#Lois P. image

[echantedtoon]

Not Thy Neighbor, Thy Want-To-Be Lover

As you sit and do your job, a monster who's became infatuated perfects himself into the perfect man to become your husband.

(Warnings for mentions of death, blood, killing, and maybe yandereish themes.)

"Mmm...Hello."

A thin glass was all that separated himself and the one.

Tired eyes stared endlessly into the glass, the one thing separating himself from the one destined to be his. The image reflected in the glass and staring into his soul was one of perfection. Spent MONTHS perfecting on and heading many warnings for in order to slip by and gain access to what's destined to be his. Tired eyes that took a lifetime to perfect darkening his skin cells to the exact right shade of black to pass as sleep depravation. Forcing his outside to crease to perfect every wrinkle. Spots to form every freckle. Every little detail on the outside.

Just so he could come back every day and see her again.

"Mr. Mosses?"

"Hm?" Perfectly replicated eyes blinked surprised at the woman on the other side who just rose a deadpanned brows higher. "I asked for your identification, Sir." Her petite hand gestured a finger pointed downwards meaning the slot hole in front of him. "If you could please hand it over, Mr. Mosses."

Professional.

She was always professional. Never asking about your day or small talk legitimately at all. Only professional talk doing her work until her night shift was over and the day doorman came to take her place until her next shift again. The room he stood had two doors. One leading into the building and one leading out with both being able to lock him securely in until the disposal team came in to kill him.

IF he was caught that is. 

He hasn't been caught YET. Many run ins with trying his disguise out on the outside and on people who knew the old milkman ensured his new body would get perfected everyday. Every second. All just to start his new life in society and eventually getting everything he wanted. 

"I'm sorry. Yes of course." Hands perfected humanly reached into his clothes and pulled out a stolen ID card but it was technically him now so rightfully it was his too. The small thing slid into the slot and down into the small secured office as her eyes looked at it. "Forgive me. The extra shifts have gotten me a little tired."

"Please ensure that you remember next time,Sir," was her automatic response as she held it up along with two pieces of paper. No doubt comparing the actual legit ID card to the information on the sheet. The other one a checklist her hand marked off with a pen. Always following every procedure to the T. He'd expect nothing less of the one who'd be his wife. "Entry request form please."

"Of course. I have it right here." Another smaller folded piece of paper was taken from the same pocket anf inserted into the same slot. 

Her hands unfolded it as the same routine as the ID card examination repeated. She was perfect as she read. Eyes narrowed in focus and brows furrowed in determination. She was all perfect. It's what he wanted really. There was others of his mind that took her nature for granted but all almost had the same dream. A life. He wanted that when he first came to this place. It was plastered as the one true life and he fell hard for the fantasy.

To live a life of normality. Humanity. 

Having a nice home with a picket fence and a steady job with a cute little wife and children to come home to. He knew he wanted that. What counted as 'family' to him before was nothing. Only caring about themselves. Most of his kind were killers. Killing their way to get a place in society only it failed miserably every single time for the blood thirsty ones. He never saw a Dopple that was successful except one. In human terms she would've been considered his 'cousin' as she was a spawn born from one of his sire's 'siblings'. He recognized her even through her absolutely PERFECT human disguise. She had taken a woman's place, Lois Stilnsky if he remembered right. She looked perfectly happy hanging onto the arm of her new husband and bouncing a toddler son that couldn't have been older than two maybe three at the time he saw the family. Whether the baby boy was hers after taking the old wife's place or was already born before his possible original mother was done away with he didn't know. But she had looked absolutely happy to take over his raising herself and become a wife and mother.

He wanted that. By any means necessary. Oh he never killed the original Francis. Yes he copied his appearance. Yes he took the old Francis's ID. Yes he now WAS Francis Mosses..But he wasn't the one who killed the original. He wasn't sure if he was going to kill the original. Oh he heavily contemplated it as he studied every route he made on his delivery route. Studying EVERY customer new, old, and current. His boss, coworkers, friends, but no family..He didn't have any family left which made things easier in the long run. But besides the point- He spent HOURS looking through windows studying every INCH of his apartment and routine just to make himself perfect! 

However he wasn't the only one who decided he'd be the perfect topic. He studied him and spent time making sure he'd be perfectly blended in. The one who actually did the deed was fast and hasty. Did away with the original messily. He still cringed at the gruesome memory of him being devoured like a steak fed to a dog. The idiot then adapted his form and ran off without even taking the ID or forms needed. He was dead within minutes of trying to waltz into the building covered in blood.  He vowed to never take a human life after that after all that wouldn't fit into his new life. 

He waited half a day after recovering what he could from the wreckage to seize what he needed being sure to thoroughly clean them off before deciding to go into his new life. He probably shouldn't have. He was shaken up with nerves and fear, his outside appearance while perfect was disheveled and unkempt. He was so sure when he turned in the papers into the day doorman he'd be killed but oddly his appearance ended up working in his favor-

"Oh, Francis!," the stranger exclaimed as soon as he saw his shaking form. "Thank goodness you're ok! I've been getting a few calls from your boss asking if you were here! I was worried when I heard your truck was found with you missing!"

"Um..Y-Yes." he stuttered feeling sweat run his new face. "A doppelganger ended up throwing the door open and tried to get me but thankfully my driver's door was open so I just jumped out and ran. Hid in an alleyway for a while until I thought it was safe to come back."

It was half a lie. The other Dopple did jump into the van and Old Francis did manage to get out and away...but the poor soul didn't make it past an abandoned building before he was a goner.

The day doorman nodded with a smile. "Well thank goodness you're alright. I'll happily call your boss back to ease his worries."

"T-Thank you B-But I'm tired and just want to shower. Can i-I go inside?"

"Sure! I just need to see your ID card and request forms. Better safe than sorry than they say. Y'know that Doppler was in here looking like you but it must've gotten hungry and eaten a stray dog or something. Tried to pass off the blood as 'scarlet milk'. What do those things take me for? An idiot?!"

"Heh..R-Right. A lot of them aren't t-too bright." He shook so badly handing the cleaned up forms to him. He was going to die next he knew it.

"You got that right." He hummed looking over everything very quick before smiling and to his shock pushed them back through the slot to him. "Okie doke! You're good to go! Try to rest up ok, Bud? You've had a really scary day by the sounds of it."

"Mmm. Yes. Scary."

He shook with every step taking the forms back and heading to now his home. He couldn't believe it himself. His now boss calling his now apartment to be sure he was ok before giving him the next week off to collect himself. It gave him a good chance to check over his now belongings and the rest of the home he never got to see through the windows. It was..nice. Pretty plain. Bland. But normal and certainly an upgrade from the alleys and rooftops and abandoned buildings especially in bad weather. It wasn't until the end of the week when he went to his now job and did his now rounds. It was late at night coming back for the first time at such an hour and to his surprise it was not the friendly now friend of his day doorman. No. He stopped cold. A fist seizing his heart as the most beautiful woman he's ever encountered looked at him neutrally.

"Entrance request form and identification card please."

He now knew what love truly was. 

"Both are correct." Her hands pushed the two things back through the slot continuing to check off the list before leaning back to look at something on the wall. "...And you're expected as usual. Will you please take a few steps back to be examined?"

"Mmm. Alright." 

The usual thing. Making sure he didn't have any abnormalities on his upper body, lower body, sides, and back. Taking a few steps back for her to fully look him over arms raised and fully turning around to let her see his entire body. 

"Take off your hat please." He obliged his his picture didn't have his hat on him and she probably wanted to check him for any horns or other things. "Alright. Give me one moment to call your apartment to confirm your status." Yep. Every. Single. Step. By the book. 

He couldn't wait to have her in his arms. In a wedding dress in that magical day he always heard about. Having their own little ones running around. The picture perfect family as he went to work and brought home the bacon and came back to a smiling wife with children playing at her feet and dinner waiting for him. Maybe even a dog too. He'd like to get them a nice house in the countryside. Away from the disgusting city. He heard that was ideal for growing families. 

"Alright. No one's home. So it all checks out." The phone was placed back with a click as she looked at him. "You're free to head inside. Have a nice night, Mr. Mosses."

The door opened with a loud noise ...but her brow rose in surprise when he instead approached the window and leaned down. "Actually I have a question for you if that's alright."

"And that being what, Sir?"

His smile brightened. "Would you perhaps like to have dinner with me sometime?"

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Best Intentions - Chapter Two

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Angst. Word count: ~3.2k

Summary: She deals with the fallout of what she saw at the garage and Tom asks a big question. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She rushes out to the back room once she gets to the shop, sitting down on a palate of unopened tins of beans, and puts her head in her hands. Having spent the entire walk from the garage trying her best not to cry, she has succeeded, but there’s a tightness in her chest and throat, and a heaviness in her heart.

The image of Tom brushing that woman’s hair behind her ear plays on a loop in her mind, the pit in her stomach feeling as though it widens a little each time. She wants nothing more than to go home and hide under the duvet, pretending it’s all just a bad dream.

Reality comes crashing back down when her mum calls out to her from the front of the shop. “Papers are all done! I’m off now, love. You at Tom’s tonight?”

God, she was supposed to go to Tom’s tonight. How could she now?

“N-no,” she calls back, trying her best to keep her voice steady, “I’ll come home once I’ve closed up.”

“Alright, well it’s corned beef hash for tea. I’ll see you later!”

The thought of food turns her stomach. She swallows thickly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, pushing back the way her vision blurs with tears. “Be out front in a minute,” she shouts with more confidence than she feels. “Bye, mum!”

She lets out a heavy exhale once she hears the shop door open then close again, then leaves the back room, determined not to spare Tom a second thought for the rest of the day.

Easier said than done. As the morning bleeds into early afternoon, she feels like she can’t escape him.

She reaches into her pocket, looking for a pen to make a note of which sweets they need to reorder, when her fingers wrap around Tom’s lighter. She pulls it out, turning it over in her hands with a sigh, before placing it on the side of the till. There was no way she’d be going out of her way to give it back now. If he wants it he can get it himself.

There is a steady stream of customers throughout the day, all wanting sweets, newspapers, cigarettes, sugar and various other items, so her mind is given a brief respite. That is until near to closing, when she hears Lois call to her from the stairs that lead up to the flat.

“Would you give me a hand with the pram? These bloody stairs will be the death of me.”

She moves through to the back and up the stairs, smiling at little Vera as the toddler giggles to herself from where she sits in her pram. She grabs the end of it, lifting, and walks back down, as Lois carries the other end.

“You alright? You’re looking a bit peaky.” Lois says, once they’ve set the pram down and she wheels it out through the shop front.

She pauses, taken aback by the question, unsure of how to answer, she can’t possibly tell her the truth.

“Oh…yeah, fine, just a bit tired is all.” She replies with a weak smile.

As she looks up she’s met with the blue eyed stare of Lois, and her heart twists painfully.

Christ, her eyes are so much like Tom’s, it hurts to look at them. If only their lives weren’t so irrevocably entwined.

“Nearly closing time though, eh? Expect you won’t be so tired once you’re round at Tom’s,” she says with a knowing look. “Anyway, I’m off to Connie’s. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She waves Lois off, flipping the closed sign as she shuts the door behind her, forcing the tears back yet again.

On autopilot, her feet move to take her in the direction of Tom’s flat once she’s locked up, and with agonising realisation she has to turn around and walk back in the direction of home.

She feels numb for the rest of the evening. The tea her mum has lovingly prepared is tasteless in her mouth and goes mostly untouched.

The image of Tom and the woman he was with continues to play on a loop in her mind, until finally she can no longer stand it and takes herself to bed, pulling the duvet firmly over her head.

She is bleary eyed and exhausted the following morning, dragging herself to the shop alongside her mum, to help with the papers. It’s not a job she usually helps out with, and if her mum thinks it odd that she’s suddenly lending a hand then she keeps it to herself.

A few hours later, the lunch hour rush has just died down and she’s tidying the paper sweet bags behind the counter when a familiar voice causes her to freeze.

“Thief!”

She looks up slowly, seeing Tom reach for his lighter beside the till. Her heart drums wildly inside her chest and she swallows thickly, not knowing quite what to say.

“When were you gonna give this back then?” He asks with a grin, before pocketing it. “Been having to light all my fags with a matchbook.”

She feels her skin heat up, biting back the bile and anger that surges up through her throat. How can he be so nonchalant?

“Yeah, sorry…” she says quietly, “I was gonna give it back but then…”

Then I saw you with another woman.

“...then I just didn’t,” she finishes, her voice sounding weak.

Tom quirks an eyebrow, eyeing her with suspicion. “You didn’t come round to mine last night,” he states matter of factly, drumming his fingers softly on the top of the shop counter.

“No,” she says, squirming, avoiding his gaze, keeping her eyes trained on the paper bags in her hands. “I just–”

“Didn’t?” He finishes for her, his eyes narrowing.

It’s then that she looks up, meeting his accusatory stare. How dare he be angry with her? She wants to give him a piece of her mind, and is about to open her mouth to do just that when Lois steps out from the back.

“Thought I heard the pair of you,” she says, rounding the counter. “What you both up to tomorrow night?”

“Depends on why you’re asking,” Tom says, with a smirk and a cock of his head.

“Cheeky!” Lois chides, swatting at him. “Connie’s managed to get us a spot singing at the Ducie tomorrow night, if you fancy it? Been a while since we’ve sung together, should be fun.”

She blanches, not quite knowing what to say, frantically wracking her mind for any excuse to say no. “Won’t you need someone to stop at home with Vera?”

“Your mum’s offered,” she says cheerily.

Shit. Of course she has.

“Oh…oh yeah, I’ll be there then,” she says reluctantly, a tight smile on her face.

“Looks like I will be an’ all then,” Tom says, eyeing her carefully, before looking back at his sister. “S’pose it can’t hurt to listen to your caterwauling if I can have a few pints at the same time.”

Lois rolls her eyes. “Don’t be late! We’re on at seven.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tom raises his eyebrows and then turns his attention back to her as she stands awkwardly behind the till. “Will I be seeing you tonight then?”

She purses her lips, inhaling deeply through her nose. She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t, simply shaking her head.

“Right”, he says curtly, “tomorrow it is then. Dinner break’s almost over, I’d best be getting back.”

Her shoulders relax once he’s finally gone, and she feels like she can breathe again. There is a part of her that regrets not having it out with him, but she knows her mum’s shop isn’t the place for it. She hopes her rejection of him stings just as much as what she’d been privy to yesterday morning.

Lois looks at her curiously over her shoulder as she moves to go back upstairs. “Something going on there?”

“No,” she replies, going back to tidying the sweet bags, “nothing at all.”

The Ducie Arms is busy when she arrives on Saturday evening, and she finds herself grateful for how hot, crowded and loud it is, no chance of needing to have any awkward conversations.

She keeps a firm grip on her pint glass, eyes scanning the crowd. Those not sitting around tables chatting have gathered near to the pub’s small stage, waiting for Lois and Connie’s set to begin.

She sighs inwardly as she spots Tom in her peripheral vision. He sidles up to her uncertainly, leaning in to be heard above the rowdiness around him.

“Knocked for you on the way here, your mum said you’d left already.”

His breath against the shell of her ear causes her to shudder, and her hold on her glass tightens, focusing on the feeling of the moisture of the condensation that’s gathering on the outside of it to ground herself.

“Didn’t realise you wanted to walk here together, sorry”, she says, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead.

His nostrils flare slightly, a sign he’s getting annoyed. She bristles, expecting him to say something hurtful, just like he always does when he loses his temper.

“Drink?” He asks, surprising her so much that for a moment her composure almost slips.

She blinks rapidly, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Got one, thanks” she replies, holding up her pint glass.

“Right. Suit yourself,” he tells her, before pushing through the crowd to the bar.

She is certain that Lois and Connie’s voices harmonise beautifully together, though she is unable to focus on any of the songs they sing. Tom’s intense, annoyed stare feels as though it’s burning a hole in the side of her head. Every time she glances over, he’s staring at her, clearly not paying any more attention than what she is.

As soon as their final song comes to a close, and she’s given them an obligatory clap, she makes a beeline for the doors of the pub, eager to get away.

The relief of the cool night air against her skin is short-lived, as the doors swing back open and Tom follows her out.

“Walk you home?” He offers, hands in his pockets.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, go back inside,” she tells him, beginning to walk away.

Tom jogs ahead, rounding on her, blocking her path. “What the fuck is up wi’ you?!” He stares angrily down at her.

“Nothing, why?” She lies with a shrug.

“You’re acting weird, things aren’t right between us,” he says, sidestepping to stop her retreat.

“We’re mates, aren’t we?” Her voice is meek, in direct conflict with the neutrality she wants to convey. 

“I dunno,” he huffs, “are we? You’ve barely said two words to me the last couple of days, you won’t come round to the flat–”

“Pretty sure you’ve got someone else that can come round in my place,” she snaps, cutting him off.

Tom’s brow furrows, his lips pulling back in confusion. “What are you on about?”

Three days’ worth of pent up emotions erupt as she shouts at him. “I fucking saw you, Tom! Came by the garage to give you your lighter back on Thursday morning and saw you with some woman. You were all over each other!”

His expression remains frozen in confusion for a moment, before his eyebrows raise, realisation dawning, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re mardy over that? You’re jealous?!”

Her fists clench at her sides, her body hot with a mixture of anger and humiliation. She’s unsure whether she wants to smack him or burst into tears. “Oh, piss off!” She spits, pushing past him and striding away down the street.

“Wait!” He calls out after her, quickly catching up with her in long strides. “It’s not what you think, I promise. It’s just…” he sighs, “...they tip if I flirt with them.”

She scowls, nose wrinkling in disgust, not slowing her pace. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?!”

“It’s just flirting, nothing more than that, I swear. I’ve been saving the tips, I figure one day the money will come in handy.”

While it’s a relief to hear he hasn’t been messing around with other women, her feelings still weigh heavily upon her, and it’s clear Tom can see it too.

“What else is botherin’ ya?”

She stops, sighing and running a hand through her hair. “What are we doing, Tom? What is this? Mates don’t get jealous like this.”

His face immediately softens, he reaches for her hand, and she lets him. “The money I’ve been setting aside, it’s for the future, our future. Not as mates, whatever you want us to be.”

“Tommy, I–”

“No, wait! I’ll do you one better. It’s Sunday tomorrow, so the shop’s closed, yeah?”

She nods.

“Good, don’t go out. I’ll come to yours tomorrow, show you exactly what it is that we’re doing.”

This time it’s her turn to stare at him in confusion, her lips pressed in a tight line. “What are you gonna do?”

“Just trust me, alright?”

Tom walks her the rest of the way home in silence, a plume of smoke billowing out behind him from his lit cigarette.

When they reach her front door, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. The sensation of having him in such close proximity once more makes her tummy flutter. The gesture is so tender that she feels annoyed at how easy it is for her to forgive him. How can she be angry at him when he looks at her like that, like he needs her?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. Night, Tommy.”

“Night, darlin’,” he says with a wink, before walking off down the street.

Her mind races with the possibilities of what he could have planned as she goes to sleep that night. 

The following day she’s filled with nervous energy, unable to keep still as she waits for him to arrive. Unfortunately for her, he isn’t prompt with his arrival and it’s not until she sits at the kitchen table with her mum to peel potatoes for their tea that she hears the door knock.

The potato and peeler she’s holding both clatter to the table top, the legs of the chair scraping noisily against the kitchen floor as she stands abruptly, rushing to answer the front door, wiping her hands on her skirt.

“Your mum in?” Tom asks, as she opens the door, eyes bright and a confident smile on his face.

“Yeah, why?” She asks, eyes narrowing slightly. If he’s come round to ask for a quickie on the sofa she’ll slam the door in his face.

“Need to speak to her,” he says airily, brushing past her.

Her suspicion turns quickly to confusion as she trails after him into the kitchen. Her eyes feel as though they’ll bulge out of her head with shock as she sees him get down on one knee in front of her mum.

“Tom, what-”

He holds up a hand to silence her, continuing to look at her mum. “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Her mum’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, she looks wide eyed from Tom to her, then back again.

For a moment she’s too stunned to speak, and when she finds her voice again it’s quiet and shaky. “Tommy, get up. Please.”

He stands slowly, unsure of himself as his fingers twitch by his sides. She knows that if he had his lighter to hand right now he’d be flicking it.

“I just…I know it’s the proper thing to ask your dad, but he’s not around anymore. Wanted to do right by ya,” he says, and suddenly he’s that little boy again, apologising for pretending to spit in her hair.

“Can we talk?” She asks, her eyes soft with sympathy.

He nods, his gaze lowered and walks out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, mum,” she says, “I’ll explain later, okay? Just need to pop out for a bit.”

Her mum huffs a soft laugh, continuing to peel potatoes. “Fine by me, love.”

They sit on their wall. The same wall that has been a part of so many moments in their lives as they’ve passed sweets back and forth. This time it’s a ring box that Tom passes to her.

She opens it, looking at the delicate gold band nestled within. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

“I know it’s not much to look at,” he says apologetically, “was hoping to have a bit more time to save up for something more flash, but maybe I can have a diamond or something added to it once I’ve got the money.”

Her eyes look up from the ring box to Tom. His gaze is so pleading it makes her heart ache and what she’s about to tell him is twice as difficult. “Tom, I can’t marry you.”

“Why not?” He asks, a frown tugging at his brows.

“Because we can’t just jump straight from whatever this is into marriage,” she explains gently, “we’ve never even courted.”

“Courted?!” He says mockingly, a laugh escaping him. “Who d’you think you are?!”

She can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth, as she looks away, embarrassed. “Don’t take the piss.”

“Come on, you and me, it makes sense.”

She chews her lip anxiously. She hates this, hates knocking him back. “We’ve just been mates up until now, you’ve always said that, why do you suddenly want a wife?”

Tom sighs, rolling his eyes. “Just try the ring on, see if it fits.”

“Us getting married isn’t going to suddenly fix everything, Tommy, you’re not well.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

The anger that flashes in his eyes as his jaw ticks and he stares her down causes her to shrink away from him. He’s never looked at her like that before, it frightens her.

“Since you’ve been back, you’re not the same,” she says quietly, turning the ring box around in her hands, “you’re not well. I think–”

“Don’t you fucking dare say shell shock, I swear to god,” he grits out lowly.

“I didn’t say that, I just think you need to speak to someone. Getting married isn’t going to fix anything, Tom,” her tone is pleading, desperate.

“Everything I’ve done, all of it, has always been for you,” he says bitterly. “The thought of coming back to Longsight, back to you, was all that kept me going on that fucking ship. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend the rest of my life with, but if you’re able to look at me and not feel the same way then maybe we’re not doing what I think we’re doing.”

A lump forms in her throat, as a void opens in her chest. “What are you saying?”

He swallows, sniffing, fingers drumming nervously on his knees. “Maybe we’re not mates, maybe we’re not anything.”

“Are you finishing with me?” Her voice wobbles, betraying the tears she’s holding back.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, tone suddenly callous as the mask goes back up, “are you giving that ring back?”

She doesn’t want this. Not like this. She sniffs back her tears, cringing at how pathetic the single syllable sounds as it passes her lips. “Yes.”

He exhales, his expression hateful as he nods slowly, taking the box back. “Then yeah, I’m finishing with you.”

Tom jumps down from the wall, walking quickly away and she watches him go. The tears that she’s spent the past four days pushing down spill over in earnest, as her shoulders shake with the force of her sobs.

Not mates. Not anything.

[thevindicativevordan]

My Adventures With Superman: S2 Review

Another season down and it's time to take stock. SPOILERS BELOW!

My feelings fresh off the finale has me just as high on the show as I was last season. MAWS continues to be the best adaption of Superman since the Donner films. Furthermore I've realized that MAWS is extremely close to what the original Ultimate Marvel was. Everything in the 1610 universe ultimately came back to the Super Soldier Serum. Here everything connects to Krypton: all the villains in some way tie into it, Superman and Supergirl obviously are it's Last Children, Krypton reshaped the entire galaxy - potentially having wiped out the GLC and fought Apokolips! It's an entire universe built around exploring the impact of an imperialist Krypton and that's what sells me on the concept. Strikes me as funny in the wake of "Absolute DC" trying to offer an Ultimate DCU around the same time. Now moving on to the three major areas of concern:

The Trio

Clark - Our boy did not have an easy time of it this season. Constantly being faced with xenophobia, struggling to find a place for himself, relationship issues with Lois, his cousin turning out to be a brainwashed warrior, and then the evil AI that ran the Kryptonian Empire trying to turn him into a weapon. His character arc from S1, learning to embrace the weirder sides of himself instead of suppressing them, continues this season. Literally so in the case of unlocking his remaining powers like arctic breath, but also mentally. Brainiac attacks his self-image in order to undermine his sense of self-worth. Telling that even a Kal raised in a fake simulation of Krypton doesn't fit in with Kryptonian society any better than he does on Earth. I love that Lois gets him to believe in himself again by inverting the famous Lois & Clark line. Here, Superman is not what Clark can do - Superman is who Clark is. By believing in himself and following his heart, this Superman comes to realize that home isn't a place but the people you're with. Home is Ma, Pa, Lois, Jimmy, and at the end of the season Kara too.

Lois - Last season only began to unpack her daddy issues, and that was the focus of her arc this season. She loves Clark and she loves her dad but she can't overcome her massive inferiority complex caused by her dad's treatment of her growing up. She could never count on him to be there for her and she ends up projecting that on to Clark. Also she has a bad habit of emulating her dad's paranoia, she's willing to go right for the kryptonite to take out Kara, and doesn't trust other Kryptonians off the bat. Her arc culminates when she affirms her love for Clark in the Black Mercy and when she urges Kara to overcome the Eradicator programming, instead of doubting Kara's inner goodness.

Jimmy - Finally gets his own romance storyline with Kara and it was as cute as Clois! Glad Jimmy stopped being a third wheel to the Clois drama and got his own relationship difficulties to cope with. Also glad that we got that episode where Clark and Jimmy bro'd it up at the Science Expo and Clark told Jimmy how much he valued their friendship. Was asking for that in S1, and we finally got that moment here. As expected. Jimmy lost his billions but I think getting a Kryptonian girlfriend and saving Superman from Brainiac were worthy trade offs.

The Villains

Brainiac - Completely won over on this Brainiac. Emerson might have supplanted Burton as my favorite Brainiac voice. Eschewing the typical cold and emotionless Brainiacs, this take is joyfully malevolent. He takes pleasure in Superman's shock and outrage over the enslavement of the Kryptonian Empire's Foes for use as training fodder, he spitefully targets Earth first after stealing Superman's body, he gaslights and mocks Kara for daring to stand up to him, he's overseen the genocide of multiple planets (including Krypton) - he's pure evil. Even monologues at one point about how he's been "infected" by compassion on account of raising Kara and he needs to purge himself of that weakness. Brainiac alone justifies MAWS going with an imperialist Krypton instead of the usual isolationist take, we wouldn't have gotten this fantastic performance otherwise.

Amanda Waller - Never been more hateable than she is here. She tries to kill her old friend and colleague Sam with zero hesitation or remorse, experiments on civilians and is willing to kill them to cover it up, treats her underlings like crap, no surprise she and Lex hit it off. At least by the end of the season she's been deposed and is on the run, finally gets some measure of comeuppance for her actions.

Lex Luthor - To no one's great surprise, "Alex" did indeed turn out to be Lex Luthor. Amazing how MAWS pulled off exactly what DCEU Lex was trying to be, an evil techbro in the Zuckerburg mold, and in doing so reinforced how absolutely terrible the DCEU take was. Lex here is recognizably Lex: he's ego-driven, weaponizes xenophobia against Superman, reveals he was the one who actually created the Parasite suit, synthesizes kryptonite cores for the Metallos, acquires his business competition AmerTek, and is generally a condescending dickwad. Love that whenever he's being particularly evil, we get the iconic anime villain shot where the glasses become opaque. After this season he finally has the Lexcorp building Only thing left to do (besides give Lex a shave) is really develop the feud between Lex and Superman. Right now Supes doesn't even know Lex, and Lex has merely been using Superman as a sacrificial lamb for his own advancement. I do not want a sympathetic Lex, I want this to be the guy that Supes actually dislikes intensely.

Deathstroke - Fully settled into his role as the designated jobber at this point. Admittedly it's fun to see him be smug only to repeatedly get his ass spanked by Superman and others, but I'm not happy that they're keeping him around for S3 as Lex's underling. He's no threat to Superman at this point!

Damage - Weird choice, bad design. Don't really care if he shows up again or not.

Atomic Skull - Sounds cool, looks cool, only complaint is that he barely got any use! Showrunners I am begging you to bench Deathstroke, or outright eject him from the show, and start focusing more on the actual Superman villains. Since Waller's Task Force X seems to have been disbanded, could we possibly see him get a job as a cop like in the comics? I would support Atomic Skull being the anti-Superman element in the Metropolis Police Department while Maggie Sawyer finally debuts to contrast with him.

Livewire & Heatwave - After the heist and finale episodes I'm fine with them exiting from the show. Livewire in particular felt completely jarring and disconnected from how she was characterized in the AmerTak episode, she went from being willing to hurt kids to giving Lois a pep talk on the power of Love and saving Metropolis. Mitigating circumstances to be sure with Brainiac trying to destroy the Planet, but the S2 finale definitely felt like the show redeeming the S1 villains and shooing them out.

The Supporting Cast

Kara Zor-El/Supergirl - Now I can't say she's my favorite Kara yet, but I can share that like most of the MAWS cast, she easily could attain that status if she keeps getting used in S3. Poor thing, she exchanged the trauma of being old enough to feel Krypton's loss acutely for the trauma of having been brainwashed into being a worldkiller. Benefit of that is the show wrote them more like siblings because they were the same age, and I adored that. Episode 7 was one of my top 3 favorite episodes of the series thus far, watching them tease each other was heartwarming.

When Superman realized she had a crush on Jimmy and started to tease her, that was one of my favorite Superman/Supergirl moment ever! Both her and Kal are looking for the place they belong and they find it in each other by the end of the season. Excited to see what becomes of their relationship, and Jimmy's romance with Kara, next season.

Perry White - Remains the GOAT Perry. His evil laughter when Jimmy complained to him about the new interns not listening had me laughing right alongside him. Oh and changing the nickname Jimmy gives him to "Per-Per" instead of "Chief" goes a long way to justify why Perry finds Jimmy annoying and hates his nickname. Showing up to take Waller to task for arresting Jimmy and Lois in the penultimate episode, distracting her while Steve jailbreaks them? Most badass thing any version of Perry has ever done.

General Sam Lane - Complex is the only word I can use to describe him. Clearly he loves Lois and we get an entire episode dedicated to showing that, but he's still a bad dad who is responsible for her attachment issues. By the end of this season he's come around to Superman's side, and I have to admit I'm not a fan of that. Wish he was staying as an antagonist, but as long as we don't have Superman working with/for the government in S3 then I'll cope.

Cat and Steve - Ronnie was a non-entity again this season, I don't think she even appeared, but wow did Cat level up to be my favorite take on her alongside MAWS Steve being the GOAT Steve Lombard. Cat's speech to Lois about how as reporters they cover the story but they don't become the story shows that underneath her gossip exterior lies a woman of principles. Steve meanwhile cemented himself as the best bro you could ask for, and I loved his pep talk to Kara

Vicki Vale - Her shonen style rivalry with Lois over the AmerTek story gave me life. Conceding gracefully to Lois after being outscooped and offering Lois a job in Gotham, plus appearing in the penultimate episode to support Perry confronting Waller made me actually respect her. Still don't like her for smearing Superman in S1, but you can see that she is what Lois is on the road to becoming - albeit with more principles.

John Henry Irons - My guy in the flesh!!! Needs a proper war suit and to get that shield filled in but he's here and a pretty straightforward adaption to boot! Worked at AmerTek, built weapons for them, realized they were corrupt and has to atone by taking them down. Seeing him show up again in the finale was thrilling, I hope that he continues to appear in S3 as an ally of Kal and Kara. We've got a proper Superfamily being built up, now all we need is Kon.

General Thoughts

Blatant Darkseid tease or misdirection? Sure looks like an Omega Beam, but Brainiac makes it clear he's the one who "destroyed" Krypton. Jor-El was trying to negotiate a peace treaty with "their enemies" which does leave open the possibility that said enemies were Darkseid and Apokolips, and Brainiac has the Parademon mind scan.

Brainiac says he used "Krypton's greatest weapon" against Krypton, and that did not seem to be Kryptonite. Could he have sent the entire planet to the Phantom Zone instead? Would certainly align with the line about "casting Krypton into hell".

S2 ends with Superman being pretty much as happy as can be. He and Lois are back, he saved and redeemed Kara, Waller is deposed, he doesn’t appear to have any emotional problems left. I’m thinking S3 is going to have Lex and Zod as the Big Bads, and instead of being a conquerer, Zod is going to break out of the PZ and be utterly ruthless about bringing all of Krypton with him.

I bet the show does a take on the New Krypton storyline, with S3 having Zod succeed and then Kal and Kara have to choose between their adopted and birth worlds (maybe even their adopted and birth parents in the Kents vs. Els for maximum drama). Do they want to go live on New Krypton with the Els or stay on Earth? Plus Zod will probably be revealed as Nemesis Omega, and they'll set up a war coming between Earth and NK with Sam Lane and Zod leading the two armies. Then S4 will be Darkseid, with Apokolips having learned that their old foes are still alive

Metallo needs to get a proper adaption next season. I know these weebs have watched Cyberpunk Edgerunners, give me Metallo in the vein of Adam Smasher!

PLEASE BRING IN BLOODSPORT, he's in the bloody comics for God's sake! No excuse not to have him next season.

They better have plans for a proper Jack Nimball Toyman because that Winslow Schott take was lame

Bring Parasite back next season, not having him at all this season made me realize how great he was as a villain. Oh and bring Mxy back too!

Kryptonian armor enhancing Kryptonian abilities like heat vision sold me on the concept. Funny how right as the live action take reverts to the trunks, MAWS gives Superman a new suit without them. I like the new suit myself.

Lana ended up being the one person on the leaked voice actor list to not show up is odd. Was her part cut perhaps, or was that the one fake name on the list?

Wyatt has said that when MAWS Superman becomes the confident self-assured "Superdad", that's when the show is over for him. Keeping that in mind I feel like S3 needs to kill some characters, specifically the Kents. Right now Clark has his safe space in Smallville, a loving relationship with Lois, a brother relationship with Jimmy, and a good reputation in Metropolis, and now Kara too. Logically he should be confident and self-assured, meaning they need to undermine that if they want the show to continue. Clark suffering the death of his adopted parents, right around the time his birth parents return and offer him a place on New Krypton? Certainly would be how *I* would blow up his new happy status quo.

If Superman is no longer going to be fighting the government, you know who would be a great villain to bring in? Red Cloud. Having a villain work at the Daily Planet in undercover mode like Superman would be a perfect way to keep the focus on the Planet cast.

[the-fallen-stones]

I am bad at hiding. If you are my friend, you might recognize me. For that, I apologize.

You may call me anything you like. I enjoy and encourage nicknames. But if you need a name, Mica works.

If you would like me to write something for you, you can request it, and I will if I can. It may not be immediately. But I will try.

A warning, my descriptions can sometimes be graphic, or a little violent. It is usually metaphorical, though, don't worry.

I like both storm and calm. Chaos and comfort. I enjoy things that invoke thought, or creativity. I love hugs, snuggles, animals (especially dragons and cats), tea, fiction, and poetry.

Please do not bring up politics here. It's not that I don't care. But I've anguished myself enough over them and honestly, I need a break.

Never assume hostility! It was probably an accident. My tone comes across weird sometimes.

Tags:

#storm's eye - things that strike me, and I'd like to come back to.

#mica speaks - anything original, by me.

#mica reblogs - empty reblogs.

#mica elaborates - reblogs that are not empty.

#mica rambles - I have rambled.

#mica rhymes - my poetry.

#mika doodles - my art.

#mika's music - my favorite songs.

#mica recites - my favorite poems or stories.

#mika inquires - I ask questions.

#mika responds - I answer questions.

Credit for the image goes to @poetryforall.

My wonderful mutuals:

@kimu-dem - Keeper of comfort.

@thatrando13 - The wanderer.

@carrotsinnovember - A gentle friend.

@hersurvival - Blanket fort against thunder and snowstorms.

@caustic-splines - Writer of old love letters.

@abiethewizardduck

@randomshowerpoems - The wise wordsmith.

@poemsofanentomologist

@galaxys-universe

@literaryvein - The bright storm outside.

@same-skies

These titles can always change, as I know you better. If you'd like me to use a different one I certainly can.

Some of my favorite songs are;

One Day You Will Fly Too, by Aimee Carty,

Come Along, Does the Swallow Dream of Flying?, Egg and Soldiers, Pelicans We, Half Past Three, Run, and Linger Longer, by Cosmo Sheldrake,

Glow in the Dark by Vian Izak,

Rush of Life, My Neighbor's Car Alarm, Desire, and Rain, by Tony Ann. (Classical.)

Experience, Fly, and Eros, by Ludovico Einaudi. (Classical.)

Ilomilo by Billie Eilish,

Two, Sun, Eight, and Light by Sleeping at Last,

Big Black Car and San Luis by Gregory Alan Isakov,

Passing Through by Kaden MacKay,

The Mountain Song, Be Nobody, and Better is the End, by TopHouse,

Changing Days, Irish Eyes, I Can Never Give my Heart, and Rocket, by Rose Betts,

The Sound of Silence, by Simon and Garfunkel,

Walking in the Air, Time, Orinoco Flow, and Carol of the Bells, by Libera,

And many more.

Some of my favorite poems are;

Tug'o'War of Heartstrings, The Night Sky, Together, With a Window Between, A Heavy Wait/Weight, A Veil Not Yet There, Sharks in a Zoo, A Faustian Deal, Denial, The Voice of a Loved One, Explosions, Tribute to the Ocean, The Vast Expanse of the Ocean, Nurturing, Stalagmites in my Brain, and How Can I Put Those Boxes Away? by The Shower Poet,

Fire and Ice, and Walking by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost,

The Sunshine Kid, Paper People, and 59, by Harry Baker,

The Spider, by Robert P. Tristam Coffin,

Run With You, by Atlas,

A Litany, by Gregory Orr,

Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors, and Details of the Woods, by Richard Silken.

And many more.

Some of my favorite books are;

The Chronicles of Narnia, by C. S. Lewis,

Breadcrumbs, by Anne Ursu,

Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn,

Holes, Wayside School, Small Steps, and There's a Boy in the Girl's Bathroom, by Lois Sachar.

Hoot, Scat, Flush, and Chomp, by Carl Hiaasen.

Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, Starry River of the Sky, and When the Sea Turned to Silver, by Grace Lin.

And oh, so very many more.

Poems I have written;

Teach Me, Silent Serenade, Space Can Die, Weak Resolve, Boundaries Drawn, The Candle, Vacuum, One Pace, Adventure With Me, Stagnant, Workaholic, Sirens Can Cry, Dreamt of Loss, The Chalkboard, Shush, and many more to come.

Once was a girl, who would talk to herself. Stories, tales, thoughts in passing, of the past, future, of the sky and leaves, wind and breeze, of storm and calm. She longed to speak in a cadence. One to soothe. To heal. Doesn't everyone want that, to heal? To be somebody to someone, to have a voice like an anchor, eyes like a vice, that soften, that go warm like a bird's shelter?

Storm seeks calm. Calm seeks storm. They find a balance. But never, never do they stay still. She couldn't stay still. Her mind was a hurricane. And sometimes a breeze, sometimes a song to put you at ease, and sometimes, tight, coiled like a spring.

The calm wasn't who she was. Nor was she as much of the storm as she thought she was. Dear, she was a fire. She'd dim, and grow brighter. Her voice would get high when excited, she'd smile. Her embers couldn't rest. She'd smoulder. Then big stewing pots would bubble over. She'd speak in paragraphs, eyes like beacons, stumbling over words and not always making sense...

But it was beautiful. She loved, she loved deeply. She wanted to be loved, too. And she was. But when the smoke gets high, water and frost meeting that bright smile all too many times, it blurs out the hands, hearts, the words reaching, seeking...

She was silenced. Of course, the embers still burned. But the very things she stifled were the things she was beloved for. And she couldn't hear them.

But slowly, wet wood dries, my dear. You can't always cry. Time passes by. Wounds heal, scars fade, even when clouds pass over the stars. She was stronger than that.

She learned again to love. And though she had times she couldn't muster the songs, the words, the strength to hold on so tight, she began to heal.

Please, my dear, have patience. She is still healing.

Burnout is a dangerous thing. If you are stuck it never eases, never ceases. And things that brought you peace are no less, then, but grievous. It feels like Sisyphus himself is in charge of pulling you out of that rut. My dear, he can't.

The world moves so fast... I can't help but be dizzy. The facts and the future, like stones, whizzing, past my head, I bustle, I catch them, I'm busy...

The earth turns fast but not as fast as my head. Live, die. Fireflies. On my deathbed. I crave a rest, but I get anger instead. For injustice, for fury, the memories I shed...

Give my hands to the stars, fire for every digit. They fall from the sky when in darkness I fidget. Tear through the clouds, but then cry when I can't fix it. My brain is a void and...

I just.

Can't.

Bridge it.

[jesncin]

Like Superman Red-Son and Smashes the Klan, if you could choose any time in history and any place on earth to explore how it would affect the characters to live there, when and where?

(doesn't need to be something you actually plan to draw, just whatever pops into your head)

Ooh I love the idea of period narratives! It's a bit of a challenge because like Smashes the Klan, the time period my au takes place is in a specific historical time frame. Lois would have to be 4-5 years old during the 1998 May Riots, which caused her family to immigrate to the US. I feel the best time periods for a Superman story are times of migrant tension, because that's where Superman's themes shine (I'm not a big history buff so I can't say exactly when).

For fun and vibes though!! Prohibition era Batman would slap, and I would love Meiji Restoration Batman. Hong Kong (any period) based Martian Manhunter would be cool too! J'onn and Ma'al detectiv-ing around Sham Shui Po, love that image. Constantine in Southeast Asia, or even Indonesia (any period). I hear there's a lot of ghosts here ;P

[honourablejester]

Okay, forgive me for rambling about my own writing, but I realised something today that I hadn’t actually noticed I’d done in Wings Over Gotham. I’ve had Bruce and Ivy percolating around my head while I’m thinking on the next chapter, and I finally noticed something I hadn’t realised previously because of where our POVs have been at.

Outside of the inner circle of the Council and the family, the people who know that Bruce and Batman are the same person, from the public point of view of the rest of the city, Gotham’s primary providers, the sources of material security both during and after NML, Bruce Wayne and Poison Ivy, are both auraless.

I didn’t actually notice this, because most of our POV characters know that Bruce Wayne is actually Batman and therefore incredibly, supernaturally alpha. But outside of the inner circle of the high level No Man’s Landers, most of Gotham as well as the mainland see him as functionally auraless, because Bruce Wayne’s aura has, to all appearances, been gutted to the point of non-existence.

And the thing is, I think that might actually have an interesting effect on how Ivy is viewed within the city. One that I don’t think she, or indeed most of the Council and family, will have noticed any more than I did, because they all also know Bruce Wayne is actually alpha and that fact is foundationally embedded in their worldview.

I’m so glad I brought Lois in, her interview with Paul Lukowski made me think about these things.

See, during NML, the circle of providers was actually a bit of everything. Jim and Leslie (incidentally, the two most traditionally alpha and omega of the Council) mostly provided services, medical care from Leslie and protection from Jim. The other three were the suppliers, and they were an even spread of an alpha, an omega, and Ivy’s uniquely auraless presence. And of the three of them, Ivy was arguably the most important. Both Bruce with his external supply line and Oswald with the fisheries had the hard bottlenecks of the minefield and WE’s strained financial viability the longer the quarantine dragged on. It was Ivy, Ivy and the farms, that they were all depending on for sustainability. So the No Man’s Land image and lynchpin of continuous survival was an auraless plant woman who considered herself soulless.

Then the quarantine ended, the government came roaring back in, and Gotham was forcibly reassimilated. And Ivy was forcibly removed from play, at least for the first couple of years while the Council fought to keep her out of Arkham as the most visibly ‘monstrous’ of the big players. She has come back since then, and most of Gotham’s underground support network, the one that runs parallel to the ‘official’ US systems, Croc’s people and anyone else who's slipped through the cracks, still functions around Ivy’s now scattered and hidden greenhouses. If they’re cut off again, they’ve prepared for Ivy to be able to get them back self-sustaining in a fraction of the time it took the first time. But the parts of the city that know that are much narrower and closer to the inner circle.

The person who stepped into the breach to provide more mainland-oriented material support for the city was Bruce Wayne, through Wayne Enterprises. Post-NML, WE is the backbone of Gotham’s economic landscape. The reconstruction of the city was done on Wayne’s dime, and most everyone in the city turns to WE before they’d ever turn to the government for help. The core of the city, the one everyone’s looking to for money to eat, is Bruce Wayne.

And Bruce Wayne is also auraless. As a function of damage, injury, rather than Ivy’s transformation and ‘monstrosity’, but still. The image of the city’s provider is still auraless.

I think Gotham as a whole, even the newer inhabitants post-NML, might be a lot more chill about Ivy’s lack of an aura than she really understands. Than any of the Council really understand. Lois saw a bit of it with Paul, who arrived in the first wave after the end of NML, and he’s pretty cool with the ‘soulless’ plant lady in the park who can eat armies. Human, inhuman, whatever. She’s cool if you don’t attack her, and if you’re starving she’s one of the ones who can help you out. Lots of people don’t have auras anymore around here! Hell, Bruce Wayne doesn’t either! And, you know. He’s the other person who’ll help you out if you’re stuck.

Ivy’s trauma about being soulless comes from her experiences prior to NML, after she first transformed, and the fact that she was the first target when the government back in, that she and her children were shot on sight for monstrosity, didn’t disabuse her of them any. Bruce falling back on his training from Ra’s after NML and hiding his aura as Bruce so that he could draw a line between Bruce Wayne and Batman and keep functioning as both … She gets the necessity, and he didn’t play the innocent son, he did publicly maintain his outspoke loyalty to Gotham and to her, but he did also hide his ‘monstrosity’, his titanic aura, in a way that she can’t, and he escaped a degree of persecution because of it in a way that she and Croc in particular weren’t able to. She knows he’s alpha, and she knows his lack of an aura is a pretence, not a reality, and it’s one that he used to escape persecution, not one that made him a target of it. So she … I don’t think she (or Bruce) are in a position to realise that it may have also inadvertently helped her as well. Because she doesn’t think of Bruce as auraless. But a lot of the rest of the city does.

And as a result, to a lot of Gotham right now, despite how extremely aura-orientated Gotham is compared to the mainland, the lack of an aura doesn’t automatically mean soullessness or monstrosity, or at least no more than Gotham in general means those things. To an extent, it might even be an image of safety, a source of security. For the NML survivors, and anyone since then who’s slipped down to Gotham’s underworld where she’s still the bedrock, the source, the hearth, all through Ivy’s own efforts. But even in the wider, more ‘civilised’ parts of the city, because of Bruce Wayne. Lack of an aura is a wound, a source of pity, but it doesn’t automatically make someone monstrous. Hence Jason’s kneejerk bafflement that she thinks she doesn’t have a soul. He hasn’t examined his reliance on aura much, but he still had an instinctive Gotham recognition that Ivy’s lack of aura didn’t equate to a lack of a soul. And I think a lot more of the city has that kneejerk, unexamined exception as well than Ivy imagines.

I’m having so much fun with how Gotham has evolved post-NML to be both extremely aura-dependent and almost exaggeratedly traditional when it comes to alpha and omega, at least to outside eyes, and the more complicated internal reality where they’ve both carried a lot of internal prejudices and worldviews from before NML forward (Ivy’s ‘soullessness’, Oswald and Jim’s complicated views on alpha-driven organisations, Bruce’s training under Ra’s), but also warped or abandoned huge chunks of them and forged completely new pieces through the crucible of the quake and the quarantine and the aftermath. Sometimes without realising it. Things that are perfectly apparent to Jason or Dick or Paul Lukowski, having been born/arrived after the fact, are invisible to the Council because their worldview was partially shaped before the quake and they don’t always notice the ways they’ve strayed from that. Or reinforced it.

But. Ah. Apologies for random meta on my own dang story, I just … didn’t actually notice I’d done that. Heh. Bruce Wayne/Batman is so extraordinarily alpha in my head, I hadn’t actually tracked the implications of the fact that most of the city don’t know that and see him as primarily auraless since the end of the quarantine.

[beevean]

Just post your Hecula rant you coward >:(

LET'S GOOOOOOOOO

I am embolded by the sheer amount of Dracula/Jonathan (harker, not morris) content floating around, I think people have realized by now that I'm a disgusting degenerate who very much likes the trope of "creepy ass old man falling in 'love' with a young boy/girl under his thumb" :'D

So this is a translation of this post, which I translated because I noticed some people seem to be interested in Hecula :)

Obviously there's going to be extensive talk of grooming and abuse.

It's hilarious how I fell into this rareship hell simply because

I memed too much about everyone in CoD wanting to fuck Hector (which is true and I can prove it);

no i will never stop using this image it awakened something in me worse than the Stabbing Scene

And then yeah, everything fell apart :'D

First of all I just want to say one thing: if CoD was more famous in the fandom, many more fans would accept the idea that Dracula fucked his Generals in between genocides. C'mon man, the set up is perfect. Y'all are cowards, I tell you :P

But other than that, it is interesting to compare the differences between Isaacula and Hecula.

Isaacula is your typical villain/simp ship. Isaac adores Dracula, he's literally crazy for him, he would destroy himself for him, and Dracula is like, "okay". Personally I like the idea that Dracula is perfectly aware of how much Isaac worships him (not that Isaac even tries to hide it lol), and takes the opportunity to manipulate him just the right amount... and c'mon, if a pretty boy offered himself to you like this, what would you do, not take advantage of the situation? 👀 But he sees Isaac as he would see… I dunno, his throne? It's there, it belongs to him, no one would touch it, he doesn't have to do anything else. It's not interesting.

Hector is interesting. Hector is a prodigy in the art of Devil Forging. Hector is a skilled fighter. Hector is smart (and so is Isaac, but he's a lot more emotional so he may seem dumber). Hector, after a childhood spent believing he didn't deserve to exist, is now realizing his own worth. Cold, proud, obedient Hector, without Isaac's fanaticism but far more efficient, and just as grateful to his benefactor.

I think there is a possibility for Dracula to be attracted to Hector. And yes, the mental image of him suddenly realizing one day that the shy little boy who one day knocked on his front door has grown to be such a handsome man in a short time makes me want to bite the flesh off my arms and it drives me insane <3

Not only that, but if I really wanted to be cynical, I could also point this out:

:)

Speaking of Leon, I can now get to the point of what I call the Bride Hector AU: Dracula, gone insane with grief over the loss of Lisa, clings to Hector tooth and nail (literally lmao) and insists on using him as a substitute for his wife.

It has been pointed out to me that, in that scene in LoI where Mathias proposes to Leon to join him in immortality, his goal may also have been to replace Elisabetha with his best friend. Mathias was clearly out of his mind with grief, and he trusted Leon, and he couldn't even comprehend that Leon maybe didn't want anything more to do with him. He just wanted company. He didn't want to experience his immortality alone.

But Leon was free to tell him to go fuck himself, rightfully so.

Hector, who is as handsome as Leon, as strong as Leon, and as dear to Dracula as Leon used to be (although in different ways, the two are not friends obv) does not have this freedom. Hector swore allegiance to Dracula, Hector became one of the strongest creatures in the world thanks to Dracula, and he still trusts the only person who granted him the right to exist.

Hector should be grateful to Dracula.

So, don't you think that kissing him isn't the least he can do to his Lord to compensate for all that he has given him? Or offering his neck? Or accepting to be brought to Lisa's old bedroom? :)

It's very, very easy for Dracula to get Hector to give him what he wants, even if Hector doesn't reciprocate Dracula's feelings at all. He doesn't need tricks or magic, he can simply exploit the loyalty of a poor boy who has no one else, and who by now is so used to being his Lord's favorite that he can't even consider disappointing him.

On the other hand, at the heart of it all there's an old man unable to move on. As a vampire, he's frozen in time, and it's very difficult for him to accept change. He became a vampire in the midst of grieving the loss of his first wife, and now he has lost his second one too? He can't do it. He can't handle the pain. He breaks. He needs someone.

And Hector just so happens to be right here, this pretty boy who can be seduced, who can help him feel less alone.

After Lisa's death, Dracula becomes... protective. Very protective. He will no longer allow anyone, not even God Himself, to take away the only light of his life. Which not only means protecting Hector from all the beasts that would dare to harm him or worse, but also making sure that the boy doesn't slip away from him. Dracula has complete control over his castle and all its residents... so Hector, love, you better be nice and don't do things that might displease your Lord :) like, for example, running back to Isaac, who meanwhile he's dying inside of jealousy :) oh, but don't worry, you're the favorite, so nothing will happen to you! But Isaac will take the fall :) so he will hate you even more, and your relationship will break down, and Hector will truly have no one left but his Lord :)

Or his husband :)

Dracula loses it more and more, he needs Lisa, he needs to feel sure that he will never be left alone again. He gets the morbid idea of marrying Hector and calling him his wife, even giving him the wedding ring that used to belong to that poor woman whom Hector might have seen as a mother figure. He can't escape. Now his Lord is his husband and Hector must behave accordingly, and if Dracula wants to be called by his first name and pet names while he fucks Hector on Lisa's bed, well, he has to do it. What can he do about it, say no? Hahahaha you're so funny <3

(A little appreciated perk is that, as a Devil Forgemaster, Hector is far tougher than a normal human, and he can conjure Fairies to heal most of his wounds. A perfect match for a ten-feet-tall cold vampire with sharp fangs and claws :) you're welcome, Hector dear <3)

Hector, needless to say, has a hard time clinging to his sanity. He doesn't want any of this. He doesn't want to be the sex toy of the person he once could have seen as a father, he doesn't want him to suck his blood so often that he's practically anemic by now (because, among other things, let's not forget that he still has to work), he doesn't want all these scars around his neck that almost form a collar he can't take off, he doesn't want Isaac to hate him and envy him for a situation he refuses to understand, he wants to be seen as Hector, as a person.

But he can't hate Dracula. Dracula isn't cruel with him, he just needs some help. Dracula did some good things too after all, and it's true that Hector can't live anywhere else, because only Dracula appreciates and accepts him. There is still a small part of Hector, the boy who was stoned by his peers and slapped by his mother, who still loves Dracula, to a certain extent.

But the more Dracula degenerates, the more the outside world doesn't seem so terrifying, compared to the madness of his Lord...

He's not Isaac. He is loyal and obedient, but he's not willing to objectify himself to this extent.

In short, I really really like this kind of dynamic, an older man seducing a younger person into a relationship of trust and dependency, until the younger person escapes and takes their life back into their own hands <3 and yes, while the idea of the older man thinking of the other as simply a warm body to fuck is appealing in its own right, I'm growing to love the alternative of him instead falling in "love", but it's a twisted, selfish, all consuming love.

tl;dr: hecula hot

And just in case, I have written 4 fanfics to explore these ideas :)

If you have a good tool, you use it, don't you?

It is forbidden to touch the Lord's belongings

Honeymoon (technically a spoiler but I long gave up on that)

Shame (the only fully SFW fic so far lmao)

[benchowmein]

I'm never not thinking about this piece by Elizabeth Parker, a woman born in 1813. In miniscule cross stitch lettering (the fabric is 85.8cm by 74.4cm she details her story of mistreatment by her employers and her self-perceived sinfulness. Find the V&A's high-quality scan here and a transcript following the image below:

As i cannot write I put this down simply and freely as I might speak to a person to whose intimacy and tenderness I can fully intrust myself and who I know will bear with all my weaknesses....

I was born at Ashburnham in the county of Sussex in the year 1813 of poor but pious parents my fathers occupation was a labourer for the Rt Hon the Earl of A my mother kept the Rt Hon the Countefs of A Charity School and by their ample conduct and great industry were enabeled to render a comfortable living for their family which were eleven in number William Samuel Mary Edmond Jesse Elizabeth Hannah Jane George Louisa Lois endeavouring to bring us up in the fear and admonition of the lord as far as lay in their power always giving us good advice and wishing us to do unto others as we would they should do unto us thus our parents pointed out the way in which we were to incounter with this world wishing us at all times to put our trust in god to Walk in the paths of virtue to bear up under all the trials of this life even till time with us should end. But at the early age of thirteen I left my parents to go and live with Mr and Mrs P to nurse the children which had I taken my Fathers and Mothers advice I might have remained in peace until this day but like many others not knowing when I was well of in fourteen months I left them for which my friends greatly blamed me then I went to Fairlight housemaid to Lieut G but there cruel usage soon made me curse my Disobedience to my parents wishing I had taken there advice and never left the Worthy Family of P but then alas to late they treated me with cruelty too horrible to mention for trying to avoid the wicked design of my master I was thrown down stairs but I very soon left them and came to my friends but being young and foolish I never told my friends what had happened to me they thinking I had a good place and good usage because I never told them to the contrary they blamed my temper. Then I went to live with Col P Catsfield kitchenmaid where I was well of but there my memory failed me and my reason was taken from me but the worthy Lady my Mistress took great care of me and placed me in the care of my parents and sent for Dr W who soon brought me to know that I was wrong for Coming to me one day and finding me persisting against my Mother for I had forsaken her advice to follow the works of darkness For I acknowledge being guilty of that great sin of selfdestruction which I certainly should have done had it not been for the words of that worthy Gentleman Dr W. he came to me in the year 1829 he said unto me Elizabeth I understand you are guilty of saying you shall destroy yourself but never do that for Remember Elizabeth if you do when you come before that great God who is so good to you he will say unto you Thou hast taken that life that I gave to you Depart from me ye cursed but let me never hear those words pronounced by the O Lord for surely I never felt such impressions of awe striking cold upon my breast as I felt when Dr W said so to me.

But oh with what horror would those words pierce my heart to hear them pronounced by an offended God But my views of things have been for some time very different from what they were when I first came home I have seen and felt the vanity of childhood and youth And a bove all I have felt the stings of a guilty Conscience for the great Disobedience to my parents in not taking their advice wherewith the Lord has seen fit to visit me with this affliction but my affliction is a light affliction to what I have deserved but the Lord has been very merciful to me for he has not cut me of in my sins but he has given me this space for repentance. For blessed be God my frequent schemes for destroying myself were all most all defeated. But oh the dreadful powerful force of temptation for being much better I went to stay with Mrs Welham she being gone out one day and left me alone soon after she was gone I thought within myself surely I am one of the most miserable objects that ever the Lord let live surely no one ever had such thoughts as me against the Lord and I arose from my seat to go into the bedroom and as I was going I thought within myself ah me I will retire into the most remotest part of the wood and there execute my design and that design was that wilful design of self destruction

But the Lord was pleased to stop me in this mad career for seeing the Bible lay upon the shelf I took it down and opened it and the first place that I found was the fourth chapter of S. Luke where it tells us how our blessed Lord was tempted of Satan I read it and it seemed to give me some relief for now and not till now have I been convinced of my lost and sinful state not till now have I seen what a miserable condition I have brought myself into by my sins for now do I see myself lost and undone for ever undone the Lord does take pity of me and help me out of this miserable condition. But the only object I have now in view is that of approaching death I feel assured that sooner or later I must die and oh but after death I must come to Judgement what can I do to be saved what can I do to be saved from the wrath of that God which my sins have deserved which way can I turn oh whither must I flee to find the Lord wretch wretch that I am who shall deliver me from the body of this death that I have been seeking what will become of me ah me what will become of me when I come to die and kneel before the Lord my maker oh with what confidence can I approach the mercy seat of God oh with what confidence can I approach it. And with what words must I chuse to address the Lord my maker pardon mine inquity pardon mine inquity O Lord for It is Great Oh how great is thy mercy oh thou most merciful Lord for thou knowest even the secret desires of me thine unworthy servant. O Lord I pray the Look down with an Eye of pity upon me and I pray the turn my wicked Heart Day and night have I Cried unto the Lord to turn my wicked Heart the Lord has heard my prayer the Lord has given heed to my Complaint. For as long as life extends extends Hopes blest dominion never ends For while the lamp holds on to burn the greatest sinner may return Life is the season God has given to fly from hell to rise to Heaven the Day of grace flees fast away their is none its rapid course can stay. The Living know that they must die But ah the dead forgotten lie Their memory and their name is gone They are alike unknowing and unknown. Their hatred and their love is lost. Their envy's buried in the dust By the will of God are all things done beneath the circuit of the sun

Therefore O Lord take pity on me I pray Whenever my thoughts do from the stray And lead me Lord to thy blest fold. That I thy glory may behold Grant Lord that I soon may behold the not as my Judge to condemn and punish me but as my Father to pity and restore me For I know with the O Lord nothing is impossible thou can if thou wilt restore my bodily health And set me free from sin and misery For since my earthly physican has said he can do no more for me in the will I put my trust O blessed Jesus grant that I may never more offend the or provoke the to cast me of in thy displeasure Forgive my sin my folly cure Grant me the help I need And then although I am mean and poor I shall be rich indeed Lord Jesus have mercy upon me take me O kind shepherd take me a poor wandering sinner to thy fold Thou art Lord of all things itself death is put under thy feet O Lord save me lest I fall from thee never to rise again O God keep me from all evil thoughts The little hope I feel that I shall obtain mercy gives a happiness to which none of the pleasures of sin can ever be compared. I never knew anything like happiness till now O that I may but be saved on the day of judge-ment God be merciful to me a sinner But oh how can I expect mercy who went on in sin until Dr W remind me of my wickedness For with shame I own I returned to thee O God because I had nowhere else to go How can such repentance as mine be sincere What will become of my soul

(Paragraphs because tumblr can't handle long text blocks)

Until recently we knew nothing about Elizabeth beyond her own words. In 1998 an English historian discovered details of who she was and of her family. An American historian has uncovered new information which reveals that Elizabeth did not die young and alone. She became a schoolteacher at the Ashburnham Charity School, in her home village. Although Elizabeth never married, she raised her sister's daughter. At some point in the 1850s she moved into the Ashburnham Almshouses, where she died aged 76 on 10 April 1889. (This is from the V&A object description)

[christian-dubuis-santini]

-Innovationnisme technologique

-Lgbt-féminisme

-Climatisme escrologique

-Antiracisme

-Pfizerisme

-Guerrisme

…

Les plus grosses saucisses idéologiques sont "made in USA".

«Que disent les images?

C’est une image dont la demande, si ce n’est le désir, semble absolument claire, fixée sur un objet déterminé : elle «vous» veut, vous…

…c’est-à-dire tous les hommes ayant l’âge de faire leur service militaire.

La cible immédiate de l’affiche renvoie à l’ «effet Méduse»: elle « hèle » le spectateur, verbalement, et essaie de l’hypnotiser par la fixité de son regard et (c’est son trait imagier le plus merveilleux) un doigt pointé en avant qui distingue, accuse, désigne et commande le spectateur.

Mais ce désir hypnotisé n’est que transitoire et momentané.

À plus long terme, il s’agit d'émouvoir et de mobiliser le spectateur, de lui faire pousser la porte du «bureau de recrutement le plus proche », puis de l’expédier à l’étranger pour combattre, et, peut-être, mourir pour son pays.

[…] Ici, le contraste avec les affiches allemandes et italiennes est saisissant.

Ce sont des affiches où de jeunes soldats interpellent leurs frères, les appellent au nom de la fraternité d’une mort glorieuse sur le champ de bataille.

L’Oncle Sam, comme son nom l’indique, a un rapport plus ténu et plus indirect avec ses recrues potentielles.

C’est un homme plus âgé, qui n’a pas la vigueur combative de la jeunesse ; plus important encore, il n’est pas lié par le sang comme devrait l’être une figure de la partie.

Il demande aux jeunes hommes d’aller se battre et mourir dans une guerre à laquelle ni lui ni ses fils ne participeront.

Lui-même n’a pas de « fils »… L’Oncle Sam est stérile, c’est une sorte de figure abstraite de carton-pâte, qui n’a pas de corps ni de sang, mais qui personnifie la nation et demande aux fils d’autres hommes de donner leur corps et leur sang.

Alors que veut –que veut dire- cette image ?

Une analyse approfondie nous conduirait trop loin dans l’inconscient politique d’une nation qui est nominalement imaginée comme une abstraction désincarnée, une entité née des Lumières, faite de lois et non d’hommes, de principes et non de rapports de sang, et qui s’incarne réellement en un lieu où des vieillards blancs envoient de jeunes hommes et de jeunes femmes de toutes races (dont un nombre disproportionné de personnes de couleur) faire leur guerre.

Ce dont cette nation réelle et imaginée manque, c’est de chair –de corps et de sang-, et celui qu’elle charge de les obtenir, c’est un homme vide, un fournisseur de viande, ou peut-être, simplement, un artiste.»

(Tom Mitchell, «What Do Pictures Really want?», in october, n°77, été 1996, p. 64-66)

[fancyfade]

OK so thoughts.

Re-read Reign of the Supermen, and finished up the Death and Return of Superman Omni, which was in my reading order continuous with all post crisis comics - read all the post 1986 comics before it and had good context now.

The actual death of superman was underwhelming. explained here. according to trivia, the writers and artists wanted to do something where they were like 4 panels per page the 3rd issue before his death, 3 panels the 2nd issue, 2 panels per page the issue before his death, and 1 panel per page, so all splash pages, the issue of his death. Which I can respect wanting to experiment with panel format, but I think if they were doing 1 panel per page the layout of the panels should've been much more creative. can sketch out what i was imaging later.

but anyway the death of fight scenes were the ONLY underwhelming parts. I generally liked everything else and the post-death issues kicked so much ass I felt myself legitimately getting sad. the newstime comic format was creative and great from a worldbuilding perspective. and lois's reaction to superman's death ;_; I think Louise Simonson is one of my favorite Lois writers.

Hank Henshaw's motive felt kind of "eh" to me. Like. He was the guy orchestrating everything but the reason why was very ¯_(ツ)_/¯. Like if you've seen the movie, his rhetoric is similar - he wants to bismirch superman's good name to get revenge on him now that he's dead because he blames superman for his discorporate state and the death of his wife... but in the comics he was 1 of the fantastic 4 expy characters who were exposed to massive radiation and slowly dying, his wife was saved by superman and then she went to a mental hospital b/c its the only thing DC knows to do with female civilian characters who aren't dating superheroes, and she was alive last we saw her? unless they kill her in a side issue. and henshaw voluntarily leaves earth to explore the cosmos in superman's birthing chamber ship.

Eradicator was another character who previously showed up in the run and then later reappeared in Reign of the Supermen. He started out as a weapon created 200,000 years ago on krypton to kill cloning-protestors and then wound up being acquired by superman during the exile in space plotline as an artefact of kryptonian culture that gave him a fancy unbreakable cape, then it was revealed the eradicator was slowly brainwashing him and then wants to terraform earth into new krypton or something and he tosses it into the sun where it reforms and comes back in the guise of a supervillain taht gets beat up and disappears seemingly to death until superman dies and then it reappears as the eradicator that more people are familiar with and helps save superman.

superboy and steel are both new to this plotline so they don't have quite so much pre reign of supermen baggage :P

[myneightbourgwifi]

GREEN DESERT Current forestry policy is more decorative than effective. We need a forestry policy that controls the monoculture of eucalyptus in Galicia, and northern Spain, that protects native biodiversity, that puts an end to this green, lifeless desert that has colonised our territory. The term 'green desert' came into use in Brazil in the 1980s to refer to the monoculture of trees on large tracts of land for cellulose production The current forestry policy is fuelling hell at home. These images correspond to an ephemeral installation that I made in the framework of the artistic residency that I did last September in Pontevedra. Many thanks to all the people who helped me, especially Javier Carrera aka Cuco and Lois Cid. @cuco_cuco_cuco_cuco @lois_cid #eternalsummer #inferno #eucalipto #celulosa #hell #fire #forestfire #monoculture #cellulose #eucalyptus #hellonearth #globalwarming #pontevedra #ence #greendesert (en Illa das Esculturas de Pontevedra) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkgLtn0o5NE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[inappropriations]

"[In the USA] the view that everyone benefits from the success of individuals has historically been complicated by the assumption that those individuals' contributions to the collective good can best be achieved through the embodiment of culturally endorsed qualities that sustain the expected norm, which has excluded from consideration the wide range of individual identities, aptitudes, and health conditions that can be found across the population. Thus, US public health has often been conceived in terms of those who fulfill the image of the American ideal through strength, self-sufficiency, and resilience and therefore prove that good health is readily accessible without dependence on others."

- Lois Peters Agnew, p. 2 of Fitter, happier: The eugenic strain in twentieth-century cancer rhetoric

I just started reading this book that randomly caught my eye at the library. This is just in the introduction. Gonna be an interesting read, if somewhat challenging, as I am out of practice with academic texts.

[entomoblog]

L’hypothèse Gaïa, itinéraire d’un regard sur la Terre

See on Scoop.it - Insect Archive

En 1974, le sulfureux chimiste James Lovelock formulait, avec la biologiste Lynn Margulis, une théorie comparant la Terre à un super-organisme capable de s’autoréguler. Disqualifiée dans les milieux scientifiques, cette approche imprègne en profondeur la pensée philosophique et écologique actuelle.

  Extrait

"... comment définir la vie ?

  Une réflexion s’amorce chez Lovelock, frustré par l’étroitesse d’une approche imaginant la vie à partir des propriétés biochimiques observées sur Terre. Il se tourne vers la physique, inspiré par Erwin Schr��dinger (1887-1961). Dans son célèbre Qu’est-ce que la vie ?, en 1944, ce contributeur essentiel à la théorie quantique soutient que les organismes vivants auraient comme propriété essentielle de diminuer leur entropie. Autrement dit, de lutter contre cette loi thermodynamique voulant que la matière aille inéluctablement vers sa dispersion. Cette intuition, que le physicien autrichien mène à l’échelle des organismes individuels, Lovelock l’élève à celle de la planète entière. Ce premier pas vers Gaïa mènera au second. Car c’est en exposant ses travaux lors d’une conférence, en 1968, qu’il rencontrera Lynn Margulis.

  La jeune chercheuse, docteure en génétique, entame tout juste une carrière qui la conduira à révolutionner les sciences du vivant. Son étude des micro-organismes (bactéries, protistes, champignons) la conduira à faire de la symbiose, c’est-à-dire de la coopération entre espèces pour maintenir la vie, le moteur du mécanisme de l’évolution autant qu’un « puissant facteur de changement sur Terre », résume-t-elle dans son ouvrage Microcosmos, coécrit avec Dorion Sagan (Wildproject, 2022).

  Ce travail la conduira à formuler, dans les années 1990, une approche novatrice de l’organisme pour exprimer notre réalité biologique : puisque chaque humain ne peut vivre que grâce aux milliers de microbes peuplant ses différents microbiotes (intestinal, cutané, buccal, vaginal), elle propose de nommer « holobionte » cet ensemble organique formé par chaque individu.

C’est en 1970, avec une lettre de Margulis, que cet infiniment petit croise l’infiniment grand qui préoccupe Lovelock. Leur collaboration débouche sur les textes fondateurs de l’hypothèse Gaïa, de l’article de Tellus, en 1974, au premier ouvrage de Lovelock, Gaia, a New Look at Life on Earth (« Gaïa, un nouveau regard sur la vie sur Terre », non traduit, Oxford University Press), en 1979."

(...)

  ------

NDÉ

À lire aussi, sujet proche

  → Bruno Latour : Face à Gaïa (rééd.) - Les Livres de Philosophie, 09.10.2023 https://les-livres-de-philosophie.blogspot.com/2023/10/bruno-latour-face-gaia-reed.html

  [Référence image]

James Lovelock : La terre est un être vivant. L'hypothèse Gaïa

Traduction de Paul Couturiau et Cristel Rollina Flammarion Champs sciences, 183 p.

[canaldesmoulins]

LE CANAL DES MOULINS DE CHABEUIL A BESOIN D'ENTRETIEN.

Photo 1, rang 1 : Ce printemps 2024, la Véore est belle, haute, très en eau. Il y a deux semaines, son débit, mesuré au pont des Faucons était de 1700 litres/seconde, retombé à 1200 l/s cette semaine (mi-avril). Par ailleurs, le Bureau de Recherche Géologiques et Minières (BRMG) estime que les nappes phréatiques sont déclarées 'hautes' dans l'ensemble de la Drôme, voire 'très haute' du côté de Charpey.

Dans cette situation favorable, voyons donc ce qu'il se passe pour le Canal des Moulins de Chabeuil. Ce petit reportage photographique, réalisé à la mi avril, permet de comprendre le contexte : pourquoi, avec autant de flotte dans la rivière, le Canal ne coule-t-il pas mieux, et ne parvient il pas jusqu'au centre ville ? On n'en est pas loin pourtant. Entre autres raisons, montrées ici, c'est surtout qu'il n'est pas entretenu et qu'une série de fuites, d'embâcles et d'infiltrations, TRÈS ÉVITABLES et réparables, l'empêche de couler. Mais le Canal parvient tout de même jusqu'au centre équestre, à l'entrée EST de Chabeuil, ce qui n'était pas arrivé depuis un grand moment !

Rang 2, photos 2 et 3. La chute photographiée ici est celle qui marque la prise d'eau du Canal et qui ouvre son amenée d'eau. Le spectacle est réjouissant d'une Véore cascadante, vive et puissante. Mais ce dénivelé dans la rivière a jadis été désigné (loi sur l'eau et sa ribambelle d'interprétations d'intérêt surtout piscicoles) comme un obstacle à la 'remontaison' des truites, trop haut pour leur 'capacité saltatoire'. Cet ouvrage est une 'passe-à-poissons' : une échancrure a été ouverte dans l'amenée d'eau du Canal, par quoi l'eau de la rivière s'engouffre et dévale une pente à escaliers, que les truites sont invitées à remonter, pour franchir ainsi l'obstacle ; les fario fario de souche très prisées des pêcheurs débouchent donc dans l'amenée d'eau du Canal. Cet ouvrage (120 000 €) n'a jamais été évalué (combien de fario, pour un investissement public de cet ordre ?) ; il a été construit en janvier 2016 par le Syndicat Mixte du Bassin Versant de la Véore ; il est maintenant sous la responsabilité du service rivière de l'agglo.

Problème : l'échancrure dont on parle ici crée de tels tourbillons dans l'amenée d'eau du Canal qu'elle aspire une bonne partie de l'eau entrante qui s'engouffre vers la passe-à-poissons. C'est la première cause de déperdition d'eau dans le Canal des Moulins : un débit très affaibli dès l'entrée, insuffisant pour 'pousser' le Canal tout au long de son parcours.

[CALENDRIER explicatif : janvier 2016, mise en service de la passe-à-poissons : 1er assec dans le Canal de 10 semaines./Été 2017 : sécheresse, 2e assec dans le Canal/Janvier 2018 : fortes pluies et installation par l'agglo d'un gabarit dans l'échancrure. Le tout favorise un bon débit dans le Canal, tout au long de son parcours./Été 2018 : plus d'eau dans le Canal : les difficultés deviennent récurrentes./Juin 2020 : arrêté préfectoral d'autorisation du Canal : tous les espoirs sont permis. Mais la COVID empêche l'entretien du Canal par les services communaux./2020-21 : Gestion calamiteuse par l'adjoint en charge, occupé à des manigances qui aboutiront à l'effondrement du Conseil municipal : faible campagne d'entretien, et arrêts des investissements dans le Canal./2022-23-24 : le Canal des Moulins ne figure plus au budget, tant en investissement qu'en fonctionnement. Très faible campagne d'entretien en septembre 2023 par une entreprise d'insertion, qui fait ce qu'elle peut.][Lecture de ce calendrier : près de cinq ans sans eau : le Canal, après le choc d'assec de l'installation de la passe à poissons, paye au prix fort un très net désinvestissement de la Commune, au point qu'il est maintenant gravement menacé]

Reprenons : les trois petites images du rang 3 représentent Sacouly et les demi-lunes (demi cylindres de béton qui accélèrent le débit du Canal) : là, tout va bien, la zone étant ou ayant été entretenue, tant par le propriétaire riverain que par les ACMC qui y ont mené à l'hiver 2022/23 une forte corvée d'entretien, tant et si bien que l'eau coule, dès qu'il pleut un tant soit peu. Mais ces demi-lunes sont fragilisées par le trop faible débit du Canal, les limons ne sont pas assez vivement charriés par l'eau : ils se déposent trop vite : ils ensablent l'ouvrage qui, surchargé s'est effondré en au moins un point notable. Une reprise de ces demi-lunes garantirait un débit rapide du Canal, lui donnant de la vitesse...

Exemple maintenant des deux grandes photos du rang 4. Un embâcle à l'entrée d'un passage busé retient l'eau, qui forme alors devant la grille de protection une espèce de lagon, qui finit par déborder : le Canal fuit alors, et perd pas mal d'eau, qui retourne à la Véore, qui coule à quelques mètres en contrebas. Là encore, on comprend qu'un peu d'entretien, pas grand chose, permettrait d'assurer un meilleur débit et éviterait ces fuites néfastes.

Les quatre petites photos suivantes (rang 5 et 6) montrent l'aval immédiat de la papèterie, dans la partie arrière du bâtiment. Là, ronces, limons et embâcles provoquent un débord important du Canal, qui inonde le champ voisin, à l'arrière du bâtiment. La prairie est verte et grasse, et profite de cette infiltration. Mais c'est tout de même beaucoup d'eau perdue, là encore par manque d'entretien.

Plus à l'aval, sur un segment de très faible pente, les mêmes ronces, les mêmes feuilles mortes, les mêmes limons provoquent un très net ralentissement du Canal, encore un. Deux gros arbres morts, couchés en travers du lit du Canal ajoutent à la gêne. Sur ce segment surtout l'absence d'entretien se fait sentir : le Canal n'est plus qu'un mince filet d'eau, qui progresse très lentement. En quelques centaines de mètres, on est passé d'un fort débit à la papèterie, à un pauvre filet d'eau à son aval immédiat.

Les deux dernières images montrent une triste réalité : les chevaux du centre équestre sont mis à la pâture DANS le lit du Canal. C'est pourtant la partie où l'on trouvait encore il y a peu une riche population, perenne, d'Agrion, espèce de libellule protégée. Maintenant, le lit est défoncé, inégal : l'eau s'y perd et ne franchit pas l'obstacle de ce champ de boue. Il ne faudrait sur cette partie pas grand chose pour rétablir un bon état du Canal : un peu d'explication vers les nouveaux locataires du Centre équestre, et ça pourrait s'arranger...

Bilan donc, en cette période de bons niveaux d'eau dans la Véore : le Canal a progressé, mais n'est plus assez fort pour franchir le centre équestre, route de Combovin, à un kilomètre du centre ville. On répète : avant la mise en service de la passe à poissons, avec ces volumes, pas de problème : le canal était dûment entretenu, et l'eau coulait en abondance, SUR TOUT LE PARCOURS, centre ville compris.

LES ACMC.

NOTA : LES AMIS DU CANAL DES MOULINS TIENNENT LEUR ASSEMBLÉE GÉNÉRALE ORDINAIRE LE SAMEDI 25 MAI, DE 10 À 12 H. À CUMINAL. VENEZ NOMBREUX (comme vous avez compris à la lecture de ce qui précède, le Canal a besoin de votre soutien...)

[blogdimanche]

Évangile de Jésus-Christ selon saint Marc 9,2-10

« En ce temps-là, Jésus prit avec lui

2 Pierre, Jacques et Jean, et les emmène, eux seuls, à l’écart sur une haute montagne. Et il fut transfiguré devant eux.

3 Ses vêtements devinrent resplendissants, d’une blancheur telle que personne sur terre ne peut obtenir une blancheur pareille.

4 Élie leur apparut avec Moïse, et tous deux s’entretenaient avec Jésus.

5 Pierre alors prend la parole et dit à Jésus : « Rabbi, il est bon que nous soyons ici ! Dressons donc trois tentes : une pour toi, une pour Moïse, et une pour Élie. »

6 De fait, Pierre ne savait que dire, tant leur frayeur était grande.

7 Survint une nuée qui les couvrit de son ombre, et de la nuée une voix se fit entendre : « Celui-ci est mon Fils bien-aimé : écoutez-le ! »

8 Soudain, regardant tout autour, ils ne virent plus que Jésus seul avec eux.

9 Ils descendirent de la montagne, et Jésus leur ordonna de ne raconter à personne ce qu’ils avaient vu, avant que le Fils de l’homme soit ressuscité d’entre les morts. »

(Texte biblique tiré de « La Bible — traduction officielle liturgique — AELF »)

(Illustration du site Apprenez-nous à prier)

Commentaire Mc 9,9

« Jésus leur ordonna de ne raconter à personne ce qu’ils avaient vu, avant que le Fils de l’homme soit ressuscité d’entre les morts. » (Mc 9,9) On peut se demander pourquoi Jésus donne une telle consigne de secret à ses disciples. Tout d’abord, qu’ont-ils vu ? Jésus leur est apparu ici en gloire sur une montagne entre deux des plus grandes figures d’Israël : Moïse le libérateur, celui qui a transmis la Loi ; et Elie le prophète de l’Horeb. Jésus, lui, sait bien que la plus grande difficulté de la foi des apôtres sera de reconnaître dans ces deux visages du Messie l’image même du Père : « Qui m’a vu a vu le Père » dira Jésus à Philippe la veille de sa mort. (Jn 14,9) Quelque temps plus tard, Jésus sera sur une autre montagne, crucifié entre deux brigands. Ces deux images, la gloire et la souffrance sont les deux faces du même amour de Dieu pour l’humanité tel qu’il s’est incarné en Jésus-Christ ; comme dit Saint Paul dans la lettre aux Romains, l’amour de Dieu est « manifesté » (rendu visible) en Jésus-Christ (Rm 8,39). Et, à plusieurs reprises, Jésus lui-même a fait le lien entre gloire et souffrance en parlant du Fils de l’homme ; mais il est encore trop tôt pour que les disciples comprennent et acceptent ce mystère du Messie souffrant. C’est pour cela, probablement, que Jésus leur recommande de ne raconter à personne ce qu’ils avaient vu, « jusqu’à ce que le Fils de l’homme soit ressuscité d’entre les morts ». Et Marc nous dit qu’ils ont obéi tout en se demandant ce que pouvait bien vouloir dire « ressusciter d’entre les morts ». On peut penser que les disciples croyaient bien à la résurrection des morts, comme la majorité des Juifs de leur époque, mais qu’ils l’imaginaient seulement pour la fin des temps. Et donc, ils ne voyaient peut-être pas le sens de cette consigne de silence « jusqu’à la résurrection des morts » c’est-à-dire « jusqu’à la fin des temps » ! Autre surprise pour eux, certainement, ce titre de Fils de l’homme que, visiblement, Jésus s’attribuait à lui-même : quand il parlait du Fils de l’homme, on pensait tout de suite au prophète Daniel qui parlait du Messie en l’appelant « fils d’homme » ; mais ce « fils d’homme » était en réalité un être collectif, puisque le prophète l’appelait aussi « le peuple des Saints du Très-Haut » ; à l’époque de Jésus, cette idée d’un Messie collectif était courante dans certains milieux, dans lesquels on parlait volontiers aussi du Reste d’Israël, c’est-à-dire le petit noyau fidèle qui sauverait le monde. Mais, évidemment, Jésus, à lui tout seul, ne pouvait pas être considéré comme un être collectif ! Là encore, il faudra attendre la Résurrection et même la Pentecôte pour que les disciples de Jésus de Nazareth comprennent que Jésus a pris la tête du « peuple des Saints du Très-Haut » et que tous les baptisés de par le monde sont invités à ne faire qu’un avec lui pour sauver l’humanité. En attendant, la résurrection, il est demandé aux apôtres d’écouter, seul chemin pour entrer dans les mystères de Dieu : « Celui-ci est mon Fils Bien-Aimé, écoutez-le ». L’expression « Écoutez-le » retentit aux oreilles des apôtres comme un écho de cette profession de foi qu’ils récitent tous les jours, puisqu’ils sont Juifs, « Shema Israël », « Écoute Israël ». C’est un appel à la confiance quoi qu’il arrive. Confiance qui sera durement éprouvée dans les mois qui viennent : car la Transfiguration a lieu au moment-charnière du ministère de Jésus : le ministère en Galilée se termine, Jésus va maintenant prendre le chemin de Jérusalem et de la croix. Pour l’instant, il faut redescendre de la montagne, résister à la tentation de s’installer ici à l’écart, sous la tente, mais au contraire affronter l’hostilité, la persécution, la mort. (Note du P. Mario Doyle, C.Ss.R. : Ce commentaire reproduit largement celui d’une bibliste bien connue des catholiques de France : Marie Noëlle Thabut)

[penserlenumerique]

(10 novembre 2023) SÉANCE #10 – Publicités ciblées grâce aux données personnelles - des pratiques commerciales à questionner...

SOURCE IMAGE

Il m’est arrivé à plusieurs reprises de me sentir observée de prêt lorsque des publicités ciblées sont apparues sur mon fil d’actualité Instagram, suite à ce que j’aie consulté du contenu similaire sur une autre plateforme…

En naviguant sur nos appareils intelligents, nous produisons une emprunte numérique personnalisée et basée sur notre historique de navigation (Déziel, 2018 :834). Celle-ci est composée de données qui sont soumises aux algorithmes, des règles qui dictent à l’appareil intelligent quelle action effectuer (Ibid). C’est ainsi que nos appareils intelligents nous poussent des contenus ciblant nos intérêts et qui visent souvent la consommation d’un bien ou d’un service.

Malgré que cette mécanique commerciale soit connue de la plupart d’entre nous, ce dont on n’a pas forcément conscience c’est qu’un simple « j’aime » puisse être utilisé pour produire « un large éventail d’attributs personnels [que nous n’avons] pas nécessairement partagés ou divulgués, et [que nous pouvons] considérer comme privés ou secrets » (Déziel, 2018 : 834). Il va sans dire que dans un contexte de société de consommation, ces informations psycho-démographiques sont une mine d’or pour les entreprises qui souhaitent produire de la publicité ciblée. On se demande toutefois si leur cueillette est légitime. Pour ma part, j’estime que la protection de la vie privée et le consentement éclairé du consommateur devraient toujours être respectés par les entreprises. Toutefois, j’ai bien conscience que, par exemple, pour une multinationale dont le but premier est de dominer son marché, ces notions d’éthique commerciale peuvent être considérées négligeables, voire nullement d’intérêt.

C’est pour des raisons comme celle-là que c’est une priorité pour moi d’encourager des PME locales en lesquelles j’ai confiance. Malgré qu’il soit ardu de connaître tous les détails concernant les pratiques d’une entreprise, en faisant preuve de jugement critique et en s’intéressant réellement à la consommation responsable on arrive à choisir des entreprises dont le respect du client est au cœur des priorités et qui ne jouent pas à la limite des lois. Bibliographie :

Déziel, P. L. (2018). Les limites du droit à la vie privée à l’ère de l’intelligence artificielle : groupes algorithmiques, contrôle individuel et cycle de traitement de l’information. Les cahiers de propriété intellectuelle, Yvon Blais, 30(3), 827-847.