#Righteousness of Man mini series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vanillabourbon · 1 year

Text

the first of many. | intro | ongoing tlou series

story summary. joel arrives at Jackson twenty years after the outbreak with a young girl that cares for him just as much as he cares for her. little did he know, he would soon meet someone else that would urge his returning sense of humanity one step further.

introductory chapter warnings. weaponry. alludes to suicidal thoughts and behavior. mentions of blood and violence. wounds. kinda sad ngl but let’s call it canon. pls let me know if i missed anything.

story pairings. joel miller x reader, tommy miller x platonic!reader

words. 11k (i went a bit overboard, hehe, but editing is going slow so pls ignore any obvious mistakes. this is the first work i’ve taken seriously so please enjoy :))

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

The mind and the body’s initial response is always denial – denial of things, of circumstances, and of situations that are too radical, too unconventional, to believe.

How could anyone believe the events of things as they were? Social and societal constructs had been dismantled in a matter of hours, as if the very fabric of everyone’s being had been tied together by a mere string. The justice and sovereignty in belief, in trust in the nature of things themselves, was apparently so fickle, so haphazardly constructed in the first place, that it took a rapidly spreading infection to displace and make known just how unsafe anything is from harm.

No one should be shocked, really. Least of all you.

In hindsight, which is the only perspective anyone can rely on at a moment’s notice, everything gave way to regret and humiliation. How had no one seen this coming? Everything up until that point in time suddenly seemed so obvious – so commonsensical. It was as if someone had balled up every bad thing and every imperfect thing until it could no longer withstand its own constraints and, instead, chose to flow directly toward the seemingly permanent.

There’s always an element of impermanence in the seemingly permanent.

For whatever reason, now, only a day had passed since the events that led to an abrupt collapse in society as you knew it. You wanted to believe the best – that society and the nature of man would prevent anything from happening. You trusted that the condition of humanity would never outweigh the moral weight of integrity and righteousness. You told yourself that the militant responses of the government were out of necessity and that order and control would fall soon after – or, at least, eventually.

Whether you truly believed that or not no longer mattered.

You were being ushered through the city of Chicago by your older brother, trailing after your uncle, aunt, and two cousins in the wake of another riot. It was dark, darker than any time you had ever stepped foot through the streets of Chicago. And it was bare. Every skitter and harsh knock of a tin trash can sent your brother’s nerves into overdrive; his fingers dug into the flesh of your forearm, dragging you beside him with every step he took. His vice-like grip pained you, but you didn’t bother to tell him that.

You did exactly what he had instructed you before: keep quiet and avoid eye contact.

Military brigades sat empty in the torn and destroyed city streets. Fires engulfed and illuminated countless buildings – convenience stores, pharmacies, mini marts, miscellaneous retail stores. For a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a young boy, no older than your small cousins, ducking behind a fire hydrant. Tiny fingers braced against the stained red paint, gripping the rusted bolts as if a life depended on it. Maybe it did. But the boy was gone when you chanced a look back.

“Eyes forward,” your brother mumbled.

You didn’t bother to argue. You were far too consumed with wandering, catching stray remnants of the world around you in your peripheral. Anything and everything surrounding you seemed too fantastical, like a stupor you were unable to shake yourself from. The tall, familiar skyscrapers were in stark contrast to the now empty storefronts and abandoned vehicles.

Even though it felt like the end of something, it seemed like the start of something else. Of what, you didn’t know.

Regardless, you wanted to make no effort to distract or distress your brother any further. You’d never seen him so laser-focused, so adamant about one thing, in your life. It was clear that safety was his top priority, and the thought sent your mind and your heart reeling.

Even if your brother hadn’t been dragging you toward Lawrence Avenue, you felt that your feet would have been bumbling about of their own accord. You were sure they weren’t moving because of anything you were doing. Your mind was elsewhere, eyes flitting to and from every glimpse of dark corners and shattered glass you dared to witness. Surprisingly, it wasn’t fear bubbling up and threatening to overtake your every sense; it was surprise, perhaps confusion.

Your gaze would’ve gotten lost down a dark side road as you were marched by it, but you were torn from your daze. A slight stumble, the slip of a toddler’s foot, caught everyone by surprise. One of your cousins rested in an awkward heap a few feet in front of you, ground having scraped her knee and stray debris nearly slicing her palm as she braced herself. Among stray tires and pieces of burnt wood, she looked so small, so petite. Her face twisted in pain and sadness as she turned about, first to you and your brother as you approached then to her parents only a few steps away.

Without missing a beat, your uncle ushered your aunt forward, pushing her lower back and guiding her to keep going. He did the same with his young son before going back and reaching down, scooping up his daughter from where she lay on the pavement with one hand and reassuring her with the other.

Momentarily, his eyes flitted toward you and your brother. It was the first time he had turned to look at either of you since you started your trek. For a moment, you wondered if he was about to say something.

But he didn’t. He only locked eyes for a second, maybe longer, before he was turning on his heels and picking up his pace to a light jog.

Only minutes had gone by before your family’s pounding footsteps were quieted by shouts and gunfire. A frighteningly sudden halt came when you all jolted to a stop. If things were still, you would’ve been gracious for the moment to rest your feet, for the chance to catch your breath and rock back on your heels to ease the pain from your soles. The act of running was starting to take its toll – stripping and coercing your composure and relief from their rightful place.

Calm felt so far removed. Even more so when the gunfire ceased and a loud, nearly automated voice came over a distant speaker: “ALL REMAINING CIVILIANS MUST REPORT TO ONE OF TWO EMERGENCY MEDICAL CAMPS.”

A tan army vehicle passed by your group just then. It rolled passed, and you all did a poor attempt at ducking into the shadows. Your brother’s grip tightened, if that were even possible, and dragged you to his side. Your breath caught in your throat until the back tire of the vehicle disappeared from sight, rolling down the road and toward the loud din still protruding from two streets over.

Whoever was among the shouting didn’t matter. It was clear that there were a lot of them, and that scared you. The streets had seemed so empty, so shallow. For a moment, you could pretend like your family was all that was left, that you all would make it to your aunt and uncle’s vehicle you’d left at airport parking. Maybe drive until you found a place safe enough to sleep. Wake to a world not burnt and bruised on every side.

It was a good dream. A pipe dream, perhaps, but a good one.

Your uncle was the first to move. He wrapped his arms around your aunt and cousins, driving them down a side street a few feet away. Your brother, a slight wild look in his eye, chanced a look around. For a split moment, he looked as if he was going to grab your wrist and keep running, chance a run-in with the military or with a group of people just as scared as the two of you. But he didn’t. He let out a low huff and dragged you toward the same side street.

Your aunt was huddled a few feet away, partially occluded by shadow and rocking one of your cousins in her arms. She was crouched, whispering, or pleading, something in a low voice. It was almost unnerving to watch her come undone.

Your gaze was torn from the sight when your uncle grunted. He was crouched right beside you, tying your other cousin’s shoes. Your cousin’s small hands were splayed across his back as she tried to balance herself.

“Danny boy, you’re with me,” he finally said. He looked over his shoulder and up at your brother. “We’ll run the rest of the way. It’s just a few blocks.”

You furrowed your brow, stepping forward quickly. Danny’s hand was still locked around your arm, but he made no move to stop you nor speak for himself. “Wait, what?”

Your uncle turned his attention back to the small white strings in his hands, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the small shoelaces. “I know we said we’d get the car checked, but it should run just fine. We’ll come back for them in five minutes, tops.” His head was nodding before he even finished his sentence. “Yeah, yeah. Five minutes. Tops.”

“You can’t be serious.” Since he made no effort to acknowledge you, or to look at either of you again, you turned to your brother. “Is he serious?”

Danny was chewing on his bottom lip then, staring down at your uncle with eyes that did not seem in the least bit alarmed. “You sure about the car?”

“Positive.”

“It’ll run?”

“Should.”

At that point, your chest started to heave. Slightly, but heave all the same. A thickness suddenly but slowly started to coat your throat, like someone had lodged a softball right between your esophagus and windpipe.

Danny might’ve been calling your name, but, if he was, you couldn’t hear him. In seconds, he was dragging you backwards until you were pressed into the wall of the closest building. It was some worn-down bar. Your shoulders dug into the brick. “You have to stay here. Okay? With Aunt Lorraine and the twins.”

And that did it – that truly jolted you. “No,” you protested, hands coming up to grip your brother’s forearms. Now it was your turn to dig your fingers into his flesh. Anything to keep him there and grounded, right beside you, where he belonged. “You can’t just leave me.”

“I have to. We can get the car. Skirt downtown and be on our way to Indiana.”

“What about the military?”

“We can get away from them.”

“How?”

“We can.”

“It’s the military,” you deadpanned.

For a moment, you could almost make out a brief glint of humor in his eyes. The side of his mouth perked up, threatening a smirk that always drove you crazy whenever he found hilarity in situations not in the least bit hilarious. But right now, in this moment, it lifted whatever burden was trying to settle like a rock in your chest. Your brother was still your brother. And, to you, he’d never leave you.

“We just can, alright?” He reasoned. “We have to.”

“Well, what happens when we get to Indiana? What if we can’t find a place to stay?”

“You let me worry about that.”

“But, that’s the problem, Danny. You don’t worry about these things.”

You finally broke eye contact then. Pools of tears were beginning to form, blurring your vision and making everything around you swim.

“Well, that’s why I need you, isn’t it? Gives me an incentive to actually come back for you.”

You scoffed, a slight sniffle leaving you as you did. “As if you’d ever leave me behind.”

“Hey, we need to go, kid,” Your uncle said.

Afar off, he had long since stood and was waiting for your brother at the mouth of the street. When you turned toward him, he looked away, chancing a quick look both ways before exiting the shadows entirely. He loitered there, clearly waiting for Danny to join him.

Your brother had completely ignored him, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. “Exactly. That’s why you have to trust me when I say I will come back.”

When you returned his gaze, his eyes were as earnest as you had ever seen them. He was telling you the truth and trying his hardest to make sure you believed him before he took off. You did, of course, but something was making every nerve in your body hot and every hair on your head stand. Something wasn’t right.

“I trust your word, Danny, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

And something told you he didn’t mean himself and your uncle.

He urged himself forward, pressing a hard kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a few seconds, crushing you to his chest, before abruptly letting go. He determinedly strode down the street, meeting your uncle on the sidewalk with a firm nod.

Before he disappeared, he turned once more to you and added, “I’ll see you again.”

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

If Joel could give voice to the crushing weight of a broken heart or the sudden unwillingness to yield to the innate response to keep going, he still wouldn't be able to properly identify it as true sorrow.

He still couldn’t quite pin it – anger, disbelief, pity … guilt. Everything had happened so fast, as they always do. But never to him. Calculations and planning, pure thought – the things he was used to and relied heavily on simply because they worked – were nothing compared to the devastation of unpredictability – of spontaneity, the unexpected. As cruel as fate could be, as cruel as life itself could be, there was very little possibility that it could bring about something like this – to take something so pure, so innocent, as a life. A child’s life.

A life for a life, he determined.

“Swear?” Sara had asked. Long ago now, it felt like. Something about a birthday cake, but the softness in her voice had sent Joel’s heart pumping with love and affection.

“On my life.”

A woman screamed somewhere to his left. His brow twitched, and, for the first time, he became semi-cognizant of his surroundings. A makeshift medical camp was teeming with victims, families, military and doctors alike, swarming and descending around him. White lab coats and camouflage armor were a hazy swirl as frenzied bodies wheeled grocery carts, gurneys, wheelchairs, beds – anything they could find – all through one Austin plaza.

For one second, one split second, Joel could vividly picture himself and Tommy driving by here on the way to pick up supplies not even two months earlier. He had been laughing, then. Shaking his head at something his brother had said to diffuse his anger for having been late the morning of.

Joel had been clutching a juice box then, too. A ‘good source of vitamin D.’ It felt small and strange in his hand at the time. Foreign. An odd replacement to the coffee usually growing cold in his tired grip. But he had promised her. Even when she threw a smile over her shoulder and clamored out of the truck to bound across her school’s parking lot, he didn’t let the box go until he’d drunk it all. Even when the memory was fading now, lost to a couple of weeks and now permanently overwritten by the last time he’d dropped her off, Joel could still feel the box.

Small. Strange. Like the last image of her now boring into the backs of his eyelids – curling and uncurling her failing grip in his t-shirt with every gasping breath.

Out of nowhere, a woman screamed again. Not loud enough to startle him from whatever depth he was losing his footing in, but still loud. Loud enough to draw the attention of nearby soldiers, who rapidly trained their weapons toward her. They didn’t shoot. They didn’t stand down either.

The woman was on her knees in the middle of all the chaos. A nurse unknowingly side-stepped a soldier and nearly tripped over the wailing woman. She didn’t notice of course. She just knelt there, rocking and shrieking. It took a moment for Joel to notice the small body she was clutching in her hands. A girl. Straight, dark hair thick and spiraling, down her mother’s lap and nearly sweeping the concrete. Her legs were dangling, bedazzled skechers limp and uncanny. There was a trail of blood leading from a misshapen wound – like indents left from teeth – on the girl’s left calf.

He looked away.

“Joel.” A voice came. Hardly recognizable. Seconds later, Tommy appeared in front of him, hands gripping his forearms and eyes pleadingly searching Joel’s countenance with growing anxiety. “Joel, c’mon now. Talk to me, brother. Say something.”

He did say something, though it didn’t quite reach Tommy’s ears. He was muttering, balancing himself on the perch of the old gurney beneath him and rocking himself slightly.

“On my life,” Joel muttered, continuously, trapped in an earlier memory. An earlier conversation. With the only one who mattered.

“Alright, well,” Tommy started, dropping one hand as he scanned the surrounding area. “We need to get you something to cover that hand.” He turned his attention back to Joel, leaning down and pushing forward to take up Joel’s entire field of vision. “I’ll be back, you hear me? Don’t move.”

He was gone almost as fast as he came. At his words, Joel’s eyes dropped to his hand, the one he’d been unconsciously cradling in his lap. Blood dripped, unceremoniously, down the valley of his palm and onto the cracked pavement under his boots. He vaguely remembered lashing out at some guy before being ushered into the camp. In front of some convenience store. He had landed roughly, shards of glass impaling his skin before Tommy got the chance to haul him up and press him to keep running.

There wasn't a single part of him that felt it, though. The gaping wound – the whole ordeal – seemed like a hallucination, like something plucked from the deepest, most submerged part of his consciousness. Something hardly thinkable. Something vicious and unnerving. Something that simply couldn’t be true.

“Dad … Daddy!”

Joel jolted awake. A stray frosting tip fell from his fingers and rolled across the floor until it hit the edge of Sarah’s heel. His vision swam with exhaustion, drowsy eyes sweeping over the kitchen table. A half frosted cake, a bit lopsided and slightly whiter than the yellow version advertised on the box. A frosting bag filled with purple frosting resting precariously on the edge of the table, inches from his hand now numb from laying on it.

In sudden alarm, he turned back to a curious Sarah. “Baby, I –.” When she met his gaze, he just sighed, dropping his shoulders. “What’re you doing up? It’s late.”

“I saw the light,” she said simply.

She bent down, retrieving the frosting tip before ambling over to his side. He watched her every move, weighing every option that popped into his head about what her expression meant. Child-like innocence. Brief reminders of every year he’d spent enjoying her life right before his eyes.

The small gears were shifting in her head; he could see them from here. She was eyeing the cake, if he could even call the mound of crumbled blocks a cake. Her gaze momentarily slid toward him as she neared him. She stopped at his side, a small hand on his thigh indicating her intent. He pushed his chair back, hands easily guiding her up and onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” She finally asked.

“Figured I’d try my hand at baking. Construction’s getting slow these days. What’d you think?”

His voice was casual, but he was anything but. He had worried his lip in the aisle of the supermarket just at the thought of buying the wrong cake decorations. The moment of truth had come too soon for him. If he hadn’t been so damn tired, if Tommy had gotten the supplies earlier and hadn’t caused the job to go until ten –

“It’s pretty.”

Her voice startled him, laced with joy and, what seemed like, pleasant surprise. Her back was leaned against him, and he could just make out her face, angled slightly away from him. She was smiling softly at the poor imitation of whatever he’d bought. The only store left open had been out of cake mix, of course. A woman in the aisle with him explained how easily he could make something close to it with this. Easy for her was hell for Joel, but he couldn’t put a price on Sarah’s smile at that moment.

“Thank you. Tried real hard on it.” He was trying for humor, but he meant every word. His attempts were born from a real place – a place that desperately wanted to see her light up the way she did when he forced himself to sit through her favorite movie, when they decorated the Christmas tree early last year, and when he finally let her drive the truck on Tommy’s lap.

The two looked at the excuse for a cake. It was leaning now. A small portion protruding from where Joel attempted to make a flower out of a mold.

“Is it –,” she paused, cautiously, but hopefully, picking her next words. “Is it for me?”

“‘Course, babygirl. This masterpiece of a cake ain’t for just any eight-year-old.”

“I’m not eight yet,” she reminded him. “Except,” she paused again, frowning. “My birthday’s tomorrow.”

“You always wake up so early. Thought I’d try to surprise you by fixin’ it tonight.”

She stared a bit longer before nodding decisively and throwing an arm around his shoulders. She twisted in his lap, eyes and smile beaming up at him. “I would’ve slept in for you.”

Luck. It had to be luck. Joy, devotion, trust, unquestionable love. A child’s eyes swim with all of the above, and one child in particular, his child, was looking at him with all that and more. Her tightly-wound curls framed her small face and swept her tired eyes, but her expression remained the same. Joel’s heart twisted at the sight.

He cleared his throat, hesitant to speak with the growing lump in his throat. “You would’ve pretendin’ to, anyway.” He rose, maneuvering her until he was carrying her comfortably against his hip. “C’mon, now. It’s late. Gotta get to bed if you want your gifts.”

Abruptly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

He smiled, part of him worried his eyes were growing wet. “Anything for you, babygirl. Happy birthday.”

Joel was torn from his stupor at the sight in front of him – the sight he’d been staring at while reliving a memory he felt fading almost as fast as he began to remember it. It was a boy, barely old enough to be a teenager. His tear-stained cheeks were nothing compared to the way his eyes rapidly and wildly scanned the area. His gaze hit Joel’s for only a second before he was moving on.

“Dad!” he was shouting. “Dad!”

The boy was turning in circles, looking every which way and shouting into the sea of unknown faces. Every so often he was jostled by complete strangers – unnamed faces covered in weaponry, medication, or grief. One man bumped into him so hard he nearly lost his footing. It didn’t matter. It didn’t stop his shouts or his turns or his wild eyes cutting through the masses of people.

“Dad!”

“Dad … Dad!”

Joel turned suddenly, new reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose and hands gripping a cup of coffee – fresh seconds. His elbow was propped against the kitchen table he had been occupying for the last hour, mountains of papers and file folders splayed across the tabletop along with a black pen resting atop an unfinished tax document. With Sarah now in sight, his eyes briefly scanned the backyard through the patio-door window, where he’d last seen her playing soccer with Tommy.

His brother, of course, now leaned against their fence with a shit-eating grin on his face as the woman he was talking to from his neighbor’s yard threw her head back in laughter.

Of course.

Joel’s eyes turned back to Sarah, breathing in feigned annoyance. “What? Jesus, you keep calling my name like that you’re gonna dad me to death.”

She snorted. “If I wanted that, I’d do it more like this – Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Da–.”

“No, now that’s more like it.”

With a shake of her head, and a small smile, she wandered closer to him with a simple, “What’re you doin’?”

“Takin’ a break from you.”

She ignored him, stepping close enough to peer over the table. Normally, Joel would shoo her away with an obvious hint that she shouldn’t concern herself with whatever was his job. He didn’t like her looking or hearing about their situation in any way, good or bad. She was supposed to be thinking about soccer and school and zoos and the fair he and Tommy were taking her to later that week. Not any of this.

After a moment, he finally did; he abruptly moved forward, reaching and shuffling the papers into a messy stack.

“Nothing you have to worry about, honey, it’s –”

“Line eight E is repeated three times.”

He froze. “What?”

“Line eight, letter ‘E.’ It’s repeated three times.” For emphasis, she pointed down at the document closest to her.

Joel picked up the paper, letting the black pen slide off of it and land with a soft thud on the paper beneath it. She was right. There was no denying she was right. “Huh.”

“‘Sometimes it’s good to have a second pair of eyes,’” she quoted him, turning and strolling to the cabinet to retrieve a bag of chips. He’d told her that when he let her replace the axle nuts on her bike tire. She’d sworn the nuts wouldn’t rotate until he came over to help. The sentiment worked then, and it was working now. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself, Dad.”

He gave her a look, brows furrowing, but her back was turned. She busied herself pouring chips into a bowl. He tried for humor again, responding, “I’m never by myself. I got Tommy breathin’ down my neck every day. He’s all the help I need.”

The only indication of her response was a slight shake of her head, curly hair brushing, back and forth, between her shoulder blades. A quiet huff, something close to a laugh, escaped her.

“We’re also out of milk.” She threw a reply over her shoulder casually, very obviously avoiding turning around.

For a long moment, his eyes were still trained on her. It took a mental connection, a moment of realization, for his brows to lift slightly. His gaze slid over to a purple sticky note hanging diagonally on the refrigerator. Her frilly handwriting, turned cursive upon entering middle school, etched out ‘Get milk from the store!’ in large letters.

“That’s what the note on the fridge is for?”

She remained silent but finished making her snack, ambling back to his side and taking a seat in the chair beside him. There was no need for her to respond, but Joel’s nerves went into overdrive at any and all underlying insinuations. Was she worried about something? Worse yet, was she worried about him?

“Where’s all this coming from?” he continued.

She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “You just work so much. More than usual. I just thought – Least I can do is help you some.”

“You really wanna help out around here, maybe you can finally get a job,” he tried, verbally poking fun. “Pick up a few hours.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

She briefly smiled at him, but the act ended as soon as it began. It was clear something was bothering her. Worry was etched between her brows, and it was then Joel realized that’s how she’d been looking at him all month. Eyes wide and deep with concern; brows furrowed with a tight smile that didn’t seem quite as natural anymore. His heart nearly broke, and he cleared his throat to hide his upset.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I work a lot, and I’m not … around as much as I used to be. I’ll do better. I will. But there’s nothing you need to be worryin’ about.”

She only nodded before adding a soft, “I know.”

“Good. So you also know I love you, babygirl. Not much I wouldn’t do for ya.”

“I know.”

“That all?”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I love you too, dad.”

“That all?”

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna ‘dad you to death.’”

“Oh yeah,” he teased, leaning forward to swipe a few chips from her bowl. He flung one towards her, grinning when a laugh erupted that she couldn’t quite contain. Popping the rest of the chips in his mouth, he warned, “Stop playing with your food.”

The sound of laughter, even from a memory, felt jarring, too rich and too pure for the dark scene unfolding around him. He was long-since aware of his eyes growing wet, and, for once, he didn’t care. Couldn’t bring himself to fear or worry about it. He just stared – from the shrieking woman to the shouting boy to the wide, suddenly imposing, city landscape in the distance. It all felt void, lacking meaning in a meaningless world.

What was to be gained from this? What did any of them gain from anything?

Someone ran by, bumping into Joel’s gurney and swearing a harsh apology in the process. Or maybe just swearing. He couldn’t quite place it, and he didn’t try to. But the action was enough to remind him of his being; his body felt weightless as he drifted from distant memories to distant memories, deliberately failing to grasp one long enough to replace the bitter nightmare threatening to replay itself, over and over again. Maybe if he’d twisted the other way. Or took a chance on running. Or held her a little tighter. Or –

The gurney suddenly felt rough where his hands were gripping the edge, knuckles white and blistering. Now he could sense pain from his open wound. And maybe that was the point. To sense, to feel, something other than what was threatening to send him spiraling. The recent events were still forming pictures in his mind. Consolidation taking its time as depictions kept reordering and restructuring themselves. Building and tearing down again. It was like his brain refused to settle on any one experience.

Because they were all wrong. It was all wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. Not like this.

Emotions had yet to hit him like a brick wall, and, quite frankly, he didn’t want them to. Not now. Not ever. Sensations were returning, sporadically. There was only one he settled on. He vaguely remembered Tommy slipping a handgun into the waistband of his jeans earlier, telling him he might need it before hoisting him to his feet and pushing him to run. To run like his life had depended on it. Even if he was forced to leave his entire life – a child – lying on the cold ground behind him.

That was the sensation he focused on: the hard lick of metal curling its cool touch against his lower back.

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Waiting is just as agonizing as not. You still couldn’t quite decide if you wanted time to go faster or to go slower. You were, however, determined to maintain as much control over the situation as possible. If Danny could manage a calm head, so could you, for his sake and in his absence. You made sure your aunt was comfortable, reassuring her with a few pats on the shoulder after she’d sunken to the ground. Your cousins kept near her, staring up at you with pure curiosity.

You wondered if they understood, or just how much they understood. For their sake, you hoped they hadn’t a clue. If their silence was any indication, you were sure they were fine, probably more so worried about their mother’s – your aunt’s – tear-stained cheeks than anything else.

You tried your best not to glance at the street entrance every minute, but your head was on a swivel. Time itself seemed to stand still. How could you not wish you could do the same? Stand still, as if holding your breath might make it easier to hear your brother’s footsteps come back to you. His footsteps – loud, heavy, familiar.

That’s what you were thinking about when your uncle stumbled through the mouth of the side street he’d left you in. A purple bruise was forming on the lower left side of his jaw. A streak of blood ran across the chest of his gray shirt. Most disturbing of all, he was completely and utterly alone.

“We’ve got to go,” he said.

He hurried right by you, taking long strides towards his family. After checking his wife and daughter, he crouched and busied himself zipping his son’s jacket.

“Where’s Danny?” You asked.

The question hung in the air – thick and unanswered. He ignored you. Easily. His eyes remained pinned to his son’s body as his fingers fumbled, first with the jacket and then with the cuff of his son’s jeans.

“Where is he?” You were still calm, then. With no answer, you pulled back and stepped cautiously toward the end of the street, looking down where he’d come from. When no one else came by, you returned to your place a few feet away from your family. “Where’s Danny?”

All action and thought cease to exist when laughter brings forth pure, adulterated delight. Especially for a six-year-old child. Laughter and millions of innocent giggles bubble over and make it easy for small feet to run freely. Untamed footsteps can easily fall in line with grass and get lost to rows and rows of trees.

Lost. So, so lost.

You stood in the middle of a clearing. At some point, your laugh had burned down to a chuckle, then to silence, when you realized how far you’d made it alone. Your brother had teased you, playfully giving chase about a mile back, and you had wonderfully ran and leapt over branches and small creeks. Even climbed over a small boulder. You only came to a stop when your echoes seemed too quiet for two.

“Danny?” You called to no one in particular. “Where are you?”

It only took a moment for the beautiful chirps and snaps of branches to seem daunting, not tranquil. Terrifying, not serene. The stillness of it all threatened to suffocate you and evoke fear where you didn’t think it previously possible. You wanted to back away, but your foot had already nearly slipped on a slick mud spot.

Your eyes bounced, wildly, from one tree trunk to another. An unfamiliar feeling coiled up your back and settled at the base of your neck. The sun was starting to slink toward the horizon then. Which way had you come from? What would happen if you didn’t make it back home? What if Danny had gotten hurt, and you hadn’t both to hear him or stop for him? Had you left him somewhere?

“Danny!”

There was no answer. Only the distant sound of water trickling over rocks and another quick snap of a tree branch waving in the wind. Hot tears trickled down your face as you dropped down, sitting and pulling your knees under your chin. You were lost, but, above all, you had lost your brother.

“Hey, little sis, look what I found!” You nearly jumped out of your skin, twisting around to see Danny stepping around a bush and joining you in the clearing. He looked up to proudly present you with a small frog, cupped carefully in the palms of his hands. “Wanna name him?”

For a moment, you stayed right where you were. A soft cry escaped your lips, but there was an early sense of relief flooding every part of your small frame. You still hadn’t relaxed your furrowed brows or the frown that wound tightly on your face. Fear had gripped you, and you were beginning to realize it was the hardest thing to shake.

It only took Danny a second to realize you were crying, and only a second longer to bound over to your side and drop to his knees. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He set the frog down on a dry patch of grass before fixing an intense stare on you. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, sucking in a breath and releasing a broken sob. “I – I thought you were gone.”

Danny’s shoulders dropped a bit. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He reached out and set a hand on your shoulder. “I would never leave you, okay?”

You nodded, and he dropped his hand. He let you take a few breaths and calm down a bit before he stood to his feet.

“I think we should go back now. It’s getting dark.” He stuck out his hand, pulling you to your feet when you slipped your hand into his. “Do you remember our secret handshake?”

“Yes.”

An easy grin graced his features once more. “Good, you can show me when we make it back home.”

He moved to leave, but you pulled him back. Your hand fell from his and pointed down at the frog. “What about the frog?”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t have a name.” He stood back and looked at you expectantly. “I think we should call him Rex.”

Danny nodded, pretending to be lost in thought for a moment. He tapped his chin with the tip of his finger before smiling down at you. “I like Rex. It’s cool.”

Your smile returned, and you skipped out of the clearing, grabbing Danny’s hand as you went. That’s how it was, and that’s how it should be, when an older brother is so near – when another’s presence soothes the quiet that only loneliness can bring about. Your tears had dried and a glimmer of tranquility returned to the noises in the air and the stillness of the environment. A feeling of safety returned soon after, too, and the discomfort of fear had fallen without your notice.

His word was enough: I would never leave you.

You half expected him to scare you like he had when you were children. To step around the wall and stumble towards you, completely oblivious to your worries and concerns about his whereabouts. You would berate him, maybe smack his arm or chest for sending your nerves into overdrive, but you would most likely pull him into a hug and look him over for any bruises. You kept glancing in the direction of the street, waiting for an arrival that would never come.

“Where’s Danny?”

“Honey,” your aunt tried, giving your uncle a sincere look that read: Please answer your niece.

He ignored her too, setting his hands firmly on his son’s shoulders and giving him a nod. He looked at his son intently, probably trying to reassure him with just one look. With the state the world was currently in, words were starting to fail. All anyone could do was offer some sense of familiarity in gestures and in looks.

But that wasn’t enough for you. It never would be.

In desperation, you moved to grab at your uncle’s shirt. “Where is he? Where’s D–.”

Your uncle stood abruptly, whipping around to face you. You were nearly chest to chest as he leered down at you. “He’s not coming back.”

Your response was immediate, taking a step back as if someone had punched you squarely in the chest. “Wha– What?”

A long, silent moment went by. You could just make out the screaming crowd now nothing but a soft, inaudible sound to your ears. Your uncle dropped his gaze. He looked almost guilty for not being able to offer you the reprieve you were obviously searching for – the answer he just couldn’t give you.

“He’s not coming back, kid,” he said, softer this time. “I– I’m sorry.”

He turned, picking up his son and grabbing his wife’s arm to hoist her up with him. Your aunt held her daughter close to her chest, unable to meet your eyes. There was another moment of silence between you all. They stood there, uncertain. Your uncle refused to meet your eyes for longer than a second, flitting his gaze from you to the street behind you. It was the sound of another military vehicle that finally made him straighten his posture and look you in the eye.

“You need to get out of here. It’s not safe out in the open.”

He turned to jog further down the street, in the opposite direction of where you’d all entered originally. That’s when your aunt offered you a sincere look. “Come with us.”

You made no effort to move. Your feet were cemented to the soiled street; Your eyes still glued to your uncle’s distressed countenance. His words were the only thing you heard: He’s not coming back.

“C’mon, Lorraine. We need to go.”

“We can’t just leave her here, David.”

The military truck came louder now just as the backdoor to the bar slammed open. A man stumbled through the door and landed in a heap of tangled limbs on the ground. A low growl escaped him as his hands fisted the concrete, and he doubled over, twice, in obvious pain. His brown hair was awry, fingers caked in something you couldn’t quite place. The back of his shirt was ripped in various places, and his veiny flesh was exposed; skin long since too inhumane to not deserve the look you gave him. Your eyes blown wide and jaw slack.

The man’s head snapped up, wild eyes looking directly at your aunt.

“C’mon, Lorraine!” Your uncle shouted louder, backing away and pulling his son tighter to his chest. “We gotta go now!”

Your aunt stayed there, frozen in fear. You took a step back, foot catching in a small puddle and sending the man’s horrid attention barreling toward you. The break in harsh scrutiny was all your aunt needed. She took that moment to hug her daughter close and sprint after your uncle. Their retreating footsteps hit like lead to your chest, every step sending you reeling backward as your chest heaved with something closer to alarm than fear.

The man shrieked, scrambling to his feet and running toward you. For a moment, your eyes slid to your aunt and uncle’s distant figures just over his shoulder. A part of you half-expected them to chance a look back, to answer their curiosity about you and your wellbeing. But they didn’t. They didn’t spare a single look, even when they turned sharply and disappeared around a corner.

A deep pain began to throb, harsher now, from the spot Danny had been gripping your arm. The man was within arms length now, hand reaching out to grab that same arm – the arm Danny had held protectively in place.

Your body reacted quicker than you did. You weren’t sure you would’ve reacted at all, if not for the slightest inkling, the slightest hope, that Danny was still out there, somewhere close. Who would come for him if you didn’t?

With a surprised yelp, you turned on your heels and sprinted toward the street entrance – toward the street Danny disappeared down not even thirty minutes before. Gnashing teeth and a horrible stench followed you closely, squirming and throwing itself at you like an animal. You had made it only a few feet in the street before the man tackled you to the ground. Pain erupted from your knees and elbows as you fell with a sharp cry.

A hand pulled your hair, clothes, arms, just about everything fingers could find purchase. You twisted sharply, coming face to face with the man. His teeth came dangerously close to your face and, on instinct, you brought your forearm up to his neck, pushing him away with as much strength as you could muster. You gritted your teeth, but a scream soon ripped from your throat as his upper body pushed further and further down on you. Closer and closer until –

A shot rang out, and the man’s body went limp.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The finality of acceptance had still escaped Joel. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to take anything in that moment as truth, no matter how outlandish it might have been.

Two white coats rushed by, stopping mere feet away. Even among the chaos, their conversation was easy enough to overhear.

“I have a dad asking after his kid.”

“Everyone’s asking after someone.”

“Yeah, but she was here when they arrived. Apparently lost her in all the confusion.”

“Take him to triage. A lot of missing kids there. We just revived one.”

Joel looked up at the new truth being presented to him – a truth that was far easier to accept than the one bombarding his current experience. His feet were carrying him away from his spot of refuge before he could even think. In fact, he wasn’t thinking. He was scanning for her. Curly hair. Eyes looking for him as much as his eyes were looking for her.

We just revived one.

If there was a possibility she was here, he was willing to take it. He had already accepted that possibility as fact without his own notice. His heart was elated and his chest was rising just at the thought. It was easier, fairer. And in no way was he preparing, or thinking to prepare, for the inevitable crash that always took place when attempting to deny reality.

“By nine, Dad.” Sarah hopped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. She went to Tommy’s side, hand clamping down on the opened window and eyes boring into her Dad from where he sat in the passenger seat. “You said nine.”

“I know, I know.”

She opened her mouth to add something, but the bell cut her off. She huffed in resignation before pointing at the two of them, each in turn. With a growing smile, she waved and ran towards her school, throwing a quick “Don’t forget the cake!” over her shoulder.

Just as Tommy pulled out of the lot, his eyes slid over to his brother, and his face twisted into a wide grin he couldn’t hide even if he tried. “Jesus, that kid loves you to death.”

At that, Joel couldn’t hide his own smile, even if the weight of Tommy’s words felt heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah, I know.”

A content quiet fell between the two as Tommy maneuvered out of the school lot. Once he was back on the road, his eyes drifted toward his brother a few times before he shook his head. He always did that when something was on his mind but didn’t know quite how to approach it. Especially when it was Joel he was trying to approach.

“I tell you what, Joel. You gotta cut back.”

Joel was no stranger to the topic Tommy was attempting to bring up. He knew he was working like a madman again, picking up projects and stumbling into the house late at night often long after Sarah had put herself to bed.

Still. He acted oblivious. “What do you mean?”

“Sarah, man. You gotta cut back. Spend more time with her. I know you mean well. You want to provide for her, protect her. I respect that, Joel. Hell, everybody sees and respects that. But she’s still young. Still needs you. It won’t be like that always. She’s got a bright future ahead of her. Nothing’s going to take that from her. From you. Nothing’s going to change that. You don’t have to work so damn hard just to keep it that way.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but he offered his brother a brief nod when he glanced in his direction. They both knew he was right.

“Besides,” Tommy continued with a teasing grin, “you need to get a hold on her before she gets too much older. If she’s anything like we were, they’ll be hell to pay.”

Joel grunted. “Nu uh, my Sarah’s too smart. I ain’t worried ‘bout nothing.”

“You say that now.”

“And I’ll say it then.” Joel nodded decisively. “It’s like you said, she’s got a bright future ahead of her.”

“I know, brother, I know. All I’m saying is that you should make the most of it now. These years will be gone before you know it.” Tommy turned to look at him, more intensely this time. “She’ll be gone before you know it.”

The children were many, but the number that resembled her were few. The child they had revived was a boy no older than four and had been revived for reasons unbeknownst to Joel. The inevitable crash of secret humiliation and embarrassment at his own deception led him to a corner, away from the frenzy and uproar in the camp. Two soldiers stood, with their backs toward him and weapons drawn, with their heads on a swivel. But they paid no attention to Joel. Even with the cool metal resting in his hands, safety off and finger poised at the ready. They still paid him no mind. He might as well have been a dead man.

Should’ve been, anyway.

On my life. Not yours, babygirl.

With that thought, he was ready for anything that might come after. Truth be told, he was more than ready. He wanted to pull the trigger, so he did.

But he flinched. Even before the bullet had left its chamber, a part of him was wholly certain that any shot or amount of lead was not meant for him. It was a destiny he was never meant to share, no matter how much he wanted to.

–

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Four pairs of hands were on you and hauling you to your feet before you could reassess your situation any further. The body slid off of you as you were pulled to your feet; its weight made a sickening noise as it thumped to the pavement at your feet. You were being dragged to an armored truck filled with people – men, women, children. Greedily, you scanned the faces for the only one that mattered. Maybe they’d got him. Maybe they’d saved him, too.

There were a lot of people, but none resembled Danny.

Finally, something broke – anger, bitterness, nauseous … mostly anger. You dug your heels into the pavement, nearly sending one soldier tripping over his feet at your sudden protest. You took the moment of surprise as an opportunity to rip your arm free from his grasp, shoving him away and clawing at the hand still clamped firmly around your other arm. You tried desperately to free yourself, scratching and pulling like your life depended on it. Like Danny’s life depended on it.

“No!” You shouted. “No! Get off me!”

Your doorknob rattled before your brother let himself in, closing the door softly behind him as if he hadn’t already made a world of noise just by entering.

“Jesus,” you started, sitting up in bed, “don’t you know the first thing about knocking?”

“I’ll knock when you stop stealing my sweatshirts from my room.”

Childishly, you stuck out your tongue and crossed your arms. “Fair.”

Without missing a beat, he took three long strides toward your window and looked out, smiling down at something. Undoubtedly his friend’s car, waiting for him in the driveway. “I’m heading out.”

“When are you not?”

“Just open the window for me when I get back, alright?” You got up to join him by the window as he opened it. “I won’t be too late this time.”

“I’m starting to think you like asking for trouble.”

He turned to smile at you – soft, mischievous, winning. Your brother could just as easily ask to leave the house, but he preferred sneaking out. He was defiant just to be defiant, doing so in a way that still made him agreeable and likable. Roping you into his mischief was like a sibling rite of passage, as he put it.

Despite yourself, you smiled back before watching him clamor out of your window. He crouched on the roof, turning to flash you one last smile. “Don’t forget my knock.”

“Three knocks.”

“Always three so you know it's me.” He winked.

“You say that like anyone else would be knocking on my window at one in the morning.”

“You’re right. Because you’re lame.”

“Go before I push you off the roof.”

He grinned widely before turning and inching his way toward the edge. He immediately stopped when you called his name.

“Danny,” you said softly. He looked over his shoulder. “If anything ever happens, don’t be afraid to call the house. I’ll come get you myself if I have to.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m serious, Danny.”

“Relax. I know my fearsome sister will always come to my rescue.” He gave a mock salute before jumping down to the lawn. He ran toward the idle car before turning back toward you, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “Three knocks!”

When the soldier had recomposed himself, he walked back toward you and yanked your arm, much harder this time. Your outburst drew the attention of the others on the vehicle. A mom pulled her child closer to her, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was still out there, missing, and not a single person seemed to give a damn.

“Get off me!” You screamed again, voice breaking as a tear slipped down your cheek. In frustration, you sent a swift kick that the soldier sidestepped easily. “Get off me!”

One soldier finally let you go as the other wrapped his arms around you, pulling you off your feet and carrying you the rest of the way to the awaiting vehicle. Your struggle was rendered useless as he carried you with ease, tossing you onto the truck like you meant nothing. You probably didn’t, not to him and not to anyone. But you knew you meant something to Danny, and you weren’t going to go down without him. Not without a fight.

You pushed off the bed of the truck, attempting to scramble off of it and back onto the street. “Danny!” You shouted, pushing a stranger out of your way and making a quick jump for it. “Danny!”

You were sure you were still calling his name, even when the butt of a gun connected with the side of your forehead.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The sound of a weapon firing draws a lot of attention. Namely from uniformed soldiers who were to make sure all civilians had been thoroughly searched and weapons properly confiscated before entering the medical camp. The mistake was sure to cause one of them trouble, which is probably why they tackled Joel with such ferocity. He was on the ground and surrounded by military and medical personnel before he could blink.

Tommy was shouting his name again, parting the crowd roughly as he clawed his way to his brother. White bandages gripped in his hand. He was searching for him, relentlessly, before catching sight of the commotion. All the while, Joel was calm. The realization hadn’t dawned on him yet; the adrenaline of the deed he was trying to commit had not yet worn off. He was delusional with the loss of will – his volition having been stripped from him through no effort of his or anyone else’s.

For a second, he let himself believe he was dead. Like some instinctual force hadn’t just caused him to flinch.

Someone hoisted him to his feet; all while someone, most likely Tommy, was shouting, “Don’t shoot him! Don’t shoot him!”

A doctor stepped forward. She flashed a light in his eyes. “Sir. Sir? Can you hear me?”

A trickle of blood slid past his peripheral. It dawned on him that the commotion around him was real – it was happening – and his unfocused eyes finally snapped toward the soldier gripping his arm. His unfeeling expression hidden under his helmet felt familiar. Too familiar.

“Joel,” Tommy warned. He knew his brother well enough to predict his intent. He stepped forward, cautiously, trying but failing to shoo the soldiers and doctors back. He momentarily looked between the wound on Joel’s head and the discarded gun on the ground. He hesitated, partially, but hesitated all the same. “He ain’t sick or nothing.” Tommy turned from the doctors back to Joel. “Joel, listen to me, brother. Let’s get you patched up, alright? Let’s ge–.”

Joel was swinging before he knew what he was doing. He lunged, kicked, and swung wildly, nearly ripping himself from the awkward grip now three soldiers had him in. They were strong; non compliant. They wrestled with him for a moment before another doctor ushered him away.

“Here,” the doctor was saying, “bring him over here.”

“Careful, I said he ain’t sick,” Tommy butt in, grimacing at the hold they had on his brother. “Joel, calm down. Everything’ll be okay, Joel. Just — Just calm down.”

The soldiers were dragging him to a nearby gurney. A few medical personnel were preparing a syringe somewhere off to his right. He sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight, and every single thing he was doing was an indication of that. Somewhere, deep down, he could hear his brother. Calling for him to stop. Calling for him to settle down before they did something to him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Maybe they should do something to him. Put him out of his misery. Or subject him to the same fate they subjected her to. It was a cruel thought that they’d spare him – that they’d do everything in their power not to hurt him in the way they hurt her.

They were wrestling him onto his back when his mouth finally caught up to his actions.

“My daughter!” He shouted. “My daughter. You took her.” He leered in the face of the nearest soldier, tears glistening in his eyes. “You took her.”

A needle was being pressed into his skin when a third voice spoke to him, calmly. Another doctor. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll find her. I’m sure, wherever she is, she’ll be alright, if she’s not already.”

His next protests were weak as his body suddenly relaxed. His eyes fluttered just as Tommy came into view at his side. Tommy just stared at him. Horrified. Guilty. Sad. They both looked at each other, eyes mirroring one another and telling stories neither one of them were ready to say aloud.

–

2023.

The consequence of grief and sudden loss might be unique to the individual, but it is imminent for all individuals. No one can measure the actions or reactions of another. Neither can blame be given or taken away. The repercussions of any event are often cyclical, far outweighing descriptions or explanations. In any one situation, one might fall and another might rise. Or perhaps one and another might both fall.

With loss, it’s typically the latter.

Joel’s gruff appearance was unmistakable to the people in the Boston QZ. Unsurprising. Like the rumor that swirled around about him after the day’s shifts ended and the people could return to their nightly rituals of whatever placated their poor souls — beer, pills, sex. The former two either stolen or traded for rations.

The rumor didn’t spread far — not past a block, maybe a sector at most. It was a cautious one. A woman told of her inability to toss a child’s body to the flames during her shift. An unforgiving job. A thankless act of service to the QZ that meant discarding the ones killed at the hands of those in authority — by Fedra. Infected. Suspected. Guilty (or not). Didn’t matter. Her story was one that stoked plenty of bitter, angry people who already hated the QZ for their wrongs and misdoings.

But it was Joel who stoked their feelings too — feelings of fear and avoidance. Wordlessly, he had tossed the lifeless child into the awaiting flames with as much absence of emotion as he always displayed. Unfeeling. Unapproachable. Never spoke a word but was somehow enough all on his own – enough to cause others to steer clear, to look away whenever he came around.

The only one that could tolerate him, that could placate him, was Tess. Something she could use to her advantage and soak in the pleasure of.

Nearly a thousand miles away, you were pacing wordlessly outside a freezer in the back of a restaurant in downtown Chicago. A bitter cry had long-since been muted by the sounds of grunts and a flurry of punches before a familiar face stepped out. He didn’t say anything, even when he walked right by you and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.

You did as you always did — followed at his heels. “I don’t trust this guy, Dallas. He’s lying.”

“You never trust anyone.” His face was serious, but his voice carried humor. You rolled your eyes.

“And for good reason. He’s been lying since I found him by the old medical camp near Lincoln Park.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

He turned to look at you, eyes boring into yours for a few seconds. You were dropping your gaze before the intensity of it all could get too thick. For a moment, your attention bounced around the small kitchen. Your ears caught the quiet voices of your group outside — a good mix of men and women.

Dallas turned fully, tossing the rag on the floor and standing in front of you with arms crossed over his chest. “What were you doing near the old med bay?”

“I told you.” Your voice had a dangerous edge to it. You shifted your weight to your other foot and finally met his gaze again. “I ran an errand.”

Unconvinced, Dallas nodded. “You were looking for him again, weren’t you?”

He commanded and barked orders well. You usually followed them — usually. But even he wasn’t stupid enough to mention his name aloud to you. Your sibling’s name was never spoken again after you revealed to Dallas that dark night twenty years earlier. But Dallas knew this was about him. He could tell in the way a muscle in your jaw jumped, and you looked away briefly.

He chuckled. Dark. Low. “Look, I get it. You haven’t been back here in years, and I figured the thought of finding him’s been tempting you since Arizona. But you keep putting the group at risk, and I’ll have to abandon you.”

You snorted. “As if you’d leave me behind.”

“Watch me.”

He was grinning, a certain humor in his tone that wasn’t in the least bit light or airy. There was nothing indicating that he wasn’t as serious as his darkened eyes meant to be. Something twisted in your stomach, heart plummeting, as your smile dropped at the thought. Only a moment went by before you forced the feeling away, choking the thick emotions down until the only thing you could feel was cold metal being pushed into your hand.

“If you don’t trust him,” Dallas muttered, stepping closer to you as he pressed the gun into your limp palm a bit firmer, “then end it.”

You swallowed quietly, taking the weapon and testing its weight without once looking up at him. You could feel him hovering over you. His heat dripped off of him and pooled at your feet. Deep. Menacing. Unforgiving. His request wasn’t the first time, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. But this time, this one time, some part of you felt off. Something tugged at your lips until you unknowingly frowned down at the tigger your finger hovered over.

Maybe it was the mention of him. Maybe your emotions were too high and your willingness finally waning. Maybe it was the sister waiting back at the old medical camp, looking for the brother you helped kidnapped and now held hostage in some worn-down freezer.

“Is this really necessary?” You asked. “If he’s really lying, we can still use him.”

“And have them get to him? He’s a damn liar, sure, but he’s a traitor first. He knows what we did.”

“Yeah, but he did the same to them.” You finally looked back up at him, gun held loosely at your side. “For us. Remember? What else did we expect? For him not to turn on us, too?”

Dallas was quiet for a moment, a long moment. But the way he was peering down at you, with hooded eyes and clenched teeth, didn’t change for a second. “I’ve never stopped to question you. We are the only two here. I never left you.”

You knew what he was referencing. Suddenly the group just beyond the thin white door separating the kitchen from the dining area seemed too close, too imposing. Every person in your group was a new face. Their voices were still unfamiliar and discomforting to hear. Your old companions were either dead or dying, snitching to Fedra for brownie points or taking their chances on their own, and Dallas was all you had left...

He measured the look on your face before leaning in further, adding, “Now’s your chance to prove your loyalty to me.”

Your eyes snapped up at him, mouth now partially agape. Everything you had done leading up to this point had been erased by that measly sentence. Your actions, however gruff and unforgiving, were whittled to nothing before your eyes, and you were made out to be a fraud. Weak. Someone incapable of returning the favor of protection or dishing it out in the first place. The thought made you sick.

With a low huff, you spun on your heels and walked determinedly back to the freezer. You threw open the door to find your old partner, Brett, tied haphazardly to a chair surrounded by two of your guys. At the sight of you, his eyes were blown wide and head shook furiously from side to side. He was shouting something: No. No. No— please, no. But you were already gone, doomed to proving what you had already proved time and time again.

It only took one steady aim before you pulled the trigger.

Your men stood, jaw slack, as Brett’s body fell with a sickening thump. Your knees suddenly felt wobbly as adrenaline seeped from your body in waves, nearly doubling over as a pain hit your chest. You sniffed, waving the barrel of the gun between the two men before pointing it in Brett’s direction.

“Clean this up.”

Perhaps — for you and for Joel and for anyone else — the mind and body’s first instinct is denial. Perhaps sorrow cannot be given a true voice. Perhaps acceptance is far more brutal than the precious time one can spare living a half truth. Whatever the reason, manifestations of pain and suffering matter little when grief goes unnoticed and the heart unattended.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x platonic!reader #the last of us #thelastofus #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fanfiction #joelmiller #tommymiller #tlou #the last of us tv show

58 notes · View notes

saehaerys · 8 months

Text

About Laugh and Forget (1)

Sooo unfortunately I have to work overtime the second day of work. And most of that time I need to be waiting... for experiment to run, so I feel like I could be writing a bit about how Laugh and Forget, Laugh and Forget! came about.

A bit under a year ago, one day in February, I had a horrible idea that Jaehaerys had coveted Saera and in his terrible covetousness he messed it all up, sending her away for cold repentance, and she fled from his face in mischief and utter disillusionment of their bond. It became increasingly unbearable for me to regard this passage of faux history. What if Saera intuited his intent for her, which he himself had yet recognized in its full monstrosity, and pressed her golden head into the burning window of the house of conflagration... Since the first day this has been a story coloured in gold. Gold as in the Era of Reconciliation, as in the people's colouring, as every emotion at play, as how she's thought by many, her siblings even to be best conditioned for his tyranny. I have certainly abused gold in symbolism in the words I churned out so far. It's blatant irony I know. I was under the same influence when I chose the name of the series, Ketoret, a sweet incense burnt on the God's golden altar, over the temple's blood reek of slaughtered sacrifice.

When I started this story, I wrote with whims and only had a very vague plan for where this shall go - I mean, the ending is already written :/ And I think it would hardly end any differently, whether Saera approached Jaehaerys or not. Worse case scenario is that his monster arose and he caged her for life, having crafted a more cunning gaol for her out of half-dignity and ardor, to keep her within his reach. As I proceed, the inconsistency or rather evolution of stylistic things started to disconcert me. Same happened for Saera's characterization, and till now I can't be sure whether her recollection of earlier fantasy of Jaehaerys makes sense when placed next to Ch2, but let's see if as story unfurls.

In Ch1 Alyssa tracked her down. Alyssa is a funny character. She was "bawdy as a barmaid" but there's no scandal of hers along the same vein as Saera's. She wanted of her own accord, to birth many children for Baelon. She and Baelon in many ways are the true golden children of their era, the mini Jaelysanne that they are. She taught Vaegon o the bully of Daella a good lesson, making her a very dutiful big sister with a welcome sense of righteousness. Saera and Alyssa share quite a few things in common. Perhaps exactly because of Alyssa's attachment to Baelon did she manage to evade Jaehaerys's undue favour. The two siblings are too complete together. In loving remembrance to his marriage with Alyssa, Jaehaerys never saw Alyssa in the complex light he saw Saera: doting, pitiful, worried, pained. Had Alyssa been alive, she would've taken on the duty of searching for Saera in her naive conscience despite being so much her parents' daughter.

The title of the story, Laugh and Forget, Laugh and Forget! is self-explanatory as it moves forward. Saera sat down with Alyssa who strove for an answer and had only seen hints of what had transpired when Saera was at court, and told the story between her and her father, which inspired no laughter unless who listened was cruel, and which could hardly be forgotten unless occurred to one heartless. Saera does have one though. But if gods were merciful, perhaps she does not remember what Jaehaerys looked like anymore as years went by, only the vague image of a very calm man who promised her confusion and hell.

Oh also! Stir The Blood by The Bravery is entirely my musical inspiration for anything saehaerys.

#Saera x Jaehaerys #Saehaerys #self-meta #fic-meta

7 notes · View notes

ultrajustjo · 7 months

Text

Of Loving Grace

Here is the final sermon in the mini-series on covenants with God; youth sermon, readings, sermon, and prayer.

Youth

So, surprise! Not every word is written out for this one! You can read mine and jump off into your own meditation. You could also purchase the same curriculum I'm using. It's great, it follows the Revised Common Lectionary, and it is available for all church sizes and budgets. I'm a fan. But you can just take inspiration from these pictures, if a full-blown curriculum is not on your radar today.

Second Sunday of Lent, February 25, 2024

If you have time, you can add this four-part meditation.

Scripture

First Reading Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16

1When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the LORD appeared to Abram, and said to him, “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless. 2And I will make my covenant between me and you, and will make you exceedingly numerous.” 3Then Abram fell on his face; and God said to him, 4“As for me, this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. 5No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. 6I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. 7I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.”

15God said to Abraham, “As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. 16I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.”

Second Reading, Paul’s letter to the Romans 4:13-25

13For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. 14If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. 15For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation.

16For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, 17as it is written, “I have made you the father of many nations”) — the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. 18Hoping against hope, he believed that he would become “the father of many nations,” according to what was said, “So numerous shall your descendants be.” 19He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead (for he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb. 20No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, 21being fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. 22Therefore his faith “was reckoned to him as righteousness.” 23Now the words, “it was reckoned to him,” were written not for his sake alone, 24but for ours also. It will be reckoned to us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead, 25who was handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.

Faith (1864)

Freeman Gage Delamotte (English, 1813–1862)

Our Gospel reading from Mark 8:31-38

31Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 32He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. 33But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

34He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. 36For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? 37Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? 38Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

This is the Word of the Lord.

Thanks be to God.

Sermon

Today is the second Sunday in Lent. I will remind you that Sunday’s are little Easters because every Sunday we celebrate the risen Christ, so Sundays are not part of the 40 days of Lent. As an aside, that is why some Christian churches do not celebrate Easter or Resurrection Sunday as a holiday because we do celebrate the risen Christ every time we worship together. Today, on our sabbath day that we are keeping holy, we praise God for our mediator, the risen Christ. So, today, Sunday, not Lent.

But, for the rest of the week according to our church calendar, we are journeying with Christ on his way to the cross. This is a solemn time for reflection. On that journey, we are reminding ourselves of why and how we are part of God’s people, so that, come Easter Sunday, we can truly understand how you and I are personally involved and able to proclaim “He is risen!”

Last week, most of us read about the first covenant between God and God’s people, as we heard the story of Noah after the great flood. I served in Glenmont last week and I’m pretty sure they were sick of me saying the word “covenant.” I really hammered it home. We read that God placed the rainbow in the vast sky facing away from the people and we can see that symbol as God’s self-limiting protection of Creation, which includes us (imagine an archer’s bow pulled back to shoot). The focus of this first covenant was the fullness of creation -- all creatures in the world are in a contractual agreement under God’s protection.

Charles Willson Peale: Noah and his ark / WikimediaCommons

In our reading from Genesis today, we read of the second great covenant between God and God’s people, shown here in God’s promise to Abram that his family line would extend to many nations -- a symbol of great blessings. Our reading skipped over the physical sign of the covenant -- circumcision of males, which was a sign that covered all people in the household, male and female, and pointed to the promise of fruitfulness and blessing. Our reading today did include the name changes of Abram to Abraham and from Sarai to Sarah. The new names mark the passage from a previous state to a new, covenantal state. In today’s terms, we understand the changing of names in the context of married couples who change their name to signify their new life and the agreement they have made to live as one family, or in the context of our trans siblings who change their names in order to step into a more comfortable personal space. Sometimes, we even change our names from a childhood calling to a more “adult” name, such as when Robbie becomes Robert, and Sissy becomes Cecelia. We understand the symbolism of a name change -- it isn’t random, and it has deep meaning.

Let’s recap a little bit: so far on this Lenten journey to the cross, we’ve been reminded that God promised to protect creation. This protection means that all of creation was not only pronounced good, but it was pronounced saveable and worthy of continuation. The world, and God’s creation which includes humanity, will continue.

We’ve also been reminded that God promised that we will thrive as we stay in covenant with our Creator. Remember, “covenant” implies a contract with more than one party. God is in covenant with us, not over us or separate from us. We are in relationship with God. God is with us. Emmanuel, right? It was just two months ago that we were singing that!

youtube

So, creation will continue, and God is with us. These promises are given in a two-party relationship of faith. This leads us right into today’s New Testament reading from Romans 4:13-16:

“13For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. 14If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void....

Paul reminds us that Abraham’s faith in God’s promises was not just for himself, but for us, his heirs in faith. In faith, the promise of God is not void. In faith, the promise of God rests on Grace, and God’s grace is revealed to us through Jesus Christ.

Our gospel reading today shows Jesus really putting his disciples to the test. They know the story of Noah. They know about Abraham. And they know, from the very mouth of Jesus, about God’s true call to faith. They have been showing love to all they meet, feeding thousands, healing the sick, listening to the outcasts, and studying the law of God through the direct teachings of the Messiah.

At this point in Mark’s gospel, Jesus is probably tired. He issues his rebuke to Peter to “Get behind me, Satan” -- to stop with the platitudes. Jesus doesn’t want Peter’s “thoughts and prayers,” his distracted and ineffectual dismissal of what Jesus is saying. Jesus wants Peter, and us, to focus on the deeper, divine meaning behind his words. Jesus wants Peter, and us, to listen as Jesus describes the new covenantal state we will enter with God after Jesus suffers, is rejected, killed, and rises again on the third day.

Jesus foretells his own manner of death as he tells the crowd to take up their crosses and follow him. We think, “Oh, Christianity, crosses -- there’s a nice piece of architecture or there’s a nice necklace. What a lovely cross.” Crosses were known to the crowds listening to Jesus. Crosses were a Roman instrument of torture. Torture was everyday life and you didn’t want a cross. But Jesus willingly walked that path, and he told them, if they would only listen, that a path that includes faithfulness to the promises of God also includes witness to Jesus’s return “in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

Our lessons today from the scriptures teach us that God promises us continuation, faithfulness, and justification through unfathomable grace that saves us in Heaven. We’ll end here with this: Paul says this to us in Romans, that God’s promises “It will be credited, or our text said “reckoned,” to us who believe in the One who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead, who was handed over to death for our trespasses, and was raised for our justification.” We are in covenant with God, because we believe.

Let us Pray:

O God, grant that we may stand in your grace. Grant that the light of your grace may come to us through your Word. Keep us firm in faith until the promised time when your redemption shall come to all. We sometimes ask if we can bear the hard times in our lives. We call on your promises to steady us. Help us to listen to your Word. Help us to turn to you, the One who knows the hour when we may see the promised day. In the name of our sibling and our mediator, Jesus Christ, Amen.

#duke divinity #duke #art #reformed #church #notre dame fighting irish #youtube #christian faith #appalachia #appalachian culture #bluegrass #orthodox christianity #orthodox church

0 notes

girlpornparadise · 4 years

Text

Roll call: Men in Uniform

It has recently come to my attention that I have a history of crushing on men in uniform. I mean, really, who doesn't love a man in uniform. So here's a fairly chronological list of my hotties of choice.

1. Lt. James Brody - seaQuest DSV/2032 (played by Edward Kerr)

Ok, this was like my first ever big crush. I was very young, and everyone assumed I was watching seaQuest for Jonathan Brandis, the more age appropriate 16 year old cutie, and Darwin the talking dolphin (ok, I loved Darwin). But Naw, I was all like, who's that guy who is damn near 30 and thus well over twice my age. He was cocky, sarcastic and had that perfect 90s hair and sharp jaw. He walked around in that blue jumpsuit uniform handling weapons and kicking ass. This it seems, is where this all started. Having looked him up now, he's totally a silver fox. So good on me for kicking off puberty with good tastes.

Honourable mention goes to Chief Miguel Ortiz (Marco Sanchez), who was also way too old for me and filled out that uniform in excellent fashion.

2. Captain Li Shang - Mulan (voiced by B.D. Wong)

This one is less about the uniform and more about the… lack of uniform during the training montage. I was still kinda young when this came out which aligns with the fact he's animated. Still, I knew i wanted him to make a (wo)man out of me even if I didn't fully understand what that entailed. I also just wanted to BE Mulan in general. And this man who can kick ass and command an army (but is also totally soft) was my man of choice.

3. Lt. Tom Paris - Star Trek Voyager (played by Robert Duncan McNeill)

Here's another pretty boy lieutenant who is a little too charming and funny for my own good. Even the actor admits the character started off as a bit of a cringy misogynist, but when my girl B'Elanna stole his heart he got whipped into shape and those 2 are my otp. Less fighty than the other entries on this list, and more pyjama style uniform clad, I'm still a total softie for this guy.

4. Medic Eugene "Doc" Roe - Band of Brothers (played by Shane Taylor)

Not as high up in the ranks, but still a take charge kind of guy (he really tells off some officers for not acting like adults at one point). He's just so. He's so. Look, the context of this one is a factual war drama, so it's not about the shoot 'em up fiction I otherwise go for. Eugene as portrayed in the mini series is complex and sensitive and his episode (Bastogne) broke my heart into a million pieces. It sent me into a year long obsession with this series and I still take comfort in it when things are really bad.

Honourable mention goes to almost literally every other notable character in the show. I'm not even kidding, ya know when your crushing spreads through a fandom like wildfire? There's a cast of literally hundreds and I fell in love with like half. But Major Richard Winters (Damian Lewis) and Captain Lewis Nixon (Ron Livingston) deserve special mention 'cuz they are yummy and I named my mice after them.

5. Colonel Horacio Carrillo - Narcos (played by Maurice Compte)

The man of the hour (according to tumblr I've been screaming about this man since March 2019). If you're reading this, you know Horacio. The walking dichotomy of moral righteousness and merciless killer. He's hard for his job and soft for his wife (that's canon people!) in a way that is so easy to spin a fantasy about. I want to be his wife who clearly can't do laundry properly 'cuz her husband's uniform keeps shrinking. I want to cook him dinner, sit on his lap, and brush lightly at his neck. I want the way he handles firearms with intention and skill to be how he handles me in the bedroom. I want… I just want.

Here are a few honourable mentions to round out the pretty:

Billy Russo - The Punisher (played by Ben Barnes)

Captain Steve Rogers - Captain America (played by Chris Evans)

Captain Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce - M*A*S*H (played by Alan Alda)

I don't think I could handle a military man in real life. Just not my jam. But give me a fictional man in uniform and I'll think of the fastest way to take him out of one.

So, who would you add to the list? Who are your favourites? I wanna know!

Tagging people 'cuz y'all don't play otherwise: @nicke0115 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @allthingsnarcos @xxidontwikeitxx @lettherebrelight @xxsteph-enrixx @fleurfatale89 @kid-from-new-zealand @chensingmachinee @criminal-cookies @allalngthewtchtower @ntlmundy @paniclana @ anyone else who wants to play

#horacio carrillo #seaquest #mulan #captain america #star trek voyager #narcos #mash #band of brothers #men in uniform

38 notes · View notes

dorkery · 5 years

Video

youtube

I manifest, briefly, to write about this miniseries WHICH I HAD EXTREMELY HIGH HOPES FOR, and it disappointed me so much I’m compelled to write an actual review about it. In summary, of course. If I did it in-depth, it would probably have to be on my proper blog (oops shit I haven’t updated that in ages).

INTRO ABOUT JAPAN AND WWII (skip this to get to actual review of series)

TOKYO TRIAL. Ah. The Asian parallel to Nuremberg. Media about Japanese war crimes and the subsequent actions (the trial, the rehabilitation of criminals, the adoption of Unit 731 research by American forces, the conflicts between the Japanese Imperial Army and its victims) is not as extensive as the war in Europe. In fact, the Tokyo Trials themselves were not as punitive as the Nuremberg Trial (for a host of bureaucratic reasons, but also the lack of systematic eradication of Japanese citizens, but this is a very simplified explanation). And most media about the Japanese occupation is usually Chinese or Korean (understandably) even though the Japanese did a good job fucking up the Philippines, Malaya, the Dutch East Indies and so on. Also, much media about the Japanese occupation, I find, tends to be about the overall general existence of the Japanese occupation force, rather than specific historical figures (I am making a blanket statement here, I’ve watched limited amounts of Korean and Chinese language media on the Japanese occupation). There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but the lack of quantity then leaves a viewer chomping on the bit for some good historical drama.

Part of it, probably, is due to the relative mystery of the Japanese occupation when compared to the Nazi occupation. Nazis, the Holocaust, the Third Reich are everywhere in media and have been researched and shared to death. Not so for the Japanese invasion (well, probably in English). The Rape of Nanking (book) was probably THE thing that shone a spotlight on Japanese atrocities, but it’s a drop in the ocean compared to the overall Japanese action in Asia (newsflash: the Japanese ALSO tortured the people in countries that were not China, even though yes, I will readily admit they especially tortured the Chinese populations in countries that were not China).

There is so much Good Shit TM from a edutainment perspective on stuff you can squeeze out of the Japanese invasion. DID YOU KNOW??? THE JAPANESE ARMY CYCLED - ON BICYCLES - FROM THE KINGDOM OF SIAM TO SINGAPORE OVER 2 MONTHS, CAPTURING ALL THE TERRITORY THEY CYCLED THROUGH (because the locals supported the Japanese invasion at the time - Asia For Asians! was the propaganda they put out which was total bullshit, the locals would eventually discover), AND THEN ACCEPTED A BRITISH SURRENDER. THE KING OF SIAM AGREED TO LET THE JAPANESE USE THEM AS THE BIKING ENTRY POINT IN EXCHANGE FOR “DON’T INVADE ME BRO” AND ALSO “can I have some northern malayan territory”. THE JAPANESE AGREED. You can’t make this shit up. And this is the non-atrocity part of it. The atrocity part is as vicious, but differently so, from the Holocaust (which I would prefer not to get into as that’s an entire essay in and of itself - summary: the Japanese bayonet everything - EVERYTHING - and also Contest to kill 100 people with actual Japanese swords as promoted by Mainichi and Nichi Nichi Shimbun and also soap water drinking stomach bulge boot step interrogation technique ok let’s stop this here)

You get what I’m saying. It’s an entire period of history that has not been harvested for good quality drama. And I don’t need fabricated romantic bullshit (I’m looking at you, Embun (even though you were damned good, you’re STILL BULLSHIT)). I’m talking Schindler’s List-type films, with history and gravitas and nuance. Most historical movies have immature script-writers who basically paint the Japanese occupiers as monsters (not necessarily inaccurate, but painfully one dimensional). (Digression: Recently I watched Kanang Anak Langkau which was about a Malayan (and then Malaysian) Ranger who helped fight off the Communists after the Japanese occupation ended and, man, the entire movie was flat... except the Communists??? Like, they were clearly terrible but they were well-portrayed and had great actors. So. Opposite problem. Asians are really bad at war films that aren’t Classic Period Dramas.)

As a citizen of a Japanese-occupied country, with YEARS of history textbooks dedicated to the Japanese occupation, and a generation of Japanese war survivors either dead or unwilling to discuss their experiences, in a region with... pretty bad recording of this sort of history, I think you get my interest and fascination with this entire chapter. And since I’m in a country that isn’t the centre of the Japanese invasion (i.e. China and Korea) it makes even more sense that I’m interested in the occupation and action in countries like the Philippines, Malaya and so on.

ACTUAL REVIEW OF TOKYO TRIAL MINI-SERIES

OK. Sorry. I had to get that off my chest. SO. Tokyo Trial.

This is actually the second piece of media about the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal on video that I’m aware of (that’s been dramatised). The first one was a movie, also called TOKYO TRIAL, and it was a Chinese production (in English) from a Chinese perspective. The protagonist was the Chinese judge on the bench, Justice Mei. Tokyo Trial the Movie (TT(M) from here on out) was heavily dramatised and abridged in order to make for (well, attempted) excitement, action and historical legal thrills. It gets bogged down at times with some typical pacing problems (typical for Asian films). Like a good historical legal thriller, it focuses on victim testimony and the arrogance of the accused and of course it culminates in the feel good moment where you can watch outraged/distraught Japanese war criminals reacting to their sentences. Overall not a bad movie to watch, but not really great. Made interesting only by the righteousness of the protag and the severity and outrageousness of the subject matter. But it suffers from some stuttered pacing and an extremely narrow Chinese POV (understandable, given the protag and the production).

Now. Tokyo Trial (Mini-Series) (TT(MS) from here on).

Pros: Very beautiful. Decent Actors. VERY BEAUTIFUL.

Cons: Literally everything else.

HOW. HOW DO YOU CREATE A MINI-SERIES ABOUT THE JAPANESE WAR CRIMES TRIAL WITHOUT FEATURING JAPANESE WAR CRIMES?????

Astounding. I’m truly astounded. Where to even begin.

1. The protagonist

GUESS WHO IT IS. No really, guess. In a movie about the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal, guess who the main character is. I guarantee you won’t get it.

It’s the Dutch Judge.

WHY?

The Judge, btw, doesn’t even have any kind of personal or professional link to the Japanese occupation. Even when the protag is asked by a stranded German diva about how he must have suffered during the Nazi occupation, he admits that he didn’t have it as bad as others. His family is entirely intact although they were in the Dutch East Indies when the Japanese invaded.

2. The focus of the series

can you fucking guess

it’s the goddamn judges

the entire series is about the trials and tribulations (pun fucking intended) of the GODDAMN JUDGES

DURING SERIOUS TESTIMONY OF VICTIMS AND THE ACCUSED, THE SHOTS ARE OF THE CONCERNED/CONSTIPATED FACES OF THE JUDGES

The mini-series, 4 episodes long, opens with the Dutch Judge writing to his wife and giving some decent introduction to all the major players. And then it brings into focus the various justices from around the world who will be partaking in this historical undertaking.

The President of the Tribunal is Sir William Webb, Australian. He looks great but suffers from terrible lines and staging. BTW all the characters are extremely one dimensional WITH TWO EXCEPTIONS: The British Judge (who veers between an ally, a one-note antagonist, but is then redeemed as an anti-hero - clearly the deuteragonist) and the Chinese Judge, who is soft-spoken, well-mannered, firm but not unyielding, a clear contrast to the fiery and righteous protag of TT(M). Honestly, I think he would be the best portrayal except... halfway through, Irrfan Khan appears as the Indian Judge, and honestly Paul Freeman was so good as the British (Scottish) Judge.

The entire series is about the judges politicking amongst one another and trying to argue about whether crimes of aggression (or crimes against peace) are valid grounds for a case, as these crimes have never existed before (cue arguing about the precedent set by Nuremberg).

Our intrepid (barf) protag intersperses the tense boardroom confrontations (really can barely be called that: a serious point is brought up in court, they adjourn to their chambers, they START to argue, and then the Tribunal President immediately says ok let’s all go retire for the day before any interesting or insightful conversations can begin) with one-on-one interactions with (1) a German pianist diva whom he admires as he plays violin (their duet sucks btw) (2) a Japanese intellectual who hangs out at the beach (they have zero onscreen connection and exists only to instill doubt in the Dutch judge’s mind as he contemplates the trial) (3) various judges as they begin gossiping over the latest judge to pose drama in the chambers.

That’s all. Honestly. That’s the content of the mini-series in a nutshell.

3. The pacing and the script

god it’s so

MEALY

Every scene, EVERY SCENE, is played as grave and solemn

You think this isn’t bad? Every single scene begins with thoughtful pauses and long poignant looks, even over such lines which you can picture your grandpa and uncle just quipping at each other (”The marathon begins” “I’d rather hope it would be a sprint”).

Mealy = the actual script is so awkward. It doesn’t sound like human beings talking. It’s a mouthful. ugh.

Pacing = Example: in episode 3, probably, literally 3 scenes side-by-side, 2 judges talking to each other as they walk down a path. Each scene is: A asks B about C. And then it is immediately followed by D asking C about B. CAN YOU IMAGINE??? They don’t intersperse the shot at all. It’s just 3 conversations in a row gossiping.

Pacing 2 = time passes but badly. Suddenly a year has passed, but we don’t get a sense of it unless we’re told; there’s no difference in appearance or speaking manner among the judges. there’s no real development at all, except for the position of the Dutch Judge whose position on crimes of aggression changes as he gets pulled in several ways by several people, and you end the series without any feeling of resolution or satisfaction. AT ALL. I feel like you end where you start in terms of the arguments and everything.

4. Reflections

I’ve discovered that this mini-series was nominated for an emmy in 2017 for best series. I’ve also discovered 2 reviews (ONLY) online for this series, one on a blog and on one iMBD, both praising the series for being good for history buffs that showcases an unknown part of history.

i) That is not accurate. It is a terrible series that showcases the politics and drama of the tribunal judges, and not of the japanese war crimes. literally nobody needs to know, or care, about the judges of a war crimes trial (british, canadian, US, NZ judge conspire to get the president replaced, he leaves, US judge is chosen as his replacement, HE COMES BACK, NOBODY CARES) (aside with Blakely the US lawyer and what he’s trying to accomplish in court with his controversial and it’s not explained and ignored later)

ii) Historic footage is interspersed, meaninglessly. This includes the footage of the accused and 2 victims giving testimony, I believe. It is THE MOST INTERESTING part of the series. The footage used is minimal. And it just doesn’t gel with the whole series as a whole.

iii) This show was made by a Japanese crew and NHK so.

All in all, from an entertainment perspective, Tokyo Trial failed to be compelling, interesting or noteworthy. The actors were bogged down by a bad script and weak direction. If you want to watch a show about the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal, watch the older Chinese movie - less accurate but way more entertaining, and it ACTUALLY focuses on Japanese war crimes.

#tokyo trial #netflix #review

17 notes · View notes

thecomicsnexus · 5 years

Photo

THE WILD STORM #19-24 MARCH - SEPTEMBER 2019 BY WARREN ELLIS, JON DAVIS-HUNT AND STEVE BUCCELLATO

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE AND COMIC VINE)

In her London flat, Jenny Mei Sparks is telling her three new friends the story of her life over a few bottles of beer. It is a tale of adventure, righteousness, improbable encounters with famous people, and quite a lot of sex. She has been talking for thirteen hours and has still only gotten to 1955. By that year, she had joined Skywatch, a secret organization founded in the 1930s to guard against potential alien invasion. To that end, they needed a forward base on Mars. Their technology was formidable, their mission noble in theory... but Mars was a boring wasteland, and its lack of a magnetosphere meant that most of Jenny's crewmates developed cancer from stellar radiation exposure.

The mission had swiftly built its bases underground, shielded by the red dirt of Mars, but the base was also boring, and when Jenny came home, she left Skywatch, judging it to be "full of maniacs"... and to have only gotten worse since then. Skywatch has a set of agreements with IO, the shadowy intelligence masters, which mean it has to remain hidden, but as time goes on, the current leader of Skywatch, Henry Bendix, becomes more eager to use his technology to reshape Mars and Venus... and Earth. Jenny was sure a tipping-point would come, and it did - when Angie Spica used a jetpack suit made of IO and Skywatch tech to stop an IO assassin, in full view of a crowd, from killing Jacob Marlowe, a billionaire alien. Jack Hawksmoor interrupts, saying she didn't mention that. Jenny grins cryptically, and reaches for another bottle...

Elsewhere, the television news has gotten peculiar. Speculation about the New York Jetpack Incident. A report on a freak meteor strike which seems to be affecting the weather. A segment on the urban legend of the "billboard ghost girl". A segment on a serial killer dubbed the "Highway Ripper". A man speculating about a secret space program. An interview with Voodoo, where she describes her artistic side as a separate entity, her "daemon". And a news report about a township of fifty people, vanished in what the only eyewitness describes as an alien abduction...

In a large bed in a nice house, two men are watching that last segment on a phone screen. They conclude that it might be the work of Skywatch, who they escaped from together, but that if it is, something has made them brazen. One, dour as midnight, insists they must remain hidden, but the other, smiling like a Greek god, lists the actions of the dour one which have forced them to fight in the past. They will fight again this time, armed by preparation and buttressed by their love.

In the IO headquarters in New York, Jackie King is going over the estimates of Angie Spica's implants, wondering how she got it through IO's normal scanners. Ignoring a request that she attend a meeting, she orders an underling to prepare a report on their earlier DDOS on the Skywatch headquarters and whether they could replicate it.

Shen Li-Men is in the Hospital, the bardo realm where her predecessors as the Doctor reside. She says she has spoken to Jenny Mei Sparks and now she needs to know about the aliens. When they answer cagily, she insists that she cannot do her job unless they comply. So they tell her the tale.

Once upon a time, there was an alien planet called Khera. On it, the dominant species formed a society which bound together five sub-species in a caste system. The Kherans search the galaxy for life-bearing worlds with tool-using natives, with the goal of conscripting those natives as "clients", or slaves. Due to the chaotic nature of the universe, tool-using natives are hard to catch before they are wiped out by chance or foolishness. The goal of the Kheran rulers is something called "forward escape" - to take their whole society from this plane of existence to one where life is easier to sustain. A Doctor has never learned how this would work, but it requires living beings, serving in free will. Once, a Doctor seduced John Colt, a Kheran soldier, and while he was sleeping read his mind to view what, mechanically, this would entail - a vision of Earth marked by three massive fire pits.

However, when the Kherans arrived, they discovered that they were not unopposed. They called these rivals "The Other", once. Now they are known as "The Daemon". The goal of the Daemon is gently inspire, shepherding humanity forward with a modicum of balance so they can escape extinction. Aiding them in this vocation is a device of theirs - the Shaper Engine, a machine that Li-Men saw in a metaphor in a vision. One of the things the Shaper Engine does is empower specific humans to serve as a defense mechanism - like Jenny Mei Sparks.

The interference of the Daemon stymied the Kherans' efforts enough that they fell to internal bickering. A faction of the Kherans tried to influence the culture of the Middle East by appearing as wise but fearsomely-visaged powers, recorded in legend as cherubim. Emp chose a different tactic - he gathered a cabal of underlings, scuttled the alien ship, and vanished in the ensuing explosion. The Kheran homeworld assumed the mission to be a failure, and wrote Earth off. Emp has hidden inside society ever since, pursuing his "Main Project" - to raise human technology to the level where it can petition to join the Kherans as equals.

Today Emp pursues this mission using his resources under the alias 'Jacob Marlowe'. He sees far, but not far enough. He never grasped the reasoning of the Daemon. He did not anticipate that the marooned Kherans would spread competing philosophies and religions across the world, primed to oppose him. He did not anticipate how strong, or how strange, the humans could become. And he knows nothing of the Shaper Engine.

To conclude, the Doctors tell Shen Li-Men that a portentious storm is coming, a storm that may end the world. The Doctor that will have to oppose it will face a burden that no previous Doctor has ever had to bear, and that Doctor is her. And yet, they have an unbiased assessment of her skills and her compassion, which, with fortitude and spite and maybe a few friends, may be enough to see her through.

Skywatch intensifies its preparation for war, increasing its attacks on the planet. For some of these conflict zones, Skywatch’s greatest threat is not IO or conventional forces, but the people who escaped from its own experimentation camps. And the four people in London whom it knows little about, but who are preparing to take steps to alter the balance of the world.

The experimental subjects code-named Apollo and Midnighter have broken cover. Combat-optimized superhumans are now loose on the Earth.

Jenny Mei Sparks has assembled a group of misfits and exiles, to stand against a corruption that covers the world and orbits above it.

The storm of accidents, deaths, mistakes, confusion and anger has led to this. Miles Craven has lost his grip and Henry Bendix has lost his mind.

IO has betrayed the world, and Skywatch wants to burn it. The only people in the middle are Jenny Mei Sparks’ ragtag team of wounded orphans of the secret world.

REVIEW

These last six issues are more action packed (it is a third act after all), and in general it feels like a pilot for The Authority (curiously enough, the next book announced was WildCATS but it was cancelled. May be re-solicited eventually. WildStorm has a very complicated history with runs that get cancelled, with the most obvious one being The Authority by Grant Morrison.

Anyway, the visuals and the story are very tight, and this is an amazing story to read. It just, takes you two years to get the whole thing. I feel like in the last 12 issues, I got more about the properties I knew more, and that may be the reason why I liked the last 12 issues more.

As I said in a previous post, this is a very long prologue, but a high quality one. Think of it as the “Man of Steel” for a new universe (the John Byrne one, not the one that made you stop reading Superman).

I had problems in the past with the way Apollo and Midnighter’s relationship was portrayed. At least, during the New 52/Rebirth era. I felt it pretty real in this run, or at least is more similar to what I experienced in real relationships. Their differences are big, but at the core, they shouldn’t get in the way of their love.

Voodoo was a gratuitous character throughout these 24 issues. She barely did a thing. Same with the way Michael Cray ended up dying in the last issue. He did have his own mini-series that I didn’t follow, but considering that Deathblow had a “healing factor”, I suppose he is probably not dead.

This story felt very sober sometimes, replacing super-heroes with regular people with powers, it’s a nice interpretation when every book around you has spandex and shiny armor.

There is spandex and shiny armor here too... but you know what I mean.

I give these issues a score of 9.

#jon davis-hunt #steve buccellato #wildstorm #the wild storm #dc comics #comics #review #post modern age #2019 #stormwatch #wildcats #the authority #yasmine putri

8 notes · View notes

toughguywithbossygirlfriend · 7 years

Text

Romance history in the comics ? WonderBat vs BatCat ?

Not so long ago, a BatCat fan cross tagged one of her post about Rebirth Batman #40, surely as a result of the WonderBat development in both Issues #39 and #40 ...

I made a comment about BatCat being from an historical stand point more like a “War/Sex/Hate” kind of relationship rather than a real “Love Story” and of course it unleashed “War/Hate” ...

Over the time I’ve read numerous comments about how much BatCat “love” you can find in the history of Batman and Catwoman , how old their “Love story” is, and thus I was kind of confused with what I could remember from my own youth or recent history ... but I had really a hard time to see any signs of such an old and strong love story.

So I decided to check the comics for real legit history, rather than just reading another post from other people, who read themselves from other posts, that resume other posts, written out of informations from other posts ...

But DC Comics has a wast History ... and I don’t really have access to all the comics ever published ... so what do you do ? and where do you start ?

I couldn’t and I didn’t go extensively into oldtimers as far as the 40′s, the 50′s, the 60′s or the 70′s ... but usually people agree that prior to the 80′s Catwoman was just one of many villains and any romance was impossible because of that.

In an Issue from April 1968 of “the Brave and the Bold”, Wonder Woman falls in love for real with Batman after faking it first. A year later Steve Trevor Dies in her arms in a WW Issue of 1969. Later in another Brave and the Bold Issue 1978 Batman puts himself on purpose in danger of death to push Wonder Woman to surpass herself and break the chains that kept her prisoner earlier... it seems she cared enough... Meanwhile Catwoman, no matter the outfit, just wanted to get him into a coffin...

Still I was wrong and there is no point in denying that there are stories were he had a “love story” with Selina Kyle like the one below in the Batman (1940) Serie, but she was always a repentant criminal :

(Bruce and Selina - #308, #317, # 326 from 1981 to 1982)

Unlike the Catwoman in “Rebirth Batman”, the Selina in the Bronze era decided to turn her back on her criminal activities in #308 and that enabled the starting of a relationship with Bruce Wayne in # 317. Bruce knew about her Catwoman identity but he didn’t tell her that he was Batman. Even though she sincerely stopped her criminal activities, he didn’t trust his Girlfriend and she broke up the relationship because of that in #326. After that she had to put again the Catwoman mask and learned later that he was the Batman, she even became his “sidekick” in #392 a few Issues before the end of Bronze Age Batman.

Warning : If You “keep reading”, note that I cover mainly the Modern Age of DC Comics (around 1987 until now). I try to focus on the Batman and Catwoman relationship but parallel it with some important WonderBat moments to get a better overview. This may end up “pro-WonderBat” but it is not “anti-Catwoman”. And you should not judge Selina too quickly or too hard, even if she looks quite messed up. She did go through quite a bad twisted history as well as Bruce, but she didn’t have a caring butler, she wasn’t bathed in limitless wealth, securely sheltered in a great mansion, and for a girl/woman, the corrupted and evil streets of Gotham are a lot worse than for a boy/man ...

Before the modern age ... this was a time were between the different series Batman, Detective Comics, the Brave and the Bold, Bruce had an average rate of one Girlfriend (or Love interests) every 10 Issues ... Julie Madison, Selina Kyle, Linda Page, Vicki Vale, Kathy Kane (Batwoman, no joke !), Patricia Powell, Marcia Monroe, Poison Ivy, Silver St-cloud, Lina Muller, Talia Al Guhl, Nocturna(Natalia Mitternacht), Julia Remarques, ... even Diana Prince and Barbara Gordon fall for him... Some fell in love with Bruce, some with Batman and some for the combination ...

(A few kisses ... but you can find much much more of course)

I always wondered were his Playboy persona did come from ... now I know !... the Bronze Age era. Even James Bond will find it hard to beat the duo Batman/Bruce Wayne ...

Even if there are a lot of older History and more BatCat stuff then WondeBat, you can resume it for Selina Kyle with : “No criminal activities”/”Love story works” vs “Criminal activities”/“no Love story”.

However “Rebirth Batman” is not part of the Bronze Age but of the Modern Age, thus I wanted to check out the last 30 years of WonderBat and BatCat relationships, platonic or not. Compared to the Bronze era Batman the Girlfriend renewal rate of the Modern Age of DC comics has dramatically dropped, surely because mentalities changed and today that kind of behavior would be considered disrespectful to women ... building up a strong love affair with the Princess of the Amazons would have been hard with a guy who changes Girlfriends like shirts ... Bruce Wayne evolved strongly from real Playboy, to ... Single Dad and Family man faking a playboy persona... more suitable to the job but still keeping his charm intact.

Checking out every comic more or less related to these three (Batman, Wonder Woman and Catwoman), would have already taken far too much time, even if I didn’t digg into stuff older than then “Batman Year One” (February to May 1987)

I didn’t really feel like checking out every alternate world or elseworld because I am pretty sure the “Batman who laughts” from “Dark nights: Metal” would have a lot to tell about WonderBat in these worlds ... so lets keep it mainstream.

I had a relative good Idea, even if not exhaustive, about WonderBat, but I needed more Infos on BatCat. I figured that there was less to read about Catwoman then Batman, and anyway if there was gonna be some romance stuff it would be easier to pick it up on the more emotional Catwoman then with the unreadable Dark Knight.

That’s why I decided to focus mainly on the Catwoman series and started with a mini-serie from 1989 and going on from there ... trying to cover these last 30+ years.

(Catwoman Mini-Serie - February to May 1989)

With this mini-serie I was glad to rediscovered something covering quite well, the things that I remembered from my own comic youth...

I would dare to say “the Title speaks for itself”, No ?!

So she kills a bad guy, while the knight in batsuit saves the girl she couldn’t protect ... then she wants to kill a second one... Batman steps in the middle and she just doesn’t want to listen...

“It’s to be a War between us” ... Hey, don’t look at me ... I didn’t say anything ... Batman said it ... Just then, she rubs her breasts on him ... and of course they kiss ... Sorry people, don’t throw the stone at Batman he didn’t start the teasing ... she did ! ... She has a beautiful body ... she wants it right there... He is single, may not have had his fix for some time now and I am pretty sure his blood is already boiling ... Dammit, its a guy ..what did you expect ?? Tea time ?? ... of course he gives in ... quit being naive.

Bang !!! That didn’t last long ... as usual,.. Oh, and just for the record he didn’t start the fight either ... but nothing easier to get a guy lower his defense then teasing him with the perspective of Sex ... Selina uses her sexuality as a tool all the time to create distraction, to regain the initiative, (and definitively not only with Batman) ... just like Batman uses fear. Over the years to come it gets obvious that Selina has a problem with males, and she surely has more reason to hate them, than the Amazons, but the constant Support and Righteousness of Batman slowly attracts her to him.

“Lover” ... Is that why every one seems to think this has anything to do with love ??? ... sure I feel the Love, Bats too, i guess ...

So If you think “sex” is “love” or even “implied love” .. I’d hate to break it to anyone but you can “pay for sex” since the beginning of humanity, both sexes used sexual intercourse to gain favors, and in modern times, “One night stands” or “booty calls” are surely things you’ve already heard about, ... and none of this has anything to do with real Love. Even though Sex is usually a part of a Loving relationship. OK maybe you could put “Friendship with benefits” into the “loving” category ... your choice ...

Lets take a time jump to the next serie a few years later...

It is a Serie of 94 Issues ... I confess I am not going through the whole Serie Just look at a few Issues at the beginning starting in August 1993 and a few Issues at the end in July 2001... If there is a positive evolution in their relationship it is to expect that it gets to its peak at the end ...

(Catwoman Serie 1993 -Issue #1 from 1993)

This is a young blond girl named Arizona, and adopted by Catwoman, talking about Selina (the dark haired woman in blue). Selina starts as a “sweet girl” who kicks law enforcement’s asses, works for Bane, and kills bad guys again ... Worst enemy of Batman?, Greatest enemy ?, most deadly enemy ?, you choose ... BatCat Love ? not in the picture ...

(Catwoman - 1993 -Issue #94 from July 2001)

So, at the end of the serie, 8 years later, with surely quite some rooftop “war between sexes” in between... OK, Yeah it ends with a kiss again,... that she initiated again, ... but if you take a look at his face would you consider that he returns the kiss ? ... Obviously she always considers that there is something between them and he reminds her that they “had this conversation before” ... but i take it I’m supposed to consider “you know that can never happen” to be a clear sign of love... right ?

(JLA 1997 - #46 from Oct 2000 - The tower of Babel)

A little earlier Batman got expulsed from the Justice league and Wonder Woman was kind of really angry at him after years of strong friendship. She surely felt hurt more than anyone. So it wasn’t really “WonderBat” that prevented him from running away having a good time in Sao Paulo (see below)... Diana regrets it because she likes his skills, his warrior spirit, his intelligence, his dedication, his compassion, nearly everything about him but she’s totally into truth, so Bats secrecy and secret identity was a hindrance so far. The Amazon doesn't give up her unconditional trust to a man that easily ... and she feels hurt ...

(Catwoman - 1993 -Issue #94 from July 2001)

It is obvious that Selina doesn’t know Bruce Wayne, but she wants to know him ... so far, IF she’s “in love” with someone it would be with “the Batman”, but is it “true love” for the man below that she doesn’t know or “groupie love” for the symbol ? she’s quite adamant in this last Issue about what made her put on the mask herself : seeing Batman of “Year one” ... Bruce/Batman cares for her but much like in Bronze Age : Criminal activities = No love story

2001 is also the time where Batman reveals to Diana and the JLA that he is Bruce Wayne ... Now Diana can see the real him ... and it is even better than she expected because as a filthily rich he still chooses to put his life on the line to protect others ... you can add generosity, modesty, and others qualities to the guy .. and there is a broken boy inside of him that compels her motherly instincts, or compassion if you prefer ... and a good father that doesn't go unnoticed by the woman in her ... I guess he just added a lot to his “sex appeal”.

For Bats, things started to get a lot better with the Amazon from that point ... If Doomsday Clock rewinds time prior to that period it may erase WonderBat as well.

While Selina still has, lets say ... some heavy Issues with males and relationships ...

(Nightwing 1996 - #52 from 2001)

She dreams to marry Batman, then she kills him in the same dream’s wedding night ... so much for the love story ... then she wakes up in her bed ...

... looks out for some diamonds, trips over Nightwing and tries to seduce him ... the son of Batman ... yeah, smart move ... maybe she loves him too, he would be her “son in law” after all if she ever got to marry Batman ... then she tries mischievously to push Nightwing to tell Batman hoping the latter gets Jealous ... But by the reaction of Nightwing you can tell Bruce isn’t on the same page as Selina. Why would she do that ? out of “true Love” ? This story makes her look like a slut ... but I think it is not that ... her time in the dark streets of Gotham has ruined her vision of love and sex ... we’ll get a better (darker) picture in the coming Post-Flashpoint Catwoman serie ... and with the “Gentle Man” in Batman Rebirth #39 and #40 she’s gonna discover the difference between Love and Sex or even Marriage.

A little Jump to the next Catwoman Serie

2002, Catwoman returns (from Sao Paulo ;) ) in a new serie that goes on until 2010 and from the first Issue I would say their relationship is more peaceful, friendly...

(Catwoman - 2002 -Issue #01 from 2001)

It at least looks like a friendship... But you could say that at least her feelings for Batman may be beyond that ... maybe ...

Still the same rules apply her territory is “In between right and wrong” and ... its a no go for the Crusader of Justice !...

Ironically, the character definition of DC Rebirth for Catwoman and Batman reveals the same rift that is resumed in the above pics... Somehow Tom King seems to ignore that... why ?

But what about Bruce and Diana during that same period ?

That happened during the “Obsidian Age” ...

They kiss !! ... Ok, I can hear you shout “That’s no proof that they Love each other, because Selina kisses him all the time !! ” .. OK, that’s correct, but do they Die together hand in hand ? (obviously Bruce grabbed Diana’s hand and not the reverse)

Not enough ? OK, I’ll take the Challenge ... What about : “Love conquers all ? ... even Powerful Old Magic” is that better ?

Diana is about to be Sacrificed and all her Teammates, including Bruce, have been set asleep by a very powerful sorcerer using powerful Old Magic ... a magical sleep NO MAN should be able to awaken from ... but nonetheless the imminent Danger to Diana causes one, and only one, to awaken and save her ... Bruce ... and Diana knows how old magic works ...

So it wasn’t only Batman’s “will power” that enabled him to beat the Magic ?... could it be that the only other thing that can beat Old and Powerful Magic is the Power of Love ? Pretty sure that if Friendship was enough Clark would have woken up as well ... but he didn’t.

Clearly Bruce roots hard for the Amazon ... and not for the Cat ... and a few Issues after that, in JLA#90, it is obvious that Diana has surrendered her heart to Bruce as well.

(Bruce and Diana - JLA 1997 - #90 from Jan 2004)

But neither Diana nor Bruce are willing to take a risk with their way too precious friendship. They choose not to act on their, now unquestionable, feelings for each other ...

(Catwoman serie 2002 - #82 in 2008)

At the end of this Catwoman serie: Of course Batman runs after Catwoman ... he is gentle, he tries to help, but says one wrong word ... and she gets crazy, he goes from Ally to Enemy. But he is Batman and she gets cornered ... again as usual when Option “A” and “B” won’t work she uses “C”.

But again she uses the kiss as a tool .. this time to diffuse the situation and she explains in the end that if she could she would stop all that ... with Helena she wouldn’t need the Batman/Catwoman “rush” thing ... isn’t Helena about her real love here ? ... She always has a Girl/Woman (Arizona, Helena, Holly, ...) that means much more to her than “the Batman” ... At least now she knows his real name “Bruce”.

Deep down she knows, that what she shares with Batman isn’t Love its a substitute to fill her empty heart (at the end of the Catwoman 1993 Serie she tells him pretty much the same). Selina is much more messed up than Bruce Wayne. Bruce had Alfred, his Robins, Diana and his Friends from the JL. Selina was alone ... and that is the reason why he tries to help her like he already said it in the first Issue of that Serie : “I believe that deep down, you’re a good person”...

(Blakest Night : Wonder Woman - #2 from March 2010)

Unlike Selina who would have given up Bruce “Batman” Wayne for Helena if she wasn’t that screwed up ... Diana loves Bruce even more than before, or as a matter of fact more than her mother Hippolyta or closest amazon sisters (Cassie and Donna), ... I think with that level of “Love” between two partners, we can easily agree to qualify them as “Soulmates” ... and I have no doubt that the Bruce didn’t move on either ... trying to help criminals like Selina and give them a second chance is what he does every time it is possible (recently : clayface, killer frost, lobo, ...) ... doesn’t mean he is in love with them ...

To make it short : Over the past 20 years (1989 - 2011) all three characters evolutions make sense and it doesn't point out to “True Love” between Selina and Bruce unlike with Diana and Bruce. Bruce and Selina just share regular “One night stands” to comfort each other while Bruce and Diana torture themselves by refraining their Love out of fear of screwing up their friendship if they give into their feelings ...

Sorry, but so far obviously no true BatCat Love Story !!! but WonderBat “true deep Love” is canon ... just no sex, no dating, no usual relationship stuff ...

Comes “Flashpoint” during 2011... the Cosmic MOAB

Starting with that event the continuity gets "kind of” thrown out of the Window for WonderBat romance ... but not entirely.

In the new Catwoman Serie starting Nov 2011 Catwoman did forget Batmans real identity and Wondy suddenly roots for Supes ... Eww ! ... not to mention Steve Trevor returns from the dead again, I think he could compete with Catwoman about his number of lives but I didn’t count ...

In this serie you get from the start a pretty good look at the ordeal Selina must have lived while she grow up... Like I said, Compared to Selina, Bruce was a “Lucky” child with a stable childhood ...

(Catwoman - 2011 - Issue #01 from Nov 2011)

No wonder your relationship Compass spins around like crazy if you were raised in such an environment. Sex is a job, Violence the way to settle differences, Women are Sextoys or beaten to death if not shot by the local dirtbags, and Men are worthless and heartless monsters... Gotham’s darkest side as playground for a young Girl ... She nonetheless keeps a Good heart ... the Dark Knight cannot hold back his need to help her in anyway possible ... She is a really good soul, heavily messed up, but good ...

Selina doesn’t really care about the Guy under the mask, he protects her in exchange for Sex, ... at least that is what she thinks this is about...

In the last Issue of Catwoman 2011 - Issue 52 from Jul 2016 we learn that in that reality she had a real love years ago. He was named David, not Bruce, and he turned out a Bad Guy after faking her his death ... She doesn’t trust any man ... except maybe Batman.

(Forever Evil - July 2014)

SuperWonder era ... Superman and Wonder Woman are together for over a year now but Batman is still in love with Diana like prior to Flashpoint and thus can use Diana’s lasso ... surely the real reason why “There can’t be” nothing else ... even if she was a “Good Girl”. Honestly you feel really bad for the girl...

(Rebirth Justice League - #14 from April 2017)

Diana still mourns SuperWonder ...

Then comes DC Rebirth Superman #20 “Reborn” erasing SuperWonder from continuity setting Diana’s heart free from that ...

(Rebirth Wonder Woman - #25 from August 2017)

Diana Sleeps with Trevor ...

(Rebirth Batman - #32)

Selina answers “Yes” to Bruce’s proposal ... but she stays a thief... and that was a no go for the last 78 years !??...

One of Batman’s Bronze Age Lovers, Nocturna, had an interesting theory about Batman’s Lovers :

This alone explains why Diana is his greatest problem if he wants to keep his heart safe from “Love”... She has her own way of being very “Dark and Dangerous” but every thing in her drives her to avoid doing the king of “Dark and Dangerous” things that could push him away from her in the way Nocturna or Selina do ...

(Rebirth Batman #39 and #40)

“WonderBat Love” in “the Realm”

Obviously whatever the Power that is messing up with the Heroes history (Doomsday Clock storyline) is looking for, it seems at least to want to avoid WonderBat at all costs ... first SuperWonder then WonderTrev and BatCat, and now in Justice League #38: Bruce Wayne/Jessica Cruz ?!?...

#wonderbat #wonder woman #diana prince #batman #bruce wayne

170 notes · View notes

mrlnsfrt · 3 years

Text

Talents Part 3A

This post is part three of my mini-series on the Parable of The Talents. If you are not familiar with this parable it is found in Matthew 25:13-30 and the text below is taken from the book Christ’s Object Lessons chapter 25 which focuses on the parable of the talents.

Other Talents

The special gifts of the Spirit are not the only talents represented in the parable. It includes all gifts and endowments, whether original or acquired, natural or spiritual. All are to be employed in Christ’s service. In becoming His disciples, we surrender ourselves to Him with all that we are and have. These gifts He returns to us purified and ennobled, to be used for His glory in blessing our fellow men.

To every man God has given “according to his several ability.” The talents are not apportioned capriciously. He who has ability to use five talents receives five. He who can improve but two, receives two. He who can wisely use only one, receives one. None need lament that they have not received larger gifts; for He who has apportioned to every man is equally honored by the improvement of each trust, whether it be great or small. The one to whom five talents have been committed is to render the improvement of five; he who has but one, the improvement of one. God expects returns “according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not.” 2 Corinthians 8:12.

In the parable he that had “received the five talents went and traded with the same, and made them other five talents; and likewise he that had received two, he also gained other two.”

The talents, however few, are to be put to use. The question that most concerns us is not, How much have I received? but, What am I doing with that which I have? The development of all our powers is the first duty we owe to God and to our fellow men. No one who is not growing daily in capability and usefulness is fulfilling the purpose of life. In making a profession of faith in Christ we pledge ourselves to become all that it is possible for us to be as workers for the Master, and we should cultivate every faculty to the highest degree of perfection, that we may do the greatest amount of good of which we are capable.

The Lord has a great work to be done, and He will bequeath the most in the future life to those who do the most faithful, willing service in the present life. The Lord chooses His own agents, and each day under different circumstances He gives them a trial in His plan of operation. In each true-hearted endeavor to work out His plan, He chooses His agents not because they are perfect but because, through a connection with Him, they may gain perfection.

God will accept only those who are determined to aim high. He places every human agent under obligation to do his best. Moral perfection is required of all. Never should we lower the standard of righteousness in order to accommodate inherited or cultivated tendencies to wrong-doing. We need to understand that imperfection of character is sin. All righteous attributes of character dwell in God as a perfect, harmonious whole, and every one who receives Christ as a personal Saviour is privileged to possess these attributes.

This is where Part 3 A ends, the rest of this portion will be covered in Part 3B and C.

The audio commentary for this portion will be available as Talents 3B.

And those who would be workers together with God must strive for perfection of every organ of the body and quality of the mind. True education is the preparation of the physical, mental, and moral powers for the performance of every duty; it is the training of body, mind, and soul for divine service. This is the education that will endure unto eternal life.

Of every Christian the Lord requires growth in efficiency and capability in every line. Christ has paid us our wages, even His own blood and suffering, to secure our willing service. He came to our world to give us an example of how we should work, and what spirit we should bring into our labor. He desires us to study how we can best advance His work and glorify His name in the world, crowning with honor, with the greatest love and devotion, the Father who “so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16.

But Christ has given us no assurance that to attain perfection of character is an easy matter. A noble, all-round character is not inherited. It does not come to us by accident. A noble character is earned by individual effort through the merits and grace of Christ. God gives the talents, the powers of the mind; we form the character. It is formed by hard, stern battles with self. Conflict after conflict must be waged against hereditary tendencies. We shall have to criticize ourselves closely, and allow not one unfavorable trait to remain uncorrected.

Let no one say, I cannot remedy my defects of character. If you come to this decision, you will certainly fail of obtaining everlasting life. The impossibility lies in your own will. If you will not, then you can not overcome. The real difficulty arises from the corruption of an unsanctified heart, and an unwillingness to submit to the control of God.

Many whom God has qualified to do excellent work accomplish very little, because they attempt little. Thousands pass through life as if they had no definite object for which to live, no standard to reach. Such will obtain a reward proportionate to their works.

Remember that you will never reach a higher standard than you yourself set. Then set your mark high, and step by step, even though it be by painful effort, by self-denial and sacrifice, ascend the whole length of the ladder of progress. Let nothing hinder you. Fate has not woven its meshes about any human being so firmly that he need remain helpless and in uncertainty. Opposing circumstances should create a firm determination to overcome them. The breaking down of one barrier will give greater ability and courage to go forward. Press with determination in the right direction, and circumstances will be your helpers, not your hindrances.

Be ambitious, for the Master’s glory, to cultivate every grace of character. In every phase of your character building you are to please God. This you may do; for Enoch pleased Him though living in a degenerate age. And there are Enochs in this our day.

Stand like Daniel, that faithful statesman, a man whom no temptation could corrupt. Do not disappoint Him who so loved you that He gave His own life to cancel your sins. He says, “Without Me ye can do nothing.” John 15:5. Remember this. If you have made mistakes, you certainly gain a victory if you see these mistakes and regard them as beacons of warning. Thus you turn defeat into victory, disappointing the enemy and honoring your Redeemer.

A character formed according to the divine likeness is the only treasure that we can take from this world to the next. Those who are under the instruction of Christ in this world will take every divine attainment with them to the heavenly mansions. And in heaven we are continually to improve. How important, then, is the development of character in this life.

The heavenly intelligences will work with the human agent who seeks with determined faith that perfection of character which will reach out to perfection in action. To everyone engaged in this work Christ says, I am at your right hand to help you.

As the will of man co-operates with the will of God, it becomes omnipotent. Whatever is to be done at His command may be accomplished in His strength. All His biddings are enablings.

White, E. G. (1900). Christ’s Object Lessons (pp. 328–333). Review and Herald Publishing Association.

#Talents #practical #life

1 note · View note

motherwasapapafucker · 6 years

Note

1, 5, 28

1 - *cracks knuckles* Time to look like a pretentious dick. Seven’s my main man, mainly because he’s a wee scottish git and I can relate, but Remembrance was the first time Doctor Who really clicked for me, Nu-Who’s fiun but evidently isn’t my particular mug of pish, coupled with my love the VNAs and lot of BFs work with the character it’s hard to see another actor replacing him for the top top Dr. Who, big part of this is because of Peter Cushing, but on a broader note you have a Doctor free from the weight of latter additions to the show’s mythology and it’s own tendency to drown in mythology (he says after bigging up Seven), this is a big reason attempts to tie-him into the wider world fall flat and always miss the point. This is the Doctor as eccentric traveler and nothing more, free to have adventures that don’t have the weight of a half century old franchise looming over them. He also boast an introductory scene rivaled only by Hartnell in how simply it tells you what kind of person this particular Doctor is, without a single word no less. Collings!Doctor, taking the increasing facisination with explorations of the Doctors morality as far as it goes, FFF is a story that brushes past the self doubt and am I good personisms to present a world where, no, he’s a complete dick. Proactive to a fault, this is a Doctor who only ever needed one story (though there is a second appearance) and serves as a prime example of how to write a Doctor that is completely secure in their own sense of righteousness. Making “I’m here to save the day” sound like a threat is just an added bonus. Honorary mention goes to Nine, who’s the only Nu-Who Doctor I’ve felt any strong resonance with. The only Doctor you could reasonably argue is coded working class he doesn’t make the grade because it’s more about what Series 1 could have been than what it is. Working-class characters rarely get to be eccentrics, the role largely being reserved for the middle-upper class figures so it was nice to see Who try it for once. 5 - Zoe and Eight, no real reason beyond thinking the characters would play off each other well. 28 - I’m generally of the opinion that the 45 minute format isn’t great for the show’s world building, particularly when relying on myth arcs so a move towards something along the line of A.O.S. mini-arc format is about as close to ideal as I can picture for NuWho.

#doctor who #oppinion #doctor who eu #doctor who unbound #doctor who dalek movies #top doctors #nuwho

6 notes · View notes

angelsanarchy · 5 months

Text

Righteousness of Man: Kappa x Y/N- Mini Series PRT 02

Tagging: @icarus-star @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @romanroyapoligist @madamemaximoff06 @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @ultrakissed @hisemoslut @lustkillers @s-0lar @roryculkinsgf dukesofsp00ks thirtyratsinasuit

Y/n had decided to stick around camp for awhile and Kappa made it his mission to incorporate her into the family as seamlessly as possible. The two of them had a way of moving about the camp watching one another's every move.

Kappa found the way she spoke with the others and brought a level of comfort just from gentle touches to their faces or arms made everyone calmer. It was very motherly. He pondered the idea of having her teach all the girls how to be as soft and gentle as she was.

Y/n found listening to Kappa rant around the bonfire was both entertaining and educational. He spoke with such conviction that the others listened to him like he was preaching gospel straight to their souls.

"They're trying to take over. Soon enough, there will be metal rods in all of us, puppetting around like mindless robots. It's fucking disgusting." Kappa spit into the fire. Tonight's topic was based on the technological advancement that NASA had come up with sending astronauts to space but allowing them to have animatronic vessels here on Earth that could be present with their families.

The idea of robots taking over the world made Y/n chuckle to herself and it caught Kappa's attention.

"Y/n....do you have some thoughts on the matter you wish to share?" His tone was challenging and she simply shrugged her shoulders as she leaned back in the chair, holding onto a beer bottle.

"It's the American Dream isn't it? Father goes off to work while mother stays home and raises the nuclear kiddies, only now dear old daddy can be working around the clock while mommy gets to ride on a mechanical cock instead of the flesh and blood kind." She smirked. Some of the others laughed and Kappa knelt down opposite her, the large fire between them.

"No machine could ever compare to weighted flesh of the real thing." Kappa palmed at the front of his slacks and Y/N smirked.

"I don't know, I think unless you've used one then you can't really speak on its efficiency." Y/n knew she was pushing it and Kappa held her gaze. He was clearly getting worked up. His silence meant he was annoyed. It had only taken her a few days of being here to know that his silence could bring punishment.

As people started to retire to their cabins, Y/n remained in her seat, watching Kappa places kisses on his adoring flock of women who begged him to fall into their beds but he refused. He made his way towards Y/n who looked up at him as he stood towering over her.

"Left all your little minions heartbroken tonight? How will they survive without the weight of your flesh and blood cock?" Y/n continued to pick at Kappa and he grabbed her chin forcefully making her stop.

"Why would you defend the government taking over the human race?" Kappa's tone was serious.

"What?" She tried to laugh it off but his grip tightened.

"Who do you work for?" He asked curiously. Y/n held his gaze strongly.

"Technically I don't work for anyone. I'm self employed." She tried to give him the straight answers he was looking for.

"So a government contractor, is that it?" Kappa pressed stepping closer, trapping her in the chair.

"Let go of my face." She hardend herself but Kappa didn't budge.

"Darlin' if you think just because we've fucked that I won't toss you into that fire, you're sadly mistaken. I asked you a question." Kappa threatened squatting down to stare into her face.

"You want to hurt me because I challenged you in front of your people or because I think a robot cock is just as useful is your own?" Y/n bit back.

"You want to fuck something that feels nothing? That's what you want? That poison running through your veins?" Kappa flips out his knife and holds it to her throat.

"You want to kill me? Go for it." She tilts her head back exposing her neck to him. Kappa pressed gently drawing the slightest bit of red blood before wrapping his hand around her throat.

"I am trying to build a community here, something real. Something that will survive when the world goes to shit and the machines try and take over." Kappa growled.

"You think I don't realize that? You think I've stayed for the fun bonfires and fucking?" Y/n asked making Kappa release the pressure of her throat.

"You are the leader here Kappa. To them, you are a God among men. They feel safe and empowered with you and they should." Y/n could see him taking in everything she was saying.

"And you...what do you stay for then?" Kappa asked almost nervously.

"Every great man has a woman at his side reminding him of his potential." Y/n leaned forward towards Kappa.

"And you think you're going to be that woman?" Kappa challenged. Y/n shook her head at him.

"I am that woman." Her breath against his lips made his eyelashes flutter. He stood straight up and held his hand out for her to take but instead of taking his hand, she played with the front of his pants. Carefully unlooping his belt and resting her face against the zipper, long enough to take in his musk and grip the zipper with her teeth.

"Come to bed with me." Kappa lifted her chin gently this time and she refused.

"I want to feel the weight of your flesh and blood cock on my tongue..." She pulled his slacks down his legs and his cock hung heavy between his legs, slightly curved to the left and sprung from a heavy bushel of dark, coarse hair.

Y/n leaned forward and licked his already wet tip, listening to him take a deep breath in through his nose as she peppered little wet kisses over the skin, lapping at the precum.

"You want to be a God among men Kappa? Fuck the word of man into my throat then." Y/n's words made him look down as she held his eye contact while she took him into her throat deeply. He let his jaw slack as she drooled all over his cock, sucking and gargling on his thick cock. She let used her hands to stroke the length she couldn't fit into her mouth and massage his balls.

"Fuck...your throat is sinful." He brought his hands to his face and tried pushing his hair out of his eyes. He wanted to see Y/n take him down. He wanted to see her sacrifice air for his pleasure. He held the sides of her head and fucked into her throat harshly, feeling her moan at the contact of the tip hitting the back of her throat roughly.

His moans and the sound of the fire behind him were the only sounds that could be heard for miles.

"I'm going to cum and I want you to swallow every last drop. I want you to taste something machines could never produce. I want you to feel my cum in your belly tonight when you sleep and know that a little piece of me lives inside of you forever." Kappa whined as he yanked on the top of her hair so she would stare into his eyes, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. He held her gaze as he released into her throat, watching her eyes roll into the back of her head as she swallow around him. When he softened, she slowly pulled back, letting his cock fall semi-limp against his thigh. She leaned back trying to catch her breath but instead of allowing that he yanked her to her feet by her shoulders and kissed her.

He could taste himself on her tongue and she gripped his greasy hair between her fingers tightly as she kissed back. When she pulled away, he wiped the tear streaks off her face carefully and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Don't leave...ever." Kappa's tone sounded like a plea rather than a demand and Y/n smiled. This was only the beginning.

#TV Show: Black Mirror #Kappa #Kappa x Y/n #Black Mirror Mini Series #Righteousness of Man series #One Shot Mini Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Righteousness of Man

67 notes · View notes

tododorkies · 7 years

Text

Dabi Theory Series: Feelings Towards Shōto- Saving or Destroying?

Feelings Towards Shōto Part 2: Saving or Destroying?

If you guys read Chapter 159, you’ll have seen that Dabi! Is! Back! And honestly him being back makes me wonder if we could get the Todoroki Dabi arc we’ve been dreaming of soon (honestly probably not but..) Anyway! Another week, another too long probably boring theory post.

What if instead of hating Shōto, which was the main point of my theory here, he pitied him, thinks he’s been brainwashed, and wants to save him? On another note, what if he thinks he is too far gone and wants to destroy him? These ideas totally go against what I said before, but I honestly see these ones as being a little more plausible? I’m not really sure. Let me know what you think!

Note: This is just theory. You don’t have to agree or disagree. I really don’t mind! Just please don’t be mean.. I spent a lot of time writing this out and just wanted a place to share my ideas. I don’t even believe all of it, it’s just thoughts I had.

Another Note: Since I’ve gained some new followers since I first started this theory series, I think it’s about time I re-refrence the theory master post for anyone who is just starting to read the Dabi garbage I spew out here. If anyone is interested, here it is!

Stain’s Anti-Hero Ideals

Honestly, this applies to all of the theories I’ve written about so far, as we know Dabi does have Stain’s Anti-Hero ideologies, but it fits in really well with this thought in particular, so I decided to write it out here.

Endeavor is praised as the #2, now #1, Hero. A hero is supposed to be someone that protects people, that helps people, that you can lean on and trust. Endeavor is none of these things. He is a power hungry man who sacrificed his family for his own form of success. He is an abuser who worked his son to the core on top of physical, mental, and verbal abuse, and beat his wife into insanity. In Dabi’s eyes. Endeavor is the opposite of what a hero should be, yet he is praised. To Dabi, Endeavor is probably the definition of a villain… Yet he’s #1 Hero. The system is backwards, and Dabi wants to change that.

Side note: We don’t know exactly how evil Dabi really is. He’s killed people, yeah. And he’s working with the League of Villains.. But up until recently, Dabi was only a petty criminal- he was breaking the law. He was committing crimes. He was immoral and wrong.. But to our knowledge, he didn’t do anything completely terrible before deciding to follow Stain. I think this provides some insight into his character.

Like the man who’s ideals he follows, the line between good and evil is a little vague. Was Stain, a hero murderer, really the same level of evil as a killer with no reason other than to kill? Was there some righteousness to his motives? Looking at this from a more Dabi point of view- would killing Endeavor really be wrong? Is Endeavor really justice? Asking these questions can help evaluate Dabi and where he lies on the villain scale. Hopefully, we’ll see more of him and learn where he falls.

Opposition

Unlike what I suggested before, perhaps Dabi never wanted to be a hero. Perhaps he was never jealous of Shōto and the training and attention he received at all. Even if he did when he was younger (as it would make sense for a young boy growing up in this world), the current Dabi could completely look down on heroes in general, or at least those like Endeavor. Dabi’s entire focus right now is probably on wanting to destroy the current hero system. On stopping the cycle of quirk marriages, on preventing more victims like his younger brother and his mother, and on eliminating “heroes” that care more about glory than actually helping people. To restore heroes to true heroes and stop idolizing monsters like Endeavor.

Shōto is Trapped in this World

Once removing himself (or being removed… I’ll probably write about this later) from the Todoroki family, Dabi was free to follow his own beliefs. Shōto, on the other hand, was not.

Shōto was and still is being brought up by the society that Dabi hates. Rather than hating Shōto, he could see him as a victim of the damned hero society that he is rebelling against. He could pity him, and think his situation is unfortunate, especially if he was aware of the horrors his younger brother was forced to live through. When he looks at Shōto condescendingly during the summer camp arc (How sad, Todoroki Shōto), it may be because he thinks he’s a foolish child who has been brainwashed to believe in Endeavor’s world. He may have hoped that with age, Shōto would develop ideas like his own, and is disappointed that the brother he met was “good”. I doubt he understands Shōto or his motives. He doesn’t know how much Shōto has grown, what’s he’s learned. He may not know the absolute hatred Shōto has for his father, and how he wants nothing more than to be the hero he’s not.

He may think Shōto is a product fulfilling his father’s wishes- he started using his left side recently, and this was televised. Dabi would have seen it, and depending on how much audio was broadcasted (AKA how much of what Izuku said to him the world was allowed to hear), he probably doesn’t know the full story behind it. It’s most likely that all he saw was his brother using his old man’s power, as Shōto used to call it, and this would probably lead him to believe Shōto currently aligns with his father.

Future of This?

What could this mean for the future? In response, he may attempt to “save him” from this world- help him see his current views and the world that he sees. A world without Endeavors. I’m talking about a relationship similar to what Zeke seems to have towards Eren, or at least appeared to have at the end of Return to Shiganshina, if you know what I mean (Chapter 99 asdfghjkl)

There could be a moment, perhaps during battle, where Dabi tries sway Shōto to join him. To take him away from the awful world that he’s currently living in. To take revenge on their father together as brothers. He could try to convince him that all of their problems are because of Endeavor (as if he doesn’t think that already…) and by working together against him and his world, they could save their mother. Dabi could do this out of the goodness of his heart and love for his sibling and mother, or only in order to gain Shōto strengths on his side, or maybe a combination of both. Like mentioned before, we don’t know enough about Dabi to know exactly how evil he really is. I’m not sure how big of an ordeal this would be, but I can honestly picture Dabi trying this. I don’t think Shōto would take the bait, of course, but man, this would really pull at Shōto’s heartstrings and could be a tempting- the saving his mother part of it especially. I think in the end, Shōto would reject Dabi’s offer with a statement like “I want to be a true hero” or something else along those lines. Even so, it would still be a very emotional move to make on the part of Horikoshi.

Too Far Gone?

Following these same concepts, I also think it is likely that Dabi will run these in a totally different direction. Rather than saving him, or trying to sway him, he may think that he needs to be destroyed. Shōto is apart of the society he despises. He’s been consumed by his father’s desires, and is going to grant him them. He even started using his flames- he’s playing directly into Endeavor’s hands, or so Dabi may think. To prevent Shōto from completing his father’s goals, he may want to destroy him. Stop him from giving Endeavor what he wants. Shōto could be a huge future target for Dabi. It would be Dabi’s form of revenge against his father, as well as a step towards ending the society the Todoroki children grew up in; kill his father’s perfect creation. Kill everything he worked for. Stop him from ever obtaining his dream. Endeavor too could be a huge target for Dabi. Killing Endeavor would stop him from hurting anyone ever again and serve as warning message to others who may be like him.

Conclusion

These two branches off the same base idea are really really different, but I think either of them could be possible- I can see both playing out relatively smoothly. Both would be highly emotional, and allow for lots of development.

Anyway! I hope you enjoyed these theories! This one got so long, so I’m really glad I ended up separating it from the Hate one.

I have way too many ideas to honestly give my concrete opinion on what ones I think are the most likely. That’s why I’m interested to hear what you guys think. So please feel free to shoot me a message or ask or something and let me know your thoughts.

I have a lot more left I want to write about, but I’m having a hard time tackling how to go about formatting them… A lot of them (sort of like this one) are based on a general idea but have a lot of branches growing off of them. More branches than this one, somehow. Because of this, I can’t preview which one is next yet. I do know I’m going to make a mini thought thing soon though, but it’s not really a theory (or at least it’s not one yet, who knows how long it’ll get once I actually write it…)

Thanks for reading!

#tododorkies: todoroki dabi series #tododorkies thoughts #dabi bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki shōto #bnha

102 notes · View notes

glittergummicandypeach · 4 years

Text

Theological Primer: Religion

You’ve probably seen entries in this Theological Primer series before. The idea is to take a word or phrase or concept from systematic theology and explain it in under 500 words (e.g., the existence of God, the extra calvinisticum, the nature of church power).

I’m thrilled to be working on a book for Crossway that will include 365 entries like the ones above. At this point, we are calling the book “Daily Doctrine,” but that may change. It’s going to take me a few years to complete 180,000 words, so don’t look for the book anytime soon. But when it is finished (Lord willing), I’m hoping the book can be used as a daily devotional, a reference work, or read straight through as a mini systematic theology.

My goal is to plug away with one new chapter each week, and then knock out 50 or 60 over the summers. From time to time, I’ll put a fresh entry up on my blog. Today’s topic is “Religion.”

*****

The etymology of the word “religion” is unclear. Over the years, many have agreed with Cicero (106-43 BC) who derived religio from relegere, a Latin word meaning to gather together or to reread. On this account, religion is the diligent study of the things pertaining to God. Others have preferred the explanation given by the church father Lactantius (c. 250-325), which Augustine (354-430) adopted, that religio comes from religare meaning to fasten or to bind. With this etymology, religion is the binding or reattachment of man to God.

In contemporary parlance, “religion” is often construed in entirely derogatory terms. Even by Christians, religion is supposed to be the opposite of a relationship with God. Or religion is about trying to earn God’s favor. Or religion is about a stultifying system of rituals, dogmas, and structures. The problem with this disparaging understanding of “religion” is threefold.

(1) This is a relatively new way for Christians to speak. John Calvin wrote the Institutes of the Christian Religion. Jonathan Edwards wrote on Religious Affections. Pastors and theologians, especially in the age of awakenings, often wrote about “religion” or “true religion” or “real religion.” Our forefathers were well-aware of religious hypocrisy and false religious systems, but they did not equate “religion” with works-righteousness.

(2) The word “religion” occurs five times in the ESV and is, by itself, a neutral word, translating either deisidaimonia (reverence for the gods) or threskeia (religious worship). Religion can refer to Judaism (Act 26:5) or the Jewish-Christian faith (Acts 25:19). Religion can be bad when it is self-made (Col. 2:23) or fails to tame the tongue (James 1:26). But religion can also be good when it cares for widows and orphans and practices moral purity (James 1:27). There is no biblical ground for making the practice of religion a uniformly negative phenomenon.

(3) In castigating “religion,” we may be unloading more baggage than we realize. People tend to equate commands, doctrines, structures, and rituals with religion. That’s why people want to be “spiritual but not religious.” And yet, Christianity is a religion that believes in commands, doctrines, structures, and rituals. As a Jew, so did Jesus. Jesus did not hate religion. On the contrary, Jesus went to services at the synagogue and operated within the Jewish system of ritual purity (Mark 1:21, 40-45). He founded the church (Matt. 16:18) and established church discipline (Matt. 18:15-20). He instituted a ritual meal and called for its perpetual observance (Matt. 26:26-28). He told his disciples to baptize people and teach them to obey everything he commanded (Matt. 28:19-20). He insisted that people believe in him and believe certain things about him (John 3:16-18; 8:24).

In short, we give people the wrong impression about Jesus and affirm unbiblical instincts about true spirituality when we quickly dismiss “religion” as antithetical to the gospel and at odds with God-honoring piety.

This content was originally published here.

0 notes

pamphletstoinspire · 7 years

Photo

Catholic Physics - Reflections of a Catholic Scientist - Part 23

The Pearl of Great Price--Pascal's Wager Revisited

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls who, on finding one pearl of great value, sold all that he had and bought it.” (Matt 13:45,46, RSV).

INTRODUCTION.

Among the pile of Pascal's papers that were to be the “Pensees” was found a proposition that has kept philosophers and theologians occupied for the last 350 years, Pascal's wager: betting on God is the prudent option. (Notes, below, 1-8) What new insights can one bring to this, then, after all this time? I will try to understand the wager from a perspective of contemporary decision analysis, for which the wager was possibly the first instance, and also comment on what happens after one accepts the wager.

First, some background: it is important to keep in mind that although Pascal was a mathematician and physicist of the first order, he did not believe it was possible to show from reason alone that God exists (so much for Anselm and Aquinas!) :

“If there is a God, He is infinitely incomprehensible, since having neither parts nor limits, He has no affinity to us. We are then incapable of knowing either what He is or if He is.”

On the other hand we can know God by faith:

“But by faith we know His existence; in glory we shall know His nature.”

The last part of this quote shows the route Pascal wants us to follow: there is an afterlife, and its benefits are infinite. This being so, the odds for following God are infinite; whatever one might lose in believing, even if there were no God, is finite, whereas that which one can gain from belief, if there is a God, is infinite:

“But there is here an infinity of an infinitely happy life to gain, a chance of gain against a finite number of chances of loss, and what you stake is finite.”

Pascal spoke as a counselor of gamblers, for whom (with Fermat) he had developed the first quantitative version of probability analysis. It will be useful, before the wager is recast in a more quantitative format, to give some mundane examples.

THE WAGER AS A PROBLEM IN DECISION ANALYSIS.

In contemporary decision analysis one can proceed in two ways:

1) to examine possible gains and losses for various options, in the absence of known probabilities, and to choose that option which would correspond (psychologically or economically) to a preferred strategy:

2) to use known or estimated probabilities for various outcomes and to choose the option with the maximum expected value (see below). Let's first assume that probabilities aren't known, and see what considerations might be involved in choosing an option. Here is the example:

Investing 10,000 units (dollars or ??) in

1) a savings account at 2% interest;

2) a conservative stock portfolio paying 6% in a good market, and losing 10% in a bad market;

3) a sure thing—an unreported diamond mine in Northern Scotland that your Uncle Angus has told you about—you'll double your investment.

The table below summarizes the possible outcomes; the columns represent “state of nature”, that is “good” outcome for a particular option and “bad” outcome ( a – sign means a loss), the rows, the different options.

If you're an optimist, you would of course choose the diamond mine. If you are a pessimist or risk-averse, you would choose the option with the least possible loss, the Savings Account (you would follow what is called the mini-max principle in decision analysis(9), choosing the option with minimum possible loss).

Now suppose Uncle Angus was right about the diamond mine—you'd berate yourself for not having invested in it. This regret is quantified in a decision analysis scenario and used to justify a “mini-max regret” approach (10) for decision making. For each state of nature (column) you subtract the best outcome to give a negative figure for “regret”. You then list the worst (that is most negative) regret for each row (option) and choose that option with the least negative worst regret, as shown in the following table:

The option with with the least negative worst regret is the diamond mine, so if you were to follow a mini-max regret approach you would choose that option. Clearly this is the restatement, in contemporary decision analytic terms, of Pascal's choice for belief, absent a known probability for the existence of God. Put as a table one would have, symbolically:

There aren't numbers here, but clearly the value for belief in the existence of God (and the afterlife), X, is much greater than Y (the loss -Y one sustains by belief) or Z (the gain of a possibly hedonistic life that one sustains by unbelief), so the minimum worst regret (least negative) is that for belief in God.

If probabilities for outcomes are known or can be estimated, another approach is to use expected values for each option and choose the option with the maximum expected value. To get an expected value you multiply each outcome value by the probability for that outcome and sum these products for all the outcomes for a given option.

Pascal did not presume to give a probability for the existence of God and the afterlife. However he relied on the infinite value of the outcome to give an infinite expected value—any number (however small as long as it's not zero) times infinity is infinity. And as long as the imputed loss is finite, the expected value will be infinite. This assumption has raised the hackles of philosophers, and counterexamples—such as mixed strategies(2,10) and the “St. Petersburg Paradox”—have been proposed to show how the assumption of an infinite value outcome leads to problems. In particular, suppose one follows the strategy of choosing the toss of a coin to decide whether to believe. The probability will be half that you will choose to believe, so the expectation value will be infinite, even though there will still be a probability of one-half that you have chosen not to believe. In my opinion these are valid objections, but they ignore the thrust of Pascal's argument, that the gain from belief is so large, that for any non-zero probability of an afterlife, the prudent person will believe. The statement can be best put in the forms of odds for the existence of God and an afterlife:

If the odds are greater than the possible loss to gain ratio, then one should make the wager. For example, if you believe that the odds for Great Britain winning the World Cup are 2 to 3 and the bookmakers are giving 1 to 8 odds for Great Britain (win 8, lose 1), you should bet for, and not against Great Britain.

WHO WON'T ACCEPT PASCAL'S WAGER AND WHAT HAPPENS AFTER.

Who are those who would not accept the wager? According to Nicholas Rescher (1), the following:

1) the hard-core atheist (if you don't believe in God, you wouldn't believe in the possibility of an afterlife);

2) “the all-out hedonist” (Dr. Faustus?);

3) “the all-trusting disbeliever”, that is, one who believes everyone goes to heaven, that as in St. Teresa's prayer, Jesus will lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of his mercy;

4) “the radical skeptic” who disbelieves in all knowledge;

5) theists (e.g Buddhists, Hindus) who believe in God but have a different conception of the afterlife;

6) those who believe in an afterlife but in their evil, like Satan, would rather live in Hell than serve the Lord.

We emphasize again that the argument of Pascal's wager is addressed to the prudential man—the agnostic who believes in the possibility of an afterlife (and God)--and is willing to act so as to gain that reward, even in the midst of doubts. Is belief then a matter of will? The agnostic accepts the premise of the wager, but says

“ I am so made that I cannot believe. What, then, would you have me do?”

Pascal responds:

“Endeavor then to convince yourself, not by increase of proofs of God, but by the abatement of your passions. You would like to attain faith and do not know the way; you would like to cure yourself of unbelief, and ask the remedy for it...There are people... who are cured of an ill of which you would be cured. Follow the way by which they began by acting as if they believed, taking the holy water, having masses said, etc.”

Now can one “fake it until you make it” as Pascal suggests? Or will the sacraments be ineffective, because the motive of the recipient is mercenary? Which of the Catechism dicta are appropriate,

(1131)”The sacraments are efficacious signs of grace....They bear fruit in those who receive them WITH THE REQUIRED DISPOSITIONS.” (emphasis added)

(1128) “The sacrament is not wrought by the righteousness of either the celebrant or the recipient, BUT BY THE POWER OF GOD.” (emphasis added).

The second suggests that if one prays for faith, then the “top-down” approach will work, starting from the head and eventually through to the heart 15, or, as Pascal suggests:

“...at each step you take on this road you will see so great certainty of gain, so much nothingness in what you risk, that you will at last recognize that you have wagered for something certain and infinite, for which you have given nothing.”

Ed. Note 1:

Blaise Pascal was a French mathematician, physicist, inventor, writer and Catholic theologian. He was a child prodigy who was educated by his father, a tax collector in Rouen.

Ed. Note 2:

I am sorry that I cannot properly display all the various pictures or tables on the post. They will, however, be displayed on the pamphlet containing this post, and a link will be provided for your convenience.

From a series of articles written by: Bob Kurland - a Catholic Scientist

#catholic physics

1 note · View note

spotlightsaga · 7 years

Photo

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... The Strain (S04E01) The Worm Turns Airdate: July 16, 2017 @fxnetworks Ratings: 1.443 Million :: 0.52 18-49 Demo Share Score: 5.5/10 @thestrain-fx TVTime/FB/Twitter/IG/Tumblr/Path: @SpotlightSaga **********SPOILERS BELOW********** 'The Strain' has always been a series that, good or bad, feels like it's episodes pass via time set on a cartoonish grandfather clock purposefully set to go way too fast, it's hands spinning out of control until it eventually breaks; revealing coils, a mini explosion, and puff of smoke. Seriously, it's that breakneck, speedy pacing of the show that creates the genuine illusion that the show's episodes are over just 10 minutes after they start... Always ending on either a cliffhanger or a shocking moment of truth, which also lends to that semblance that there's literally no possible way 45 minutes to an hour could have possibly passed by. I found myself checking the clock at the end of 'The Worm Turns' and then smiling as that feeling of familiarity washed over me... It's like riding a massive roller coaster full of massive dips, flips, and sometimes even small, shaky hills you could probably do without. Yes, this is 'The Strain'. We already know that S4 will be 'The Strain's last and there's something comforting about that. You don't have to worry about incomplete conclusions or loose ends (most likely, anyway). It's pretty much a given that we will definitely get a solid beginning, middle, and thrilling final resolution... Whether it's in the favor of The Evil Strigoi or the The Righteously Flawed Humans (or neither). Showrunner Carlton Cuse told 'The Hollywood Reporter' that the decision to take the 9-month time jump was a way for the creators and writers to 'redefine the show'. We've seen 'time jumps' make or break series before. At the risk of completely alienating the horror genre, I always point to The WB & CW series 'One Tree Hill' when discussing successful time jumps. They aren't necessarily easy to pull off. The fun of it, is to play "catch up" as Cuse put it, and he's right. Answering the question of 'Just how the hell did we get here,' should be a fun endeavor for the writers to end the series on... Its also a great way to introduce new, important characters into the fold, and writing old ones that have outlived their usefulness into fictional oblivion. However, just because we didn't see the likes of Dutch (Rita Gedmintas) or Setrakian (David Bradley - who does appear in the episode but not outside of a nightmare), doesn't mean that the characters have lost their way... Or it could. That's part of the fun. The Master is now taken on the form and body of Eldritch Palmer (Jonathan Hyde), which is extremely dangerous for everyone living in this slightly less chaotic, more harmonious world than we remember, thanks to 'The Partnership', which is explained in the most terrifyingly chipper way possible via a video where a woman tells us 'it's tough to say goodbye to her family & friends, but being of rare B+ blood type, she knows she's making the sacrifice for a greater good'... Yeah, no bueno, mami. Eldritch Palmer is one of the richest men in the world... Not just in traditional dollar bills, but in power, in contacts, allies, and pretty much a 'green light' wherever he wants to go in a patriarchal society... Even one inhabited by ancient, former underground dwelling, bloodsucking Strigoi. Palmer got played... 'Master'-fully. 🤣 I liked that one, anyway. Even though 'The Worm Turns' feels like it passes in just moments, it still doesn't get a whole lot accomplished. I know, it sounds like an oxymoron, and it technically it is... But that doesn't mean the episode is a waste by any means. It's just that when an episode feels like it passes by in 10 minutes, you would automatically assume that more would be established. Well, you can count on television's most hated tween, Zach Goodweather (Max Charles) to still be dancing with the devil on the wrong side of the fence. He even ppears to be strung out on tiny samples of that Strigoi 'Good-Good'. Thomas Eichorst (Richard Sammel), The Master's most faithful right hand man-well-Strigoi, is keeping a close eye on Zach and even messing with his mind a bit, stringing him along by mental manipulation through forced hallucinations... Turning disgusting, weathered, sexless Strigoi (post-males?) into visions of Zach'a mother, Kelly (Natalie Brown). 'Mirage Kelly's purpose is clear; Continue to keep Zach in line and adamantly against his father, showing up when Zach is feeling the most lonely and vulnerable. It appears to be working just fine... As does keeping Zach a hated heel. I watch A LOT of television and there isn't a show currently on the air where a character is hated as much as Zach is. As soon as the audience has a chance to feel any possible empathy or even sympathy for the kid, the writers effectively pull back and remind us just how easy to hate this kid truly is. Zach's father, Eph (Corey Stoll) is in Philly just trying to stay alive, fighting the good fight... Accidentally meeting new characters and suddenly gaining sympathy for them, like Angel Parker (Alex Green) and whoever she's trying to keep alive. Fet (Kevin Durand) is out in North Dakota with a woman named Charlotte (Rhona Mitra), having nightmares of Setrakian turning Strigoi, and searching for nukes and missiles, which apparently are near impossible to find because they've all been fired. New York and San Francisco are gone, so Justine died for nothing, which makes me terribly sad... She was truly a bright spot in what's been everything from a great horror series, to a meandering fantasy-thriller that picks up and puts down story arcs whenever it damn well pleases. Oh and Quinlan (Rupert Penry-Jones) is basically busting down doors right at the exact time Fet needs him to show, as he's actually done several times before, and even making snarky comments about his ironic timing. It's truly hard to say just who the audience is that is left watching S4 of 'The Strain'. I really, really enjoyed S1, even though there were times when it was just plain unnecessary. S2 was where I realized the show wasn't what I thought it was... And S3 had Justine. God, I miss Justine. I'm a horror fan and I think that's who is left at the end of the line... Rabid horror fans and OCD completionists (and there are a lot of us, surprisingly), I find myself to be a lotta-bit of both. Whatever happens, I would hope that Cuse, Guillermo del Toro, and Chuck Hogan would at least give 'The Strain's faithful fans the opportunity to see Zach die a slow, painful, and incredibly boundary-pushing death on cable television. If SyFy can show the crap that they're pushing out for their wannabe Exploitation Series 'Blood Drive', then 'The Strain' owes its faithfuls some serious loads of blood buckets, Strigoi Slicing, and angsty tween mutilation... But I gotta feeling that's exactly what they plan on delivering. Stay tuned.

12 notes · View notes

thenichibro · 7 years

Text

Spring 2017 Anime First Impressions

This season doesn’t really seem to have a posterchild show like last season, which had both a new KyoAni work and Konosuba’s follow-up. However, there’s some good slice-of-life and top-tier fanservice, so as usual there will be ups and downs, weighted towards the latter of course. (This paragraph is short because I had a huge rant here about Anime Strike and its effect on consumers/businesses, but I’m pretty sure no-one who follows me gives a shit about actual discussion of the industry, so I’ll spare you.)

With MAL links, and original shows marked:

Alice to Zouroku (MAL) Starting off we have a hefty 40-minute episode, which follows Sana, a girl with supernatural powers, escaping from a reserach lab. She is chased by the organization's other power-users, and snares the other main character, Kashimura, in a bad-CG-filled car chase. I like Kashimura as that sort of grizzled old man type moreso than a generic teenage protag in this sense. His no-nonsense attitude contrasts well with the haughty-yet-childish one of Sana. In addition, I like the subtle humor near the end of the episode that contrasts what you think Kashimura's line of work is with what it actually is. The animation looks somewhat plain, and the CG is honestly just bad. The entire sequence could have used hand-drawn, but for a solid 2-3 minutes it was hard to look at. Other than that there isn't anything especially new here - reality-warping powers, dangerous medical research - we've seen it before. I don't really think this needed a 40-minute episode, but we'll see where it goes.

Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records (MAL) Any show with a school uniform that highlights midriffs gets points in my book. Starting off, we have the eccentric (in this case lazy) teacher, Glenn, starting at a magic school. There's the haughty noble girl, Sistine, oft-embarrased by the teacher's antics, and her quieter sister Rumia. While setting itself up as a comedy in episode 1, episode 2 has everything from a shouting match culminating in a slap to military thugs sexually assaulting Sistine - so I'm honestly not sure which way this is going. The boastful-but-easily-embarrased Sistine contrasts well with the smooth-with-nothing-to-back-it-up Glenn. We have the brewings of a wider plot, with why Glenn was assigned to the school if he's a bum and Sistine having a goal of discovering secrets of a floating island. The animation overall is still quite good, which helps in a magic-casting show. Helps the fanservice out too. I don't have high expectations for this show, but the lower the bar the easier this show will impress. I just hope it focuses on a single direction in the plot instead of trying to have comedic episodes and dark episodes.

[Original] Sakura Quest (MAL) Starting with a bubbly OP (and ending with a similarly fantastic ED), we have the first slice-of-lie this season. I love the genre, I love the country locale, I love the art, and I loved Shirobako. I have high hopes. Our main girl Koharu wants to get out of the country and get a job in Tokyo, but the job she gets (by mistake, even) is back in the country at a tourism board. Sakura Quest puts an interesting spin on the country locale, setting Manoyama up as both tranquil yet struggling - and I like it. It brings a sense of realism to an oft-idealized setting. The language of taxes, grants, and the real strategy of creating "mini independent states" to boost local tourism echoes Shirobako in its depiction of life, and that's good. Koharu is plucky, insistent, and overall just a joy to watch. I'm refreshed any time a show does something about not high-school students or teenagers in general. Focusing the story on adults that have established lives (or even better, that are trying to establish their lives) gives the slice of life genre, well, new life. Showing the smooth transition between the comedic and the sentimental, with background music to match, the tonal shifts are nothing abrupt, a the first episode flowed well. P.A. Works certainly has a hit-or-miss record with original shows, and Sakura Quest thus far is more Shirobako and less Glasslip. I'm looking at an AOTS contender already.

Clockwork Planet (MAL) Starting off with an impressively boring action sequence, we have our heroes led by a (I'm sure incredibly powerful) kid defeat a bunch of automatons. A world created entirely of clocks, and a main character (Naoto) obsessed with tinkering with them. My primary conception from the summary was more apocalyptic, with the main character being a wandering junker who finds an automaton (Imagining the world looking sort of like Gargantia, with less water). Maybe I'm just standoffish because instead we got a high school kid with an annoying voice that finds a girl who proceeds to call him "Master." This is of course after the fact that despite Naoto being unable to fix a single clock, he easily opens and fixes the girl, one of the most top-of-the-line automatons created. Naturally. As far as the "clockwork" aesthetic goes, instead of a rusty, machinic society the world looks exactly like any other city, except with random gears everywhere. At one point it shows a character driving an otherwise normal car, but in the door of the car there are gears that look like they aren't connected to anything, just there to remind you of the title. Regarding the animations, they're not great, echoing the facial style of something like Baka to Test or Kore wa Zombie Desu Ka? - only this show is airing in 2017. Also, a shot shows a bunch of gears falling from a guy's hand feels the need be CG. Ugh. Shoved-in fanservice on top of all of this makes this a show I already regret starting. Avoid.

Eromanga-Sensei (MAL) Next up, we have the second original series from the famed creator of "It's Okay to Fuck Your Sister if She Likes Porn," This one uniquely titled "It's Okay to Fuck Your Sister if She Draws Porn." Sibling bonding over erotic fiction/art. Wew. Nothing else to expect from OreImo's creator, but similar themes do not a similar plot make. I hope. The first episode is the reunion, where Masamune finds his shut-in sister Sagiri is Eromanga-sensei, his LN ero-artist. I'll give it this - Sagiri is leagues cuter than Kirino. Man, fuck Kirino. Naturally the art is similar to OreImo, especially Masamune, only I think his hair's a bit greener. Other than that, though, the animation is smooth. Eromanga-Sensei starts off on a much more sentimental note, with discussions of dreams, mourning parents, etc. Other than one main fanservice-y scene and the fact that they connect over erotic art, the sentimental is certainly preferable. ClariS return for the ED of ep1, and it's fantastic as ever. I mean, seriously, Nexus as the OP for OreImo was the best part of the show. Judging from the key art this may well become a harem, but we'll see. So far it beats OreImo, but that's a low bar.

Sakurada/Sagrada Reset (MAL) I don't know why the changed the romanization to "Sagrada," but then again I don't know Japanese in the first place. Sakurada Reset follows Kei and Haruki, with the powers of recalling the past perfectly and being able to reset time, respectively. The town of Sakurada gives people the powers for basically no reason, but on the other hand that's not really the point - the assumption is that this is normal. Set up to be friends by Soma, the enigmatic class rep, Kei aims to get Haruki to help him help people, using their powers. Haruki is adamantly opposed, for fear Kei could exploit her, as she herself doesn't remember anything after resetting. Sakurada Reset certainly doesn't set itself up as a comedy, but rather a series of sobering investigations undertaken by Kei and Haruki. There's a lot of pseudo-philosophical bullshit off the bat ("You're unable to believe your own righteousness, yet you continue to be righteous."), and yet the show isn't interesting enough for me to look any deeper. Add to that a surprisingly dark first investigation topic, and I'm already kind of tired of this. If you like HaruChika (which I didn't) with darker themes, then give this a watch. Otherwise, I'd avoid.

Hinako Note (MAL) Back on the slice of life train, Hinako Note follows, well, Hinako, a girl who sucks at speaking, moving to Tokyo to go to high school and get better via the theater club. She moves into a bookstore-cafe combo, living with Kuu, who likes books so much she eats them, and Mayu, the short girl who dresses like a maid. Also introduced is Aki, the quiet landlady and a theater troupe leader on the side. The only conflict is that the theater club is shut down, and so Aki suggests Hinako simply form a troupe with the rest of the girls. The OP/ED show we'll meet a fifth girl, so I expect that soon. Speaking of the OP/ED, they're both incredibly fast paced, sung by the cast, and remind me of Teekyuu's OP style, if you like that. The animation is pretty good, though the show really likes going into chibi-style a lot. Probably more a style choice than budgetary problem, and I don't mind it. Overall, it seems like the theater setup could produce a wealth of interesting scenarios, and the girls are cute. Not much else I need.

[Original] Tsuki ga Kirei (MAL) Last on the slice-of-life roster, we have an self-described slow paced school story, and an original from feel. studios to boot. I'm excited. Starting in the third-year of middle school is interesting, because that means all the relationship-forming is already done. (To be done away with when they get to high-school though, I'm sure). Akane is a sincere, shy girl on the track team, while Kotarou is a similarly shy novice writer and spends club time as the school's librarian. They share off glances at each other, leading to a nervous, stammering meeting at a family restaurant where not much else happens. "Slow-paced," to be sure. The animation matches the shows sort of muted tone, with no massive eyes (or tits), no multicolored hair, etc. It's clear Tsuki ga Kirei aims to tell a more-or-less realistic love story. One thing I did notice, mostly in the beginning of the episode, was the crowd shots combined with CG. Honestly, just do closer shots so you can avoid CG-ing people. It never looks good. The first episode sort of confirmed my feeling that this show will be a nice way to decompress each week, as we watch Akane and Kotarou grow slowly closer. If the title's any indication, their relationship will have its awkward moments, but there's nothing more essentially youth than that, right? Unlike many original works, this show doesn't look like it will go in any strange direction, and that consistency is relaxing. Give this a watch.

Zero kara Hajimeru Mahou no Sho (MAL) Furry Berserk, I guess? ZeroSho follows the unnamed beastman "Mercenary" and Zero, a mage, as they search for Zero's Grimoire, the basis of all magic. The show follows a typical fantasy setting, with mages at war with a ruling empire, and beastmen subjugated by everyone. Interestingly, "sorcery" differs from "magic" - the former requires a summoning circle, long casts, etc., while the latter is quick and far more deadly. More interesting is the fact that Zero wrote the book on magic. I normally enjoy overpowered characters, and in this case that power is packed into a cute, ahoge-sporting mage loli. Definitely a plus. Something else the struck me as unique was the comedic moments throughout the episode. Thus far Mercenary and Zero play off each other quite well, and I'm interested to see where it goes. There's the standard background of discrimination against beastmen/witches and Mercenary's war-torn past, but at least if it's been signposted now it won't be jarring later. This show surprised and impressed, and I'm interested to see how it goes. And man, Zero's cute.

Anonymous Noise (MAL) For whatever reason, I've been waiting for this to come out for a while. I'm not sure why, but when there were any cast announcements or key visuals, etc. I always recognized the name. Anyway, Anonymous Noise sees Nino Arisugawa - "Alice," a loner singer starting high school reunite with her childhood singing friend Kanade Yuzuriha - "Yuzu." Right from the start, this show is very, very shoujo. The eyes, the immediate drama, everything is very shoujo. Not necessarily a problem, but be aware that's what this is. Amazing how a dramatic reunion could immediately turn to "Never talk to me again," but that's the genre I guess. Regarding the music, as this is a musical show, there was one main performance, and if I'm honest I thought Alice's voice was quite rough. The music per se isn't a problem - the sound echoes Scandal or Stereopony, bands that do some harder rock that I both love. The vocals, at least in the song they played, weren't to my liking. I was unaware of just how shoujo this show is, and I hope it doesn't become any more overbearing than it already has. I have low expectations on that front. From the insert song and the ED, I know I like the sound, so if the vocals keep up and the shoujo stays down, this won’t be bad. On the other hand, I can't say I expect both of those things to happen.

Sin Nanatsu no Taizai (MAL) Best for last, amirite? Aka “Seven Mortal Sins,” SinNNT is unabashed, unapologetic fanservice. As a quick note, make sure to skip the HorribleSubs release on this one, only because their release is censored. Censored like Shinmai Maou no Testament censored (and that's bad). Anyway, the story involves Lucifer falling first to Earth and then to Hell, where after a short sexual assault by Leviathan (Envy) she proceeds to challenge the other sins for control. Back on Earth, the nun Lucifer passed as she fell to hell (as well as giving her some blood) is having her own daily life. (Don't worry, there's still groping between her and her friend). There's over-the-top transformation sequences, grandiose music, and plenty of inane sexual situations. I honestly have no idea where this show is going - whether it's going to be in Hell, on Earth - but let's be real, no-one really cares. The animation budget is actually pretty great for this show, and that means the fanservice is top tier. As if I need to write anything about this show - it's distilled fanservice. Watch it, or don't.

#alice to zouroku #rokudenashi majutsu koushi to akashic records #sakura quest #clockwork planet #eromanga-sensei #sakurada reset #hinako note #tsuki ga kirei #zero kara hajimeru mahou no sho #seven mortal sins #spring 2017 anime #my anime reviews

3 notes · View notes