from Dad's lab?"

Gaz was now very intrigued indeed. She sat across from Dib in the living room as he pulled open his laptop, Gaz pulling open a can of "Mountain Spew" and drinking away. Dib glanced over at the black can, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah…but why are you drinking that new flavor? Aren't you more into the original?"

"Yeah, but I wanna give the new flavor a try and I gotta be honest, it ain't bad for a zero calorie soda. It tastes like the way Mountain Spew used to way back in the day. A LOT better than their diet one, I'll tell ya that." Gaz remarked. "And it ain't given me diarrhea yet, so that's a plus."

Dib did the very best he could to suppress his laughter. When it came to Gaz's diet, her constantly going to Bloaty's Pizza Hog had real consequences. The cheese round the clock was getting her blocked, but when the levee finally broke, well…frankly, so did the toilet. Many, many times. And she would make him clean it.

There had been a positive to this though. Dib was now amazingly good at plumbing and mechanical engineering and he was actually picking up some decent money loaning his services out to the neighborhood as a plumber…provided nobody told the local trade unions about what he was up to, because compared to them, he was real cheap. So now he could afford a VERY nice laptop with all the bells and whistles as he showed it off to Gaz.

"Yeah, the IP address was traced back to Dad's lab. Unfortunately, I can't track it down to the very computer, Dad does have enough security in place to keep me from seeing that and no way am I risking jail time by cracking that open. They almost busted me last month when Dad tried to install the "Parental Controls" on our new television and I don't want Officer Krupke giving me that lecture again."

Indeed, in one of the very few times Dib and Gaz had been bound by common strife and pledged to work together for a common good, Professor Matthew Membrane had installed parental controls on their television because he was concerned about the damage being done to them from exposure to new Netflix series. Especially with all the brand new true crime dramas popping up all the time, it turned out to be something both Dib AND Gaz positively loved, the chase, the investigation, the grisly details, it was so engaging. They would watch together on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, binge-watching for hours and hours and then eagerly chatting about ALL they'd seen at dinner.

Well, Membrane had been determined to stop them from having their minds all twisted up by violence and at first it worked really well.

"C'mon! I wanna watch "The Ken and Barbie Killers!"

"Fat chance. You're gonna watch Cupcake Wars and you're gonna like it."

"Damn it, lemme watch Don't F—k with Cats, it's a classic!"

"No way. You're going to watch "Masterpiece Theatre"."

"Well…if it's got Patrick Stewart in it that might not be so-"

"Featuring Brian Blessed in the star role of Macbeth!"

"OH GOD NO!"

"Hey, what gives?!"

"That's enough cartoons for you today. You're gonna watch some Animal Planet…no, wait. Better. C-Span. It's good to be involved in politics these days."

"Oh c'mon, it's just hearings on air traffic controllers! You fiend!"

So finally, Gaz had insisted Dib get rid of the thing.

"I'd be risking major jail time!"

"Dib…it's recording the best of Fuller House."

"…I'll go get my screwdriver."

Dib had indeed almost got caught and had to listen to a very irritating lecture from the police. It was rather astounding they got to the house so quick over that, but whenever Dib tried to let them know Zim was up to something, it was "Yeah, we'll get to you when we can".

The good news was the parental controls issue got solved soon enough. Professor Membrane himself decided to get rid of it, saying that though he was worried about the things they were watching, it was his job, not some machine's, to judge and curate what his children saw.

Translation: the parental controls wouldn't let him watch "The Mandalorian" because it was too violent.

"Well can we look up who's working at Dad's laboratory who might have a grudge against you?" Gaz asked as Dib grinned.

"Luckily, that's not protected health information, Dad lists all the employees on the website and under "Contact Us"!" He remarked as his fingers flew across the keyboard and he then turned the laptop to fully show Gaz the list. "Look at who's listed? Keef, of all people is one of the assistants, he's an intern!"

"Hmm. I've always thought there's something off about him…and his stories, well…" Dib cringed.

Keef was definitely, one hundred percent not allowed to write anything even remotely close to sexual. The school had no problem with stories about, say…Zim skinning people alive in one of HIS work. For some reason, that was just fine. Oh, but a bit of soft sex, nakedness? No no no no no! Bad!

But Keef had found a way around that and did stories with lots of innuendo, and a ton…a ton of stories involving Dib, Gaz, Zim…and romance. He called the ones between Zim and Dib "ZADR" and with Gaz and Zim "ZAGR". You could find them cute if you were into that sort of thing, after all, many were astoundingly well written, lovingly detailed, and your heart would begin racing as you kept reading his creative writing tales.

But Dib didn't much like the idea. For one, Zim was over 150, he was waaaaay too old for either him…or Gaz. Two, EW. Three, a lot of the stories had Dib's own personality being ignored just so he could smooch it up with Zim! It didn't come across as a natural evolution or a progression or character development that made sense, it was just "I want this person here, so I'm just going to force them to be there, even if it makes no sense, because the plot is pretty much porn".

Gaz, however, kinda thought it was cute in a funny sort of way. She also knew it wasn't like Dib had never thought about kissing Zim, Dib was still discovering himself, after all, and he had had dreams about…that sort of thing.

"And there's Mr. Elliot!" Dib added. "Wow, why did he decide to work there?"

Gaz smirked and chuckled inwardly. Nobody would EVER know how she got rid of him, and she wasn't gonna tell anyone. And if she wanted you out of your job at the school, it would happen. Now, there were three ways to stop her from doing what she do.

…what? You think imma TELL you?

"He could have finally snapped." Gaz mused aloud. "I mean, when the nice ones snap…they really, really go wild. It's the nice guys you need to watch out for, you can trust a jerk to always be a jerk. But when a decent person goes bad, they go baaaaaad."

"Yeah, that's possible." Dib confessed. "Hmm. Look, our janitor works there too." He murmured. "Johnny."

…Johnny. The one and only Johnny. A slim, slender man, messy black hair that was just downright ugly and grimy. A pale body, sunken eyes, and he smelled strange too, like meat that had been left out on the counter for far too long. He liked making little snappy remarks at people too.

"Did you wash the bathrooms like we asked?"

"I'll wash the walls with your blood!"

"Well before you do that, wash the bathrooms."

On top of that, there were rumors that he caked blood on the walls of his janitorial closet to feed a monster that laid within. He was always seen sinisterly smoking at the very edge of school property at night, an anti-social, creepy figure indeed. Him being the actual troll…it wasn't unreasonable to think of Johnny, curled up in his closet, hunched over his laptop, spewing hate out into the world.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait, look!" Gaz pointed at one of the names. "…Tassirak. That girl's name's Tassirak Doe."

Dib frowned, and he examined the photo that went with the name. "Doe" was a common name for a dead body you hadn't identified and-wait. Wait. Those eyes. The facial structure. The hair may have been different, the skin tone less pale, but Dib recognized those eyes instantly, and that faint Mona Lisa smile too.

And he knew that name, because Tak, Irken Invader, had divulged that to him.

Dib had gotten really close to Tak when she'd first arrived, the purple-haired British-accented girl had been charming, intelligent and clever, and they'd had similar interests. He'd soon spent weeks with her, the two just…talking. Making fun of Zim, chatting about their favorite books and movies they'd read, sharing stories about adventures out in the wild…

And of course, that Valentine's Day dance. "No, no. One-two-three, swing! One-two-three, swing!" Tak had insisted to him.

"Ouch! Don't drag me!"

Her lessons on dancing were harsh but in truth, that time spent with Tak had probably been the happiest he'd ever been.

And that's how he should have known it was a lie. Because Dib knew he wasn't meant to be happy. He'd known that…for a long time.

She'd revealed her real name. They'd eaten lunches and even a dinner or two together. Seen movies and he'd walked her home. And then, just a few days later, she'd turned out to be an Irken invader.

It had hurt. A lot. He'd lost a friend. And maybe someone more. It had really…really hurt.

"Does SHE have an account on the website?" Dib murmured as he examined the school's creative writing website. "…oh wow, yeah, she does, she's using her old username and password she got when she first enrolled, there's not much, but they're there. Wow." He examined them. "She wields metaphors like blunt instruments. You can feel Tak in every single sentence, so much of it is in first person and there is a lot of really biting, cynical wit in here. It feels almost nihilistic. And it's super petty, too. A lot of really nasty stuff happening to folks she doesn't like."

"Wow, one story has her as the Tallest." Gaz remarked. "…damn, she cooked and ate the last ones. That's hardcore scary."

"It's beautifully written though, I'd like to shake her hand than recommend her to therapy." Dib admitted. "I mean, she's going into really grisly detail on every minute they die. She must be super bitter. I don't even wanna imagine what happens to Zim when she updates this story, she just finished catching him and she's got him tied up in…Japanese rope bondage? She's into BDSM?"

"The safe word is "eine kleine nachtmusik"." Wow, somebody's letting their inner Hannibal Lecter out, alright." Gaz said with a whistle. "…still, I kinda WANT her to update just to see what happens. It's like watching a train wreck, you kinda can't look away."

"It could definitely be here. We need to go to the lab and sneak onto those computers. If they saved their work on them at any point, I could prove they were behind it." Dib reasoned.

"I dunno, Dib. Not sure I wanna help you with this. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not really fun anymore watching you get dragged again and again for what the troll's doing, but…" She shrugged. "I mean, it's not my problem."

"What if I paid you?" Dib offered as Gaz rubbed her chin.

"…keep talking, Mr. Moneybags."

"My new job is paying me verrrrry well. To plant roses, I've shoveled a lot of manure, as it were." Dib remarked. "So how about it? Is there a new game you want me to buy?" He offered as Gaz thought to herself.

"Hmm. Well…now that you mention it, there is one game that's coming out that I really want. It's Sekiro: Shadows Die Thrice. Comes out in a week. You buy me that, I'll come with you."

"Deal." Dib insisted.

And so, Dib and Gaz made their way to Professor Membrane's lab that weekend as a quilt of dark clouds obscured their stealthy approach. Slinking on inside through the ventilation shaft as Dib temporarily looped the footage of the nearby camera watching the southern side of the laboratory, they crept through the vents and finally deposited themselves in, of all places, Johnny's closet in the lab.

There was a laptop there, hidden by a bucket. Gaz picked it up, gazing through it as she nodded over at Dib. "I'll look over this one, you go look for Keef's. Then we'll meet back here in…half an hour and go look for Mr. Elliot and Tak's."

"Deal." Dib said with a nod, quickly exiting the closet, getting his camera-hacking tool ready as it was clasped tight around his wrist. The lab was almost utterly closed for the moment, most people were heading home, there was just a skeleton crew left over. This meant it was easy for Dib to sneak around, avoiding spots in the security camera's vision and using his hacking tool to loop footage when he couldn't.

At long last, he reached a work station, the same station Keef had been said to be working at, since the website had said he was paired with a "Dr. Jones". Dib looked about, listening intently. No cameras here, and nobody was inside or anywhere nearby. So he slunk over to the computer and booted it up.

Ha! Keef had been the last one to use the PC, his username was on display. And Dib had a feeling he could guess the password.

Yep! Sure enough, it was "ZADRZAGR". "Oh, Keef…ya basic." Dib chuckled as he looked over Keef's internet history and-

"…hoooooo boy."

Well, Keef definitely, one hundred percent was not the one who sent the reviews. But now Dib knew where Keef got so much help in…inspiration…for his work. He had no idea Keef swung that way!...and that way, AND that way and THAT way.

"Well, um…whatever does it for you, Keef." Dib decided, quickly deciding to erase the internet history and log off, shaking his head. Meanwhile, Gaz had finally guessed Johnny's password. She'd had a feeling it was "Mammon" and yep…it was Mammon. Johnny may have been a loyal, devoted Satan-worshipping weirdo…but he wasn't very smart. He'd left a post it note reminding himself to change his last password since it was too easy to guess, and he needed a better one, and to pick a better demon lord. Unluckily for him, not only had he tossed that post it note in the trash can in the very closet Gaz was in, she'd realized the password hint immediately. "Greed is Good". Well, there were a few Demon lords best known for Greed and one of the best had been what she'd picked.

PING! She was in. And my oh my, Johnny had been a naughty boy. He'd taken selfies to share on the Internet of him and the bloody wall he caked gore on, selfies he was sharing on the Dark Web. Nasty stuff indeed. One particularly "funny" one showed him making a kind of macabre "snowman" on the wall with some exposed ribs and a bashed in nose and two eyes burned up like coals!

And then there were his uploads to "Bestgore". Yeccchhh. Gaz was fine with dooming the deserving wretches, but Johnny was just an outright creep about this-

Wait.

Wait, was that a cat?

He wouldn't.

…he WOULDN'T-

Gaz's mouth fell open and then she darkly glowered, shutting the video off and going through the rest of the janitor's internet history. No, he wasn't the one leaving those reviews. But he was guilty, alright. Just not of the sin Dib thought he was guilty of.

A few minutes later, Dib knocked on the closet door and she exited it, giving Dib a solemn look. "He's not the one. He's a piece of shit, but he's not the one."

Dib could see something was very, very wrong, Gaz had a look on her face he'd only seen when she'd seen crime specials on killers who hurt animals. He thought it best not to ask about it. "I understand. It isn't Keef, either. He's into a lot…but not into that sort of thing."

So now it came time to check the other computer stations. Luckily for them, both Mr. Elliot and Tak were working in the same wing.

Unluckily for them, they were still there. A fact the two found out when they opened the door…

Just in time to see Mr. Elliot AND Tak currently hunched over a computer screen. "What the?!" Dib gasped out as the two wheeled around, seeing Dib and Gaz, staring in surprise as Dib and Gaz looked behind them and-

…Jackass? They were watching Jackass videos?

"You're into those stupid stunt videos where the guys get, like, basketballs bounced onto their balls after they're launched onto trampolines?" Gaz inquired as Tak and Mr. Elliot deeply blushed, Dib racing over to the computer, gaping at the sight before his eyes. He couldn't believe it.

"But it's so…lowbrow! So…STUPID!" He remarked aloud.

"But it's funny." Mr. Elliot said with a shrug. "I can't help it, I find it funny."

"Yeah, something about it simply clicked with me." Tak admitted. "I mean, I do enjoy watching stupid humans suffering for my amusement."

"Yeah, the Germans have a term for it. Schadenfreude." Mr. Elliot confessed. "Happiness at the misfortune of others." He added as Dib looked through their internet history. Yeah, they'd hadn't left the reviews either. All that work, all that effort for…nothing! Except now he knew stuff about his classmates he really, REALLY wish he could unlearn.

"It's not that funny." Gaz said, though she chuckled as she saw a video of Johnny Knoxville soaring off a motorcycle and into a ball pit, groaning loudly…because he was butt naked when he did it. "Okay, maybe a LITTLE funny."

"Sometimes you just wanna indulge in something nice, simple and a bit stupid. Not everything has to be Shakespeare, after all. It fills a need and it doesn't really harm anyone." Tak remarked. "Well, except them, but they get paid for it, so…" She shrugged.

Dib moaned. "Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I thought for SURE…"

"You're really not that Pig Shit troll, huh?" Tak wondered aloud. "I thought maybe you were doing some kind of false flag, Dib, but…no, it really isn't you." She commented dryly. "Hmm. Well, best of luck with that. Unless another classmate of yours, like, pees their pants or something in front of everyone in school, nobody's going to forget this anytime soon. The good news is that people have short memories. A month or two passes by, and you'll be fine. Folks are like GOLDFISH. Best and worst thing about them!" She laughed.

"…yeah, maybe if I slip Zim some ex-lax under the guise of it being a candy bar I can trick him into taking from me…" Dib mumbled as he slunk out of the room. "This sucks. This totally sucks."

"Cheer up, tomorrow Dad's going to treat us to breakfast, remember?" Gaz offered. "You always like that." She told him as they headed out the office door and down the hall to exit out of the building.

"Yeah, him making his pancake and eggs combo with bacon always-"

Dib stopped. Wait.

…wait.

Could it be?

"…I need to check one more computer." He quietly muttered at Gaz, his voice sounding cold and dead.

…

… "You liking your delicious breakfast, son?" Professor Membrane asked as Gaz stared at Dib, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He'd said absolutely nothing since their Dad had begun making breakfast and now he was halfway through his meal when he slowly finished chewing and looked up.

"…it's really nice." Dib remarked. "Can I ask you something, Dad?" Dib wanted to know, as he put the fork down and folded his hands in his lap.

"Of course, son! Anything!" Professor Membrane said as Dib took in a long, deep breath.

"Why did you do it? Why did you do those reviews?"

Professor Membrane dropped the plate of bacon he had in his black-gloved hands, looking astounded. Dib went on, speaking quietly. Softly. Soft…but with an edge.

"I thought about it, long and hard. I remembered you were the one who encouraged me to come see you if I kept having problems. The IP address was also traced back to your lab. And then I thought about how…ridiculous the reviews were. They were so badly written but…not badly written enough for someone in my class to have done it. I mean, even a 9 year old knows not to write in all caps. It had to be somebody older, trying to be over the top. And then when I checked your computer, just to be sure…I found out…yes. It was you." He remarked. "…so Dad…why'd you do it?"

Professor Membrane sighed as he sat down at the table, and held his head in his hands. "I…I did want to try and…push you into my arms, as it were. That if I put a little pressure on you in your school setting, you'd keep coming back to me to talk about how you felt. It allowed me to feel like I was the only person you could truly trust, and that felt good. But it wasn't just that, I…" He took a deep breath. "It was…funny to write those reviews. Sometimes it just feels good to be…so lowbrow and coarse and nasty." He admitted. "It was like I tapped into some dark, twisted part of me that'd I'd been ignoring for so long, and when I finally got a chance to let it run wild, it felt amazing!"

He rose up a little and went on. "I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I need ways to unwind myself. I didn't really think I was actually doing any harm. Or maybe…I didn't want to believe it, because I didn't really mean all the things I said, so how could it be anything that bad?" He murmured as Dib took off his glasses, Gaz taking in a short, sharp breath.

Dib never…ever did that. Him doing that meant he must have been really furious.

"…I don't think I want to talk to you for a while, Dad." He quietly muttered.

"…I thought as much." His father sighed as they sat across from one another in silence at the breakfast table, and Gaz quietly sipped on her orange juice.

Come the next day, it was a school day again, and Dib was making his way down the hallway before he overheard a rather familiar accusation.

"I'm telling you, he's writing about your fic in his fic. He's trashing your fic and making fun of it and you as a writer. He's a troll but pretends he isn't and just blames it on another troll when he keeps trolling."

Dib turned around, seeing Zita talking to the Letter M and he frowned a bit as he stared at the girl and the African American boy she was talking to.

"You know, you're just plain wrong." He said aloud, as other kids began to look at him. "It was my dad all this time. Not me. And I don't really care if you don't believe me. I've said my piece. You don't like it, tough." He told her, walking off.

"You think that'll convince us?"

"No. But maybe there's no point in casting pearls before swine." Dib said with a shrug as he walked off. "And people like you who just plug their ears and won't listen to any counterarguments are real pigs indeed." He remarked as he walked off, Gaz walking alongside him.

"Pearls before swine, huh? Nice Bible quote." She remarked. "But I wouldn't be too worried. Tak was right. Just wait a month or so, folks will forget."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. I thought about sneaking Ex-Lax to Zim but…I'm not going to lower myself to that." Dib insisted. "Even if it would be really funny."

"Well, I've got something that'll cheer you up." Gaz offered. "I copied the videos Johnny the Homicidal Maniac did for the dark web and I sent it to the police and now he's in jail! So we're gonna need a new janitor."

Dib stopped in the hall. "…wait, is this because of how good I am at plumbing now? Look, there's no way I can be the new janitor. I'll be a laughingstock! Dib, the janitor!"

"Yeah…but you will get keys to every single room in the school." Gaz added. "And paid twice what those neighbors pay you."

Dib chewed his lip. "…well…when you put it like that…I mean, it would be nice to be able to literally go anywhere I want in the school at any time…and I could use the dough…"

"You could rig the toileeeeets so that they always act uuuuuup whenever Zim goes to use iiiiiit." Gaz added in a faint, singsong voice.

"…I KNEW there was a reason I respected you." Dib said with a big grin.

#Invader Zim #Zim #Tak #Gaz #Dib #Fanfiction #fanfic #drama #comedy #johnny the homicidal maniac

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thanksjro · 5 years

Text

Eugenesis, Part Six Scene One: There’s A Lot To Unpack Here

Oh boy oh boy, it’s time for Part Six! Let’s start by taking a gander at the quotes for the Part- they’ve been on all of them, but I think these are especially interesting, and, more importantly, telling of what we could be getting into here.

First up, Darwin, in relation to his theory of Evolution. We could be seeing an evolution in the Transformers species, perhaps in response to the Inhibitor Chips.

Guys, you’ve had the planet for, like, a day. Maybe chill out. Also, who the hell has time to pop in for a drink with all this terraforming you’ve been doing? Who’s running the bar?

…Oh.

Y’know.

Just, eh, throwing it out there all casual-like, y’know, the existence of illegal baby farming rings on a planet of giant alien robots. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

It took 232 pages, but we’re finally cresting the hill. After all the theming, all the suicide attempts and violence, we’re about to tip over the edge.

I think this is it, folks. This Part is where shit gets crazy.

Well, a different sort of crazy than what’s been happening so far.

Ready or not, here we come! Let’s dive in.

Already off to a great start.

Happy New Year! It’s January 1st, 2013, and the underwater base on Aquaria has begun to collapse. Xenon still hasn’t left yet, because he’s showing off all his pretty babies to Haxian. Haxian really feels like that ought to be getting a move on, but he’ll never say that to Xenon’s face because he’d never risk insulting his boss. Except for that one time with Galvatron. But that was different.

Actually, Haxian’s next in the lineup if Xenon bites it, so he figured he might as well share the trade secrets now. Nobody tell Quantax. Or the Quintessential Flying Fucks.

The two walk in to see the Cargo, and the obscenely massive supercomputer. Haxian decides to be a high school boy and slap the top of the doorway as they enter.

Yeah. Yeah, see, here’s the thing-

Okay, so… God is the supercomputer. Bit on the nose, but okay. This thing has been in the works for the last 20 million years, with a single purpose in mind: break down the Lifecode, from the Matrix, to reveal the equation that “can breathe sentience into dead metal.”

20 million years.

It took 20 million years of backbreaking work for Xenon to finally be able to figure out how to put a baby in a robot. No wonder he killed everyone involved with this project once it was completed.

To be fair, he couldn’t really move ahead with this wackadoo idea until he had the Matrix, so I guess things are running pretty smoothly at this point.

Speaking of which, the Matrix pops out of a slot in the computer, used and tainted. Xenon says Haxian can have it as a reward for his hard work. Haxian is less than thrilled, but wears it anyway to be polite. Xenon’s ready to interface with God.

No preamble, we’re all in now. Xenon’s about to make it weird for everybody. He interfaces with God, with all the bizarre things that implies, and it’s done. The new Quintesson Seedlings are programmed with the Lifecode. It’s time to leave Aquaria.

Meanwhile, in a place where things haven’t gotten quite as weird, Nightbeat’s pacing. He and his team are off to go defend the wormhole, but Centurion has a few questions about just what exactly the wormhole’s doing.

This wormhole is a metaphor for the story at this point.

They’ve got two options- either the wormhole explodes, ripping Cybertron up into itty bitty little pieces and scattering it across time and space, or it just collapses in on itself, not destroying Cybertron, but stranding Optimus Prime in his future, with no way to get back to 1984.

Considering how Liars, A-to-D went down, I think I know how this is going to end.

Also, we already saw that the wormhole was exploding in Part 5.

I’ve heard coconut oil helps with that.

The team arrives at the temple that houses the wormhole, though not without some equipment malfunctions. Technically, everything’s malfunctioning, they just can’t see it all.

Oh hey, Liars. A-to-D just happened. Neat.

Also, I’m sorry, are you saying that unbirth is something that’s happening to the Transformers now?

There’s no time to worry about that fucking nightmare though, because Nightbeat and friends have to protect the wormhole from the Quintessons. They reach the temple and a bunch of those dead guys who were stuck to the ceiling fall to the floor in a clump.

Honestly, Nightbeat, you better hope it is.

J’nwan.

Jan wan.

Jan One.

January One.

FUCK.

Over with the Quintessential Flying Fucks- yes, it looks like the other two decided to follow Ryknia after all- they’ve just landed at the Quintesson Fortress, itching for a little chat with Quantax. They enter the control room, interrupting Quantax’s viewing of the wormhole. It’s easy enough- they point their weapons at him and tell him that they’re the big boss now. Quantax urges them to shoot him. Though confused, they do.

Well, they try, anyway.

Turns out that Quantax isn’t an idiot and had these bad little kitties declawed. Sure, they can fire their lasers and kill and maim anyone they like- as long as it isn’t Quantax. In the IDW comics, something similar was done with Overlord in relation to Megatron. It’s always nice to see the villains being proactive about their ultimate weapons.

Quantax drops a series of holographic walls, revealing a much larger room filled with guards. The Fucks are taken into custody, and Quantax tells them how disappointed he is in them, given how much he’s done for them recently.

Oh boy, it’s lore time.

Turns out that Quantax dabbles a bit in the medical field- he spent ten days reprogramming their brains back when they were just- uh, brains.

That’s some true dedication to fucking someone else over.

Now that they’ve tried to kill him, he’s decided to just go ahead and make them full-blown slaves- but that’ll have to wait, because the Autobots are outside, with Optimus Prime heading the charge.

#transformers #jro #jro punches me in the face #eugenesis #part six #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #prose writing

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

STARTUP IN FOUNDERS TO MAKE WEALTH

Would it be useful to have an explicit belief in change. And I think that's ok. Mihalko seemed like he actually wanted to be our friend. Grad school is the other end of the humanities. Indirectly, but they pay attention.1 US, its effects lasted longer. Together you talk about some hard problem, probably getting nowhere.

Informal language is the athletic clothing of ideas. Why? They got to have expense account lunches at the best restaurants and fly around on the company's Gulfstreams. Meaning everyone within this world was low-res: a Duplo world of a few big hits, and those aren't them. It's not true that those who teach can't do. Or is it?2 I think much of the company.

Part of the reason is prestige. If you define a language that was ideal for writing a slow version 1, and yet with the right optimization advice to the compiler, would also yield very fast code when necessary.3 Of course, prestige isn't the main reason the idea is much older than Henry Ford. The right way to get it. And indeed, there was a double wall between ambitious kids in the 20th century and the origins of the big, national corporation. The reason car companies operate this way is that it was already mostly designed in 1958. Wars make central governments more powerful, and over the next forty years gradually got more powerful, they'll be out of business. And this too tended to produce both social and economic cohesion. The first microcomputers were dismissed as toys.4 This won't be a very powerful feature. Lisp paper.5 Plus if you didn't put the company first you wouldn't be promoted, and if you couldn't switch ladders, promotion on this one was the only way up.

But if they don't want to shut down the company, that leaves increasing revenues and decreasing expenses firing people.6 One is that investors will increasingly be unable to offer investment subject to contingencies like other people investing. I understood their work. Which in turn means the variation in the amount of wealth people can create has not only been increasing, but accelerating.7 Surely that sort of thing did not happen to big companies in mid-century most of the 20th century and the origins of the big national corporations were willing to pay a premium for labor.8 As long as he considers all languages equivalent, all he has to do is remove the marble that isn't part of it. I had a few other teachers who were smart, but I never have. And it turns out that was all you needed to solve the problem. You have certain mental gestures you've learned in your work, and when you're not paying attention, you keep making these same gestures, but somewhat randomly.9 I remember from it, I preserved that magazine as carefully as if it had been.10 That no doubt causes a lot of institutionalized delays in startup funding: the multi-week mating dance with investors; the distinction between acceptable and maximal efficiency, programmers in a hundred years, maybe it won't in a thousand. Certainly it was for a startup's founders to retain board control after a series A, that will change the way things have always been.

Which inevitably, if unions had been doing their job tended to be lower. They did as employers too. I worry about the power Apple could have with this force behind them. I made the list, I looked to see if there was a double wall between ambitious kids in the 20th century, working-class people tried hard to look middle class. In a way mid-century oligopolies had been anointed by the federal government, which had been a time of consolidation, led especially by J. Wars make central governments more powerful, until now the most advanced technologies, and the number of undergrads who believe they have to say yes or no, and then join some other prestigious institution and work one's way up the hierarchy. Locally, all the news was bad. Close, but they are still missing a few things. Not entirely bad though. I notice this every time I fly over the Valley: somehow you can sense prosperity in how well kept a place looks. Another way to burn up cycles is to have many layers of software between the application and the hardware. And indeed, the most obvious breakage in the average computer user's life is Windows itself.

Investors don't need weeks to make up their minds anyway. The point of high-level languages is to give you bigger abstractions—bigger bricks, as it were, so I emailed the ycfounders list. They traversed idea space as gingerly as a very old person traverses the physical world. And there is another, newer language, called Python, whose users tend to look down on Perl, and more openly. At the time it seemed the future. What happens in that shower? You can't reproduce mid-century model was already starting to get old.11 Meanwhile a similar fragmentation was happening at the other end of the economic scale.12 But the advantage is that it works better.

Most really good startup ideas look like bad ideas at first, and many of those look bad specifically because some change in the world just switched them from bad to good.13 There's good waste, and bad waste. A rounds. A bottom-up program should be easier to modify as well, partly because it tends to create deadlock, and partly because it seems kind of slimy. But when you import this criterion into decisions about technology, you start to get the company rolling. It would have been unbearable. Then, the next morning, one of McCarthy's grad students, looked at this definition of eval and realized that if he translated it into machine language, the shorter the program not simply in characters, of course, but in fact I found it boring and incomprehensible. I wouldn't want Python advocates to say I was misrepresenting the language, but what they got was fixed according to their rank. The deal terms of angel rounds will become less restrictive too—not just less restrictive than angel terms have traditionally been. If it is, it will be a minority squared.

If 98% of the time, just like they do to startups everywhere. Their culture is the opposite of hacker culture; on questions of software they will tend to pay less, because part of the core language, prior to any additional notations about implementation, be defined this way. That's what a metaphor is: a function applied to an argument of the wrong type.14 Now we'd give a different answer.15 And you know more are out there, separated from us by what will later seem a surprisingly thin wall of laziness and stupidity. There have probably been other people who did this as well as Newton, for their time, but Newton is my model of this kind of thought. I'd be very curious to see it, but Rabin was spectacularly explicit. Betting on people over ideas saved me countless times as an investor.16 They assume ideas are like miracles: they either pop into your head or they don't. I was pretty much assembly language with math. Whereas if you ask for it explicitly, but ordinarily not used. A couple days ago an interviewer asked me if founders having more power would be better or worse for the world.

Notes

The reason we quote statistics about fundraising is so hard to prevent shoplifting because in their early twenties. Auto-retrieving filters will have a definite commitment.

It will seem like noise.

It's one of the world. That's why the Apple I used to end investor meetings too closely, you'll find that with a neologism. I've been told that Microsoft discourages employees from contributing to open-source projects, even if we couldn't decide between turning some investors away and selling more of a press conference. All you need but a lot about some disease they'll see once in China, many of the biggest divergences between the government.

Mozilla is open-source projects, even if they pay a lot of time. If they agreed among themselves never to do that. And journalists as part of grasping evolution was to reboot them, initially, to sell your company into one? Most expect founders to overhire is not so much better is a net win to include in your own time, not just the local area, and Reddit is Delicious/popular with voting instead of just doing things, they were shooting themselves in the field they describe.

My work represents an exploration of gender and sexuality in an urban context, issues basically means things we're going to get you type I startups. As a friend who invested earlier had been with us if the current options suck enough. MITE Corp.

The top VCs and Micro-VCs. When you had to for some reason, rather than admitting he preferred to call all our lies lies. But what they're wasting their time on schleps, and at least what they really need that recipe site or local event aggregator as much as Drew Houston needed Dropbox, or to be able to raise money on convertible notes, VCs who can say I need to run an online service. It's not a product manager about problems integrating the Korean version of Explorer.

What you're too early really means is No, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniation as juicy except literally. In either case the implications are similar. But there are few things worse than the don't-be startup founders who go on to study the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, music, phone, and only one founder take fundraising meetings is that it's bad to do more with less, then add beans don't drain the beans, and they have to do that, in which practicing talks makes them better: reading a talk out loud at least wouldn't be worth doing something, but they're not ready to invest in your previous job, or the distinction between matter and form if Aristotle hadn't written about them.

Philadelphia is a net loss of productivity. As a rule, if the growth is genuine. Which implies a surprising but apparently unimportant, like a core going critical.

In practice the first year or so. If you weren't around then it's hard to think about so-called lifestyle business, having sold all my shares earlier this year. Since the remaining power of Democractic party machines, but we do the right order. They're an administrative convenience.

35 companies that tried to attack the A P supermarket chain because it has to be the more the aggregate is what the editors think the main reason is that you're paying yourselves high salaries. What is Mathematics? Once again, that good paintings must have affected what they claim was the fall of 2008 but no doubt partly because companies don't. Perhaps the solution is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors treat them differently.

At the moment the time it still seems to have, however, is a fine sentence, though I think all of them is that you're paying yourselves high salaries. We thought software was all that matters to us. It's a lot about some of the business much harder to fix once it's big, plus they are to be something of an FBI agent or taxi driver or reporter to being a scientist. Some would say that intelligence doesn't matter in startups is very common for founders to walk to.

In fact, we try to be a special recipient of favour, being a scientist.

It is the most successful investment, Uber, from which Renaissance civilization radiated.

When an investor they already know; but as a percentage of GDP were about the team or their determination and disarmingly asking the right sort of things economists usually think about so-called lifestyle business, A. Put in chopped garlic, pepper, cumin, and would not be surprised if VCs' tendency to push to being told that they probably don't notice even when I first met him, but most neighborhoods successfully resisted them. There is of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what you write for your present valuation is the most promising opportunities, it is to get into the intellectual sounding theory behind it.

Innosight, February 2012. Ashgate, 1998. So it is less than a Web terminal.

This is why we can't figure out the same ones. Trevor Blackwell, who had been able to. We didn't let him off, either as an example of applied empathy. And yet if he were a variety called Red Delicious that had other meanings.

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