#he's got that same spark of intellectual curiosity that i do

[princesssarcastia]

the problem with being a lonely shut-in who wants to write about relationships is that it actually requires as much research as like, wanting to write about a guy who can have casual conversations about mechanical engineering.

and maybe that's just enough so you can SOUND like you know a bit about mechanical engineering. maybe it's not that much research at all. but it's still more research on relationships than i feel like a lot of other people doing the same thing have to do, which is none at all

[power-chords]

apologies if you've explained this already, but tumblr search is trash, so I have to ask... why the obsession with michael mann, how did that start?

Oh, man. It’s a long story! In the early days of the pandemic I got a call from my favorite rock musician that he had read a short essay I’d written on his solo album, and he wanted me to contribute a piece to his band’s forthcoming box set. Dream come true obviously, couldn’t say no, so I immediately buckled down on the research end, which for me involved a deeper dive into said musician’s love of film. Mann was on the list of suspects alongside more definitive entries like Coppola and Scorsese, but that turned out to be a happy accident of misreading. (Major shout out to Adam here, by the way, because without his guidance I would have been working with a much more meandering home-brewed syllabus.)

I enjoy movies like any properly adjusted American but they don’t tend to put a spell on me the way music does, or make me want to disassemble the whole contraption piece by piece like a good written story. And Mann’s work was the first time I’d ever encountered films that could have the same effect on me as music and literature. They were hypnotic and enchanting and propulsive, like my favorite records, but they also suggested this dense subterranean architecture of potential meaning, obscured from immediate view but very much there and carefully, deliberately encoded. In other words, these films were like texts imploring (really, daring) you to interpret them.

That’s Mann’s methodology in a nutshell, basically — it’s a seduction gambit, and on me it worked spectacularly! It tapped into my grotesque hedonic animal brain and sparked an intellectual curiosity as well. For me that combination has a narcotic quality that’s hard to explain, but I have an addictive personality. And the more I watched his work, the more it ensnared me like The Footage.* (“WHAT is going on? What is this film doing to me??” Etc.) You have to understand I have no prior experiential basis for this, so as far as I’m concerned it’s witchcraft. By the time I turn in my piece for the box set I have this collateral situation developing, ha ha, oh no, and here I am three years later.

Initially I had wondered if Mann had been an influence on Dulli, but it turned out to be a case of convergent evolution. Or something akin to it. I think they’re just similar in terms of what subject matter they’re attracted to, maybe in their modes of perception and how they make aesthetic/narrative sense of the world. And there is some part of me that keys into that sensibility — whichever part precedes organized expression, maybe even conscious comprehension — and finds it cathartic and liberating and all that good stuff. (I’m a Safety First adrenaline junkie these days so I try to limit my habits to art and pop culture.)

And then he and Meg Gardiner co-wrote an actual book which provoked further investigations, escalations, whatever you want to call them. It turns out that the abyss really DOES stare back into you in the form of numerous spooky historical coincidences. I’m like afraid of Heat 2 at this point because the more I go trawling around in there the more it becomes an eldritch object, LOL. I’m the closest anyone has come to living the film Jumanji, let me put it that way. But the experience has been a blast. And I feel fortunate to have found yet another creator on par with Dulli and Townshend whose work I will be able to take with me and return to over the course of my life, and seek shelter in in that way.

*EVERYBODY READ PATTERN RECOGNITION BY WILLIAM GIBSON!

[gigilberry-wips]

One thing that doesn't make sense to me in modern AU's is for Hiccup to already like animals. I also think that Hiccup's initial fascination of dragons being a neurodivergent hyperfixation trait doesn't make sense either.

Why? Because originally Hiccup wanted to kill dragons. It's what he was raised to believe, it's what he tried to emulate, it's what he convinced himself he needed to do. It's the literal ideological backbone of his society that he was specifically trying to fit into.

All of his earlier interest revolved around him making plans to kill them. He never really had any love for them. He didn't have much reason to, either, since all they really counted for initially was as a status symbol. A trophy. Physical proof of his worth that he could show off to his father and community and use to earn their approval.

Even the reason he got involved with them was not because of a spark of friendship or love but intellectual curiosity. He found a thing that didn't make sense to the worldview he was raised on, so he was driven to gather more information about it and reassess his previous knowledge for the sake of reorganizing his mental database.

The friendship and kinship, of really seeing himself in these misunderstood creatures, and the growing protectiveness and outrage at the terrible injustice that had happened to them, came during the course of weeks. It was never there from the start, it took time and effort and patience to build, just like his bond with Toothless did. And that's why it makes it so impactful.

People like to romanticize Hiccup's views and make him into more of an emotionally literate and emotionally driven person than he is, when he isn't.

As much kindness as Hiccup can have in him, it is slow to come by. Hiccup is primarily logical and factual, and his curiosity is filtered through an intellectual lense. He has trouble with friendships and forming real bonds with others when he avoids the emotional aspects of himself and of people in general.

So in a modern AU, I can see Hiccup being the son of someone whose father raised him to have a distaste for the natural world (eg: real estate developer, mining and fuel industry, etc). It's only after he grows into himself and starts to think "maybe I don't need to have the same views as my dad just to earn the approval and love I shouldn't have had to ask for" that he'd begin to see differently.

And I'm not saying it's wrong or anything to headcanon him this way. There is no wrong headcanon for a character who brings so much joy and acceptance to someone, I can even see it myself. But if I ever were to make a post for his traits, especially with neurodivergent ones, I wouldn't put "love of animals" at the top of that list.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her. 

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered. 

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two

[strangelyloki]

Stars

tony stark x stephen strange, a little one shot i wrote after being inspired by this comic panel

The crisp New York air brushed against their faces as they walked through central park. No matter how many times either Stephen or Tony battled in the city they could both mutually enjoy walking through the park at night. Something about it was calming, and the cool air that prompted them to wear a jacket just made everything that much better.

They talked about everything and nothing all at the same time. Tony and Stephen had grown closer to each other over the past months, fighting to save the universe together bringing them close, but the pair realizing how well they complimented one another bringing them even closer. It had been a while since either man had found someone who was always on their toes just as they were. From sarcastic remarks easily being shot back and forth between the two, to being able to hold intellectual conversations about new medical innovations or upcoming technological advancements.

Tonight they focused on Stephen’s recent promotion to Sorcerer Supreme.

“What does a Sorcerer Supreme even do?” Tony asked, hands stuffed in his pockets as they walked along the path.

“Well technically speaking, the Sorcerer Supreme is the title given to the dimension’s greatest magic practitioner.” Stephen replied, a smirk across his face. “Not to toot my own horn or anything.”

“Did you just say ‘not to toot your own horn’?”

The sides of Stephen’s mouth quirked up into a sideways smile, “Sure did.”

Tony groaned jokingly, “We need to work on your catch phrases.”

Their eyes met for a moment, both could swear they felt a small spark between them. And then the moment passed.

“So Sorcerer Supreme,” Tony started after a moment, “You must be pretty powerful, huh?”

Stephen looked up at the sky, knowing that the stars were hidden behind the clouds and smog from the city, and even if that wasn’t the case they would still be drowned out by all the big bright manhattan lights surrounding them. He took a breath, remembering Tony had just asked him something.

“I guess you could say that.”

“What were you just thinking about, Houdini?”

That was another thing about the pair. They were very good at noticing small things about the other that other people didn’t. Tony could tell when Stephen was lost in thought even for just a beat, while others couldn’t tell the difference between Stephen being cold or him just blatantly ignoring them based on his facial expressions. Stephen could easily tell when something was wrong with Tony. He could see when the jokes and sarcastic comments he made didn’t meet his eyes, something that most people missed when talking to the engineer when something was eating him up in the back of his mind.

“Just how you can’t really see the night sky out here.” He answered, moving his attention back to the path in front of them.

“Maybe you can just shut off all the power in the city so you can see the stars, Stephanie.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. It was a nickname Tony made up one night when they had a few drinks and were a little ways past tipsy. Out of all the nicknames he had come up with that was the one Stephen disliked the most.

Tony’s comment did give him an idea though.

“Want to go somewhere where we can see the sky?” Stephen asked, turning to face Tony once again, brown eyes meeting the always changing ones.

Spark.

“What have you got in mind?” Tony asked, eyes wide with curiosity, or maybe they were wide because he felt a warmth begin to pour into his chest as their eyes met again.

Stephen simply put on his sling ring and opened a portal in front of them. The park was pretty empty at this hour, and the few stragglers that were there weren’t really paying any attention.

Tony smiled and nodded, walking through the portal cautiously as Stephen let him walk in ahead of him. The portal closed behind them and he found himself in the middle of a clearing in the woods. Tony looked up at the sky, and he was sure he could see entire galaxies above him. The stars danced around the sky as if they had been painted on. There was an array of color above him, and he could even see a few stars twinkling in the distance. It was truly beautiful. He hadn’t been able to just take a step back to look at the stars in so long, especially since almost no stars were visible in New York.

“Wow.” Tony breathed, scanning the sky above.

“Now this is a much better view of the sky.” Stephen said, conjuring a small blanket and laying it on the ground underneath him. It was completely dark where they were, aside from the light from the full moon that shown down on them, accompanied by the stars. He sat down on the blanket and then laid back, his arms came to rest behind his head as he looked up at the sky, admiring it some more.

Tony watched as he got comfortable, taking in the way the t-shirt Stephen was wearing rose up just a little as he brought his arms up, which totally did not make him blush a little.

The air was still crisp wherever they were, so Stephen decided to keep the jacket he had on as he focused on the sky.

“You can join me.” Stephen said as he glanced over to see Tony still standing a few feet away.

He nodded moving to sit next to Stephen, not knowing how close would be too close. He settled for a few inches apart, their heads just close enough that if they both turned towards one another and leaned forward just a little, their lips would touch. And Tony could swear that he felt Stephen inch ever so slightly even closer.

Spark.

Tony laid back and resumed looking up at the sky. The universe was so big, and there was so much that had yet to be discovered. He thought about far out places that were basically entire other worlds, different from his own. It was mind boggling.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Tony spoke, “You know, the universe is so big. There must be other Sorcerer Supremes out there, each guarding his or her or its own territories.”

Stephen raised a brow, pondering the idea. “Perhaps.” He said, eyes still searching the endless sky.

“You should go knock on their doors. See what they have to volunteer.” Tony added, adjusting his focus to face Stephen’s face, watching his features shift as he thought and looked at the sky.

Stephen closed his eyes, the sides of his mouth pulling into a small smile. “Are you offering to take me to the stars?”

Tony blushed, and was grateful that Stephen had his eyes closed while facing the sky. His relief was short lived however, because Stephen’s head tilted inward to face him, and when his eyes opened they met Tony’s.

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out because he didn’t know what to say in this moment. He could say a sarcastic comment or joke to get past this moment and save himself from anymore embarrassment. Or maybe Strange felt the same thing he had been feeling tonight, and he could just tell him.

Why was he getting so worked up? He was Tony Stark for christ sakes, the playboy Tony Stark. He could do this, piece of cake.

“Thinking twice about your offer?” Stephen asked, his smile turned into a smirk while his head now rested on his hand which was propped up by his elbow, him now completely laying on his side rather than his back and, when did he get to this position? He was even closer to Tony now, if Tony were to mirror his new position, their faces would probably be mere centimeters apart.

Tony took a breath and pushed himself into the same position. The worst that could happen would be Stephen moving and then portaling them back home.

As their faces were now so close together that they could feel each other’s breaths, Stephen didn’t even flinch, his smirk just grew deeper into his face, eyes moving quickly from Tony’s lips back to his eyes.

Spark.

“I have a ship that I’ve been working on, so maybe one day we can see what it can do.” Tony said, looking into Stephen’s eyes the same way he had drank in the sky just a little while ago. It was like Stephen’s eyes were filled with their own entire universe made up of stars and galaxies. He swore he could see all the different colors of the night sky all mixed together and swimming in his eyes. Tony was so lost in Stephen’s eyes he hadn’t realized Stephen had already replied to his statement.

Stephen could tell Tony was thinking about something, and decided to repeat himself so Tony would hear him.

“You don’t need to get us to space to take me to the stars.” Stephen said, hoping that Tony would understand what he was trying to tell him.

Tony heard him that time. He pondered it in his mind. Could Stephen actually feel the same way about him?

Stephen took one more glance down at Tony’s lips before meeting his eyes once again, leaning in to close the small space left between them.

Tony was taken aback by the feeling of lips on his, but they were soft and delicious, and it took him no time at all to melt into the kiss. Stephen kissed him so tenderly, he imagined his lips against his felt the same as satin folding against itself. Their lips moved in sync, not too fast not too slow. They both communicated the words that had been left unsaid through soft touches and rushed breaths.

There they were, no one else but one another as they kissed underneath the stars. The warmth had flooded through them like a tidal wave as their lips continued to meet, each time still feeling like the first time over again- and it was almost as if the stars above them were cheering them on, the way they twinkled.

Flame.

[darkromanceblackburn]

I have a request, since they're open! Anything with the Collector x Reader x Chromeskull. I love that pair! Surprise me with what happens. Preferably angst.

The Collector x Reader x Chromeskull- Hazardous Toxicity

Authors Note: Getting some practice with angsty scenarios and these two see to fit the picture, because what’s not toxic about being in a relationship with a serial killer, neverthless with two of them.

Warning: Toxic Polyamorous Relationship

Words: 2.2k

You had a peculiar taste in men and that went with the fact that you didn't like routine or having a normal relationship with a normal guy with a normal job and a normal hobby. Normal wasn't an adjective or characteristic you were attracted to.

If you could describe what your preference in men was, you would start by saying that you always liked them older, maybe because you had enough of going on dates with guys your age that talked about the same topics; college, sports, nothing that would really spark a certain interest, but alas you were glad at the end of the date they preferred to remain just friends. Easier to get out and not make an awkward scene and probably explain why there was no chemistry.

The past relationships you had were to put it nicely, acceptable. The guys always let you take the lead; you ordered the food, you decided what movie to watch, what to do on a certain date. To be always in charge was tiring and you felt kind of empty. There was no excitement what so ever.

So, imagine the actual relationship you were having now. Never in your life would you predict that you would end up in a polyamorous relationship with two men that were much older than you. It was just a fantasy, one that turned out to be real.

To say that your partners were quite unique would be just an easy saying; they always stood out of the crowd, maybe one of the reasons you were so intrigued by them, but they were that type of standing out like 'He's so handsome and fuckable type'. Well, in your opinion, yes, but in your friends and people that knew you, they were downright intimidating. Possible another plus in your attractiveness book.

They had that certain vibe that if they wanted to crush someone's skull, they would do it, not that you minded because, in a certain twisted way, you felt protected because Lord helps the poor soul that would have the guts to hurt you.

At the beginning of the relationship, everyone said that you should be careful, be vigilant because you don't know them well; they were mysterious to say so, never putting all the cards down for you to see, making your stay on your toes and your mind always to wander to their personas. That was what made you be drawn to them, they excited your mind and the intimacy?

You never knew how much pleasure exists, nevertheless with two men like them. They always made you crave more, your legs turning to jelly and mind a mess, all morals flying out the window and letting your carnal instincts take over.

Everything was perfect because you felt cherished, they always treated you with all kinds of surprises, and sometimes it felt like they were competing for your affection and attention; the perks of having two alpha males.

They also had their differences, despite how similar Jesse and Asa were. Jesse was an extrovert, while Asa was an introvert. Despite Jesse being mute he always found himself teasing you, be it at first using the electronic reader and later on suggestive signing after you got better with ASL. Asa could speak very loud and clear but chose not to, only if he had something to say, which always was accompanied by an authoritative tone, more or less.

Both are very highly intellectual and that showed; Asa being a successful entomologist at the university and the many degrees and diplomas on the wall of his office spoke for him, not to mention how much he knew about history and art. Jesse was nothing less either, with running a successful chroming company, being a highly respected and feared CEO and it always amazed you how much he knew about information technology.

So basically your type was experienced, tall, intimidating, and smart.

After being for some time in the relationship, your known one always said that they were controlling you, which at first made you confused about this statement, wondering from where they deducted that.

Maybe you were a little blind, not able to see how they chose for you what to wear, what to eat, how you should do your hair. You saw them as a suggestion, but the ones outside begged to differ.

There also came a hard time when you were having trouble at your job, the economy was going down, your boss had to cut salaries and you couldn't afford to pay rent, not to mention that you needed to over-work; extra hours staying at work meant less time spending with your lovers.

They suggest that you should move in with them, switching from Asa's house to Jesse's depending on when they weren't working, plus they made you give up on your job, explaining how the money wasn't even covering how much you worked.

You agreed; maybe the lack of sleep, too much frustration, and injustice conducted you to agree with their proposition.

They took care of all your needs, be them material, spiritual or physical; they delivered it. You couldn't argue on that, but slowly, without you realizing it, they made you be dependent on them, seeking them whenever you felt like, but you were always the submissive, they owned the power and you only basked it what they emanated.

The apex of this relationship came when darker secrets came out because your curiosity got the better of you, not going to work that left you a lot of time to think and brown-noose into their stuff and business; the biggest mistake of your life, much worse than entering this hazardous relationship.

The first time your eyes looked over a photo-album of Asa's, you expected to see family photos, since he never brought this subject, you were interested in it, but seeing all the gruesome photos, you never thought a human could be shaped like this? This had to be some sick joke, right? But it wasn't.

You haven't told Asa about it or tried to question him, making sure you put the album exactly where it was. You debated if you should tell Jesse since Asa had to do some entomology related work for the weekend and you stayed by Jesse's house, but he had to go to work too, something about an unannounced meeting, leaving you to spend time all alone into his enormous house, so again curiosity got the best of you.

If you thought that Asa's photo album was gruesome, then the tapes you found in Jesse's Chrysler inside the glove box and trunk were sure going to give you nightmares.

You were pacing in Jesse's living room, drinking some whiskey to calm your nerves because you were sure that a breakdown was going to come, then it hit you. All the missing people, the murders on the news; you played detective and pin-pointed everything.

It all came down to you, the harsh reality; all the false sense of safeness and affection, it was pure-down manipulation, the undercover controlling that you were too blind to see because you were like a love-struck puppy to them.

The solution was simple; break up this relationship.

That's what you did, you wrote down a quick note, not explaining why you were leaving them, you just wanted to getaway. You left Jesse's place and walked for half an hour. Where? You didn't know, you had nowhere to go because all your friends left you; some that decided you were a lost cause, others too afraid of your men.

You had so much money just to stay at a cheap hostel for some days, but it was better than sleeping in a bus station on a dirty bench. Maybe you will go back to your parents? You didn't have a plan in mind.

The first night you couldn't sleep, not only because the bed was very much uncomfortable and the people in the room next to you were making too much noise, but because you felt like they were always watching; you were getting paranoid.

The next day, you managed to get some sleep in the morning, sleeping until it was the afternoon, the growl of your stomach waking you up. You walked to a cheap restaurant across the hostel, and as you took the first bite of the scrambled eggs and a little too burnt sausages, you grimaced.

Too accustomed to five-star meals and champagne, doll?

Alas, you swallowed down, reminding yourself that luxury wasn't an option in your current predicament. You sipped on the bitter coffee, the taste as truthful as the relationship which you ended, the dark liquid waking you up, and everything pouring down on you; it was only a game. The affection was only a camouflage for the twisted intentions, the protectiveness only possession.

After sitting there for hours and the waitress telling you that if you wouldn't order anything else you should leave, you walked back towards the hostel, walking upstairs to your room, entering and closing the door behind you, you were ready to hit the bed again, only to stop dead in your tracks when your gaze meets long black-clad legs, eyes moving up over the black clothes and wide chest and stopping on a bone-chilling chromed skull mask.

The bald head and tall frame of the mad was a dead giveaway to who he was, and when you heard heavy footsteps behind you, you knew who the second person was behind you, but your mind didn't want to acknowledge the scenario.

"Going somewhere?" the calm and familiar voice asked behind you, feeling Asa stop behind you, just a few inches away from his chest to press against your back.

'Piggy has been naughty.' Jesse signed, making your gut twist at the nickname he gave you.

"I-I...." you didn't know what to say, afraid of saying anything when your eyes saw Jesse twirl a large knife, clearly amused by your face that showed fear.

"You what? Trying to break things off without a specific motive?" Asa asked into your ear, gloved hands grasping your hips into a bruising grip, fingers digging into your skin behind your shirt.

Of course, they found out you were sneaking where your nose shouldn't be. Asa knew where everything he owned was, so it was no surprise when he found the photo album a little out of place, and Jesse? You cursed yourself for forgetting that he had security cameras all over his place.

Jesse moved off the couch and stalked towards you, looking down at your form and at this moment you really hated how tall and imposing of a figure he had. You were turned around and pressed to his chest, your eyes ready to meet Asa's face, only to be masked by a black-foam mask, making him look so very menacing, like a very dangerous spider.

You felt Jesse trail the tip of his knife up and down your thigh, his masked face pressing against the top of your head.

"You know what I am most curious about?" Asa asked, pulling out a knife of his own and trailing the blunt edge over your neck, the cold blade making your breath hitch.

"Any person in your situation would have called us in." he answered for you.

That's when it hit you, your eyes widening. Any person in their right mind would have gone directly to the police, telling them everything, you had enough proof to put them behind bars for the rest of their lives, but you hid out like a rabbit, ready for the wolves to find you.

"Aren't you such a loyal pet?" Asa murmured in your ear, the knife nicking your collarbone a little, feeling his hot breath and rough texture of his mask hit your skin.

'Someone has a little crush.' the electronic voice from Jesse's phone spoke, making you more aware of what was happening.

"P-Please....I won't tell anyone." you whispered, closing your eyes as you felt Jesse move his knife up and down on your inner thigh.

"I'm sure you won't. It would be a shame to kneecap you, queen bee." Asa said, sadistic promises behind the cruel words.

You whimpered at the nickname, one it used to make you smile brightly and nuzzle into his chest, feeling so loved and appreciated, but now it made you sick to the stomach.

'Very big shame to destroy such a cute face.' Jesse added, pulling his knife away only for his nitrile covered hand to come up and cup your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin.

"Are you going to come home with us or do we have to train you through?" Asa asked, question rhetorical and by Gods, you didn't want to find out what it means 'training' in his mind.

Swallowing down, you nodded, doe-like eyes on his obsidian ones, his plush lips pulled into a winning lop-sided smile, then his lips pressed against your forehead, making you tremble a little.

Asa pulled away from you, walking towards the door, opening it. You were pushed forward by Jesse, who wrapped one long arm around your shoulder, making sure you wouldn't try to run away, not like you would get too far away.

As you passed the small reception you saw the owner of the hostel dead, into a pool of blood with his guts out.

This was a warning that this was not a childish game.

The meaning was simple; Try breaking things off with them and they will break your legs.

[petalshields]

[ ELLIOT KNIGHT, HE/HIM, CIS MAN ]  —  [ SABER WINSLOWE ]  is a child of  [ EPIONE ]  with the power of  [ PAIN SUPPRESSION + PATHOKINESIS ] .  they were born in  [ 1993 ]  and have been in nemean lion since  [ 2008 ] .  with the change, they  [ GRADUATED FROM ]  the  [ MEDICAL ]  role which makes sense since they’re usually  [ COUNSELING + READING + TRYING TO FEEL SOMETHING ] .  if you’d like to meet them try the  [ SUN ]  building .  —  garnet / she/her / kst / 18+ / @nlupdates​

it’s garnet ya’ll already know the vibes. this long as hell but bear with me.

Saber’s pinterest is here!

BIOGRAPHY!

saber did not grow up knowing the people he called his Ma and Pa were not his biological parents. Ma and Pa lived in a red barn hidden acres deep in rural New Haven, Kentucky and they prayed every night for a child that they couldn’t seem to conceive. one night, a woman appeared with her three-year-old son in tow, explaining that his father died in a tragic accident. the winslowes welcomed him inside and the woman disappeared into thin air. it wasn’t until the boy, who told them his name was saber, was fed, bathed, and asleep that they questioned where the woman came from. unbeknownst to them, it was the goddess of recovery epione, who just lost one of her mortal lovers and decided that saber could be the answer to the winslowe couple’s prayers.

starting he was around nine-years-old, saber bounced from foster home to foster home. he was taken from his doting parents who weren’t at all neglectful nor inattentive, but a concerned doctor reported the frequency of his hospital visits and the severity of his injuries. as a rambunctious lad who was always too curious, saber collected injuries the way other kids his age might’ve collected bugs. it did not help that he appeared to have an exceedingly high pain tolerance, and he wasn’t aware that a part of his body was wounded until someone pointed it out or he fell forward because his leg was broken.

while his parents were being investigated, at around the age of twelve, saber was placed in a particularly volatile household. its chaos could be felt the moment that he stepped inside. nonetheless, saber always had the gift of being a calming presence to those around him. even at his young age, he sympathized with others and always helped those in need, but he noticed that emotions could change quickly if he touched them. he could place two fingers on someone’s pulse and the heart of a mourning person would no longer thud under his fingertips, their sorrow drying on their cheeks. saber had the same effect on his aggressive foster family, who he would touch on the shoulder, elbow, or hand to calm them down. they’d always shake him off, but their mood visibly shifted, and saber would watch them walk away from the battle they’d almost started. he couldn’t relate to such extreme displays of emotion — while he wasn’t without empathy, he did not feel deeply for himself.

emotions became a puzzle that he wanted to solve, and saber poured over books about the topic to better understand his foster family. it was his obsession and he began to absorb random facts about how the brain functioned. this led saber into reading more, curiosity becoming less physical and tactile and more intellectual, using a flashlight under his covers at night to consume more knowledge.

when saber was thirteen, going on fourteen in a few days, he was claimed by epione sending a garter snake into his box-sized front lawn. saber, who was outside at the time, bent down to examine the creature, and when he looked up, there was a woman that he’d never seen before standing with his social worker. His social worker introduced him to his mother and explained that he’d be going with them to a new place, giving him time to pack his suitcase with his things. he did as he was told, waving goodbye to his foster family. they grumbled about having one less mouth to feed.

in the car, saber couldn’t stop looking at his mother, who was so familiar yet a stranger, and it was then that his social worker told him about his godly heritage. that because he’d been claimed by his mother, he was in danger, so he had to go somewhere he could be kept safe. that somewhere was nemean lion.

saber was a little awkward at first, but he found his strides, excelling in his training. he stayed in the standard track for the first year before switching to medical. many thought that he could have been a hero because of his bravery and his inability to feel pain, but he chose to follow his passion in trying to crack the brain. he received basic medical training, but by the time he was eighteen, he remained on campus for a little bit longer to study psychology.

at nemean lion, saber became close with another boy, another demigod. saber never had a crush before and he didn’t feel the clichés. the affinity that he felt towards the other boy was chosen rather than felt — he chose to speak with him for hours, he chose to go on dates with him, and he chose to kiss him back. in addition, saber also vowed to never change the other boy’s emotions with his ability — it was nice to have something that flourished organically without manipulation on his part.

homophobia tw: saber and his boyfriend married immediately after graduation and he brought his new husband back to meet Ma and Pa. the aging couple was set in their ways, and though they tried, they did not approve of saber marrying someone so quickly. when saber asked them if they would have approved if he did the same with a woman, he found their answer in their hesitance. his husband stormed out and saber filed behind him. “why didn’t you say anything?” his husband spat at him. saber didn’t say anything in response, understanding the reason for the reproach, that perhaps he should have said something, but he also logically understood that their bigotry wasn’t his problem. he touched his husband’s cheek, absorbing the pain and anger, something he swore he’d never do to his husband. but he did, and for the remainder of their time together, he didn’t forgive himself for it.

saber and his husband had a few honeymoon years before the marriage unraveled, but saber wasn’t aware of the unraveling. he came home one night to find his husband packing his bags, claiming that he no longer felt that spark between them and he hadn’t for a while now. saber simply responded that he didn’t notice, withholding that he felt the distance between them increase but couldn’t do anything about it, didn’t know what to do. he didn’t want to use his power to fabricate contentment, even love, where there was little to none. his husband said “you never notice, because you don’t know how to care.” it was an act of caring, however, that saber let him go find whatever would make him happy. shortly after, the divorce papers were filed, and his last name legally changed back to winslowe.

saber owns his own private practice, and he services both humans and demigods. the whole point of his character is that he’s telling other people how to get their lives together while his own is a hot mess, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. but it be like that!

WANTED CONNECTIONS!

CLIENTS: everybody needs a lil therapy

EX-HUBBY: i’ll probably put a wanted connection in for this, but if you think that your muse could have been married to Saber....i just think we could have that conversation.

SOCRATIC CIRCLE: ezra stokes and sila demir zerhouni are part of this little group, where they get together and discuss intellectual stuff over coffee. if you think your muse would be interested in joining them, let me know!

MENTEES: the mind’s just as important as the body, and i imagine saber has a lot of insight that’s useful for other medical track kids. however it doesn’t have to be restricted to just the med kids, let him be ur dad friend.

CONFIDANT: someone who saber can hit up and be like “so do you feel nothing or is it just me” u feel me??

OLD FRIENDS/LIKE SIBLINGS: saber tries to be a good person and he really values his connections, so he maintains his friendships. he definitely got his shit rocked by his husband suddenly divorcing him so he really wants to figure out how to have relationships that mean something to other people.

ANYTHING: hit my line babes

[pochiperpe90]

Luca Marinelli: "Without growing you get lost"

When director Pietro Marcello asked him to play Martin Eden in his film in competition at Venice, Luca Marinelli was moved. "Many things have changed in recent years, maybe me as well"

From written words to moving images: «When you make a film based on a book, the book, at a certain point, tends to overlap. You no longer know what the novel is and what the screenplay is. Today I remember the end of Jack London's Martin Eden: that poignant conclusion, with him in the cabin reading that poem and deciding about his life».

Luca Marinelli, star of Pietro Marcello's Martin Eden, in competition at the next Venice International Film Festival and in theatre from September 4th with 01 Distribution, brings together memories and emotions, and gives them a precise order: everything starts from there, from the novel by the American writer.

"What was the soul of the book, which in my opinion is above any kind of discourse, political, social and idealistic; that soul, I said, was respected. Because it’s embodied in the character of Martin Eden. And then when you translate a book into a film it happens that some things take another form: it's normal in an adaptation." In the case of this film, says Marinelli, it all started from Marcello's point of view, from his vision: "Which perhaps is not like what someone else can have or like mine, because it’s a vision that belongs to the director: it’s the vision of the artist Pietro Marcello. The first scripts were certainly different, they were longer, denser, full of references to the book. The very first, if I'm not mistaken, was nearly 300 pages long. And this is because we were dealing with a masterpiece, and we didn't want to leave out anything».

Could this film be different?

“No, this film is how it was supposed to be. But with a book like this you can do anything: a 12-hours play, a film, a short film. Martin Eden is one of the best books ever written. Cinema imposes different times and measures from written narration; the balance that Pietro and Maurizio Braucci, co-screenwriter, found and the work they did were excellent, in my opinion".

Let's start with when they proposed you the role of Martin Eden.

“I remember my tears as I was watching “Bella e perduta”; I remember my emotion, and I also remember that immediately after I finished watching it I told myself that it would be nice to work with this director. It was 2015. Three years later they call me, and they tell me that Pietro Marcello wanted to meet me. Imagine my happiness. Knowing, then, that this film would be born from Jack London's book moved me even more».

What convinced you to accept?

«Martin Eden is a human being of great sensitivity, great curiosity and great empathy; he has an enormous desire to discover, to see, to touch with his hand. However, he suffers countless disappointments. He climbs a mountain only to learn, once he reaches the top, that a sad camp resides there, and that the best thing was never to get there, to the goal, but perhaps the very start. The journey".

And was it difficult to make this journey?

“It's a question that I have asked myself too, and the answer I have given myself is both yes and no. No, because being next to Pietro, Maurizio, colleagues and all the people who collaborated on the film, I found the right push and the right support to get into the character. But the difficulties, of course, are always there. What I really wanted to understand was Martin Eden. I abandoned myself to the first sensation I had while reading the book and the screenplay».

What was that feeling?

"A gigantic emotion. This character speaks directly to each of us because everyone shares something with him. Each of us wants to do, to exist. To reach a goal. Only then we come up against obstacles that make us lose hope - in part or in whole».

But when did the spark go off?

“I've always been passionate about writers like London or Stevenson. Adventurers, capable of creating worlds, of giving life to characters with their eyes open to the society around them. Entering a life like that, a life where the sea is so present, a life made of traveling, of seeing, made of pure passion, intrigued me a lot. And then there was Naples".

Compared to Jack London's book, Pietro Marcello's film is a rewrite set in the Neapolitan capital.

“I had never lived all this time in Naples; and I had never known it so much. I have not yet been able to fully understand it; not completely. Naples is a place apart. I have come to love it. Naples is a whole people. Something fantastic. It’s a place with a huge identity. A very strong identity. Think of the language: it’s not a dialect, it’s a language. And then you meet people who make you realize how beautiful it is to be Neapolitan: how welcoming it is, how fascinating it is, how deep it is. Naples, for me, was a great discovery».

Is sensitivity a condemnation?

"I don’t know. On one hand, yes, it can make you suffer more. But I wouldn't see it as a sentence. Sensitivity allows you to see the world; it leads you to respect what is around you».

But it also brings loneliness with it.

«Martin Eden distances himself from everything and from himself: he can no longer be in contact with anything or anyone, he is disappointed».

In this film, the clash between the class of intellectuals and the so-called people also finds space.

"I think that the true intellectual, like Pasolini was, manages to put himself on the same level as the society, to look at it in the eye, to speak to the common man without being opinionated, just showing what is there: what is happening".

At one point, you find yourself sharing the scene with Carlo Cecchi, who plays Russ Brissenden.

«I was very excited because I found my teacher. And it was great to be with him there, on the set, more than six years after we had last acted together."

You said you got excited

“Because in the film he plays Martin Eden's mentor, and Carlo was a mentor to me too. It was a real gift”.

How many things have changed over the years?

"Many."

And you? Have you changed as an actor?

“I don't know, I swear. But maybe I was better before (laughs)».

What do you mean?

"I started with the theater, where there is no safety net, there is no" stop, let's do it again!" and there is no possibility to stop, start over, rethink. I miss that courage».

Is theater a torment or an obsession?

"It’s never a torment or an obsession. Sometimes at night, however, I dream of going on stage and not remembering anything anymore».

Perhaps it’s today's cinema that tends to be not very brave.

«In my opinion it’s experiencing a new period. And it’s not a coincidence that Marcello's Martin Eden arrives right now, in this moment. Surely we could give a voice to many more people. Even that, if you like, is a question of courage».

Martin Eden also speaks of talent and perseverance. What is more important, in your opinion?

“They go hand in hand. Talent is the first thing you see. It’s the primordial spark. But you can't just rely on that. You have to be curious, eat life, live it to the fullest, intensely and consciously. But to live it, one must also commit oneself: and one must be prepared».

You need to read.

«For me a book is always a victory. Because you have been elsewhere and have lived a story that is different from yours."

What kind of reader are you?

“I wouldn't call myself an avid reader: but the more I grow, the older I get, the older I get and the more I read. Because I am more and more aware of how beautiful it is».

Reading isn’t just a hobby.

"Thoreau says: "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity". It’s important not to waste time; but it’s important to do it without causing anguish or fear. You have to be there, stay there, live in the moment. But without exaggerating».

When you were younger - when you were a child - what were you like?

“I've always been surrounded by curious people. Even my friends, the ones I had as a child and the ones I still have now, are curious. We liked to move, to go around, to be together; we lived the street. We also enjoyed listening to music, reading comics and books, and watching movies."

And curiosity soon turned into fascination.

“Acting has always fascinated me. And only at a certain point did I manage to find the right courage to try. And I don't know why: I really don't know. In the Academy this phrase was always repeated: “play seriously”. And maybe was this that interested me; or not".

We talked about teachers. Who were they to you?

«People like Carlo Cecchi or Anna Marchesini. They were moments, very important meetings».

How did you come in contact with Marchesini?

"We studied with her for three months at the Academy, and it was wonderful because for the first time I wrote something of my own. Each of us, each of the students, had to write something about himself, starting from his identity card - this was the initial task. And it was, believe me, very difficult».

What impressed you about her?

"The energy, the dedication, the beauty. I remember the moments with her, the wonderful phrases she said. What has always fascinated me to see was the passion she put into it».

Other teachers?

"My grandfather. I always liked the job he did: he was a carpenter. In the academy they told us many times: "you have to be a craftsmen". And I was always thinking of him».

What, in the end, do you have left of Martin Eden?

«The sense of collectivity. Passion. The importance of looking around. To always look at others and at themselves. The adventure of life, and the wonder it represents. What deeply tears Martin Eden apart is betraying himself and being disappointed in his own dreams. We can fight against this only if we are faithful to ourselves, to our beliefs, to our places of origin. And then, you know, all the rest remains: remains all that world».

VANITY FAIR

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Guarded Curiosity

for @coldwind-shiningstars, a fic featuring their OC - Wen Qing/Li Xiaofan, 3.1k, pre-relationship academic flirting. Thank you Novy for letting me borrow your OC and I hope I got her right!

Wen Qing was hardly in any sort of position optimal for hearing gossip – indeed, she had never had the opportunity nor inclination to be a sophisticated and well-connected lady who traded in rumours. But the reputation of the new mistress of the Unclean Realm had not failed to reach her ears. It was, in this particular case, a matter of vocation. The new Nie-furen was apparently extraordinarily sharp-minded and inclined towards matters of science and philosophy, and had produced numerous writings on the subjects with voracious speed and energy. She was also said to have amassed an impressive circle of female companions, among them the most forward-thinking minds in cultivation theory.

There were plenty who might have denounced such behaviour in a wife, but Nie-furen was apparently, for all her intellect, a polite and unassuming personality, and well-attuned to the affairs of the household; as such, naysayers had little to find fault with.

But Wen Qing knew little of this when she first heard the name Li Xiaofan. For her, it was merely a name in the footnotes of a recent medical publication, read with a furrowed brow over her morning congee, that had compelled her to track down the individual in question. It was to her deep surprise to learn that this woman was the wife of Nie Huaisang, and that she was in search of intellectual companions of a demographic very similar to Wen Qing. Wen Qing’s connections had then swiftly obtained her an invitation to the Unclean Realm.

As such, Wen Qing found herself, neutrally dressed in pale gray, before a small audience of women assembled in Li Xiaofan’s own study. Li Xiaofan herself sat in the centre of their semicircle. She was unexpectedly slight and unremarkable compared to the others, who seemed to be subtly competing with one another in finery; she even wore very few of the adornments fitting for a sect leader’s wife, contenting herself solely with a simple bronze headpiece, jade earrings, and a few rings. What did stand out about her were her eyes – exceptionally steady in their gaze, and betraying nothing of the thoughts behind them.

Wen Qing was unaccustomed to this sort of public scrutiny, especially within this conclave of female camaraderie, wherein the rules seemed to be deeply and imperceptibly etched into the setting. Nonetheless, she steeled herself and, smoothing out the stack of paper in her hands, began to read.

The reception was… not quite chaos, although something adjacent to it. There was a brief period of silence when Wen Qing finished reading, and then a woman sporting large, opulent green earrings asked a question to which Wen Qing had barely time to respond before another woman intervened with another question, clearly designed to undermine the first. It was little time before a cryptic and impassioned debate had broken out that seemed at something of a remove from the topic at hand, and much more based in the simmering conflicts and resentments of the group.

Wen Qing knew well enough when to keep her tongue. But she felt rather at a loss as to what to do, still standing before her preoccupied audience. She was tapping restlessly at the stack of paper she held, and considering taking the risk of clearing her throat so as at least to issue some kind of concluding thanks or acknowledgment, when she heard a voice speak disconcertingly close to her.

“Excuse me, guniang.”

Wen Qing had trained herself out of flinching years ago; she merely let the little shock pass through her, soundlessly as lightning blinking across the sky. She turned to find that Li Xiaofan had materialized behind her, having approached silently amidst the heated and calamitous debate. Her face wore the same placid, unforthcoming expression as it had since Wen Qing had set foot in the room.

“Nie-furen.” Wen Qing inclined her head. “I thank you for your hospitality, and for allowing me to speak today.”

“The privilege was ours,” the other woman replied. “But, guniang, may I trouble you to have a look at your notes?”

“My notes?” repeated Wen Qing.

“I only wished to see if you had diagrams handy.” Li Xiaofan’s voice was mannerly, near-apologetic, and yet also firm in resolve. She betrayed none of the imperiousness that ladies of the household often did, but she was clearly not struggling to fit into her role either.

“Of course.” Wen Qing offered the stack of papers. “They are interspersed throughout the written argument – you may peruse them as you like.”

Li Xiaofan stretched out both her hands, as if formally accepting a gift. There really was an unexpected elegance to her movements.

Flicking through the pages, a tiny frown came over Li Xiaofan’s face. She paused on one page for a moment, and then nodded to herself. “Yes, it’s what I thought.” She looked up again. “Forgive me for pointing it out, guniang, but I’m afraid there is a potential flaw in this diagram. I thought so as I was listening, but I needed to look for myself.”

“A flaw?” Wen Qing was disconcerted, not only at her own mistake, but at the level of attentiveness on the part of the other woman. Especially in light of the cacophony of feedback from her companions, it had been difficult to tell if she had been listening at all, let alone following along with such precision.

Wen Qing narrowed her eyes, taking another look at Li Xiaofan. Her tone in raising the issue had continued to be near-deferential, but there was a strange expression emanating from the exactitude of her gaze and the set of her mouth – possibly something like satisfaction.

Wen Qing could not suppress a spark of interest.

“A flaw,” she repeated, moving in to look at the diagram over Li Xiaofan’s shoulder. “Please, explain it to me.”

***

Before his death, certain people, especially those of a more sentimental nature, had hoped for Nie Mingjue to marry, commenting that a woman’s touch would make the Unclean Realm more hospitable. But no such hope had been attached to his younger brother, whose aesthetic tastes were well known (and widely panned).

“Yes, my husband has quite the passion for flower arrangements,” Li Xiaofan said, reaching out to delicately caress one of the roses at the side of the stone path. “He truly has transformed the place – or so I’m told. Of course, I never visited before our courtship.”

“It looks lovely,” Wen Qing volunteered. Serviceable enough, as a response.

“Do you like flowers, Wen-guniang?” Her companion asked. “I suppose you must, for their medicinal purposes.”

“I don’t have such a one-track mind. I will confess to a weakness for their beauty as well.”

Li Xiaofan relinquished the rose blossom. “Do you consider appreciation of beauty to be a weakness?”

“Not inherently,” Wen Qing replied. “But surely one must admit it has that potential.”

“I see.” Li Xiaofan resumed walking, and Wen Qing hastened to match her pace. “For the record, I am less interested in flowers for their aesthetics, myself – although you could find a few among my companions who have made that their area of study. I have recently developed a pet interest in grafting.”

“Grafting?”

“Indeed. I have been conducting some experiments – I can show you the plants in question later, and my notes, if you are interested.”

“Most certainly.” Wen Qing gestured at the flower boxes lining the walkway. “Are any of these your creations, then?”

“Oh, no!” Li Xiaofan gave a little laugh. “I would never dare to tinker with my husband’s roses. He is rather particular about them.”

“I see.” Wen Qing paused. “It seems you and Nie-zongzhu keep your interests separate.”

Li Xiaofan eyed her with a furtive scrutiny. “My husband has his own pursuits, and I have mine. This is how ideal marriages are conducted, I think.”

Wen Qing inclined her head in concession. “I wouldn’t know, of course.”

“Naturally. Did you ever intend to get married?”

Wen Qing stopped for a moment to properly look her in the eye. “No,” she said honestly. “Marriage was always a means to an end – a possibility, for the protection of me and mine. Nothing more.” For a-Ning, especially – and it was so disconcerting, to be making decisions without a care for a-Ning. He was strong now, strong beyond comprehension – she had to remember that. “Now, I have so few ties, marriage would be only a pursuit of pleasure. And I sense… well. It would bring little of that, for me.”

That exacting gaze was still resting on her, not faltering for a moment. It was remarkable, how much more calculating Li XIaofan’s eyes were, up close like this. “You have no interest in comfort and security for your own sake?”

“I believe I am capable of creating them myself.” Wen Qing hesitated for a moment. It had been a long time since she had been in a formal conversation that required this kind of guardedness. “But the first, I’ll admit, has never really enticed me. I prefer my work to leisure. And the second – well, how guaranteed can such a thing be?”

“We think alike, then,” said Li Xiaofan. “My husband is a lover of leisure – although his mind is frequently at work. As for me, my work is soothing to me. He coaxes me to lay it aside every now and then, and I coax him to put his observations to use. As such, we work together quite efficiently.”

Wen Qing nodded along. The particular balancing mechanisms of marriage were still quite foreign to her. In the past, she had often been unnerved by married women outside her family. Their bound hair and their assured poise signaled a seamless adoption of the rites of the household - and, secretly, subliminally, the rites of the bedchamber. The women made her dread such a conference of knowledge upon herself, and yet provoked an inexplicable curiosity in her as well. But Wen Qing had also known the dangers of curiosity when unguarded.

This ritual no longer gave her the same trepidation, but it jarred her to be reminded that Li Xiaofan was in such a different class of women from her. Though it was difficult to imagine her and Nie Huaisang engaged in any kind of relations.

All the same, it was perhaps a comfort to be navigating this creeping intimacy with an attached woman. One who had her own house and husband, who needed nothing from Wen Qing except her intellectual prowess, and whose other designs on her were solely in the province of wanting.

Wanting what, exactly? Wen Qing turned her head ever so slightly to take in a sidelong glance at the other woman. Li Xiaofan’s face betrayed no intention, her small, puckered mouth completely impassive. Certainly, given her views on marriage, she did not seem the sentimental type – whatever passions this woman was capable of, they did not seem to be based in flights of fancy. Wen Qing could not help wondering what it would take to break that carefully controlled neutrality of expression.

“Wen-guniang?” Li Xiaofan lifted her eyebrows. The expression was undeniably striking on her.

Wen Qing felt like shaking herself. “Ah, forgive me. I am not usually so distracted – I have had a long journey.”

“Of course.”

“It is admirable that you have achieved such a partnership,” Wen Qing continued, more confidently. “All couples should hope to be so well-balanced.”

“Indeed. You were concerned with such balance today, were you not? With your articulation of the interactions of the Zang-fu. It was surprisingly metaphorical.”

Wen Qing inclined her head. “That presentation was considerably more philosophical than my usual inclinations. I suppose recent circumstances have prompted me to think more… abstractly.”

“You specialized in acupuncture, correct?”

“Largely. I also pursued some more… experimental lines of thought.”

LI Xiaofan quirked her lips, but made no more insistent inquiry. “I see.”

Wen Qing hastened on. “In truth, it was your remarks on moxibustion that compelled me here.”

“Oh, that?” Li Xiaofan swept her robes up as they progressed up a small series of steps that opened out into a courtyard. “I’m surprised it had such far-reaching influence, really. Medicine is more of a side project for me. I am certain Wen-guniang’s insights would make me seem quite foolish in comparison.”

She had not quite mastered the composure of a great lady, Wen Qing thought. Such a performance of modesty ought to be utterly free of contempt, and buoyed by a certain warmth and grace that underlined the speaker’s being ultimately above the judgment of the other. Li Xiaofan had not quite grasped the cadence of such a response yet, it seemed – the tone came down in some muddled place between smug and perfunctory. It was quite an intriguing chink in her armour.

“Nie-furen is too kind,” Wen Qing replied smoothly. “Of course, I’m aware of the focus of much of your work. But at what age did you take an interest in medicine?”

“Early,” replied Li Xiaofan. “I did not get a chance to study it formally until shortly after my marriage. But I have always been interested in the workings of the physical body.”

Naturally. Li Xiaofan’s origins would not have permitted her to devote herself to extensive scholarship. Such a mercantile family would have been much more concerned with producing a marriageable daughter than a scholarly one. But she had clearly had a fierce drive for knowledge, if the rumours were to be believed.  

“The workings of the physical body,” Wen Qing repeated. “And do your companions share such an interest?” She winced internally. Heavens, this woman made her clumsy.

“Some of them,” the other woman replied evenly. “Though sometimes through the aim of achieving transcendence – and through more unconventional means.”

Wen Qing paused. “Do you mean dual cultivation?”

Li Xiaofan turned her head to meet Wen Qing’s gaze. Her eyes betrayed a glint. “Not quite.”

“More than two?”

A little smile blossomed in the corner of her mouth. “Precisely.”

A new sensation was taking root inside Wen Qing, something like exhilaration – if exhilaration was the proper word for a kind of momentary vindication that brought a palpably physical, almost dizzying effect. Amidst the towering walls and century-old stonework, she was in uncharted waters.

“There is something so charming about the contrast of flower and stone,” Wen Qing commented. “It’s the kind of artistic touch that, I’m told, the Unclean Realm has been lacking in the past.”

Li Xiaofan cast another amused, knowing look at her. “You are fond of diverting the discussion, aren’t you?”

“So are you.”

“Not at all.” Li Xiaofan began to move again, taking long, quick strides. “I am not one for evasion. I am merely patient.”

Wen Qing quickened her pace as well. “So patient that I imagine you intend to keep me here for at least several weeks before my work reaches a level that you deem publishable.”

“Keep you here?” Li Xiaofan laughed, a soft and light sound that seemed unsuited to the tone of their conversation. “Do you imagine this as a prison, Wen-guniang?”

“Of course not.” Wen Qing lowered her head in an appropriately demure gesture, but maintained the steady conviction in her voice. “I only meant that Nie-furen has famously high standards.”

Li Xiaofan was gazing straight ahead as they walked, a kind of playfulness in her refusal to meet Wen Qing’s eyes. “I have made you no invitation as yet.”

“You would hardly have personally corrected me if you thought my work beneath your notice. And your companions seemed sufficiently engaged by it.”

“That particular cohort is very easily stirred up,” Li Xiaofan countered. “But yes, I believe the two of us have considerable potential together.”

“The two of us?” Wen Qing stopped. “Are you imagining a more extensive collaboration than mere supervision?”

Li Xiaofan paused, slightly ahead of her, and turned back to lock eyes with her again. “Yes,” she said simply. “I would like to work with you.”

She retraced her steps, drawing closer to Wen Qing. “I have assembled a collection of intellectually curious minds together to create an environment that, I think, facilitates innovation. Within it, certain individuals are more closely bonded, more suited to one another. Just imagine the way in which each zang is paired to its own fu, and they exist in concert with the other pairings by way of the Wuxing.”

“I hardly think that metaphor applies here.”

Li Xiaofan cocked an eyebrow inquisitively. It truly was astonishing how malleable her affect was, how much it had shifted from their first meeting.

Wen Qing explained, stumblingly, “A zang can hardly abandon its paired fu for another on a whim.”

The other woman chuckled, ducking her head down. “Is that your objection? Metaphors are flexible, Wen-guniang. You have been more broadly thinking through certain means of coexistence through this framework, yes? Surely we can agree that the complexities of human choice and connection transcend the mere workings of our bodies.”

“Perhaps.”

“Evading again,” said Li Xiaofan. She had such a subtle array of different amusements at her disposal, thought Wen Qing.

“Nonetheless I will accept your offer,” Wen Qing said.

“The offer I still haven’t formally issued?” Li Xiaofan smiled, close-mouthed and ladylike, but there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “I should warn you though, Wen-guniang – I won’t be able to favour you extensively or openly at first. You should know that many of these women… well, they are unaware of your origins. And they dislike seeing an upstart rise so quickly.”

“I understand.”

“Don’t worry, of course – your secret will be quite safe with me, Wen-guiniang. Or should I say -?”

“Lai.”

“Lai-guniang,” Li Xiaofan continued evenly. “That said, this cohort is not the nest of vipers you are presumably imagining.” She turned her head to the side, her eyes knowingly appraising Wen Qing. “There are many women here who share your interests, and could be of much help to you in navigating the customs here. I could point you towards them later.”

“You are most kind, Nie-furen.”

It was only after the niceties had left her mouth that Wen Qing realized that she had sealed their agreement, its parameters still uncertain. Li Xiaofan had drawn close, suddenly, and all the heat in the courtyard seemed to emanate from the space between their bodies.

“I am pleased you came, Lai-guniang. We will have much to discuss.”

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Just a Literati trifle in celebration of GG’s 20th Anniversary Week. I still have another chapter or two to write but I wanted to get this out before the event officially ended. (Canon compliant + OS + divergences)

Also here: (AO3)

Enjoy! 

xx Ashlee Bree

An Archive of Words Between Us

One day, many weeks into it but still no closer to clarity about what it is between them, Rory does what she does best: she makes a list.

Marked at the beginning, from when she and Jess first met, she soon starts to add to it with frightening regularity. A new entry comes any time there’s news, insight, questions, or growing confusion to report. She writes it all down. Out. She compiles everything in a beat-up old notebook she’s taken to carrying around.

Over the years that follow it becomes a confessional of sorts for her, a still developing story. She reaches for a pen whenever the mood strikes, and writes…then writes some more…

Committing to paper all the things they’ve said to each other over the course of their history, as well as many of the things they didn’t.

- i. things we said when we were strangers -

“Hey, Dodger, wait a minute,” she calls out before he disappears behind the gazebo. “Is this a gimmick of yours? Do you always write margin notes in the books you steal from strangers?”

Jess stops. Casts a cursory glance over his shoulder before turning back around with hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Depends, I guess.”

“On?”

“Does it matter?”

Rory shrugs.“You could be a literature-defacing miscreant on the lam for all I know. Your face might be tacked to Wanted posters all over New York City. I’ve got to edge my bets, protect my assets.”

“What,” he says, “you aiming to sentence me without a trial or something?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you’re going to bust out the cuffs already, Judge Judy,” he chuckles, raising his hands in supplication before rocking backwards on his heels like he’s been shot. “That’s not very neighborly.”

“Sounds like there’s evidence to be had if I dig a bit.” A pause. A teasing quirk of an eyebrow. “Is there?” she asks.

Though he stays silent at this, a spark of something catches deep in his dark eyes as their gazes meet, and Rory's stomach flips.

“Well?”

“You tell me,” he says, all smooth and inscrutable and James Dean cool as hell.

“I’m no Agent Scully at the FBI, but the truth is out there. Don’t think I won’t uncover it,” Rory replies, her wit flowing strong and sure. “If I think it’s warranted I could hire Kirk to lay chase for a while…he likes detecting. Takes payment in Skittles, too. Boxes of which I will have no trouble acquiring, I assure you.”

“Who the hell’s Kirk?”

“Let me worry about that,” she beams back at him coyly, bouncing the book he’d pilfered earlier against her hip.

“Save your Skittles, concerned citizen. I’m clean.”

“Oh, yeah? And why should I believe you when I hold proof to the contrary?”

“Because—” Ambling backwards in the middle of the street, a crooked smirk forms along the corner of Jess’s mouth as he gives her one last idle loll of his shoulder. “I only leave notes for people who might appreciate them. Start with the one on page three, by the way,” he adds with a farewell salute. “It’s a doozy.”

Curiosity piqued, Rory ignores the warmth in her chest as she watches him turn to leave a second time. Instead, she buries her nose in the margins of Howl and peruses. Losing herself in his tiny blocked script the whole walk home.

- ii. things we said because we were lying to ourselves -

Pacifying the town's fears about their friendship isn’t easy.

Especially not after Jess outbids her boyfriend at the basket-bidding festival to win an afternoon of her company. Or the night he shows up on her doorstep unannounced, bearing food and intellectual discussion after she swears to everybody else she wanted to spend the evening alone. Or when he wrecks her car on their way back from a spontaneous hunt for ice cream cones.

Then there’s the time she misses Lorelai’s graduation because she’s stuck on a bus next to some scruffy-looking creep who spits chew into a soda can while he mumbles the names of state capitals under his breath in an Appalachian-sounding litany, Rory having skipped town impulsively to visit Jess in the Big Apple after Luke had sent him packing because of an accident that had no real bearing or blame. At least not unless it was half hers to share in, too, in any case.

She expends a lot of energy defending what they are to people. Clarifying what they’re not.

Pretty soon a truncated version of the truth skips from her mouth like a message she’s spent months concocting, memorizing, and then recording, with her smart enough not to speak it aloud until it sounds convincing. And it does. She makes sure of it.

Tensions abate after that, for a time. Mostly because of the distance.

Mom and Dean, in particular, seem to breathe easier with so much of it stretched between them. They’re much happier once Jess is no longer there to lurk around Luke’s, or clog the aisles of Doose’s, or stake out chalkperson outlines on the sidewalks of town where he can draw her closer to him. Too close for comfort, as far as anyone else is concerned. Even if his only aim in doing so had been to imbibe her in intellectual conversation.

Rory finds it funny how his absence from Stars Hollow makes it both easier and harder for her to placate everyone’s misgivings. The words may be simple to say, but the meaning behind them feels deflated. Half-bodied at best.

Like calculus, it causes her headaches. Forces her to work twice as hard to make everyone believe she doesn’t care that he’s gone and likely never coming back again. That the vacant space he’s left behind doesn’t sting whenever her gaze passes over it, remembering.

Exhausting though it is, however, she does her best. She makes the effort.

She starts by dolling out extra attention and assurances to Dean about her commitment to him. To their relationship. Then she pivots around mention of Jess’s existence to her mom because she knows she doesn’t approve of him let alone agree about any of his good qualities. With Lane, she focuses on school and Mrs. Kim and music they can add to her floorboard collection. And in front of Luke, so as not to burden him with more disappointment, she acts as if nothing is different. Pretends that nothing much has changed.

Omission quickly becomes a habit for Rory. A way of life.

Only once does exposure threaten to spoil everything when her mom confronts her openly one afternoon about a placeholder that’s slipped out of her copy of For Whom The Bell Tolls.

“It’s nothing,” Rory says as she makes a quick grab for it in the kitchen and blushes.

“Really? Because nothing to me looks a hell of lot like a paper plate fragment. One that’s smudged in pizza grease and blue scribbles.” Laughing, completely unaware of her daughter’s wide-eyed discomfort and humiliation, Lorelai hands it back to her without inspecting it closely. “I’m surprised by your choice is all. Messy and makeshift isn’t your typical bookmark M.O., hun.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when Paris accosts you at the break bell. You drop things. People jump, drinks spill. Beloved bookmarks go soaring…”

“Ah. I take it she was yelling in dog decibels again?”

“More like she put out an APB on all aliens living a few hundred million lightyears away and then gave them exact shouting coordinates for where to find her. So same difference, really.”

Her mom snorts. Passes over the ranch dressing.

“She’s a pill, that one. I’m telling you Pink wrote that song with her in mind.” Shaking her head, Lorelai closes the fridge behind her as she bites into another French fry. “So how’d you come by the plate?” she asks, her mouth full.

“It was spontaneous. I was running late so I nicked it from the cafeteria on my way out,” Rory lies, knowing full well Chilton never dispenses paper or plastic dishes for dining.

“Oh.” Her mom considers this. “Well, I suppose there were times even Madeleine Albright couldn’t find anything better to use in a pinch. That was very…replateful of you.”

“What can I say,” she exhales with relief, feigning amusement as her fib is accepted with alacrity, “the Forks was with me.”

“Only the Forks? Don’t tell me you’re leaving out the spoons and the knives. How could you?” says Lorelai, aghast, as she scoops stray kitchen utensils to press them against her chest in a bodily cuddle. “It’s cutlery discrimination!”

“No, it’s punning.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” A pause. A nibble of pizza. “Also, Shakespeare would agree.”

“Psssh, Shakespeare! That old killjoy,” her mom says dismissively, rolling her eyes in good humor as she tucks a box of strawberry Pop Tarts under her armpit and motions toward the living room. “What’s that you have written on the inside there, anyway? French? Calculus? Rolling Stone lyrics? A blueprint for the evil plan you’ve hatched to shoot Grandma to the moon? I’m dying to know.”

Waving her off, Rory tucks the shard back into the spine of her book where it belongs. Hiding it from view. “It’s for school,” she assures her as they settle onto the sofa.

“So tell me about it. I don’t care if it’s boring.”

“Pass.”

“Come on! I could use a good Chilton-instigated snooze.”

“Too bad. No beauty naps for you.”

Lorelai pouts, fake affronted. “Rude!”

(Turns out that ‘shard,’ that ‘thing for school’ which is stuck between the pages of Rory’s Hemingway, isn’t boring at all. In fact, it has a history. A story. The truth is it’s a souvenir she’s saved ever since she and Jess talked books over pizza at Antonioli’s on basket-bidding day.

Toward the end of the meal he’d ripped off a piece of plate so he could jot down his phone number and a quote. Only sliding it into her hand, folded in half, crinkled up like a note passed between desks at school, in the moments before they parted ways and headed home.

It’s stupid she’s kept it. She realizes that now. Stupider still to slip it between the pages of each new book she reads or unfurl it in the privacy of her bedroom to puzzle out if the line he’d included from A Moveable Feast is meant to have double meaning:

“We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and [liked] each other,” it reads.

Stupidest of all, she can’t seem to bring herself to stop looking at it. To throw the darn thing away. A note…a number…a greasy sliver of paper plate!)

“Like I said, Mom,” Rory swallows before smiling over at her convincingly, “it’s nothing. Really.”

- iii. things we said on the verge (of something) -

In early June, Sookie’s wedding day arrives.

Things are static again. Serene. Normal.

Granted, slight changes do sprinkle into the mix here and there because of her dad’s presence, because Dean holds her a little tighter around the waist now than he once did, but mostly it’s the same here as it’s always been. Pleasant people fade into gossip and nonsense while fun blurs into peculiarity.

Life feels simple once more. A tad plain and colorless, maybe, but simple.

Then Jess returns to town on a whim or a fluke or a who the devil knows what he’s thinking and everything goes sideways, pear-shaped, belly-up-and-down in seconds because this is the last thing she’d been been expecting and suddenly the only thing that registers is the length of the grass plus the number of steps it will take to close the distance between them. All that matters is he’s here, he’s back, he’s near enough to touch, and she’s smiling so hard she can hardly breathe as she drinks him in from head to foot like a glutton: her pulse leaping, her heart lurching free from the cage of her chest.

The whole world tilts. Collapses. The pale yellow of the sun shines down like a spotlight so it’s only a rippling alcove she sees. Just him, just her. Just them canopied beneath these flittering fronds of green.

Any rational thought Rory possesses scatters across the wind with the pollen. And then before she knows it, the ground tilts out like a ramp underfoot.

It pushes her forward. Outward. Sliding her toward him until she’s thrust and tangled in his arms with no memory at all of how she got there, or why their mouths feel so hot and wanton like this, so damn unsatisfied. It all seems impossible considering they’re still pressed together in a kiss that can only be described in one way: illicit.

“Not a word,” Rory pants when they stop and Jess pulls back, his jaw taut, his expression shuttered, to nod once understanding.

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise me.” The huskiness of her voice feels at odds with this demand, with the trembling fist she still has curled in the lapel of his jacket, but she cannot think about her stinging mouth or his tongue right now so she clings to desperation instead. “Can you do that?”

“Okay,” he repeats, all eyes, eyes, eyes. And with that single look, she forgets to breathe let alone digest anything he’s promised.

In the end, it’s an impulse that overtakes them not a decision. It’s a moment of clandestine passion they share, not a confession that will alter the circumstances any.

And yet it’s guilt, not regret, that begins to pull like an anchor in her belly until she’s running in shoes that chafe the back of her heels. It’s terror and confusion, not apology, that ripples along her nerve endings until she’s dashing through the trees like a coward or a swindler because she needs to believe behind her there’s still a haven of black and white she can cross with both feet.

Only when Rory stops does she feel the change. Does she discern the difference. It takes one sting, one breathless stitch in her side, for her to know she’s tumbled forward into color without noticing.

Looking down, and there it is. His name already singed across her chest in scarlet letters.

- iv. things we whispered on the hood of your car -

“Tell me something no else knows.”

“About what?” he asks around midnight the following April, the two of them sprawled on the hood of his car at a deserted rest stop off the I-95 on their way back from a concert in the city.

“You, silly.”

“Funny you’re thinking about penning my biography already, Churchill. I’m honored, truly, but aren’t I too young for that sort of enumeration?”

With a roll of her eyes plus a protracted har-har, Rory lifts their intertwined hands, watching, mesmerized, as their fingers thread then unthread as they lay side-by-side parked beneath the Big Dipper in this forsaken parking lot. Though they’ve been together about six months now, prying Jess open has been slow work. It’s like taking a crowbar to cement: one chip, one crack, one crumble at a time.

“Stop deflecting, Mariano,” she warns. “Evasion’s for chumps.”

“Fine,” he sighs. She presses a kiss of reward against his knuckles before curling tighter into his side. “How about this: every year roughly sixteen hundred people in New York City are bitten by other humans.”

“Bitten?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“That’s just it,” he says in his best horror story voice, “could be vampires, could be cranky commuters, could be urban mania or road rage…nobody knows.”

“Oh, please. As if I’d let you off the hook with that obvious dodge. You’re killin’ me here, Smalls!” Rory says with an elbow rib and tsk. “Second of all, you so made that biting thing up.”

When she edges her head back onto his shoulder to look at him, Jess drags his pointer finger down her forehead before bopping her affectionately on the nose, his expression neutral.

“Didn’t you?” He shrugs in that cute off-the-cuff way of his then smirks into her hairline. “That’s unbelievable!”

“It is what it is.”

“So, what,” she says as she throws her leg over his hip to lug him closer, her arm already stretched out across his middle, “is there a case of zombiepox going around that the CDC has neglected to inform us about? Because I’ve got to tell you if that’s so then I’ll need an inoculation ASAP, mister! Frazzled, bloodshot, and half-rotted is not a good look for me. It just isn’t.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Hey!” she exclaims.

“No offense, critter of Frankenstein,” he chuckles, absorbing her retaliatory swat with a grunt and rolling her further on top of him, “but I’ve seen you pre-coffee. It isn’t pretty. We’re talkin’ bolts out your neck, monster glares, frothing purple mouth and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep up your running tally and you might find I bite you next. Rory the Ripper does have a nice alliterative ring to it—you best remember that,” she warns all narrowed eyes and silky breath and arms folded under her chin.

Jess cocks his left eyebrow, brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. “Idle threats don’t scare me, Gilmore.”

“They should.”

“Maybe.” A lazy grin forms at the edges of his mouth. “But yours don’t.”

“Fine,” she blows out a breath. With her head resting in the center of his chest, Rory fixes him with one long steady look, her voice dropping an octave lower as it drains free of sarcasm to assume a more serious edge. “Name one thing that does then. That scares you, I mean,” she says.

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he fidgets so long beneath her that by the time he settles with his hands clasped behind his head, lost in thought and translation, peering up at the sky, she’s half convinced that silence or deflection is the best she can hope to expect from him in reply.

Reticence is a quality she’s come to recognize in Jess. It’s one she can reflect back at him in part because they’re both cut from the same quiet, introspective cloth. However, it’s also one that restricts her access to his thoughts and feelings when she most wants it, and that can take a toll. Makes her wonder if they’re parked at different weigh stations in this relationship or not.

It’s bizarre to reconcile how she can understand him so well in some contexts, to the point where she can predict his next reaction or sense a good joke hanging in the periphery that's about to descend; while in others, he’s a total head-scratcher. Like a Sudoku puzzle with numbers that don’t add up to anything.

The silence between them continues to stretch. It becomes an awkward, formless wall.

The stillness, too, which is illuminated only by the light of the moon and the faint din of the car radio, hangs between them until he draws her up his body and folds her over him with a green plaid blanket. His fingers tracing languid strokes up and down her spine.

“Swans,” he says at last, his tone subdued. Scratchy. “Swans scare me.”

“What else?”

“Tennis balls. They’re too small and fast as they zip past. I hate how they can leave imprints on your face like ugly yellow snitches.”

“Okay then. Weird but fair. What else?” Rory asks all warmth and eagerness, her eyes searching his for something he wouldn’t want to slip free.

“Pennywise.” Though she snickers at that, it’s a valid fear. Clowns unsettle her, too. Evil ones especially. She’d had nightmares for eight months after she’d read Stephen King’s It for the first time, and had taken to sleeping with the bedside lamp on for years.

“Anything more?” she asks.

“Cricket bats.”

“Ooh-ho!” Poking him, “So Mrs. Kim got to you, did she?”

“Listen, I tried to be cool and unaffected but who knows what would’ve become of my head if she’d taken a swing with that thing?” Jess shudders at the same time she imagines Humpty Dumpty and laughs. “Jeez.”

“Things would’ve gotten messy,” she adds honestly.

He stalls a moment, then blinks back at her all wariness to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “How messy are we talking here?”

Rory cocks her head and bites the corner of her mouth, musing. “Think pumpkins.”

“Smashed ones?”

“Yep.”

“Figures,” he mutters miserably.

With an encouraging pat, “Don’t worry, I would’ve stepped in before Mrs. Kim buried your handsome yet indignant face beneath the floorboards or behind a brick wall in the catacombs with Fortunato. It’s the least I could do since I sort of like you and all.”

“Sort of?” Jess asks.

“Yeah. I’m no unreliable narrator girlfriend who'd escort you to your doom, you see. I’d much prefer to keep you,” she says with an adoring grasp and swivel of his chin, which he deflects by tickling her breathless as she bends down over him.

“Gee thanks, Casper. Nice to know you care about me.”

“Not about you exactly,” she teases, her flip-floppy giggles still piercing the air. “Just your head.”

That stops him. “My head, huh?”

“Sure.” Still a little breathless, she reaches toward him to fist her fingers through thick black tendrils along his nape. “It’s pretty.” She gives the strands a little tug. “Full of thoughts I’m hoping to pilfer for further study.”

“You know, I always thought there was some hoodlum in your DNA. Now I’m convinced,” he says as he leans over to commence the tickling again. “And you will pay."

The two of them continue to roll then thump against his windshield all elbows and knees until the levity starts to leaden and transform. As Jess reaches over to cup her cheek, their gazes meet in the silvery darkness and hold, kindling like flint.

Quiet washes over them again for a moment. Only this time, it’s bloated; it’s heavy. It’s a mess of a hundred thousand decipherable something’s teetering on the precipice of expression.

A flicker of alarm passes over his features as he frames her face with his hands, palms flat against the car. He hovers aloft, unsure. Indecision mixes with fear to tangle with retreat even as gravity beckons him nearer, his head dropping low enough for their foreheads to touch.

“I sort of like you, too, you know,” Jess breathes softly, his lips lowering to press against her mouth in a quick but lingering kiss. “A lot.” His jaw clenches. “Maybe too much.”

Suddenly there’s a tightrope pulled taut and vibrating in every direction because there’s no shrinking back from the dense electricity pulsating between them. There’s no more room to dance around unnamed emotion whenever it identifies itself in blown pupils, in a bobbing Adam’s apple, in hands that slip and slide until they fit together like aligning planets.

In that instant Rory knows. She knows right then and there she’s falling in love with him, that she’s half fallen already. And it’s both a revelation and a fact so natural she can feel the truth of it whistling from deep in her bones.

Looking nervous, vulnerable, more fragile than she’s ever seen him, he swallows hard then shifts to squint out at the shadowy tree line while scratching at his nape. “It’s just…so many people have treated me like garbage that all I know how to do is spoil things. I destroy, Rory—ruin what’s good. It’s what I do best. It’s all I know. I’m trying here and all, but I…don’t know how to do this,” he says, gesturing lamely between them. “How to do us right.”

“Hey now,” she thumbs his cheek, tries to turn his head back toward her but it won’t budge, and neither will he. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about. Go easy on him, will you?” He nods into her palm, softening a little. The tension leaves his body as he gathers her in his arms again, her head conforming to the crook of his neck, but she’s not convinced all is well yet.

“There’s no rulebook or anything,” Rory says placatingly. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You and me.”

“Yeah.”

“We will,” she says with an emphatic, assuring squeeze. “I know we will.”

With a caustic laugh, a heavy sigh, he runs his teeth over his lip, “I’m a screw up, Rory.”

“Hey. Not true.”

“I am.” Jess sounds so resigned, so convinced, it ties her into knots thinking he sees himself that way.

“Not to me, you’re not.”

“No,” he says with a deadened inflection, with a sad downturn of his mouth. “Not to you.”

Frowning, she feels his cynicism, his self-deprecation, descend like a slash across the gut. Helpless to do anything but try to be a soft place for him and his insecurities to land, she pulls him toward her, embracing him, quieting him, caring for him more with each passing second even though a warning gong goes off in her heart when she leans in to steal another kiss.

“Maybe I’m not a screw up to you yet,” he whispers, “but I could be at another time. On another day.”

“Stop,” Rory declares forcefully, holding her finger against his lips so he knows she means it.

Jess relents. “Okay,” he sighs. “Just know I’ll get it if you change your mind.”

- v. things we cried out at a crossroads -

Strained.

Silent.

Distant.

Those are the best adjectives to describe the status of her and Jess’s relationship as the bus pulls away from the curb a couple weeks later. After the party from hell. From her place on the sidewalk, her chest full of a heaviness she can’t name, Rory stares after it - after him - with little to no regard for the hour’s lateness or for the morning bell which signals the start of homeroom.

It’s the middle of May. That means finals, graduation, and summer loom on the periphery but she doesn’t care. None of it resonates. In the background she can hear Paris barking orders at a few trembling freshman and minted sophomores, but she does nothing to intervene. She makes no move to prevent her frenemy’s yellow journalistic splatter from crushing the innocents to smithereens.

Instead, she watches the hum and bump of the vehicle’s dusty rubber wheels as they roll down the street. She tracks the plume of smoke swirling from the exhaust pipe into the sky, which clouds over with blacks and grays instead of with clearing blues and radiant yellows. She waits until the bus turns left, its engine loud, roaring, to putt around the corner. Disappearing from view.

I hope he calls later, she thinks with a pang, with an iota of hope. We need to talk soon.

Rory’s eyes want to keep traveling with him long after he’s gone. So do her feet. They seek to follow along wherever Jess has gone, to ride beside him until they’re able to make sense of this mess between them and fix it. Fix them again.

Unfortunately for them both, they don’t. And it’ll be some time before they can, let alone before they do.

[thezodiaczone]

Gemini Compatibility

GEMINI + ARIES (MARCH 21 - APRIL 19) ♥♥♥♥ You're two high-strung, passionate Fire signs who both like to be the Alpha dominant. As such, you'll need to toss the hot potato back and forth, submitting to the other's rule—at times through gritted teeth. Acquiescence may not come naturally, but it builds a necessary trust. Aries is a paradox: you're the zodiac's infant (its first sign) and its gallant hero (you're ruled by warrior Mars). You want to save the world and be saved at the same time. You'll need to occasionally allow yourself to play wounded knight or damsel in distress, and let your mate charge to your rescue. However, don't spiral into neurotic helplessness or analysis paralysis. Nobody can beat a topic to death quite like you can—but that's what therapists are for, Aries. Neither one of you can be saddled with the emotional care and feeding of an adult baby. You're too independent for that. When your problems gain too much mental gravitas, it's time to move—literally. Disperse your Martian angst and anger with lots of physical exertion. As fellow adventurers, you travel well together. Try snowboarding, exotic bike tours, Costa Rican rainforest expeditions. Passionate sex is another antidote to prickly feelings for your high-touch sign. Like Aries Hugh Hefner, you have a champion libido (and an awesome sense of entitlement). Some Aries couples may mutually agree to flex the terms of your monogamy, although the jealousy it stirs might not be worth the trouble.

GEMINI + TAURUS (APRIL 20 - MAY 20) The stubborn Bull locks horns with the willful Ram, nostrils flaring, heads bowed in determination. So begins a fierce but fiery courtship, as splashy and menacing as a Pamplona stampede. Aggression, however uncivilized, is part our Darwinian natures. It certainly is for your signs—who possess an arsenal of steamrolling tactics, from doe-eyed charm to old-fashioned philistine strong-arming. No weak-willed mate will survive your natural selection process. Nor should he. Neither one of you feels safe in the arms of a mate who can't protect you. Thus, your initial faceoff is simply a warning shot: Show me your strength so I can trust you. Once the fanfare is over, you make a great team—like British pop royalty Victoria (Aries) and David (Taurus) Beckham.

As tight as two mafiosos, you like to dress up and flaunt your natural superiority over the rest of the animal kingdom. The deal is sweet for both of you. Taurus gets an attractive show pony and a lusty mate to satisfy his Earthy libido. Aries has a lifelong provider and benefactor to supply creative freedom and endless playtime. Issues can arise if Taurus grows too possessive or tries to tame independent Aries. Indulgent Taurus will need to remain active to keep pace with the energetic Ram (read: lay off the nightly steak frites and vino). You both crave attention, but don't go looking for it outside the relationship, unless you want a real showdown. Like two tots in a nursery, you share a favorite word: Mine!

GEMINI + GEMINI (MAY 21 - JUNE 20) We'll spare you the joke about there being four people in this relationship, mainly because it's an understatement. Like twin kaleidoscopes, you're each a fractal pinwheel of personalities that re-pattern at the slightest twist. Good news: versatility is a virtue in Gemini-land. Monogamy, not always easy for your restless sign, becomes a non-issue when your mate embodies more personas than Sybil. Dyed-in-the-wool dilettantes, you never run out of things to discuss. Clever Gemini rules communication: your ideas come fast and furious, and you love to debate. Intellectual tussling is a turn-on, although you must take care not to talk over each other. Remind yourself: listening skills are just as important as a well-crafted sentence. The pop psychology technique of "mirroring" (listening, then reflecting back your mate's communication) can be shockingly effective. Your main challenge is making time for each other, since you're both forever juggling any number of jobs, businesses, classes, hobbies, social circles and whatnot. Gemini is a collector; your home can resemble a natural disaster zone, piled to the rafters with books, newspapers, DVD sets from your favorite screenwriter, old-school vinyl, vintage costume jewelry. Forget couples' counseling: a cleaning service or storage unit can save this marriage. (Thank God for the Internet and YouTube.) With your wonder-twin powers, you can start a creative business together. Just make sure to hire a team of Earth or Water signs who can finish what you start, since you'll both leave a trail of loose ends. Light the spark, and let others keep the flame.

GEMINI + CANCER (JUNE 21 - JULY 22) Cancer is an emotional Water sign who loves to nest and bond; Gemini is a restless Air sign who prefers intellect over sentiment. You have similar interests, different temperaments. In many cases, this works out anyway. You both adore culture, the more obscure the better. You love to discover new bands, read novels by controversial authors, gorge yourselves at the jewel of a restaurant tucked into an undiscovered neighborhood. You bond over TV shows and bargain-hunting for treasures (you both have a thrifty streak). No flea market, tag sale or eBay store is safe from your scouring, and your home can resemble a bizarre gallery of antiques and modern gadgetry. The tricky part is when you lapse into astrological auto-pilot. Cancer is the zodiac's mother, who heaps on affection, nurturing and well-intended care. To Gemini, this can feel like clinginess and smothering. Gemini is the zodiac's fickle tween, waffling between bouts of dependence and asserting autonomy. There will be moments when Gemini greedily laps up Cancer's doting, and others when mama bird is roughly pushed away with a sarcastic, heart-piercing insult. Cancer must work hard not to take these moments personally—otherwise, the Crab lashes back with a below-the-belt barb, and it turns ugly. Remember, Crabcake: it's not you that Gemini is rejecting, it's your overprotection. Get a pet to dote on instead. Gemini needs space, Cancer needs reassurance. Memorize this formula.

GEMINI + LEO (JULY 23 - AUGUST 22) ♥♥♥♥ You make great friends, since you both love to gab about everything from the Times to the tabloids, Ferragamo to flea markets. Conversations are fever-pitched and fascinating; you're both well-versed culture hounds. Romantically, the temperature may be tepid, though. Leo is a Fire sign ruled by the blazing Sun—the regal Lion wants to be consumed by passion, heat, devotion, attention. Gemini is an Air sign driven by speedy, information-gathering Mercury. Listening to The Leo Monologues, which span from political diatribes to emotional melodramas, is sheer torture. When Gemini dares to interrupt the King or Queen, suggesting that s/he actually GET TO THE POINT, hell breaks loose. Leo must learn to take Gemini's tough love and unvarnished feedback in stride, not as an ego assault. Unconventional Gem should assent to traditional romantic gestures: red roses, the Tiffany bauble du jour. Learn to adapt. Gemini rules the hands, and will need to put them on affection-hungry Leo more often, since the Lion is greatly reassured by touch. And yes, as an Air sign, Gemini will need to blow a little smoke you-know-where; Leo can be a nightmare without regular doses of praise. Gush and flatter—it won't be the first insincere thing to pass through Gemini's lips. Leo should keep a battery of patient friends on speed dial. Gemini may have multiple personalities, but as a romantic partner, s/he can't be your de facto shrink, psychic hotline, career coach, parent and social director. Spread the demands around.

GEMINI + VIRGO (AUGUST 23 - SEPTEMBER 22) Gemini and Virgo share a common ruler: speedy Mercury, who zips around the Sun gathering light and information, then disseminating it to the masses. You're both natural communicators with a thousand ideas and opinions. Romance is a cerebral affair for your intelligent signs. Conversations spark into lively debates; asking each other "What do you think?" is akin to foreplay. Although Virgo is a more staid Earth sign and Gemini is a breezy Air sign, you share a "mutable" quality. That means you're flexible, and you can adapt to each other's quirks. Good thing, since you each have a bevy of rigid, borderline obsessive-compulsive habits. (Virgo's can include folding underwear into identical, neat little squares; Gemini's usually involve hoarding, starting new hobbies or impulse shopping.) You both love control, though Gemini is loath to admit this, while Virgo flies the flag. At times, you may wrestle for dominance, a habit you'll need to overcome for this match to work. Virgo's nagging can take the wind out of Gemini's sails; Gemini's sketchily researched half-truths set off Virgo's trust alarm. But combine the depth of Virgo's cautious planning with the breadth of Gemini's boundless curiosity, and you've got the total package. You can make great parents, too, since your styles tend to complement and you'll divide up roles with ease. Gemini can help serious Virgo lighten up, and responsible Virgo can help ground the easily distracted Twin.

GEMINI + LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23 - OCTOBER 22) ♥♥♥♥ You're compatible Air signs with silver tongues and gilded wings, a magical match indeed. Libra is a pretty pixie and Gemini is an impish sprite. Your meeting rouses the fairies and gnomes, stirring up mischief in your midst. You love to mingle and schmooze, and you'll chatter like two little tree monkeys, gabbing a mile a minute. But will the breathless excitement last? Getting past the superficial romance stage is the challenge. You're both so indecisive that nailing down a commitment is like catching moonbeams in a jar. That said, the illusionary quality of your relationship is a magic you both enjoy. It's when life becomes too real that you vanish in a pinch of enchanted dust. To make this last, you'll need to dip your toes into the murky morass of intimacy, then learn to swim. Money can become an issue between you, particularly the way you spend it. Gemini is ruled by intellectual Mercury, and would rather invest in college degrees, a film collection, enriching travel. Libra is governed by beauty and pleasure-loving Venus, and splashes out on art, couture, custom suits, spas. You'll need separate wings for Gemini's books and Libra's handbag or shoe collection. You have different approaches to romance, too. Libra loves a lengthy courtship with all the trimmings, but Gemini bristles at picking up too many tabs, especially with Libra's extravagant taste. You'll probably need to keep separate accounts to avoid meddling in each other's purchase habits. Cut up the credit cards, too—many happy relationships can be destroyed by debt. Don't let that happen to you.

GEMINI + SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23 - NOVEMBER 21) You live on completely different planes, which either turns you off or utterly fascinates you. Both of you are accustomed to reading people like flimsy comic books, then tossing them aside. Here, your X-ray vision fails to penetrate each other's psychic shields. Mutable Gemini is the shape-shifting Twin, home to a traveling cast of personalities. Intense Scorpio is shrouded in mystery and bottomless layers of complexity. Being baffled leaves you without the upper hand, but it also stokes your libido. You're piercingly smart signs who love a good puzzle—this is your romantic Rubik's cube. The challenge sets off sexual dynamite. You tease each other with cat-and-mouse evasions, neither of you making your attraction obvious. This prickles your insecurities, daring you to strive for the other's unbroken gaze. No two signs are as quietly obsessive as yours! There will be frustrating moments, too. You're both prone to depressive spells, and swing from giddiness to unreachable shutdown. Clever mind games edge on cruel or callow, breaking the trust that Scorpio needs. At times, airy Gemini may not be emotional or sensual enough for watery Scorpio; in turn, the Scorpion's emotional and physical passion can be overwhelming to Gemini. However, if you combine your strengths, you'll go far. Gemini is dilettante and a trivia collector who's always got a pocketful of creative ideas. Instinct-driven Scorpio rules details and research—this sign hones in like a laser and masters his chosen field. Whether it's starting a family or running a business, you can be an indefatigable team, with Gemini playing the rowdy ringmaster and Scorpio running the show from behind the scenes.

GEMINI + SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22 - DECEMBER 21) ♥♥♥♥ You're opposite signs that actually have much more in common than this label suggests. Gemini rules the so-called "lower mind": common sense, reasoning, facts, hard data and intellect. Sagittarius governs the "higher mind": wisdom, philosophy, consciousness, ethics, metaphysics. Together, you find sweet neurological nirvana. You're both restless adventurers who hunger for knowledge and experience. With Gemini's curiosity and Sag's nomadic nature, you get antsy in commitments unless there's a lot of excitement and variety. Boredom is simply not an option for your signs, and you're both involved in a billion projects. Scheduling issues are your biggest hurdle, but for true love, you allow nothing to interfere. Take globe-trotting Sagittarius Brad Pitt and Gemini Angelina Jolie, who traipse the continents with their ever-growing brood. As best friends and playmates, they make their own rules about love and family—and you will, too. Conventional coupling holds zero interest for your signs. Your main difference is in disposition. Air sign Gemini is cooler and distant compared to Sagittarius, harder to read emotionally. The fiery Archer has a hot temper and wears his heart on his sleeve. Still, you make each other laugh; you're both clever, entrepreneurial and quirky. You do best with a common goal that's a thousand times bigger than yourselves, and you'll dream up many. However, you may need Brangelina-sized paychecks to fund your lofty visions. Who has time to consider the bottom line when you're focused on reaching the top? Take time to consider the practicalities before leaping off the cliff. Knowing you, you'll jump anyway.

GEMINI + CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22 - JANUARY 19) A metaphor for this match: a music producer combines a soulful 1970s classic (Capricorn) with funky electronic hooks (Gemini) and delivers a mashup that's either a mess or a chart-topping hit. You couldn't be any more different if you tried, yet you can really benefit from each other's natural resources. Gemini is ruled by speedy Mercury, the lightning-fast trickster who speaks in silver-tongued half truths. Capricorn's overlord is Saturn, the cautious, conservative planetary patriarch, who only trusts that which stands the test of time. Gemini is versatile and restless, like a fusebox with a million criss-crossed wires. Capricorn is the dutiful ox who carries the yoke and plows the field, rarely diverging from routine. While Capricorn's dogged consistency and family loyalty can frustrate Gemini ("How can you let these people walk all over you?" Gemini asks, referring to Cap's elderly parents), it also grounds the scattered Twins. Gemini is Capricorn's one-man circus, keeping the Goat amused and entertained, adding color to his monochromatic world. You both have a lusty, experimental side, too. The magic really appears when you get physical, which happens fast, since your sexual attraction is intense. In fact, Capricorn is one of the few signs that can spike Gemini's jealousy. There are so many people who rely on sturdy, supportive Cap, and Gemini doesn't like to compete for the spotlight. To make this work, Gemini will have to accept that Capricorn's loyalty extends to family and lifelong friends. Stoic Cap will need to show a little more emotion, since impish Gemini needs to know he can get under Capricorn's skin. It will take time to work out the kinks, but the erotic tet-a-tets will be worth the trouble.

GEMINI + AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20 - FEBRUARY 18) This match of compatible Air signs can feel a bit like high school romance—teasing, texting, movie dates with jumbo popcorn and licentious groping during the previews. You bring out each other's breezy, buoyant spirits, and that's a plus. You'll bond over TV shows, favorite sci-fi novels and superheroes, obscure philosophers, music. With your clever comebacks and verbal repartee, you could take a comedy act on the road. Although you can both be overly cerebral at times, you prefer laughter and light conversation to emotional melodrama. Eventually, though, you need to get out of the shallow end of the pool. Intimacy is a challenge for your signs. We're talking true intimacy—being caught with your pants down and no clue how to get them back up. Telling each other your entire life stories in monologue form (which could have happened on the first date) doesn't count. You must soldier through the post-infatuation "awkward phase," or you'll end up feeling like buddies. That would be a shame, as you can make excellent life partners and playmates. The biggie: you'll both need to give up fibs and lies—particularly lies of omission. You're excellent storytellers and politicos, gifted at crafting a spin to fit your agenda. However, the naked truth is the only way out of the Matrix. Though it may topple your PR-friendly public image, it's a necessary risk you must take to build the character and depth of a lasting commitment.

GEMINI + PISCES (FEBRUARY 19 - MARCH 20) You're both dual signs: Gemini is the Twins, and Pisces is symbolized by two Fish swimming in opposite directions. You're pop psychology's poster children for commitment-phobia. Are you in or are you out? It depends on the day, the mood, the cosmic alignment. Obviously, this is no way to run a relationship—but wait. Here's a golden chance to peer into love's looking glass and see your own shadowy Id mirrored back. Yes, your psyches and hang-ups are as bizarre as Alice's rabbit-hole tumble into Wonderland. Pisces, you really can be as needy, emotionally exhausting and manipulative as Gemini says. Gemini, you are indeed capable of being a double-talking, evasive ice-tyrant with a heart like polished marble. And…so what? If you can actually own your dark sides—which we all have—you're also capable of spreading tremendous light. You must negotiate your differences with transparent honesty, though. Pisces is an emotional Water sign; Gemini is an intellectual Air sign. Unless you balance the proportions, Gemini drowns in Pisces' undertow and the zodiac's Mermaid suffocates from breathing too much oxygen. Gemini must strive to connect emotionally, and Pisces will need to lighten up. Perennial dissatisfaction is also a killer. Don't say you want something, then refuse to be happy when your partner provides it. Gratitude is an intimate act: it requires you to acknowledge that your partner can reach you, a vulnerable place. Two words to save your relationship: "Thank you" and "You're right."

[tcportfoliomgj]

Monday, 7th of June, 2021

"The old lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori." - Wilfred Owen (in McMorland Hunter, 2014)

It was Sunday, the 18th of October, when I received an email from Ton. He recommended me a book called Houd afstand, raak me aan, written by Paul Verhaeghe (2020) and also asked me if I thought it would be interesting for other TC students to read. I finished the ebook the same evening and emailed him back with a long review. Soon the idea formed to start a TC book club. Lieke, Dirk and I, with Ton's help, eventually launched TC Kitchen Table. We wanted to create a place where TC students could come together to have conversations, to philosophise and to discuss all kinds of things, like global challenges. We wanted this because we think that we shouldn't just grow as teacher artists, but also as humans. With essays, books, documentaries, movies, research papers, et cetera, we could start conversations about the Netherlands, the climate, human rights, the economy, (world) politics, society and humanity. TC Kitchen Table is a space where we can explore ourselves and grow together. A space to think out loud, to ask questions and answer them, just like at a real kitchen table. To make deep learning come alive, it's important to promote powerful conversations (Fullan, Quinn & McEachan, 2018, p. 53-54). TC Kitchen Table helps us create an environment and culture where deep learning can take place. We challenge each other to really think about all kinds of topics and stimulate each other to learn. I thank that as TC students, we are in a unique position. We're both the student and the teacher, so we can put ourselves in either perspective.

All of our Kitchen Table sessions have been online, except one. I'm glad we were able to use Teams to have our meetings, but having a session on campus was a lot more fun. We were able to talk, laugh, discuss the movie we watched, recite poetry and do much more. The poem I shared was Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen, an anti-war poem written during the First World War. Back in high school, I had to analyse this poem, write a paper on it and do a presentation. It was a group project, but I ended up doing most of the work. I absolutely fell in love with the poem. It's rhythmic, beautiful and incredibly touching. However, when I got to analyse it I got to appreciate it even more. The technicalities behind the poem are amazing. The way Owen uses alliteration, assonance, simile, personification, direct speech, metaphors and irony is incredible and it's still such an accessible poem. Another poem I shared afterwards was O Captain! My Captain! by Walt Whitman (1865). The poem is big in the movie Dead Poets Society (1989), which we discussed during the Kitchen Table session. When I shared the poem in our WhatsApp group, Ton responded and said he would love to discuss what the poem is about during the next Kitchen Table session. I was with Linde at the time, and I simply said "I'm not sure what there is to discuss because the poem is just about Abraham Lincoln and the Americal Civil War."

Linde and I were about to record a podcast for her portfolio. We planned to talk about social media and social media activism. However, Walt Whitman's poem suddenly sparked a question. Is art open to interpretation? Linde and I started talking and then suddenly stopped, realising that this would be a great conversation to record for her podcast. So we did, the conversation took a lot of turns, and we ended up calling it "From Rothko to Religion" (appendix 23). It was a great conversation, one of the many great conversations I've had with Linde. I think having big conversations like this is a lot of fun, but also very important. It can help you grow and learn. I really enjoy thinking and learning together. I've always learned by thinking out loud, even when I was younger. I never did a lot of homework, instead, I would just tell my mother about everything I learned. Thinking and talking about big topics together also allows you to see things from different points of view, instead of just your own. It's important to break out of your bubble (though I realise Linde and I often tend to be in the same bubble).

We should most definitely do this in our classrooms as well. Spark conversations, ask students to form and express their opinions and learn together. Learning environments that invite students to ask questions and come to creative discoveries are incredibly important and valuable. These learning environments are needed in order to keep our students intellectually engaged (Quaglia & Corso, 2017). Teaching about citizenship, society, the climate, cultures and the world will also contribute to my own learning process and growth. Because if we cherish curiosity in our classes, teachers and students will learn together. Students will see that adults are continuously curious about the world around them and that the subject they teach matters (Quaglia & Corso, 2017, p. 122). It also allows us to look at things from a different perspective. Let's not forget that we can learn a lot from our students too, they bring a lot to the table, even when it's about global challenges.

🎵 A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall (Live at Montreal Forum, December 1975) - Bob Dylan, the Rolling Thunder Revue

[dwestfieldblog]

‘’A GREAT DAY FOR CIVILIZATION’‘

THE BLACKNESS OF DARKNESS FOREVER

'Verily a polluted stream is man, One must be an ocean to receive a polluted stream without becoming unclean'. Indeed...November-December '2019'...Anarchy for the UK? Looks as if Boris is working for the other side in a similar way to Trump. Ride the populist wave and spark a gathering civil war. I remember reading some years ago about how the SAS were trained in knowing exactly where to place a small amount of explosive to bring down machinery, rather than a James Bond type explosion. Just set it right and allow the machine to destroy itself through its own natural momentum. Every time these two fat blonde fools open their mouths it reminds me of this. They appear to be helping to destroy it all from the inside...will the constitutions of these two noble (arf) countries survive their egos? The education system is breeding a mass of fools and large parts of social media are indeed being weaponised to stir up emotions, working hard to pull it all down.

A looming election in Britain and a current party in power who has received millions from Russian oligarchs to encourage various unions to split apart. Hexagram 23 is thrown again. The other choices are just as dangerous. Nobody of any use whatsoever to vote for. Don't look back, good days ahead eh? Anyone remember Boris saying in 2018 that Britain was 'truly headed for the status of colony'? Yes Mr Johnson, but not a European one. Meanwhile, onwards...

Children are born with a strong sense of curiosity to explore their senses and ask questions. By the time they leave College and University this often seems to have been reduced to mere drug taking without any actual increase in perception...and the need to join a political or religious group. The leaders of such groups do not encourage the curious in nature, as individuality is less than essential to to a leader who requires obedience and the transference of energy. Stirring up righteous emotions takes the place of both rational thought and instinct...and the inquisitive rebels become fervent drones or else passive without actually being tranquil. Never forget the accurate part in Monty Python's Life of Brian where the gathered mass repeat (apart from one) 'YES, WE ARE ALL INDIVIDUALS!' Small wonder the butchers smell easy meat on a daily basis...but at least the lambs are ‘’woke’’, eh?

I recently read the long paragraph of topics NOT to be used by comedians in universities in America and Britain. Ready? 'Racism, sexism,classism, ageism, abelism, homophobia, biophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, Islamophobia, or anti-religion or anti-atheism; These topics can be 'discussed' but 'in a respectful way'. Comedy kids! The PC snowflake future of these countries will be devoid of humour, only safe jokes on the mundane...and at some point even skits on mass murderers will be banned so as not to cause offence to killers several sandwiches short of a picnic.

P.C quote...'I happen to agree with the P.C. cult about many things. (In fact I only differ with them in not liking their intolerance, their fascist tactics, their introduction of Maoist brainwashing to our groves of Academe, their utter lack of humor, their continuous violations of ordinary common sense, their evident desire to destroy our Constitution and their lack of simple human decency') Robert Anton Wilson Cosmic Trigger Three, Hilaritas Press 1995/2018. Speaking of whom...

'The secret of power and wealth? You know how dumb the average guy is? Well, by mathematical definition, half of them are even dumber than that'. RAW. And therefore simpletons to manipulate for votes, money, sex and power. Endless slogans of 'Vote for me, I appear to share the same prejudices as you and of course I believe our country should rise again'. Etc. And so things will remain, until a few more of us consciously choose to edit less and tune in more, changing reality tunnels into reality labyrinths in good humour, there is unlikely to be the fabled phase transition... but it is coming. May Be. Trust me, I am an almost fully realised lunatic. Those with twofold vision will be unable to stop the wheel of evolution. As above, so below, inward is outward. Non simultaneously apprehended events....

China, seventy years of glorious and highly successful communism, well done to the personality cult of Winnie the Pooh. Took them this long to ban South Park. ARF. Don't forget kids, 'the imposition of order=escalation of chaos. The more laws there are, the more crime there will be.' Tell that to the judge...Remember...'The party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. IT WAS THEIR FINAL,MOST ESSENTIAL COMMAND' .1984  

Trump said Greta Thunberg 'seems like a very happy girl looking forward to a bright and wonderful future. So nice to see!''. She then put that as her description on her facebook page:-) Goddess bless her. Fascinating but not surprising the papers with editors connected financially with concerns that involve oil etc, are writing editorials about how she is being manipulated and that her Asbergers (which she calls a superpower) makes her a loony. Love that she rejected the environmental award. And now she is Time magazine's Person of the Year, Trump will steam all the more and twitter out yet more methane. ('Every time he sits down, his voice gets muffled'.) Eve was the first human to think for herself...and men like you have never forgotten this eh? Grimly amazed to hear his female press secretary Grisham say his former Chief of Staff 'was totally unequipped to handle the genius of our great president'. She wasn't being sarcastic just applying more brown lipstick. North Korean platitudes in the USA. Cheese Boy and the Old Dotard, coming soon to a nightmare near you...

(A day after I wrote that paragraph, Trump did indeed tweet his disgust and jealous sarcasm, whereupon she promptly took his words once more and updated her biography again to 'A teenager working on her anger management problem. Currently chilling and watching a good old fashioned movie with a friend'. Perhaps she reminds him of a similar smart girl who refused his clumsy advances when he was that age and is seeking delayed revenge. Or just trying to make his oil/resource friends laugh.  His gimp master Putin certainly is. 'Condemned to eternal bullshit' to quote Mr John Lydon. Meanwhile away from the chaos, the darkness and the gate of the land of Night and entropy defined as a gradual decline into disorder, some levity is needed to slow the descent into bleakness ...)

Artificial Intelligence is to be given intellectual property rights...is this really a good idea? Discuss between yourself. Being Terminated by a robot is bad enough but being sued by a machine? Or do the Free Laws apply here? Well, when we cannot believe what we see, we see what we can believe. The state is concentric but the individual is eccentric eh? A random shuffle of cut ups, amazing how often they can make coherent sense, depending on what state the brain is in...I used to be a Libertarian but they had too many rules.

Or, as Alien Sex Fiend once said..'Everybody wants what everybody's got and everybody's got what everybody wants,soldier lies bleeding where a church once stood.' I love you cos you got green hair...Live fast, die young and leave a beautiful corpse, like Curt Cobain. I am a work in regress. Conditioned reflexes are built onto the imprints. Imprints are only changed through work or by a shock of one type or another. Bad news for the lazy cowards among us. 'Apothecary, give me something to sweeten my imagination!'  

...Some days later, a new campaign slogan from Boris to 'forge a new Britain'. In the meaning of fakery and counterfeits? I spent five minutes today reading Trump's Twitter account and felt my mind shivering in horror. This man seems to be seriously mentally ill. And suddenly impeachment (albeit a long time coming) is on the table.  Lurve the quote today from a Republican that 'abuse of power is not a crime'. In a democratic country? Could he be dirt on the road by next year? A smear on the wind shield, a nasty smell in the corner of a locked room? Will the Land of the Free (ARF) have a fresh awakening? Delicious to hold this thought for a while.....

One week later...

And so it was that Boris won an outright majority. And that is where we are in Britain, the other choices were so dreadful, we chose the evil of three lessers. You CAN fool most of the people all of the time. Let's keep repeatedly mentioning the millions of pounds donated to his Conservative party by oligarchs, the four jobs he lost because of lying, the children he does not pay child support to, the absolute lack of respect he commands on the world stage, his endless endless mask of buffoonery, avoidance of questions with a charade of good humour, his lack of manners, ridiculous failed projects paid for by public money, his cover ups, Brexit NHS lies and...and... and all of this happened before he was elected prime minister. THAT'S how poor the alternatives were. And his friends who are shorting stocks in order to cash in on Brexit. These businessmen, like those in the apocalyptic religions, looking forward to the End, to be raised higher in the rapture of Big Money. Nice grip on decency and morality to wish for the destruction of your country for the sake of your pockets. Mutton dressed up as a wolf in a judas goat's clothing, bleating,'This is the way, follow me and ignore the rotating knives;...

Wish and hope to be proved wrong, I have no problem whatsoever with being shown I am wrong when I am. I learn something positive about human nature then and my cynicism is overcome for a while. Not sure what we offer the world other than what we already have given and of course, weapons. Our best minds fled to America, Switzerland, New Zealand etc a long time ago. I expect Scotland to rid herself of English bullshit in no short order. Much as the USA, we became united through violence, the force of manipulation and then the desire to be stronger together. If a large part of the kingdom wishes to split in order to maintain previous relations with Europe, who seem to have behaved far better to it than did England, then go for it ye Celts. Looks as if the English really enjoy being told what to do by posh boys with a shaky grasp of morals. Pathetic. If I wasn't a Christian I'd...oh wait, I'm not...

Sick of these alpha male dumb foul-hearted swine equating power with only brute force and see those who care to evolve as weak. Those who believe respect comes only through fear will have a rude awakening, sooner...or much later. 'So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause'.  

And once again for all you Aristotelian black and white types, no I am not a Socialist or a Communist or a Liberal. I just have a deep dislike and mistrust of poncey arrogant lying snobs whose behaviour is far worse than those with a quarter of the education and opportunities they had. Again, perhaps I am wrong and Boris will suddenly rise and show his mettle and be the exact opposite of all he has been and done before. There is a percentage of possibility. My instinct says 'Don't hold yer breath'.  Or...'All things are a coincidence of opposites' Bruno of Nola. So, hope.

Peptides select the reality you experience, so get working on widening the spectra of possibilities and get neurotransmitting all ye psychonauts...at least laugh more...

I am sure it seems lazy just to dump yet another load of favourite quotes in these blogs as ballast,with which to add weight to my rather vague or ranted writings but you deserve some actual mind food during these screeds eh? So...'...brains are made of cells which are made of atoms which are made of electrons which are superimpositions of waves'. And the waves are influenced by...'The hidden variable theory of consciousness asserts (1) there is a sub-quantal level beneath the observational/theoretical structure of ordinary quantum mechanics; (2) events occurring on this sub-quantal level are the elements of sentient being.' Dr. E H Walker and N Herbert. Page 174. I need add nothing to that because it is all there, but...Imagine, if you Will...

And thus...

'We find that our consciousness controls physical events through the laws of quantum mechanics'

'The sum total of all minds is one'. Schroedinger.

'I don't ask that my opinion be made into law'.The republican's favourite hated comedian Bill Maher, speaking about prejudices on weed, sex, comedy, childbirth, books, films etc etc. 'Society runs at the speed of its slowest member'...Thus spake Jim Jeffries, explaining very clearly why various human made laws exist...and why the 'train' of evolution is scarcely moving thanks to all the dead weight it has to pull behind the engine/the first car. (Where within, all the scientists, philosophers, poets and engineers are thinking...; If I just pull out this peg and separate the cars 'Do you know how fast we would be moving?' ) Go for it lucid 3D dreamers...soon.....

An insane God burning its infinite energy on lower things, well why not? It passes eternity in the Akashic hologram eh? 'The hardware remains local, but nobody can localize the software'. Hope this is clear enough.  

'Beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror which we are barely able to endue and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us. Rainer Maria Rilke. while listening to Swans from another dimension. I have never read anything from RMR, Kahil Gibran or Rumi that wasn't as magickal as Blake or Yeats. Eternity manifested in the light of day, something infinite behind everything appeared...

Time for us to step back out and away from all the old repeating news. To pay it no mind and certainly no heart. Just let go and leave it behind, allow them to get on with their ruin as we step discreetly to one side. Play your part by standing apart.

A lot of this year has felt pretty foul for various self induced reasons but has been enlightened (literally) considerably by good friends, great books, a couple of summer months on weed, and the beauty, grace, blood and power of PJ Harvey, Thighpaulsanndra, Puscifer, Swans, Killing Joke and the immortal COIL. Readers, I wish you a healthy, good hearted 2020... See you later, perhaps in a fulgurous exhalation conglobed in a cloud by the circumfused humour...

'If you have been on the upside of luck, build longer bridges, not higher fences'  

SPIRAL OUT...KEEP GOING...AND ILLUMINISE NOW )+(  LOVE.

[thisisatester]

Common Application (Personal Statement):

The common app I wrote for Stanford was very personal so I’m choosing not to share it… BUT, I’m going to include the common app I sent to a bunch of ivies and other schools –

Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

Every Sunday morning, I pull up last week’s This American Life podcast on my phone, lace up my running shoes, and begin my trek up Lone Mountain – a heap of dirt, gravel, and rock, sitting isolated amidst suburban wasteland. Reaching the top, I stare out at a lackluster view of Las Vegas’ silhouette, barely distinguishable through the dust and smog shifting with the desert breeze. I look down at the 600ft drop briefly, turn around, and begin my trip back home – only to repeat the same journey next Sunday.

There is no breathtaking view or unique wildlife to draw me to my hike: it is the piercing cold air and aggressive terrain that instead excites my core. My Sunday morning hike is a series of struggles: my lungs clambering for oxygen, heart tirelessly pumping blood, and muscles straining to keep up with my pace, but I embrace the struggle. I find my own form of truth and contentment along the uphill journey.

It’s my belief that just barely finding the will to take the next step, and then suddenly discovering yourself unable to resist taking another, is among the most unique and surreal experiences a person can have. While my body teeters at the edge of complete collapse, I feel the most alive. The feeling must be akin to what drove Amelia Earhart to new skies aboard the Friendship, or Philippe Petit to the top of the twin towers. It is the challenges – the pain, sweat, and long nights – that inspire those who push the envelope to never slow down. This love for challenges accompanied Earhart to her death, led Petit to bullfighting and carpentry in lieu of fading in his old age, and I to early morning hikes instead of sleeping in.

“Each atom of that stone,

each mineral flake of that night filled mountain,

in itself forms a world.

The struggle itself toward heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.

One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

~Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

Like Albert Camus, I imagine Sisyphus – condemned to roll a rock up a mountain, only to have it roll back down every time he reaches the top – happy. It is the challenges, struggles, and tribulations that energize Sisyphus and my spirit, not the prospects of reaching the top of the hill.

Sisyphus found happiness and the meaning of life in pushing that rock. The meaning of life is simply living it. I live through my hikes, experiencing what life has to offer through getting up each morning and seeking out new challenges. It is where I am happiest, listening to Ira Glass tell me new stories of people I’ve never met, and their own quests for happiness, while I venture out on my own. My hikes remind me that the simple opportunity to take small steps, to look adversity in the eye and to conquer it little by little, is what I value.

I believe that life is a perpetual climb, but that does not make me feel hopeless. I am content in knowing that I am like Sisyphus, constantly climbing. In this intrinsically meaningless desert I will create and learn, continue to push this boulder of existence, of life, not because I will reach the top and be done, but because it is in living and understanding suffering in the hardest of times, in my daily struggle to comprehend just how absurd everything is, that I experience the most full and beautiful of life that our human condition can offer. The absurdity of our condition inspires me to make my own meaning of it all – to study life, history, and our place in it.

That is why I trudge on – learning, growing, and creating, focusing on the next step and never the last.

Short Takes:

Favorite books, authors, films, and/or artists

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (Book) – objective beauty, a love letter to the English Language 2. Bossypants by Tina Fey (Book) – my woman crush

Seven Psychopaths (Film) – what a trip!

Quentin Tarantino (Filmmaker) – artist, genius, mastermind…

Aaron Draplin (Graphic Designer) – a passionate eccentric

Newspapers, magazines, websites

Smashing Magazine – just great

PBS Idea Channel – is it how fast he talks or …?

reddit.com – lol

Most significant challenge society faces

I’ve seen my parents crash at the end of the week from being overworked. Society encourages this. America is overwhelmingly prone to depression and exhaustion, and that’s because we’ve put work over family, friends, and happiness, which is extremely unhealthy. We need to go back to finding a balance.

Last two summers

– burnt at the beach

– learned how to skate

– experienced summer!

Historical moment or event

The time Teddy Roosevelt got shot in the chest. The whole story sounds ridiculous – almost to the point that I don’t believe it. I’d want to experience it all – the shock, panic, and confusion – and when he still delivered his speech despite the bullet hole in his suit.

What five words best describe you?

Stressed and messy but fun

Intellectual Vitality (Idea or experience important to intellectual development):

My closet could be its own exhibit, boasting pieces dating back decades even centuries. Each new addition is evidence of a vibrant past, history substantialized through WWII patriotism in utilitarian-chic padded shoulders or 70’s liberation in soft cascading fringe.

When I started to make my own clothes, I saw how fashion also bridged the gap between my analytical and creative sides. Designs in my journal played with elements of geometry. I documented the way natural-fibers fared better than synthetic-fibers in heat and used chemistry to explain why organza curled at the mercy of a flame. Despite my analytical approach I let my imagination wander, embracing spontaneity and gripping my pencil loosely as ideas flowed onto paper. Like the corpus callosum I studied in biology, fashion connected both sides of me. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who I am and what inspires me.

My family thinks I’m shallow for loving clothing, but actually, my clothes have sparked my curiosity in history, culture, and design. Fashion is what holds everything together, with its ability to communicate ideas and movements, and to carry history in its threads. Learning the meaning behind each fabric, shape, or button, is exciting to me. More importantly, creating my own clothes has given me a love for combining all of what I know to create something exciting and brand new, energizing my love for learning and showing me that my education culminates in all of my pursuits.

Roommate Essay (Note to future roommate):

I’d text but I misplaced my phone… yes, again.

I left you a breakfast sandwich straight from The CoHo – for dealing with my mom’s insistence on taking a bajillion photos with her daughter’s “roomie” when she visited. Still getting to know you so I guessed your order, but who doesn’t love breakfast sandwiches? It might still be hot!

Anyways, have you heard of Cath in College? When I first watched her videos showing all the fun she has with friends at Stanford, I fell in love, promising I’d do the same. I love making videos – and as my roommate you just landed a lead role! Before you run to Ms. Nunan’s office for a roommate change – hear me out. Everyone knows Stanford is a great school and blahblahblah, but they never see what makes it so special. They don’t hear our conversations, hike the dish, or bike across campus at midnight. They see our team on the field but don’t stand in a crowd cheering alongside us. I know our room will be the room for pizza and video games, hangouts, or movie nights – let’s share our Stanford with the world.

It’s only been a few weeks but I can tell the next year with you will be a lot of fun (I say we seek out whatever upperclassmen paired us together, personally thanking them with my homemade cookies.)

I hope you love the idea as much as I do.  (Also, if you see my phone, let me know.)

– Ty

What matters to you, and why?

It hurt that she didn’t remember me.

I could tell you every detail about my grandmother – from the peculiar way she dices mangoes to the smell of jasmine on her clothes. As her memory of me faded, my feeble attempts to reconnect fell flat. I shut her out completely: silence prevented the wound from festering.

As a young girl, my grandma turned to art when she first came to America. When I could first hold a pencil, she bought me a journal with a note on the back.

“When I couldn’t find the words, I’d draw”

Sitting in front of her, silent, I couldn’t find the words. Every page in my journal became a vessel for my most precious memories with my grandma: us walking the boardwalk or her chasing me down a park slide. When I showed her the drawings, I saw her brows furrow in recollection as she traced the graphite lines. For a moment, she was mine again. Art communicated what words couldn’t.

The choice between acrylic and oil highlights versatility, stippling graphite teaches me patience, and splashing watercolor pigment across paper makes me embrace my mistakes, but that is not why art matters to me. It matters because when I draw for my grandma, I am reminded that art can break barriers. When she whispers my name and shakes my arm, I prove that art is a language we can all speak.

[tragicbooks]

Human waste as sustainable energy? These high schoolers made it happen.

Leroy Mwasaru was a high school student at Kenya's prestigious Maseno School when a dorm room renovation created an unfortunate situation.

The school's outdoor latrines overflowed into the local water supply.

Understandably, this made some people quite upset. But Mwasaru saw this as an opportunity to turn something revolting into a revolution.

All GIFs from Makeshift/YouTube.

If he could redirect the overflowing human waste, it could give them cleaner water and help the school save money on fire and electricity.

See, at that same time, his school was spending a lot of money on firewood, which, like many Kenyan buildings, it used to fuel its kitchens, heat, and lights. It can be labor intensive to gather all that wood — and it's even more expensive to buy it.  Plus, all the soot and ash it creates is not good for the staff to consume on such a regular and large-scale basis.

Mwasaru and his friends speak with school staff about the wood-burning furnace. Image from MakeShift/YouTube.

So Mwasaru thought — why not use a biogas digester instead?

In his sophomore year biology class, he had learned how these digesters can harvest natural bacterial byproducts, such as human waste and turn it into natural gas energy through a process called anaerobic digestion.

"I initially researched renewable energy and biogas [digesters] just to satisfy my intellectual curiosity," Mwasaru explains over email. "After a while, it became so much more than biology — there was chemistry too. It got to solving problems my local community faced, such as lack of access to affordable renewable energy."

Students on the Maseno School campus. Image from MakeShift/YouTube.

Mwasaru recruited a group of friends, and over the next year, they built a working prototype biogas digester for the school.

His initial proposal was met with some level of resistance from the community. "I want to burn our poop to fuel the kitchen" isn't exactly the kind of thing anyone wants to hear from a high school student.

"That's what pushed me to make sure it came to pass, and made sure it benefited them. Sometimes it's the bad energy you get that pushes you to do stuff," Mwasaru says.

Their earliest tests began by collecting raw "fuel" in the form of cow dung, food waste, fresh cut grass, and eventually, water.

These components were then mixed together into a paste...

... that they poured into a plastic vessel — the digester itself.

The natural bacteria contained in all these ingredients was more than enough to spark the anaerobic process as it broke down the organic waste materials.

Over time, the dense physical waste drops down to the bottom of the container, separating from the bacteria's combustible gas byproduct, which can then be collected and used for energy.

Lighting a burner with harvested biogas.

Granted, there were a few hiccups along the way. "I have to credit the failures we have had," Mwasaru says. "Our very first bio-digester prototype had too much gas and exploded, so we had to re-learn and re-invent the model until it was stable."

After a little trial and error, Mwasaru and friends completed their first working prototype — and it was good enough to earn them a coveted spot at the Innovate Kenya startup camp.

See this video here of how his small-scale prototype worked here:

It demonstrated the basic way that the anaerobic process could be contained within a single plastic vessel with pipes to move the gas along, while directing all the other organic waste into the ground. It wasn't enough to power the entire school on its own, but it was a start.

Then, at the startup camp, the teens had the opportunity to work alongside student engineers from MIT to hone and refine their project.

Mwasaru, left, with his friends Amos Dede and Charles, who also worked on the biogas project. Image from MakeShift/YouTube.

In fact, the product that this high schooler devised was so impressive that it earned them funding from Global Minimum — a charitable organization that encourages young innovators and leaders in Africa — to build a second,  improved prototype.

"Leroy seeks to understand everything he doesn't know by asking probing questions, taking notes and experimenting to learn," said David Moinina Sengeh, an MIT Researcher who also serves as Global Minimum's board president, in an interview with CNN. "His curiosity to explore and learn from doing within a motivation to bring broader social change is something that we hope to see in all our youth and frankly everyone."

Mwasaru speaking at the One Young World summit in Arizona. Image from One Young World/YouTube

As work began on the next, larger prototype, Mwasaru had the opportunity to travel to America to speak at prestigious conferences, such as Techonomy and One Young World.

He also returned home to the small village where his father still lives and helped to install a biogas digester there too, using the dung from his father's six cows.

It still doesn't smell great, but it generates enough gas for him to share with the other 30 houses in the village. Plus, it made things easier for the women in the village — another cause that Mwasaru is passionate about — who were sometimes spending up to 24 hours a week collecting firewood.

"When I deployed the Biogas pilot in my rural home, I mainly envisioned it as a way of leveraging sustainable renewable energy to make the world a better place through my community," Mwasaru says. "Now I believe through our activities that other sectors [such as women empowerment] could benefit immensely from the approach."

The dining hall at Maseno School. Image from MakeShift/YouTube.

The biogas digester project has since grown into a full-fledged startup/social enterprise called Greenpact — with Mwasaru serving as its CEO.

Since graduating from Maseno School, Mwasaru has taken a gap year to focus on the company's mission to address the lack of affordable renewable energy and proper sanitation that affects some 9 million Kenyan households.

He hopes to steer the company into an impactful organization that offers a wide range of products and services, including biogas digesters. He does have plans to go to college — but for now, Greenpact is his priority.

"I didn't see myself focusing on renewable energy but after doing some work in the field I figured out that I am actually more into renewable energy than I had imagined," Mwasaru says.

Now he's determined to show the world how to turn energy into opportunity and vice versa. The only way to do that is to stop seeing things as waste and start seeing them as resources instead.