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lefaystrent · 5 years

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Chaotic!Remus somehow switched Patton and Logan's aspects. Something happened and now logan as morality is breaking down sobbing and can't figure out why. Patton hasn't noticed anything other than super genius (he thinks he's a super hero now)

Logan felt a whoosh gothrough him.

It almost felt like wind, but therewas no breeze to be accounted for. Breezes didn’t exist in the mindscape. But somethinghad passed through Logan.

Logan paused to contemplate.

Nothing else happened so he resumedmaking his sandwich.

He was alone in the kitchen, preparinghis brain food. Just a sandwich and chips, nothing extravagant. It was only lunchtime after all. So he poured some chips from the bag onto the plate and—

One of the chips.

They fell to the floor.

Logan watched horror-struck as thepotato chip bounced off the edge of the plate, slid off the counter, andclattered to the floor.

It was like watching glass shatter.

Or seeing a dog wander into theroad and a car was going too fast and—

The bag of chips rumpled softly asLogan dropped it onto the counter.

He kneeled on the ground, but itwas already too late. The chip was dirty, and there were so many germs on the floor.This chip was inedible.

Logan could feel the loss of whatcould have been swell up in his chest and burst forth from his eyes. Overwhelmed,he dissolved into sobs.

“Logan! You’ll never guess whathappened! I’m a superhero now—wait, what’s going on?”

Patton had slid into view in hiscat onesie. He’d been excited before, but now his head cocked to the side as hewatched Logan bawl on the floor.

Logan pointed to the fallen chip.

“My chip!” Logan sniffled. “Itfell!”

“Oh, that’s sad,” Patton said, butit lacked his usual extra empathetic behavior. He shrugged. “It’s not the endof the world though, kiddo. It’s just a chip. It doesn’t really make sense tocry about it.”

“But I was going to eat it!” Logantearfully explained. In the back of his head, he noticed that his response wasincredibly out of line for his typical stoic behavior; Patton was right, itdidn’t make sense to cry about one chip. But he just couldn’t help it. “Now Ican’t eat it. Do you know how many germs collect on a kitchen floor? Too manyto risk!”

Patton put a hand to his chin inthe classic ‘thinker’ pose. “There are more chips though. There’s a whole bagon the counter. You could eat those.”

“I DON’T WANT THOSE! I WANTED THISONE!”

“Yikes.”

Virgil appeared suddenly as heoften did. He stood between them in the kitchen, headphones on his head. Hepushed them down around his neck.

“I could feel the angst-fest allthe way from my room. What’s up?”

“Logan’s throwing a childishtantrum because he formed an emotional attachment to a single chip.”

“I LOVED THAT CHIP!”

Virgil’s eyes bulged in that waythat said, “This is not the kind of mind-fuckery I signed up for.”

“I—….what?” Virgil asked, trying toprocess just what was happening. Patton was calling people childish? Logan wasprofessing his love for potato chips and crying? Wait, since when did Logan cry?

Patton sighed and shook his head. “Honestly,there’s no need to cause this much of a fuss. If you can’t bring yourself toeat any of the chips in this bag, I’m sure our budget will allow for us topurchase more from the store.”

“I’LL NEVER LOVE ANOTHER CHIP LIKETHIS ONE!” Logan whimpered. Like literally whimpered. Virgil’s jaw dropped.

Patton raised an eyebrow and shareda look with Virgil. “See what I’ve been putting up with?”

Okay, never mind the absolutelybaffling notion of Logan crying over anything. Since when did Pattonjust brush off people crying? Or look down on people like they were silly or stupid?He was acting more like Logan than even Logan was.

Wait…

Virgil looked at Logan. Logan whowas crying over dropping a chip.

Virgil pointed at Logan and Pattonand kept crossing his arms, trying to illustrate the connection his brain hadcaught on to.

“You…you guys, why are you guysacting like each other? Is this a prank? I don’t like pranks.”

“On the contrary, you enjoyperforming mischievous tricks every Halloween,” Patton corrected.

“That’s different. Also, since whendo you ever say ‘on the contrary’? You’ve literally never said that before inyour life.”

“I seem to have acquired the use ofan expanded vocabulary. Don’t I sound more efficient? At first I thought Imight have discovered a superpower, but now I am considering something morerational.”

“Uh, like how you and Loganobviously swapped places or something?”

“Indeed. We do seem to be actinglike each other. My apologies for the confusion, kiddo. Hm, ‘kiddo’ is an oddway to reference you, now that I think about it. You are clearly a man and nota child. I’ll need to rephrase the way I speak to you.”

Logan grabbed the chip bag from offthe counter and tossed it at Patton. “YOU’RE NOT MY REAL DAD!”

Patton brushed the crumbs off ofhimself. “Rude. Also, true. I am not your dad. I am a side of Thomas.”

Logan pouted, no longer crying butvery much teary-eyed. “I want my real dad back. I don’t like this. Everything’sso much all the time and I hate it. Just make us go back.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Pattonsaid. He glanced up towards the ceiling in thought. “Perhaps Roman would beable to help?”

Virgil frowned. “I bet he hadsomething to do with this.”

“He is the creative side; although,I do think that is an unfair assessment. Roman is, as they say, a ‘good boy’.”

Virgil wanted to snort. Or maybejust bang his head against the wall from the sheer weirdness of the situation.But the way Patton referred to Roman as being the creative side, it made Virgilremember that Roman was not completely the creative side.

Virgil scowled. “Remus!”

“You rang?” Remus said from rightbehind him.

Virgil jerked away and scuttled to theother side of the kitchen. Remus sat on the kitchen counter, legs crossed and asmile curling his lips.

“No time for chatting. Just changethem back,” Virgil ordered.

“Who said it was me?” Remus gaspedin offense. But the fact that he didn’t even ask about what Virgil meant wascondemning enough.

Virgil crossed his arms and stampedhis foot.

Remus threw up his hands. “Ugh,okay fine! It was me! You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

“Well you should. I fixed them. SirStick-Up-His-Ass can finally feel~. And Prudey Pants over there won’t beso scandalized every time I open my mouth.”

“Oh no, I am still scandalized,”Patton said, but it sounded off due to the lack of emotion in his tone. “My reactionsare merely reserved.”

Remus blinked at him.

Then he looked to Virgil. “You know,now that he’s a robot, he’s way less fun. I kinda liked it when I made himscream.”

“Dude,” Virgil made a face at Remus’swording. “Just change them back already. They can barely function like this andit’ll only hurt Thomas in the end.”

“Okay, I’ll turn them back.” Remusgrinned like a shark. “But only if you come back to the dark sides.”

“What?! No!”

“Alrighty then. Have fun with Tweedle-Deeand Tweedle-Dumb then! Byeeee!” Remus waved his fingers at him before disappearing.

Logan let out a pained wail. “I’MGONNA BE STUCK LIKE THIS FOREVER!!!”

“Actually, you’ll only be stucklike this for the remainder of Thomas’s life,” Patton corrected.

Logan just cried harder.

“Hmm, it seems I’ve upset him.”

Virgil rubbed tiredly at his face.He blew out a breath. “No need to freak out. We can handle this. Crazy stuffhappens all the time. Just gotta—figure it out.”

“Maybe we should enlist Roman’sassistance like I initially suggested?” Patton said. “Him and his brother haverelatively the same abilities. Just different usage.”

“I’ll try anything at this point,”Virgil grumbled. “Princey! Get your butt in here.”

“Uh, excuse me! I could have beenin an important meeting,” Roman said, rising up into the kitchen.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearinga fuzzy robe and your nails are half done.”

“And who’s fault is it that they’reonly half done?” Roman sassed. “You could have asked nicely for me to… Why isLogan crying on the floor in the fetal position?”

“Early onset midlife crisis.”Patton nodded seriously.

Roman gave him a narrowed-eyed lookand shook his head. “Okay, what did I miss?”

Virgil let it out all in onebreath. “Remus switched Patton and Logan’s personalities or something and nowthey’ve been acting like each other and it’s super creepy and Remus won’tchange them back so can you just change them back already?”

Roman’s eyes went wide in a dawningrealization. “Why didn’t I ever think of that? Switching spots! Oh my gosh,wouldn’t that be such a cool video idea? Think about it—”

“No! No thinking!” Virgil cut himoff, waving his arms in an X motion. “Just change them back!”

Roman glowered at him. “Well youdon’t have to be so pushy about it.” He snapped his fingers

Instantly Logan stopped crying. Hesat up on the floor and wiped at his face. He stared down at his tear stainedhands in awe.

Patton meanwhile hugged himself. “Ithink I just had an out-of-body experience!”

“How cathartic,” Logan mumbled tohimself, still wiping away the tears.

“You’re welcome, now back to my meeting.Byeeee!” Roman sang and sank out.

Virgil leaned against the fridge. “Idon’t get paid enough for this.”

“You don’t get paid at all,” Loganresponded absently.

“Well I should.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #Anonymous

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stormyreadingsxx · 4 years

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Tarot Suits

As an infophile (at least how my astrology chart describes me), I've found that I love sharing, consolidating, and using the information I've amassed in a strange life. Heavy on the Virgo and Gemini placements, it seems I've gathered a LOT of knowledge along the way (although how useful it is remains to be seen). It was a book that explained in depth to me what all the planets in our charts mean, their positions amongst each other, and how one Gemini sun Libra moon could completely differ from another with different house placements. The way Co--Star throws it all in our faces, sometimes too much data is overwhelming and does the opposite of informing any of us.

Sometimes, corroborating information is exactly what I need. Just like there are four elements that govern every astrological sign of the Zodiac (water, fire, earth, and air), there are four suits to be found in our Tarot decks. Wands, Cups, Pentacles, and Swords. Each one relates to a certain aspect in everyone's lives, bodies, spirits, and emotions. Like I am bound to my earthy, grounded, and stable nature, what the cards mean starts with their suit and number.

Each card number and court member have their own general themes and meanings. This is expanded on by whatever **suit **they fall in. People have a tendency to hope for the profound guidance of the Major Arcana cards when they get readings (like Death, The Sun, Judgement, etc...) to give them a sign and explain their next steps. But, given all the information that can be found in our Minor cards, they can turn out to be an astute and enlightening reading just the same.

Wands

"Wands describe your spirit, motion, and action. When this suit comes up, it's time to do something!"

Think of the fire signs you know (if you know any). I'm a firm believer in needing all the pieces of our cosmic puzzle for it to start holding water, but in personal experience they are are exactly how one would think. Live-wires. Sometimes impulsive, maybe loud. Passionate. Never a dull moment, usually a fun time (people crave this energy or to let loose with them often). Usually saying exactly what was meant.

If you let a fire dominant person handle your deck before a reading, don't be too surprised if some Wands fall out (Pentacles and Swords drop for me constantly as a Virgo sun, moon, AND Gemini rising). Aries, Leos, Sagittarius all come to my mind in movement. They've made the decision, maybe the deliberation wasn't long outside of the moment. But they are always in action, and as someone who lacks this fiery initiative in my own makeup, I kind of love it (in an anxiety-inducing way).

Their energy and ways are often primal. It may not be so easy for you to express yourself at times, but for most of this suit it can be guaranteed. The suit of Wands is about inspiration, passion, strength, and determination. What drives you? What are you willing to do to go get it? These cards are all about what make you tick, but they can also point out the presence of illusions, tricks, and maybe self-deception. As can be expected, both sides of the spectrum lay waiting there.

This element is masculine, powerful, and in line with fiery Mars energy. Fire is hot, wild, unpredictable, and energetic. It can be creative in helping us to cook food or build tools, or it can be destructive, like a devastating bush fire or house fire.

“Should a Tarot reading be predominantly Wands cards, you can be sure that you are seeking solutions to issues that are based mainly in the realm of thought, or that are in the first stages of development.”

These cards are not limited only to people with flaming zodiac signs in the charts, rather they take a look at what motivates and energizes one’s soul.

Cups

“Cups describe your emotions and relationships. When this suit comes up it’s time to listen to your intuition!”

If Wands were flames, then Cups are their equal and opposite reaction: water. Fire yields transformation, and water sure can too. But the feisty element was about action. Water-holding Cups are all about how we feel on the inside. How we process these emotions and go throughout our every day lives. Wands hold a distinctly masculine energy, but our friend water here brings a feminine power into play. Stable. Cleansing. Purifying.

Our emotional consciousness is very important, especially when it comes to relationships, feelings, and our connection to this world and everything at work. In movement and in flow, water is still something that creates power in a different way. A person in control and in the knowledge of their own feelings holds a quiet power, one that is often appreciated.

“Cups Tarot cards indicate that you are thinking with your heart rather than your head, and thus reflect your spontaneous responses and your habitual reactions to situations. Cups are also linked to creativity, romanticism, fantasy and imagination.“

If the deck is speaking to you in Cups cards, maybe you are seeking relief or resolution to interpersonal troubles. Perhaps expressing yourself or how you feel, or maybe a more love related matter. It is always important to pay attention to your deck’s tone for the day and what they have to say. Often times, cards may not sync up with your current situation but a situation a few weeks/months in the future.

Pentacles

“Pentacles describes your material world, body, and finances. When this suit comes up, listen to your common sense!”

Ah, ruling a large part of my personal domain, earth signs (and maybe Virgos in particular) can have a bit of a ‘loss’ mindset. ‘What do I need?’ ‘What can I do?’ My VIrgo is most often in the fourth house (of homes and family ties). I like to nest, hoard things that I or someone else may need in the future, and focus on having what I need. The Pentacles encompasses the tangible things in life. You don’t have to be materialistic to realize things, to a certain extent, matter.

Pentacles, like Cups, is a divinely feminine and responsible element. Are you prepared perfectly the night before a trip or do you wing it? Make plans out of the blue or prefer to hyper schedule instead? I can speak for my virginal sign when I say I am at my best and happiest when prepared and helping someone else be prepared. The Suit of Pentacles Tarot cards deal with the physical or external level of consciousness and thus mirror the outer situations of your health, finances, work, and creativity. They have to do with what we make of our outer surroundings – how we create it, shape it, transform it and grow it. On a more esoteric level, Pentacles are associated with the ego, self-esteem and self-image.

To have a lot of these earth messages come to you, it means you’re grappling with extremely real obstacles and things in your way. Have confidence you can overcome them!

Swords

“Describe your thoughts and state of mind. When this suit comes up, it’s time to make a plan and let go of worry!”

Swords I probably pull more than Pentacles for myself (which is interesting since as a Gemini rising I apparently present as an air sign, first not the neurotic earth sign I truly am). Who are we without our beliefs? For the death penalty? Against it? Abortion? Space travel? Our lives shape what we believe in and our stances for or against things. What we think and where we draw the line differentiates ourselves from another. Swords are all about the fine line between good, bad, and our own inner dialogues.

“Swords are often double-edged and in this way the Suit of Swords symbolizes the fine balance between intellect and power and how these two elements can be used for good or evil. As such, the Swords must be balanced by spirit (Wands) and feeling (Cups) to have the most positive effect.“

If you find a deck speaking to you constantly in Swords, you may be fighting a mental battle (guilty LMFAO). Struggling with decisions you can’t bear to make or maybe arguing against your own nature, Swords may ask you to wrangle the ego inside of yourself to BE your best self. Taking action is important and necessary, but remember that each action has a consequence. Likely good and bad ones.

When I get Swords, I try to stop and think what they could be about.

#Tarot #Tarot Cards #tarot deck #minor arcana #major arcana #zodiac #astrology #fire #water #earth #air #Pentacles #Swords #Wands #Cups

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originalpistol · 4 years

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𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐦𝐲 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠. — Part One

Lace flowed down to plank wood flooring, and spilt on down for a foot or two of train. The brims of my lips were full with various little hemming pins, all so I could make the appropriate alterations. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stood so firmly in one spot, despite my feet begging to be free of the heels. Nope. There would be no rest in sight. At least, not for the near future. My mind was busy rambling over and over last week’s events and just how everything had played out. Part of my soul still remained cautious and in disbelief of it all, but yet here I stood. Tacking in pin after pin to hold the dress in the perfect placement for when I was ready to lead it away, and into the sewing cabinet. Baby blue eyes scanned across the mirrored board I had many measurements spread across, nodding to myself once more as I slipped another pin from between my lips, into my fingers, and right by my thumb right through the soft — damn near silken, fabric. Weaving the pin into place, and securing it with a final thread of fabric against the shoulder. Draping it down to sit perfect against the shoulder of the mannequin at hand. They would slouch slightly, but never enough to reveal too much skin. Classy. Effortlessly classy. For a moment I pulled away from my project to look over it, eyes narrowing in suspicion and critique of my own work. Everything would be perfect, and without flaw by the time I was done. Oh, but time was ticking. Even as I worked away day after day, hour after hour. Refining each and every aspect of this dress. Adding subtle changes, and even some dramatic ones. I’d went from loving the way it looked soft and delicate to craving something more extravagant. More length. More crystal organza, more finely made textures. Something for every bride. How in the 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 hell had I managed to get into this? Surely to God people were going to be floored when they saw a 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 line come from one of the biggest names in lingerie. The question rose in my mind quicker than I’d been able to stop it, and I hadn’t given much time to the whole idea. Hell, I didn’t pay it enough mind to even stop the sweeping motion of my needle and thread. Closely, and precisely, guiding the needle in against the smallest stitch. Over and over until I’d mastered the perfect design. I was laying a pattern for Swarovski to follow with their intricate beading of crystals. Each dress would dawn a new take on an old classic. News of my collaboration with Elie Saab and Oscar de la Renta caught on like wildfire amongst a desert dry forest in the heat of July. Each dress was created with a particular vision, and each dress would hold its own place amongst the lineup of weddings. Some were season-specific, while others were indicative of an era in time. One doesn’t downplay a classic. No. We are here to pay homage to the times that have passed, and to restore them to a more refined glory. These dresses were all inspired. Each piece was something new, and each one held a certain key to my heart. I’d dedicated months upon months to the core design before I would even remotely allow the other designers to spill their own creativity into the designs. Not even a sketch was released. All anyone knew was the letter I’d sent over. Handwritten, and forwarded by person to be hand-delivered. Everything was reminiscent of a step-back in time. I wanted these dresses and this collaboration to drip in the essence of the beauty in simplicity. ✦✧✦ ✧✦✧ ✦✧✦ My dearest Oscar, I write to you in hopes to achieve something wonderful. Something no one expects. I hope to restore the light of a time passed to the overly sensitized world at hand. To bring something back that was once a simple dream. You’ve touched some of the most delicate fabrics in efforts to create the best designs in wedding couture. You’ve mastered the art, and I hope to do the same. This fall, I plan to release a line of wedding dresses unlike any prior. With the skillful design I’ve created, and the whimsical guide of Elie’s details, and your fabrics; this will be the crowning moment. You’re probably wondering why I, of all people, have decided to do this. And maybe you think you know. I doubt if you do. The reason is simple: Every bride deserves to have something that speaks to her soul. Most women settle on their dress for something similar to what they desire the most. Why? Well, because while this dress might have the sparkle she craves, that one mirrors the perfect amount of tulle to train ratio. After all, isn’t the fabric more important than the embellishments? For her — the truth is no. But she will settle for yes. It is close enough. I refuse. In February you and Elie will receive instructions on how you’ll not only travel to my studio, but everything else of importance to your stay. Plan for a few months, at the least. I won’t accept no as an answer. When this letter is delivered, I will assume it as a yes. Much love and regards, Alice. ✦✧✦ ✧✦✧ ✦✧✦ Both he and Elie were given the exact letter, with a few minor changes. They both knew me far too well to challenge my stance on this collaboration. Once I set my mind and focus to something? It will be mine. They would see the signature of my first name as a comfort, and as a symbol of our close relations. It was rare that I let anyone call me by my first name, and especially as I grew to a higher stature within the realm of business and high fashion. There was no need for semantics or intermingling of feeling, not as far as I was concerned. This was much of why I was regarded to as cold or standoffish. I simply wasn’t one that cared too much for feelings or anything that would stand in my way of getting what I wanted, or where I wanted to be. Nimble, agile, fingers tempted the tip of the needle to edge between the layers of a well-defined ruffle of silk and lace. I’d slipped to my knees in efforts to truly capture the design I planned to embody with this dress. Different from the last, in every way possible. Down to the stitching. None of these pieces would hold the same fabrics, or even the same similarities. This is why I’d found eight young ladies who were planning to make their walk down the infamous aisle sometime in their near future. I brought these women in, interviewed each one for hours on end, and eventually came out with a sketch in mind of what I would do. Though none of them knew to expect their perfect dress to show up in their closets, let alone to be snatched from the real world, and thrown onto a runway in front of millions of designers, and couture-hounds alike. See, the whole catch to my plan was that in order for these women to receive their dream gown would be their cooperation in walking the runway. Some would succeed, and others? They would fall through the cracks of their fragile minds as nerves came out to play. Those ladies are nothing more than a weak representation of a woman. I’d simply roll my ocean inspired eyes, and scrap their sketch from the book that lay in my leather clad lap. Let my gaze fall on the crumpled paper rather than the girl. She wouldn’t be worth the time to give another look. Instead, my dismay and lack of interest was more than enough to settle any questions she might have. 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕. Black fingernails slowly tapped down against the course cartridge paper at hand, giving way to the thinning of my patience. Not only in the ladies, but in the process as a whole. Only one dress was finished. It was now mid-June. I had eight ladies locked in. None of which would know that it was their dress that was looming in the balance if they chose to back away from the runway when their time came. Hell, the only way any of the others knew that was the plan was by the way I scraped the dress’s sketch in entirety. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d heard the audible crumble of a dream from the gasp that spilt by the hopeful lips of a bride. Did I get joy from the shattered hope? Hell yes. But did I care enough to even deliver the pathetic tribe of bride’s their sketches, anyways? I could. Maybe that would be the least I could do considering the sheer amount of man-hours I’d taken from their lives to create a design all their own. All to leave their precious dresses a compromised mess on the guest-office floor. I wouldn’t dare let them set foot in my office. Jesus, no. Either way? These ladies had their chance at a once-in-a-lifetime gown. It was on them that they couldn’t check themselves when it came to their own mental measurements. “Sucks to suck, I suppose,” Southern reflects built into the sentence at hand, and a smirk rode along my lush lips. There wasn’t even a small hint of sarcasm resonating behind each of these words. Nope. in all seriousness I’d stood to my feet, and nodded one of my employees to gather the remaining sketch from the floor before it landed in the hands of a vengeful bride. We all knew how emotional women tended to be when a wedding was in the mix — how fucking classic. For the life of me, I couldn’t wrap my head around being a bitch at the cause of a wedding .𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐𝘩. Rip the band-aid off, and get it over with, princess. The impulsive reaction to roll my eyes was something I couldn’t and wouldn’t refrain from. So, naturally, I let my head doddle back against slender shoulders, let out a disgruntled sigh, and rolled my eyes. Nothing new here. Perfectly manicured fingers began to tap down against the marble table top, mind dwindling on what I was going for next. Crush another soul? Nah. A few a day was more than enough. Slowly, I thumbed through the sketchbook at my fingers. Each page was filled with a few small ideas of swatches, or drawings pertaining to the one dress at hand. There was a different book per bride; Per dress. Nothing about these pieces was easy. There were challenges hidden within each and every design. Sure, some were complex while others remained simple to the touch, yet they were all a challenge. Though I did love a genuinely good boggle of the mind. They always brought out the best pieces. A small smile curved into place against my lips the moment I thought about having each and every piece of my collection complete. Without a second thought, I sprung to action. Slipping the shading pencil from behind my ear, and between my fingers as I found the correct page. This would be where I worked on the bodice of Alicia’s dress. Alicia. Boy, there really was nothing too special about her. She was rather plain. Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and with a personality about as exuberant as a rock’s. It was sad, really. However, I could see where her ideas blossomed. They weren’t cohesive to say the least, but they allowed me enough wiggle room to be able to create a true masterpiece. This particular dress was beginning to grow into a personal favorite. A skirt created purely out of a glimmer encrusted lace, and followed through with a sateen tie securing the bottom of the waistline, and cinching her inward. Something to allow her to look smaller in stature. At her request. Brisk strokes of the lead against the thick paper resulted in a slender design. Something with bones in it, but undetectable to the naked eye. No one would openly know of this bride’s struggle with her own self-reflection. As far as I was concerned? The only one who would know of this would be the fingers whom built the dress, and the one who wore it down the damn aisle. On to the neckline. I tinkered around on several ideas for this particular design. Would I leave the shoulders bare and exposed, or would I place small sleeves to cusp the tanned skin? Neither. I decided to wrap the same sateen around her neck as if it were a gentle fist slipping around the slender exterior. Something sensual to the eyes, and yet leaving a mystery beneath. Giving her freedom for any surprise she hoped to give beneath. Sleeveless dresses made that hard. Once the draft of my design for Alicia was done, I made a conscious effort to pen in the number 8. Eight dresses down. Eight that have been completed from my side of the sketchbook, and from my hands? This book would travel to both Elie and Oscar for their creative input. By the end of this, we would easily have every page bruised with scritches and scratches of the design. Perhaps to the naked, untrained eye, you wouldn’t see anything more than a mess strewn across the pages. Probably. But between the three of us? This show should debut as one of the best. A show that was truly bound to top any prior to, and probably would outweigh others to come. Nothing new there, when it came to things I created. A deep sigh parted my soft, lush lips, and I found myself flipping the pages of the leather-bound book closed, and slipping it inside my bag. Now, to hand this off to the boys. Light echoes of my heels touching base with the wooden floors filled the empty office around me; I loved that noise. I always had. I could remember being a little girl and demanding to wear heels, or the closest thing to it. The house was always filled with some clacking noise or another. Somehow, someway, I was going to feel like I was somebody. Crazy how wearing heels could bring on that semblance. Heels made me feel like I could take over the world. — Maybe, just maybe that was why I owned so damn many. Locks of caramel brown hair flowed heavenly against my slender shoulders when I pushed my way through the arched glass doors. A single handprint coming into view when I did, and I didn’t bother to knock when I stepped into the threshold of their corridor. Both of them were to their own vices, one studying over what seemed to be a different set of sketches, and the other was focused right to an easel and a wooden palette. There had to be eighteen color mixtures spilt against the grain, and something about that caused a small smile to spill out against porcelain features. The way all of our minds work so differently, but yet we could all come to a harmony? Beautiful. The respect both of these men had earned from me was to a level very few were ever able to acquire, and a piece of me hoped I had managed to gain this from their perspectives as well. It wasn’t until Elie reached a single hand out that I was brought right back to the moment at hand, and a sly little smirk prompted itself in among my pink shaded lips. “Damn, you really think I’m just going to hand the sketches over that easily? Good try. No. You 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 are going to hear what I have to say, and then you can have the sketches to do with as you will.” Every reflect of my tone was laced with a strict implication. This show was my baby. My process. My idea. “Hmm,” Oscar hummed out of chapped lips that were shrouded in a line of stubble that faded against his neck. “You’re just as difficult as Christian regarded, my dear. But exhilarating, nonetheless, hmm?” Those words seemed to be coated with a fatherly affection, and something in that seemed to ease me. One swift nod was given in his respect, Elie nodded his own approval of my conditions to which I would show them. Without the smallest hesitation I made myself at home on the ottoman that sat only a foot or two shy of both men, letting my gaze wander over them for a moment or two longer. “In this book there are 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 dresses. Each and every dress is to be worn by the bride that will walk in it, and every dress will be exactly as she envisioned it. There will be no flaws. There will be no settling for one thing over the other. You two will take every little note I’ve given, and you will transform. I have designed each skirt and bodice. Fine details and embellishments; that is your specialties. Right hand moves in accordance with the left, boys. I want no changes made to the base of the dress.” “Seven? There are supposed to be 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭..?” Elie questioned, raising a single bushy brow in my direction. “There 𝐚𝐫𝐞 eight. You have seven.” Every word that spilt past my lips was certain and calculated. “Alice. Why are we only to have seven if there are eight to be completed? You cannot hand us a partial portfolio of sketches.” Oscar seemingly argued towards my words, and I hadn’t been able to help the eyeroll. “In due time. You both will see the eighth dress. Independently. Of my own volition. As for now? Complete the first seven, when that is done I should have my segment of the eighth dress completed.” No, I hadn’t withheld the last dress as a way of buying myself any time. Not in the slightest. It was actually a quite different reason, if I was being completely honest with myself, but it was a reason I was inaudibly terrified to admit both to myself and to anyone else on the face of the earth. Fᴇᴀʀ — This was something I was foreign to both in mind and emotion. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d allowed myself to feel any sense of fear, and there was something in that fact alone that sent my mind into a mild panic. Though I sat still right in front of both of these men, and kept every hint of emotion beneath the perfect premise of a woman; saving my face for my own mirror. A confident smile spelled its way across my lips as I handed over both the bag and the sketchbook full of my designs. Oscar went in for his usual hug, but instead was met with a firm handshake and a warm gaze. The same was given to Elie as I knew far too well what would follow the endearing touch of a hug. You could tell by the way I remained rather detached from the exit that there was a story looming in the depths of my mind, and perhaps haunting the trenches of my heart. Before I knew it, I was standing outside the glass doors, fingers shaking in the memory that deemed itself important enough to shroud my accomplishment. Every goddamn dress was completed from my side of the sketchbook. Every pin was perfectly placed, and everything was exactly how I wanted it, but yet here I stood with the weight of what felt like the entire ocean on my small form. I was drowning. Was this going to be a continual hindrance in my life? Would I always be plagued with the hurt and fear that riddled its way through each and every bone in my body? Looks like it’s time to shut yourself off from both mind and heart, Alice. Time to go void. Fuck emotions, right? E x a c t l y. Broken glass crashed to the ground only seconds before, and now? — 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆.

#writing #author #fanfiction #roleplay

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citialiin · 4 years

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FIVE SONGS

list five songs associated with your muse and its meaning to them as a character, or to you as the writer. this can be applied in-character or out-of-character. it can go as deep as looking at the song’s real-world origins or meaning along with the themes it carries to the muses’ story, values, or experiences, or as simple as if your muse would listen to this kind of music, or even if you just listen to these pieces for inspiration.

TAGGED BY: @dansiere, who did such a good detailed job they even included an “honorable mentions list” ? i am embarrassed to type mine out now TAGGING: @blossomingbeelzebug @zhrets @dirtyfilthysunshine @prcphesise @hyakiru @foxcharmed

01. kaun komsott - ros sereysothea

this song actually lyrically has absolutely nothing to do with ziggy !!!! kaun komsott / កូនកំសត់ actually just means “poor/pitiful child” it’s just a khmer dub of a song from a taiwanese movie lol but i feel like this is the kind of music he would listen to that made him fall in love with, like ... humanity, as dumb as that sounds. it’s time period appropriate (late 60s/early to mid 70s), the song is really good and it’s SO emotional. i could see him sitting in the apartment of his bandmates after being “found” and they teach him how to use the record player and he sits there going through each and every record they have and listening to this and its like the fucking scene in ratatootie where the goddamn rat can visualize tastes as colors but he would be so enamored with the song he would see it in colors or something i dunno. something has definitely fucking happened to my brain because ever since nat and alex and i rewatched ratatootie we keep referencing it for our characters. anyways i ended up using an instrumental of kaun komsott in the final film i made as the song that plays during the end. so this song just also means a lot to me because it’s part of how i made this character and the film/story i animated to go along with him, i am sure you are all absolutely sick of hearing me talk about it <3

02. who can i be now - daveed booweyywywy now you found me, now can I be real? can I be real? if it’s all a vast creation / putting on a face that’s new someone has to see / a role for him and me someone might as well be you

one of z’s most obvious character motifs is figuring out self identity through adopting different guises. he markets himself as being so overly confident and almost arrogantly certain of himself -- rock god space idol whatever -- as his own way of learning who he thinks he might be underneath it all. i think at first it started off a little innocuous, a ‘ fake it till u make it ’ thing at the least and maybe more obviously a ‘ im not a human so i have to pretend to be someone else ’ deal, but over time it became almost all consuming and just obliterated all his previously held sense of self in favor of some weirdly demented version of who he wanted to be. 683 starts off with the same core personality traits as ziggy: maybe he’s a little vain, a little selfish, but he’s very interested in creativity/self-expression and he wants to be thought of as a unique individual and appreciated for his differences. but the difference is that 683 isnt an arrogant asshole who has no regard for other people in the slightest. so yeah ... who can u be now ... is it worth it to adopt a different guise or should he go through the effort of figuring out what parts of his personality were corroded by human influence and what parts are genuinely him? my big endgame thoughts for his story would be that he eventually just decides to retire from the public eye and fucks off entirely. this would be over the course of a long long long time -- maybe he has a good 20 yr run in the industry -- but there are some things about him he has to deal with (mental health issues, drug addiction, also the fact that you’re a freaky alien creature who doesnt age like a human so you’re physically like 46 and you still look like you’re 25?) so he inevitably decides he doesnt need the horrible pressure of fame and he ought to just live his life for himself. i think this would be a nice final song for him to sing/perform -- then he goes into the dressing room and cuts his hair and just vanishes. bye.

03. sunny afternoon - the kinks Help me, help me, help me sail away Well give me two good reasons why I oughta stay 'Cause I love to live so pleasantly Live this life of luxury Lazing on a sunny afternoon

1. i think this would sound A LITTLE like the kind of music he would write/play albeit i feel like his would be more exciting and have more samplings of like laser noises or pewpewpew or weird spaceship sounds BUT. its also pretty time period appropriate. even in “modern” verses ziggy is inexplicably obsessed with the 1970s, he likes bell bottoms and thinks groovy patterns are neat and he owns too many lava lamps. anywayz. 2. just the general idea of feeling unfulfilled with luxury -- even if ziggy enjoys his fame and wealth and the absolutely insane amount of pussy/dick he gets at some level he is still cognizantly aware of how weirdly empty he feels. he ditched atomina and came here because he felt unfulfilled and bored and unwanted. now he feels wanted (clearly, everyone loves him) and he feels entertained (earth is So Good at fun distractions) but his fulfillment still isnt quite there. he’s getting there -- but in exchange of being able to live this life of fame, he’s had to kind of change everything about himself and live this almost caricature version of himself, and he knows he cant keep it up forever. the luxury will run out one day and he’ll be a washup and no one cares about celebrities once they stop being hip. it is literally only a matter of time before ziggy has to find out who he is because no one can be a “rockstar” forever.

04. i hate jimmy page - mindless self indulgence SUCKAS CAN REACH OUT TOUCH ME EAT ME BITE DA FUTURE & FUCK DA PAST I'm lower than most animals and fear what might be weird and all those voices in my head have every right to be there i ain't a girl just cause i rock the boat i ain't a boy just cause i rock your world

i mean he does hate jimmy page but that’s beside the point. its just a good song about being a crazy rockstar and has the same Craziness that i feel like accompanies his character ... just go listen to it you will understand. there is nothing to explain here. even the lyric “ill show u how official midgets jack me off” like just accept it. it’s whatever but yeah i aint a girl i aint a boy ... i guess his gender (or lack thereof) never really comes up in rp but its still an important part of his character. if any of u guys ever call him a man in prose again ill kick ur ass. gender is like an accessory to him and he just takes whatever aspects of masculinity/femininity he prefers and discards everything else. to him he’s just as much a “man” or a “woman” as he is a “human” which is to say he isnt, at all, and he just pretends to be because he feels obligated to. also ziggy’s brain kind of sounds like this...just Noises. his brain sounds like a microwave that’s been going off for 26 years. i think his brain is a single uncooked pinto bean rolled in glitter that’s been left in a box with a cobweb

05. ghostride - crumb daydreaming I stay in the backseat / the slow beat rocks me back to sleep keeps me on automatic press my face up close against the glass i see the people when they pass they move so automatic you wake up when I go down / the radio reminds me I'm alive we've been hearing it all night

i care more about 683 on atomina than i do about ziggy on earth sometimes (BUT I CARE THEM BOTH. DO U?) so ... 683 feeling aimless and drifting but trying to find purpose through passion, a person, some sort of concrete meaning -- going through the motions of life makes him feel empty he spends almost every day going through the same toil while feeling guilty or like a burden and also feeling like he’s ultimately nothing more than a replaceable cog in a machine. his species had a near extinction = bottleneck which made them so genetically similar they’re almost clones of each other. no one ever seems to do anything wrong except him, he finds no joy or fulfillment in anything at all. all he ever wanted (which isnt a selfish desire at all) was to feel purpose, or feel wanted, or appreciated. inevitably he leaves because of his own imagination -- he yearns for something More, and he doesn’t know What, so he figured he ought to at least Try instead of waste his life away. also atomina is supposed to sound like “automatic.” do NOT make fun of my bad scifi. i am trying to mimic the way 1970s scifi is endearingly cheesy. come here. i just want to touch you with this knife. gently tho it wont go inside of you. bro you are bleeding. bro we are bleeding and i keep putting the knife in your soft parts.

#once again under the cut because i cant do memes without making them essays dawg!#i just have Things to say about zippy #also thank you so much for tagging me ... i know i take 200 years to do memes but i love them u_u #i did a meme like this earlier so i picked a new set of songs #KEEP YOUR 'LECTRIC EYE ON ME ; queue

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making-a-ru · 5 years

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Crystals for Gemini Season Part 1

Gemini is an Air sign, mutable, ruled by Mercury and the first dual sign of the zodiac. Communication and versatility are pursued by Gemini energy. They tend to be very logical, and need a lively intellectual partner. Gemini can express themselves in so many ways, due to their adaptable and witty traits, but media is definitely one of their favorite ways, which is why so many are great with social media. They have the eloquent and cunning use of words, with the help of Mercury. It's no mistake there are so many freaking amazing Gemini rappers. Since Gemini tend to know a little about a lot of things, they sometimes lack deep knowledge about topics they like, but they are quick learners so they can be quick to assimilate knowledge under certain circumstances. Because of their gift of communication, they make great marketers, salespeople, excellent business travelers, but they also like a change of scenery. Gemini can bounce around jobs a lot until they find the right one.

Gemini can't happily stay with a job that is the same exact thing everyday. There has to be excitement and not much of a predictable routine. One of my favorite Geminis struggled finding a job that made her happy until she discovered wedding photography. Now she gets to go do destination weddings, or shoot 3 day long Hindi weddings. She is immersed in different cultures every weekend, she gets to choose her quirky and fun clients to make the most interesting wedding photos for couples all over the country. She's her own boss and she gets to work at home with her dogs. Geminis have the capacity to succeed at doing there own thing, because they can adapt and communicate so well. When you need to be the star of the show, the manager, the promoter, and the stylist all in one, harness the Gemini energy within your chart.

Gemini celebrities: Tupac Shakir, Kanye, Lana del Rey, Donald Trump, Bob Dylan, Marilyn Monroe, Morgan Freeman (the voice of God is Gemini), Sir Ian McKellen, Helena Bonham Carter, Laverne Cox, the Olsen Twins, Octavia Spencer, Stevie Nicks, Macklemore

Serpentine: aids in meditation and spiritual exploration. Helps you understand the spiritual basis of life, retrieving wisdom, regaining past life memory. It helps you feel more in control of your life. The light green serpentine is called an Infinite stone, gently brings contact with angelic guidance.

Aquamarine: enhances the ability for fast response and reasoning. Reduces stress and quiets the mind. It harmonizes its surroundings. If you are a sensitive person, this stone is for you to invoke tolerance and overcome judgmentalism. If you are overwhelmed by responsibility, this encourages you to take responsibility for yourself, dynamically breaking down self-defeating programs you created for yourself.

Apatite: increases motivation, builds up energy reserves. Encourages openness, extroversion. Dissolves aloofness, which is a good thing, because Gemini are the worst at keeping plans. If you make plans with a Gemini, have a backup plan for the day because 7.5 times out of 10 they will ghost you that day or cancel at the last minute. This stone stimulates creativity and intellect, clears confusion, sorrow, and apathy, replacing it with personal wisdom and truth.

Agate: is known as the Gemini gemstone. This stone is all about balance; emotional, physical, and spiritual, aiding in centering and stabilizing energy. It has the power to harmonize yin and yang. It calmly brings strength, gently building self confidence. It improves concentration, perception and analytical abilities, all the good Mercury energy. It encourages contemplation, spiritual growth, and inner stability.

Calcite: powerful energy cleanser and amplifier. It removes stagnant, negative energy and replaces it with speedy development and personal growth, opening higher awareness, connecting emotions to intellect, and turns ideas into motion. If you have lost hope and motivation, grab some calcite.

Different colors of calcite helps different aspects.

Red calcite: increases energy, uplift emotions, aids willpower. Removes stagnant energy, alleviates fear, and brings understanding. Removes the blockages keeping you from stepping forward in life.

Green calcite: is a great mental healer, dissolving old programming and rigid beliefs. It moves stagnant communication forward. This is a very cooking stone, physically. Use for fevers, overheating, burns, and inflammation. My house has no A/C, so I definitely cool off with green calcite.

Blue calcite: recuperation and relaxation, lowers blood pressure, dissolves pain. Lifts anxieties and releases negativity. Used on the throat can clear communication.

Yellow calcite: uplifting, yet relaxing. Enhances meditation, spirituality, linking to higher source guidance.

Mangano (Pink) Calcite: a heart crystal connected to the angelic realm. It encourages forgiveness, releases fear and grief trapped in the heart's past. Prevents nightmares. Also call "the love thermometer" it grows more pink as your love grows, but loses its color when one lover stops loving the other. Can be carried to project "I'm available" energy when manifesting love.

Tourmaline: cleanses, purifies, and transforms negative energies into lighter vibrations. Good for clearing auras and blockages. Aids in understanding yourself and going deeper within to diminish fear and attracts compassion. Brings mental processes and energy centers into alignment.

#witchblr #witch #witch community #witchcraft #crystals #crystal witch #crystal #crystal aesthetic #quartz #tourmaline #calcite #agate #apatite #gemini #zodiac #crystals for gemini #crystal community

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cosmo-gonika · 5 years

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The Inspiration behind the Original Star Wars.

Okay fam, I cannot leave this fandom without leaving this increidble article I stumbled upon while I was writing Songs of Innocence. This article has never gone through main medias but I believe it is entirely true. I am myself very knowledgable of the esoteric current they are talking about here and I can confirm all what they say is true and makes so much sense. And why I think the TROS has failed to bring mystical depth to the ST.

Here is the source if you want to read directly: https://neoanthroposophy.com/2017/02/05/source-of-the-force-secret-behind-star-wars-inspiration/

Source of the Force: Secret Behind Star Wars Inspiration by Douglas Gabriel.

I would like to share with you my personal experience of collaborating for three days in the early 70’s with Marcia Lucas and a small team of Anthroposophy scholars on the script of Star Wars and my recent discoveries about how that foundational work affected the writing, editing and expansions of the original Trilogy.

First of all, it seems fitting that my first encounter with the origins of Star Wars – a modern fairy tale ultimately about the return to spirit – would happen at Christmas time, a season in which humanity recalls its sense of spirit and hope.

I was a student at the Waldorf Institute at the time, and remember the day that I first met the characters of Luke Skywalker, R2D2, C3PO, and the entire Star Wars entourage. Yet, when I first encountered them, they were more like two-dimensional paper-dolls in an unfinished script, before their true meaning had been breathed into them. For example, Luke Starkiller as I met him was a far cry from the Skywalker he turned out to be. You may be surprised to learn that the story in its early form was depicted through the machinist eyes of two robots, not yet the familiar, crowd-pleasing epic that would become one of the most famous and endearing movies in the world.

That is, of course, before I and colleagues from the Waldorf Institute would spend three days as part of a think-tank working session with George Lucas’ talented wife and professional film editor, Marcia Lucas (née Marcia Griffin), to transform a story that was originally based on two robots into a sweeping modern fairy-tale that even today still evokes a timeless sense of human destiny.

Meeting Marcia

At that time, like the characters, I was in development, too, as are all earnest students. In addition to being a student of Anthroposophy – a discipline of knowledge developed by Rudolf Steiner concerned with all aspects of human life, spirituality and future evolution – I also managed the Waldorf bookstore, which was a treasure trove of spiritual knowledge.

That Christmas season had been busy, and I was just locking up the store and ready to head home when my teacher, Werner Glass, approached me.

Born in Austria, Werner was a beloved instructor at the Waldorf Institute and inarguably the most prominent Anthroposophist scholar in America. I can only say today that it was a great honor to be his student. That day, there was a glint of lighthearted cheer in his eyes. Thinking that he was simply going to wish me a merry holiday, I was surprised when he asked me to follow him.

“Where?” I said, blindly following him like a faithful puppy.

Without answering, he led me into one of the more spacious classrooms, where four other students were already seated around a table, talking with the Institute’s co-director, Hans Gebert. A woman I did not recognize seemed to be at the center of the conversation – a pleasant-looking brunette with a friendly, yet sophisticated, air.

When everyone saw Werner in the doorway, they looked up with a sense of expectation, as most students typically did when Werner walked into a room. He was like a father to us all. He motioned me to take a seat, then sat down and began to explain the situation.

“I’m very pleased to introduce you all to Marcia Lucas,” he said. “Her husband is a well-known movie director who is working on a screenplay for a science fiction film – a space opera of sorts – and they would like our Waldorf perspective. I don’t know if you have heard of George Lucas?”

This was the first time I had ever heard George Lucas’ name. I certainly hadn’t seen his critically-acclaimed and commercially successful American Graffiti. I also didn’t know that his wife, Marcia, was an accomplished film editor in her own right.

“Well, Marcia is familiar with Anthroposophy and the work of Rudolph Steiner, and she needs our help with the script, to make it more Waldorf-inspired so it will have good merit as both a movie and a spiritual story.”

Marcia nodded and offered more context. She said that the “big screen” should be used to deliver important messages to audiences and tell a more spiritual story, one that has a good foundation in the truth, not just another director’s dream.

This began to inspire me, as story-telling is at the center of our teaching curriculum in Waldorf schools. Movies are mass exposure to stories. Stories, like fairy tales, help inspire the psyche of those who witness them, similar to shared dreams. At the Waldorf school, the teacher will tell a story to the children, who learn it by heart and recite it back in class the next day. Once memorized, the stories are further interpreted through music, dance, drawing, painting, and any number of other creative responses.

Marcia needed our input, she told us, because the script was entering its third draft and lacked an element of spirituality. I could see that she was problem-solving, earnestly searching for a way to make the screenplay work.

“I’m sure we’re up to the task,” Werner said, looking at me.

For the past few minutes, I had been sitting there wondering, “Why am I here? No one had even told me about this meeting.” Then, I looked around and realized that I was the most experienced student there. The others were too young, less studied in Anthroposophy and certainly not up to this level of work. I was immensely relieved that Werner would be there to lead us through the session, and sat back, relaxed.

“The dialogue is a bit lacking,” Werner said. “I told Marcia we could help with that as well.”

With that, Werner rose from his seat and said, “Well, then. My family is waiting at home and I must be off.”

None of us could believe it. America’s leading Anthroposophist was going to leave this important project in our hands?

Werner added, “Douglas is my right hand, and I will check in on your work throughout the next few days.”

He then welcomed Marcia to the resources and hospitality of the Institute and politely left.

With Werner gone, we all looked at the Institute’s co-director, Hans, to lead the session.

Hans stood up.

“Well, I must admit that science and mathematics are my true specialty,” Hans said, in his characteristic fashion. “So, I am afraid I will not be of much assistance to this group.”

He politely bid us all adieu, then left.

At this point, I became a bit panicked. My leaders had left me in a great unknown!

Marcia Lucas, who I did not know at the time was one of the greatest film editors in the world, was looking expectantly at me.

I suddenly got the feeling Werner had said something to her about me, akin to his comment about me being his “right hand.” I had a vague realization that both she and I were here solely because of Werner. Having been a brilliant actor at the London School of Theater, Werner had been the primary Anthroposophist from the Waldorf school in North Hollywood in dealing with actors, directors and producers. She was here because of him and I was here because he had brought a promising student to the table for this specialized project. Surely, he knew what he was doing, so I decided to trust it.

“Well, then, let’s get started,” I said. “Tell us the story, Marcia.”

As she spoke, I got up and went over to the classroom blackboard. Marcia had trouble articulating the story; it didn’t flow easily. In colored chalk, I began to sketch out the story-board.

“It’s a story of two robots, you see – the movie is seen through their eyes,” she said. “The robots are key elements of the story. They must be kept.”

I understood that the robots were non-negotiable. We must somehow work with them.

“Ok,” I said. “Can you please read us the starting dialogue?”

She began. It was difficult for us to listen to. As an experienced editor, Marcia knew this. The characters didn’t work. They weren’t alive. She sincerely wanted to rewrite her husband’s movie script to its full potential, but at this moment, it was stilted. Only later would I learn more about the context of their partnership – how George was a genius concerned with the theme of machines and technology, and Marcia was the humanistic side, focused on telling a meaningful story that would resonate with the audience. I did not know it then, but she was here, basically, trying to save the script.

I decided to be frank with her.

“First, the story is not archetypal,” I said. “The author doesn’t know the true nature and value of the characters he is set on gluing together.”

Marcia began writing down notes quickly in her notebook.

“The dialogue is unreal and trite. It serves only one purpose – to move to the next scene. So, the message of the story happens in the action between scenes.”

She nodded, writing.

I continued. “There is no character development. No one will identify with these characters.”

Then, on a positive note, I said, “However, your husband has tapped into the true spiritual reality of our time. His obsession to see the world through the eyes of two robots is genius, but a little confused. We can work with that.”

Since everyone there, including Marcia, was a student of Anthroposophy, I began to do what Werner knew would come naturally to me as both a teacher and a student – apply the principles that I had studied to our current problem with the script.

“George has described the challenge of our times,” I said, “The war with machines, symbolized in the two robot playmates of Luke Starkiller.”

Now, an interesting side note about the names. Like Luke Starkiller, none of the character’s names that Marcia read to us were in their final form. In fact, I later recommended that the hero, Luke Starkiller, be changed to “Luke Skywalker,” from American Indian and Tibetan traditions. Then, since Lucas is the name for “light,” I also had the concept of a light saber, a weapon that both defends as a shield and attacks as a formidable force. (In Anthroposophist terms, the light saber represents the human spinal column.)

Those details would come later. Now, we had to focus on shaping the story itself.

“I think it needs to go back to the concept of a fairy tale,” I said, explaining that all fairy tales begin with a reference of the story being outside of time and space and end with some reference to their own continuance. “I think what you may want is an adult science-fiction fairy tale that is spiritually accurate, yet engrossing and interesting.”

Marcia agreed.

With her input, we decided to begin with Luke Starkiller. We tried to describe his character development in terms of the polarity that every person has in their soul – the left and right-hand paths of evil. In the end, it is the middle path, “the Force,” that the Jedi warrior should choose. Yet, without exploring both the left and right paths, the Jedi is weakened by not knowing his enemy.

“So, each movie goer will be faced with making the same decision, no matter what their life is like?” said one of the students.

“Yes, that’s the path of most fairy tales,” I said. The question is: “Which of the three paths will you choose?”

Here again, I was impressed with George Lucas’ brilliance. His obsession with machines underscored the biggest challenge of our age – the right-hand path of mechanical occultism as described by Rudolph Steiner and the left-hand path of thinking that has turned evil. Had I seen his first film, THX-1138, I would have recognized this even more clearly.

“The two robots can represent thinking and willing,” I proposed.

As the heroes of George’s original story, both C3PO and R2D2 enable the audience to “see through the eyes of machines.” In his relationship and interactions with them, Luke uses his robots to enhance his thinking (C3PO) and willing (R2D2) in an age of machines, but finally finds the middle path – of feeling.

“Let’s explore the two extremes: the left-hand path of thinking and the right-hand path of willing,” I said.

We spent time talking it through. Both C3PO and the Evil Emperor are on the left-hand path of “thinking” that has turned evil. For example, C3PO can think but cannot act, and the Emperor needs Darth Vader to carry out his desired actions. In contrast, R2D2 and Darth Vader are on the right-hand path of “willing.” Having the capacity to will, they still must be told what to do.

“Darth Vader is the being we know as Ahriman,” I added. “He represents the composite cleverness of all machines, incarnated into a human being.”

“So, what about a middle path? Is there one?” one of the students asked.

“Excellent question,” I said. “The middle path is what both the right-hand and left-hand paths miss. Unable to understand the middle path, both sides seek to destroy it. The Jedi masters such as Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda have developed themselves on the middle path, having already mastered the other two paths. They represent the desired balanced center between the two extremes.”

Indeed, this dynamic of two poles of evil is the central motif of the first Star Wars trilogy.

Master of the Machines

Once we understood the story in context of this Anthroposophical framework, the next step was to focus further on Luke’s character.

“I think that Luke needs to develop his character by interacting with the two robots, both the left and the right hand,” I said.

We then discussed each robot.

As a robot on the “thinking” side, C3PO can speak many languages and is programmed for etiquette and translating, a truly inspired use for machines that we seldom see. He represents an evil that has been around as long as languages in every culture since the beginning of human intellectual development – the being named Lucifer, who incarnated in a physical body in China in 2000 BC. As the “left-hand path of evil,” Lucifer is a Promethean archetype who brings fire, language, philosophy, writing and culture to humanity. Chained to a mountain, he suffered each day as a vulture ate out his liver until rescued by Heracles. By representing Lucifer/Prometheus, C3PO would serve as a counter-pole for the incarnation four thousand years later in 2000 AD of Ahriman, the king of machines, otherwise known as Darth Vader.

Luke, who models the original Heracles or the hero in all of us, eventually breaks the chains to free Prometheus, the fire-bringer, who is on the left-hand path. So, too, the Evil Emperor in Star Wars represents the power of fire (demonstrated as lightning from his hands and the evil wisdom of the Sith) that increasingly consumes him as he misuses it.

“Luke is situated between the two robots, between the two paths, like his twin sister. His lost spirituality is drawing him upward into spirit,” I said.

All Jedi warriors have transformed blood, what was later called “midi-chlorians” in the blood. As they balance the forces of the left and right paths, they raise their consciousness, which then increases spiritual potential in the blood, a process that Steiner calls the “etherization of the blood.” As Steiner taught, spiritual people charge their blood with a consciousness that connects them to spirit (the Force). However, unlike the movie, the ability to access spirit or the Force isn’t passed along through heredity.

So, after discussing all of these concepts and laying the groundwork for common understanding, here is the story of Star Wars that we mapped out:

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, Luke Skywalker (the archetypal human) finds his life embroiled, if not consumed, by machines. Luke is the master of those machines, because he has consciousness and, therefore, is pulled by the left and right. He is an orphan, as all modern humans find themselves, and knows that something great lives inside of him. He has hope in a hopeless world.

Luke’s father has fallen prey to the evil right-hand path of machines that has transformed him into a part-man – part machine abomination who wars against his own spirit and wishes to dominate the world, even if it means killing his son.

The left-hand path of personal black magic lives in the Evil Emperor who also wishes to kill all Jedi and, most especially, the son of Darth Vader.

Luke is protected by the humble Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Eventually, this Jedi leads him to his teacher of the “middle way” (the Force) and sacrifices himself so that he can help him from the spiritual world. This middle path is like the path to the Higher Self.

On the path, just like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road, Luke gains some traveling companions. Just as the Wizard of Oz was a distillation of Masonic initiation rituals, Star Wars introduces the audience to parts of the soul. This is necessary to make the story archetypal, so that it will always be fresh.

For example, Obi-Wan Kenobi represents the highest of the three parts of the soul, the consciousness soul, which merges spirit with matter just as his Jedi powers give him the power of mind over matter.

Chewbacca represents the lower soul, the sentient or astral soul that must turn the animal in us into a human with spiritual characteristics.

Han Solo represents the intellectual soul that first begins to awaken to higher thinking. Although clever, Hans lacks the ability to see the big picture like Obi-Wan.

Between Luke’s three companions, much like the Lion, Tin Man, and Scarecrow, each contributes a special quality to Luke along the way. Steiner calls these soul qualities “thinking, feeling and willing.”

At the center of the story, Luke represents the ego, or the thinking human being, and must master the three steps of the development of the soul.

A return to spirit

Now that we had built the underlying framework, which was the most Herculean part of our task, it was clear to me that we needed to develop these characters into archetypes. Knowing now what motivated each character, we could easily hear the words that each would naturally say and even envision their realistic reactions to the unfolding plot.

In doing so, we kept in mind a fundamental truth: good and evil are choices. The Evil Emperor and Darth Vader were not born evil; they chose their own paths. Luke, the archetypal human, also must make his choices and live with the good or evil that results.

Still, after all of this work we had done, one thing was missing.

“We still have one problem,” I reminded Marcia. “Where is Luke going in the story?”

Sorely missing in the original version of the story, this issue had to be resolved so that everything else would make sense.

“Isn’t Luke, essentially, the prodigal son?” I said. Others agreed that Luke was separated from his parent’s home and longing to return. This is a universal element with which everyone could identify. Like Luke, each of us has our particular destiny. In our life, we embark on the search to find it and return to our kingdom in the spirit.

We further developed Luke’s direction and role in the story as follows:

Luke knows he is special but doesn’t know why. Throughout the story, he must evolve into his mission of facing his true identity as Darth Vader’s son, accept it, and decide what to do with it.

Ultimately, Luke denies the power of the machines that try to gain control over him. Instead of the cold-hearted machine-human hybrids, Luke chooses love. He must come to this awakening only after receiving help from his companions.

His sister Leia (who I suggested should be called Maya) represents his spiritual self. Although first drawn to her through physical desire, Luke transforms this attraction into spiritual love and links his destiny to hers, as the soul links to the spirit.

More sure about herself, Leia has been treated like the Princess she is. Luke has struggled to “catch up” to where she was, but in the end, their destinies are permanently entwined. Because he is on the spiritual path of self-development versus the physical path of earthly gratification, Luke doesn’t “win the girl” – that part of the story is left to another character, Han Solo.

As part of his journey, Luke uses the middle path of the Force to conquer both the Evil Emperor and Darth Vader. The more the left and right-hand paths try to win Luke, the more they fall prey to the side effects of using evil for personal gain.

As the modern human, Luke conquers the evil machine-like foes with help from his companions and develops two powerful “forces” that the machines cannot control: human freedom and love. In this way, Luke learns to “see through the eyes of machines.” He even sacrifices his human hand for denying his father’s attempt to win him over to the Dark Side of the machines.

In the end, Luke loves his father and witnesses the death of Darth Vader, Ahriman, before his very eyes.

This is the same modern challenge that each of us faces:

Who is your parent?

What do you choose: the physical world of machines or the middle path of the spirit, the Force?

A beautiful fairy tale

Over the next two days, we built on our initial framework and polished the ideas to represent every possible perspective in our archetype science-fiction, prodigal-son story. The script was turning into a beautiful fairy tale that I was certain had merit, whether or not it ever made it to the “big screen.” I was very happy to work through these concepts, because I could see my own path to the spirit unfolding in the story. (Of course, Werner had known this would be part of my involvement!)

I also appreciated Marcia’s priority of effective story-telling. In our modern times, I have seen a decline of storytelling in our culture. This is dangerous, for as archetypal stories vanish, our imagination weakens as the source of inner nourishment and soul inspiration. Movies have taken the place of storytelling and actors have taken the place of the heroes and heroines found in all archetypal stories, whether myth, religion, legend, fairy tale, fable, or any other transcendental source. Yet, as we learned in developing Star Wars, if a story is not archetypal, it will not last the test of time. Successful to this day, a full 40 years after it was released, Star Wars has proven that to be true.

After our work was completed, I said good-bye to Marcia and wished her well with the movie. She thanked me and everyone else who had contributed their ideas to our marvelous fairy tale. I heard nothing more until 1977, when the movie was about to launch and generating a frenzied buildup of media attention.

I was working in the bookstore when Werner came in to tell me the news: Marcia and George Lucas were so happy with our help that they were offering all Waldorf schools in the U.S. a chance to show an advanced screening of the movie as a local fundraiser. This was a thrilling offer, because I knew that a good deal of money could be raised. Yet, staying true to its practice of opposing TV, movies and technology in general, the Waldorf Institute politely declined the offer, to my deep disappointment.

I finally saw the Trilogy, after waiting impatiently for all three installments, and was happy that it stayed true to the fairy-tale idea we had developed in our Waldorf think tank.

As I watched the movies, I realized that Star Wars had affected the paths of those of us involved in the project. Just as we had mapped out a path for Luke, we were all on a journey to our own destinies. The archetypes we built had done their work!

For example, by working through the philosophical concepts, I saw my own path to the spirit reflected in the story, as Werner knew it would – the process had further emboldened my own understanding of the study of Anthroposophy. Also, I remembered that Werner, who was like a scholarly father, had introduced me to Marcia as his “right hand,” while Luke Skywalker had sacrificed his own right hand in the battle with his father – both situations connected to the pursuit of spiritual knowledge. As a “right hand” substitute for Werner in the project with Marcia, I grew into my leadership role as a teacher. So, too, with the substitution of his right hand, Luke acquired more masterful poise as a Jedi warrior who had successfully denied the Dark Side and became more in touch with the Force.

George Lucas himself was on the path for his genius to be recognized with commercial and critical success. He would later open his famous Skywalker Ranch, which I think is a much better name than “Starkiller” Ranch, don’t you?

Yet, when his own right hand, Marcia Lucas, was symbolically severed in their 1983 divorce, he lost a part of the humanity that had been evident in the earlier movies, and some say lacking in the later versions of the Star Wars series.

For her part, Marcia Lucas would stand on stage to be ceremoniously honored, just like the characters in the ending of Star Wars. Looking tasteful and quietly elegant next to a glittery-gold presenter Farrah Fawcett at the 1977 Academy Awards, Marcia accepted an Oscar for best editing of a film that had started off an as unknown space opera and become a household name. At that ceremony, one of her editor colleagues would speak for her, and she would not have an opportunity to thank anyone publically, not even her husband. Had they given her a chance at the microphone, I imagine that Marcia perhaps might have thanked the Waldorf Institute, although the process of being involved in this influential project was, for me, its own reward.

In fact, later, when working with Producer Kathleen Kennedy during the writing of the Indiana Jones movies, I was quite aware of my participation in shaping small moments in the movies where true wisdom and light shine through the story. This is what I have tried to do in all of my writings: share the love for spirit that I try to live each day and to bring that spirit into the souls of everyone I have the privilege to meet or touch in some small way – even through a simple story that is the ubiquitous retelling of the original story, the return to spirit.

Just a few days ago, with all of the resurgence of Star Wars memories and the recent release of the latest installment in the series, I googled Marcia Lucas’ name and discovered that she and George had divorced in 1983. She had returned to using her maiden name, Marcia Griffin. When I had worked with her, I had no idea that she was one of the greatest film editors in the world, her skills having been regularly in demand by the top directors, including Scorsese and Coppola. I was delighted to learn about her Academy Award and believe she is an unsung heroine in the history of Star Wars.

After all, how often does a mortal human being create something eternal – a story that lasts forever?

I leave you with this link to an article about Marcia Griffin that gives a beautiful picture of her contributions to the making of Star Wars:

Enjoy, and may the Force be with you!

#Star Wars #The Inspiration behind Star Wars #Amazing article #Marcia Lucas #Douglas Gabriel

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maniacwatchestheworld · 5 years

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Who is Celine? A meta analysis

So while I was writing this long ass meta analysis about Darkiplier and what he represents and how his relationship to Mark has changed over time, a question had been nagging at the back of my mind. “How does Celine fit into this particular analysis?” Because while I made one analysis that explains what Celine represents as a piece of Darkiplier, that analysis doesn’t work in the context of the stories told in Who Killed Markiplier and DAMIEN. And but when writing that piece a thought came to me trying to answer that particular question. And what I found is pretty compelling, I think.

Celine is Mark.

Celine’s role in the story of Who Killed Markiplier is as the person who sets the story in motion. How people react to her and her presence or lack thereof is what causes the the main conflict. And her coming into the manor half way through the series is what sets off the series of events that lead to its conclusion. While she is barely in Who Killed Markiplier and DAMIEN, her role is integral to those stories. And where everyone else tends to react to any given situation, Celine acts.

She is clearly written as being essentially different from the other characters in these stories. But the fact that she becomes a major part of Darkiplier means that she has to represent something at least semi-important, right? But what she is supposed to represent in the mind that is the manor is unclear. However if Celine is a stand-in for Mark himself, then a lot of this makes sense. Because this would make her a secret main character of this series.

Her being one of the few characters to take an active role? Her actions being what causes these events? If the story is actually about her, of course that’s what would happen. Furthermore, if you look at Marks actions in real life and then at Celine’s actions in the story, they actually parallel one another. Mark is committed to his ego, the performer, the Actor. It makes him unhappy and so he commits himself to his creative side, the writer, Wilford. When bad things happen, the performer gets butthurt and starts stirring up trouble, Wilford denies that anything is wrong, Damien (his thinking and empathetic side) draws inwardly and gets lost in his own thoughts. While Celine may be the last to arrive, she actually actively tries to find the solution and the root of the problem. Celine says that she’s never felt comfortable in the manor, but wants to understand it’s power. I think that this is a pretty apt description for how people feel about looking inwardly at themselves for problems. It’s not comfortable, and it might not feel right, but it is important to understand. If you don’t know how to find the problem, it’s like looking in the dark, and you almost have to imprecisely divine what the problem is through intuition (or magic in Celine’s case). And when you do find the problem, you might not like what you see.

While in his videos Mark comes off as an extrovert and as more of the performer (and sometimes the writer), in reality he is more internal, introverted, and contemplative (also a perfectionist). Aspects of the editor. This is why Damien and Celine are siblings. Because while Celine and Mark himself may flirt with Wilford, the Actor, and the ideas they represent, they are always intimately tied and closest to Damien.

And that brings us to DAMIEN. The fact that Celine has been keeping Damien in the cabin in the forest for both seconds and years I think is a pretty apt description for how working out your inner problems and demons is. You are trapped in your head in cycles for what feels like forever and it can take you years to get to the core of the issue. But when you make a revelation on how to change, you already knew it all along and it happens in an instant. Celine keeping Damien trapped in an endless cycle of work and rest in the cabin is Mark living his life, working, trying to find this problem within himself, and wanting to get rid of it for good, while he is also letting himself believe the comfortable lie that he doesn’t need to rest and just needs to keep working. He wants to keep Damien out of it because he can take care of it by himself, right? Besides. He needs Damien to keep working. The Damien part of himself isn’t the problem so why should he be involved? Damien is not the problem and so he can’t fix it. But that’s not true. Damien has been wanting to help Celine/Mark out of this situation, and he knows how to do it. But they refuse to listen, to let him speak, or to even know that is really haappening. Mark/Celine just want to keep working and working and working without rest until they die. That will fix this problem, right? But they don’t realize that this is killing them. It takes a long time, but finally Damien is able to break through and say what he needs to.

“Let me help you!”

Because only Damien knew what Mark/Celine needed. The Actor thinks that they needed a villain. Wilford thinks that they needed to just relax and not worry about it. But what they needed was help. A hand. Someone to hold that they could trust and rely on. And Damien was the only one who was able to get that help. With that help, Celine/Mark was able to relax and let themselves get the rest that they needed. And now that Mark has that help? Well... It leads to a new horizon and so many happy possibilities.

#celine #markiplier #darkiplier #Damien #who killed markiplier #celine the seer #seer celine #who killed markiplier celine #wkm celine #actor mark #maniac watches things

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Happy Birthday, Space Cowboy: A Shinichiro Watanabe Retrospective

Today we wish a very happy birthday to the Cowboy Bebop director, the one and only Shinichiro Watanabe! Watanabe-san has been a powerhouse in the world of anime for well over two decades, working with acclaimed studios such as Sunrise Inc., Studio Nue, and BONES. His mastery at blending Western and Eastern elements has earned Watanabe a devoted fanbase in many different countries. One of the most consistent aspects of Watanabe's catalog is his skill at successfully amalgamating a variety of genres from sci-fi to Westerns to comedy and more.

In honor of Watanabe's birthday, I'll be exploring the artistic depth of three anime from his impressive oeuvre and celebrating the very special spark that can be found in all his works. Read on for more!

Terror in Resonance (2014)

Terror in Resonance seems critically underappreciated when compared to some of Watanabe's other directorial efforts. Though it lacks the robust character development and sense of immersion found in his other titles, the series still retains many of the qualities that make Watanabe such a globally respected anime auteur.

Terror in Resonance follows two high-school-aged terrorists named Twelve and Nine as they plot a series of bombings in order to reveal the injustices enacted against them — and many other children — during a secret government operation called the Athena Plan. Along the way, a lonely girl named Lisa finds herself enwrapped in the boys' mission, and experiences camaraderie for the first time due to their presence.

The show's basic premise alone reflects Watanabe's willingness to explore uncommon thematic spaces by featuring literal terrorists as two of the main characters. Common in his other works as well, Watanabe invites viewers to feel compassion for characters who inhabit the outermost margins of societal acceptability. The show doesn't endorse Twelve and Nine's actions, but it does position them as isolated characters with real human attributes, acting coherently in retaliation to the incorrigible exploitation they faced as children. Twelve and Nine also make extreme efforts to make sure no one is killed due to their bombings, which serves as an empathetic deviation from standard depictions of terrorists as one-sided, monstrous caricatures.

Ultimately, Terror in Resonance features many trademarks of Watanabe's unique touch: compassionate explorations of loneliness, a tragic narrative interspersed with brief moments of beauty, and yet another gorgeous soundtrack by Yoko Kanno (a frequent collaborator with Watanabe).

Macross Plus (1995)

Watanabe made his directorial debut as co-director for Macross Plus working alongside Shoji Kawamori (the creator of the original Macross). This four-part OVA is the best flying mech, artifcial-intelligence-pop-music-gone-horribly-wrong redo of Top Gun I've ever seen. I remember I first saw it on the Starz Channel back in 2002 or 2003. It was fun to revisit the US dub recently with the fresh realization that Bryan Cranston — aka Walter White, our favorite fictional suburban meth dealer — did the voice acting for the main character Isamu. Isamu is like a more womanizing Spike from Cowboy Bebop, mixed with the arrogance of Mugen from Samurai Champloo, and is an early example of a recurrent protagonist-archetype in Watanabe's titles. The playful comedic qualities Watanabe would become known for were already apparent in much of Macross Plus, such as the scene when Isamu and his rival Bowman bring up old adolescent/high-school gripes while they're both engaged in an airborne mech-duel to the death.

Once again, Yoko Kanno's absolutely incredible score must be mentioned. The soundtrack ranges from orchestral music perfect for dogfights to emotional ballads and '90s trance (there's also a really cool reference to the Aphex Twin album "Selected Ambient Works 85-92" on a bus sign in one scene). Watanabe's first directorial outing already grapples with a subject near and dear to his heart: music. The last episode features an intense sequence involving an AI popstar named Sharon Apple, who takes control of everyone viewing her concert via seductive musical mind control. This scene explores a what-if scenario: an imagined future where technology meshes with the power of music for nefarious — rather than healing — ends. Either way, since Watanabe is a self-proclaimed "music freak," it's fun to watch him implement a plot device about just how disruptively powerful music can be (his most recent anime Carole and Tuesday tackles AI and pop music with a more neutral lens, as an FYI). Macross Plus is not to be missed.

Cowboy Bebop (1998)

I'll never forget what it was like to experience Cowboy Bebop for the very first time when it initially aired on Adult Swim in 2001. I must have been 12 or 13 at the time, and few pieces of media have made such a lasting impression on me. I was already extremely impressed even after seeing the first episode "Asteroid Blues," but it's the fifth episode entitled "Ballad of Fallen Angels" — where viewers are introduced for the first time to the central antagonist Vicious — that completely sold me on the series.

"Ballad of Fallen Angels" culminates in a climactic battle that takes place in a church, with the main character Spike duking it out against Vicious and his goons. The most memorable moment for me is the scene when Spike is thrown out of the top of the church by Vicious. Spike falls in slow-motion as viewers are treated to a montage of his tragic crime syndicate past and his relationship with his lost love Julia. It's such a stunning moment that perfectly echoes the old creative writing adage "show don't tell," since it subtly expresses so much about Spike's life without explicitly battering it over your head. The scene speaks volumes in just a few wordless seconds, with no sounds to be heard at all other than Yoko Kanno's gorgeous choir and piano-based track "Green Bird." I've drifted toward arthouse movies as I've grown older, and I truly think the aforementioned scene was my first time experiencing the ineffable artfulness that I find in the experimental films that move me most. It feels a little silly and overblown to say, but the sequence feels like it contains a large spectrum of life — love, hate, sadness, memories, dreams, etc.

Cowboy Bebop is a show that abounds with moments like this. There are so many moving scenes rich in an atmospheric tenderness that aches with longing, loneliness, and beauty. Intimate scenes where characters in interstellar ships stare quietly at a sea of stars. A view of someone smoking a cigarette alone in a dimly lit alleyway. Or something like the ending of "Waltz for Venus," when a music box-esque song plays while Spike gazes into the sky as spores that can blind drift downward like snow.

I could go on and on about the series — the masterful quality of Keiko Nobumoto's screenplay, the riveting action sequences and lovable characters, the expert blend of genres coupled with breathtaking animation and music, and how Spike's somewhat Buddhist philosophy (whatever happens, happens) influenced my own. Cowboy Bebop truly deserves all the praise and is undoubtedly one of the best animated works of all time.

So here's to you Shinichiro Watanabe. I hope you have a birthday as stunning and cool as the anime you've graced the world with.

What else do you love by Shinichiro Watanabe, and why? Sounds off in the comments below!

Do you love anime? Do you love writing? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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voidiots · 5 years

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⚔️- Celtic Cross "What possibilities can I look forward to with the recent decisions regarding my personal and professional life?" - From Gan Raizure at @ganshands

IC Tarot Readings

Una’to studies the Sun Seeker before him from under his mask before allowing a smooth smile to over take the exposed features of his face. “Quite the reading to request, more than just the possibilities, I will tell you the challenges you must over come, the past, the future, and many a number of things that lead to an outcome with the path you travel yet”. He cants his head to the side, his smile growing all the more playful and curious. “Shall we begin?”

He picks up the black and gold deck, adorned with marigold on it’s back and shuffles the cards for some time. His ears twitching as he does so until he seems entirely satisfied with the feel of the cards. One by one, he lays them down, flipping them skyward before allowing them to touch the matching cloth they lie on. He does this until ten cards are before him. He studies the entire spread for a time, before pointing to the two center most cards, surrounded by four others.

“Here in the center are the heart of the matter regarding your query and the challenge you must overcome in the future. The heart are the issues around your query. Simply, how will things in these parts of your life change as you move forward on the path you’ve decided to follow? The heart is the focal point of the reading from which all other cards stem from, and impacts all events to follow. In this place we have feelings of need, poverty, and insecurity. Either this is the present or the events that have transpire to make you take this road. The card speaks of all things material being scarce, thus creating desperation. Often in regards to money. There is a plea here to reach out for help, as it is there for you. As for the challenge card…,” he trails off, reading it again. “In this place is the challenge you must overcome, the opposition you face as you travel on this road. The card is one of emotions, but here they are wasted, creativity is blocked, and the well of creativity has run empty. Something wonderful is being cut off from being and flowing. The challenge here it to take away the blockage and allow it to flow out once more”. With that he moves his hand to tap the bottom most card of the four around the center two, moving his finger along that outer circle in a clockwise motion. Showing his reading path to the woman before him.

“With our bases covered, we move to look to your unconscious. Here we see how you feel about the heart of the reading and possible hidden emotions you have that may impact you as you move forward on this road you’ve chosen to take. The figure on the card here is one of leadership, who sees the big picture, and is apt to overcoming challenges. With these qualities they are able to inspire those around them. You’re ready for the challenges ahead of you, and to rally those around you with your passion,” he says with a kind smile before his head twitches up to read the next card.

“We now turn to your past. These are the attitudes, feelings, and beliefs past lessons have impressed upon you and have shaped your current situation. Why you’ve picked this road that leaves you wanting and needing help. Here is a card speaking of apathy, contemplation, and a disconnectedness. So deep was this contemplation in the past that you became disconnected and ignored gifts before your feet from the world around you. Potential joys rotted away. Though your intentions were well and noble, the world around you was treated with an air of apathy in favor for the world with in you. I should think you learned from this though, and to look outside of yourself for the small joys before you in your path. You need not forsake one for the other after all. Balance is important”. His smile is somewhat knowing now as he tilts his head up once more. He’s seen the entirety of the spreads most basic of meanings already, and knows where this map leads to an extent.

“The card to follow takes the place of you conscious thoughts. How you are seeing the road right now, as well as the assumptions and beliefs you have for this reading. The card here is of a grand weight, and demands special attention be paid to it when it appears, as it is a major way marker on this road you travel. This card is one of partnerships, union, duality in balance, and choice. A harmonious partnership exists upon this road you travel now, an inner harmony between the aspects of your personality, or those who endeavor with you on this path. I should think that this reading itself is opening you up to the idea of choices you may need to make that are looming over the horizon that could be difficult for you...” he says as he reaches for the final card of the four encircling the center two, tapping it’s face lightly.

“I believe in the end this is the card you are most interested in now, however. The future that is fast approaching made up of all these parts. The influences to come that will change how you see your path, and developing concerns you may have. The future holds beliefs of work life imbalance, the feeling of smothering as well. While difficult you will have troubles balancing your work and home needs. You can’t give enough to both after all.Remember, you can ask for help to achieve this balance however,” he muses in warning, an attempt to have her recall the heart of the reading, a solution of sorts.

With a small stretch he sits up slightly, getting some stiffness from his bones before turning to the line of cards to his right, pointing at the card closest to him. Taking the time to run his finger up an imaginary line towards the farthest one, indicating his plan of reading once more. “From here things get a little more personal. Our next card is you the querent, and how you are approaching the problems and challenges you face on this road. The beliefs, fears, and the perception you have of yourself that impacts how the situation turns out. It should seem based on our card that you are approaching the problem as one learning still. It’s a card of education, apprenticeship, and achievement. You are muscling through with hard work and diligence as you travel this path to try and make things work, with or with out help from others. You are trying to change something. Of course, the fear here is that things won’t work out, the work won’t be enough and changes won’t occur. If you are truly learning, than ask for help with the things that bog you down”. His smile grows slightly before moving up the line to the next card.

“Then comes the environment from which you must work while attempting to fix the problems with this road you traverse. This environment is one that is charitable, generous, and full of sharing. This card speaks similarly to our heart card in regards to the material things, but the message is clear that there is help around you, should you only reach out and ask for it. For those around you are compassionate and understanding. After all, things may switch someday, and you they may need the help that they give you today,” he says smoothly with a smile. Happy to be nearly done with the reading. Large spreads tending to take the most out of him.

“Our second to last card represents your hopes and fears, the expectations you have for the reading. To me it seems the fears are more prevalent in this card. Similarly to the consciousness you bear, this card is another one of great importance. The fears here center around extremes, excess, and a lack of balance. These fears seem to be fair and well founded with what I’ve been able to read. There is too much of something here, likely what run creativity dry. Things are forgotten despite mercantile focus as sharp as a blade. Is the fear that which was forgotten to retain and regain balance?,” he muses aloud with a sly sort of smile taking over the exposed features of his face. At last they come to their final card. He picks it up and holds it before her dramatically, ever the performer.

“Finally, the outcome should you continue on this path with out changing. This is where all this leads and what it ends as, the situation to come once all parts come into play. The card here speaks of a lack of communication, instability, and home conflicts. As stated before, there is an imbalance on the horizon that could be a part of this. Friends and family here are embroiled in tension as communication breaks down. The home life becomes more difficult as a result. In the end the greater message is to ask for help so you may keep balance and harmony in your personal and professional life. If you would like it short, sweet, and simple for a wrap up”. He grins as he collapses the spread upon itself, returning the cards to the rest of the deck. “Now tell me, have you need for more insight that I may offer you?”

Thank you for letting me read your cards @ganshands! I’m sorry it took me a while to get to, I knew it was going to be long and didn’t want my overly anxious energy to impact the reading while things were stressful and gross. I hope it was able to hit home somewhere and give your muse some sound advice. Thank you again!

#veloxaraptor #divine the fates that brought you here

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baepsaets · 6 years

Text

suga baby ~ min yoongi

pairing: min yoongi x reader

rating: sfw (future smut)

word count: 6.4k

summary: you’re a bartender at a seedy downtown dive. after a close call, your favorite customer yoongi takes it upon himself to make sure you have everything you could ever need.

a/n: hello, i have major writer’s block with eight’s a crowd and it manifested into this beast, i’m so sorry lmao. once again, thank you everyone for your sweet messages! i don’t get a chance to post them on my blog, but i always read them and they make me smile. thanksgiving break for me starts at the end of the week, so i hope to use that free time to catch up on my writing. please enjoy!

part 01 02 03

Min Yoongi sat down at your bar sometime between eleven o’clock and eleven-thirty. It was a busier Thursday night than usual, so by the time you finally made it down to his regular seat, there was already a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

He eyed you from underneath his fringe. “You look tired.”

You snorted, already pouring him his regular drink—whiskey sour with a dash of grenadine. “I feel more tired than I look.”

“I know the feeling,” he replied, tipping his freshly-made drink toward you. “Happy end of the week.”

“It’s not the end of the week,” you told him, voice sourer than the drink in his hand, “if you work the weekend, Mr. Min.”

You tapped the bar next to his slim-fingered hand in annoyance, and his mouth quirked into a half-smile.

You had met Yoongi almost half a year ago, when he’d wandered into your shabby bar half-past midnight on a Wednesday night. The bar had been deserted, and he’d looked like a gemstone in a pile of gravel—Armani suit tailored to fit his slender frame, golden watch ticking ostentatiously on his wrist. He’d sat down at the end of the bar, furthest seat from the door, and had given you a short but dismissive look. “Can you make a good drink?”

With your lips pressed tight together, you’d nodded your head. You made a hell of a drink, which was the only reason you were a bartender. You were the first to admit that you lacked all other qualities that seemed required for the job—you weren’t particularly pretty, hated small-talk, and had a terrible case of resting bitch face. What you lacked in charisma, you made up for with a mean cosmopolitan.

“I don’t know,” you’d told him, flatly. “Can you leave a good tip?”

He’d raised an eyebrow, amused by the venom in your tone. “I’ll make you a deal—make me the best mojito I’ve ever had, and I’ll leave you the best tip you’ll ever get.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were intrigued by his offer. What was it like, having enough money to waste bartering with the bartender? You’d turned your back to grab a glass. Sugar, mint—he looked like someone who preferred it sour, so you added extra lime as you topped the drink off with white rum. You’d slid him the drink and pretended to immerse yourself with cleaning the countertop as he’d taken his first sip, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He had shrugged, trailing his finger around the rim of his glass. You’d tried not to sigh in annoyance. Whatever, whatever. You didn’t care if some pretentious, upper-class asshole didn’t like your drink. Plenty of other people did.

Min Yoongi had left half an hour later, and under his empty glass was a crisp, one-hundred-dollar bill.

Since then, you’d been stuck with the man, who was surprisingly good company.

“Busy night,” he commented, holding his drink up to the light, observing the way the grenadine turned the dark alcohol auburn.

“You’re telling me,” you replied, absent-mindedly. You eyed the rest of the bar, checking to see if anyone was gesturing for your attention. Your gaze snagged on a group of men near the door. They were typical—loud, obnoxious. A bundle of unease started to unwind in your stomach. With your manager in the back, you were the only person working the floor. If something happened, if a fight broke out, or if one of them made a move, you’d be completely on your own.

“Has there been a problem?” Yoongi asked. You glanced back toward him and realized he’d followed your gaze, also staring at the rowdy group.

“No,” you assured him. “It’s just been busy.”

It made a tingle shoot through your chest, thinking that he cared.

You were probably something insignificant in his life, compared to whatever rich people usually cared about—the stock market, or fashion, or something. Yoongi woke up every morning wondering what his hired staff was making him for breakfast, while you wondered if you could afford an overpriced coffee to get you through your sixteen-hour workday.

Yoongi sat down his drink. “Can I ask you a quick question?”

“It’s not like I have a choice. I don’t get off until three.”

You grabbed an already clean glass and started cleaning it just to look occupied, any excuse to loiter in front of his seat. Your favoritism was blatant to people who frequented the bar, but to the outside eye, it just looked like you were making small-talk with a random customer while you worked.

“Ha, ha,” he deadpanned, amused. “Do you remember me talking about my client last week?”

You nodded your head, interest piquing. You loved it when Yoongi talked about his job.

He was some type of music tycoon and owned a production company on a side of the city too expensive for you to frequent. He told you a lot about his job, mainly because he liked to complain about it. Most people who came into the bar to complain got too personal and didn’t care about what you had to say. My wife left me. I’ll never be a good father. Yoongi came into the bar and said, Fuck Ji-sung from the sounding department and fuck our capitalistic regime, before asking for extra whiskey.

And then afterward, staring into his drink, slightly drained but more relaxed than before, Yoongi asked for your opinion. Which he seemed to value, for some reason. You had a suspicion he was in such a position of power at his job, most people only told him what he wanted to hear. That wasn’t your style. You may have been reserved, but you were honest. Maybe your opinion wasn’t the most educated one, but it was unbiased and more genuine than any other he had the opportunity to hear.

“The one who wasn’t rude until you started working on his second album?” you asked. “Makes your staff sort his candy by color?”

“Yes,” Yoongi hissed, thoroughly annoyed. “God, what a prick. Don’t get into the music industry. If I had a dollar for every goddamn time—,” and then he went on a nameless tangent, about respecting people who only made minimum wage and having common decency.

You liked seeing Yoongi like this. When you had first met him, he’d been so quiet. You could tell he was used to being quiet—not shy, just reserved. Like you. He had a tendency to word-dump, saying everything he needed to say in one breathless paragraph simply because he wasn’t used to talking very much in the first place.

“—but anyway, anyway, I just wanted to ask how you knew your advice would work.”

You stopped cleaning your glass and stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You told me to give him more creative control over his next album and he started treating the staff better. Usually I do the opposite—treat my staff badly, and I fire you. But I didn’t want to lose this artist. Your advice worked. How did you know?”

You set the glass down and continued to stare, mouth slightly agape. You probably looked like an overworked fish wearing an apron. “You actually listened to my advice?”

He stared back, quizzically. “Of course. It was good advice. A little unorthodox, I’ll admit, but I needed a new approach.” His gaze sharped, turned a little darker, a little more intense. “I don’t usually reward bad behavior.”

You flushed a bit at his possible double-innuendo. Sometimes, it was like that with Yoongi. He’d say something teasingly, something that hinted at the idea of more. It was flattering, but you recognized it for what it really was—nothing serious, just harmless flirting. Everyone tried it at least once during your shift. They were drunk, and you were an easy target, especially once they were infected with liquid courage.

As if someone as handsome, rich, and successful as Yoongi would ever be interested in you.

“But I’m your bartender,” you gasped, surprised he couldn’t see the incredulousness of it. Yoongi was a millionaire. He paid people to give him advice. Highly trained people, who had some type of nonsense business degree that made them qualified to give him advice. You were a lowlife living paycheck to paycheck with a dead-end job and no foreseeable future, and he’d taken your advice over the advice of his hired staff.

And your advice had been better.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “It’s the person on the outside that can see the bigger picture. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t value your opinion.”

Hearing him say that made your skin tingle and flush. Yoongi seemed so effortlessly smart, effortlessly cultured, effortlessly eloquent. And he valued your opinion. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed. “But I had a gut feeling you were right. How did you know?”

Still caught off-guard, you slowly grabbed another glass to clean, finding comfort in the repetitive motion. “Well, you told me he only started acting out during this album. People who feel like they don’t have control over certain aspects of their lives tend to overexert control in others. I thought that because he felt like he didn’t have proper creative control over his album, maybe his frustration was manifesting as micromanaging your staff.”

Yoongi groaned, “Why couldn’t he just tell me that? I would have given him all the control he wanted.”

You shrugged, suppressing a laugh. “He was probably scared. You’re pretty intimidating.”

“Am I?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“Are you joking?” you asked. “With your scowl? Cacti are more approachable than you.”

He considered you for a moment, mouth flattening slightly. “Do I intimidate you?”

“No,” you scoffed. “I’m not easy to intimidate.” His mouth quirked again, and he looked like he was about to say something else, until—

“Hey, lady!” a man yelled from the other end of the bar. You turned and saw it was a member of the rowdy group by the door. “Can we get some service down here, too?”

Every ounce of friendliness dropped from Yoongi’s expression as he glared at them, but you only set down your glass with a sigh. “I’ll get you a refill in a second, be right back.”

You made your way down to the other end of the bar, conscious of the way the other man leered at you. Sometimes, you really, really didn’t like your job. You were in it for the money, and not even a great customer like Yoongi could make the job seem worth it on a bad night.

“What can I get you tonight?” you asked.

“Another beer,” he said, sliding his empty bottle across the counter. It tipped over the edge of the bar and shattered at your feet before you could scramble and catch it.

“Ow, shit,” you cursed. You stepped back, broken glass crunching under your feet. A shard of glass had cut the delicate, exposed skin of your left ankle between your shoe and the rolled cuff of your jeans.

“Today, please,” the man snapped, annoyed by your lack of promptness. You grabbed him an identical beer from the shelf behind you and set it on the counter. He snatched it up before you could even open it for him.

“That’ll be $1.93,” you said, eyeing the cut on your ankle. It was just deep enough to bleed, blood dripping down to stain the white of your sock. You would have to clean up the glass later.

“Excuse me? It was only $1.12 when I paid an hour ago.”

You wanted to throw your head back and groan. You’d given him that beer an hour ago, and it was the same price then as it was now. He was just trying to barter.

If it were any other customer, you would have let it slide. But you knew people like the man in front of you—give them an inch, and they would take a mile. If you didn’t set him straight now, he’d only try to push you further in the future.

“It was $1.93,” you told him flatly. “I know that because you didn’t tip and requested your change. It was a nickel and two pennies.”

“Are you saying I’m lying?”

“I’m saying that maybe you’re not remembering correctly,” you amended. “And even if it was $1.12 then, it’s $1.93 now. Either pay or give me the beer back.”

“Fine, bitch,” he snapped. The man threw the bottle onto the counter at an angle, hitting the edge of the bar closest to you and shattering. Your front was instantly soaked through as the beer splashed everywhere. Vaguely, you heard the group of men behind him cheering.

Anger and embarrassment flooded your chest. You were keenly aware of Yoongi at the other end of the bar, probably watching the whole exchange.

You didn’t want him to see you this way. It was just another reminder of how painfully, painfully below his league you were.

“You still have to pay for that,” you snapped. “Pay up and get the hell out before I call the police.”

The man laughed. He leaned forward and shoved you hard into the back shelf, and you yelped as bottles fell on top of and around you, barely missing your head. They shattered at your feet. Your back banged painfully against the wooden edge.

The noise was loud enough to catch the attention of the whole bar, and hopefully your manager. Before you could gather yourself, the men roared in laughter again, until the man who’d shoved you was dragged roughly away from the bar, and Min Yoongi punched the asshole in the face.

“Yoongi,” you gasped. It was probably the first time you’d ever called him by his first name. He didn’t stop or pause to look at you, only steadied the asshole and punched him again, the ring on his finger cutting across his cheek.

Another man from the group stepped forward and looked ready to intervene, but luckily at that moment, your manager slammed open the door to the backroom, making everyone jump. Your manager was a big man, old and stern, and he asked in his booming voice, “What the hell is going on here?”

Yoongi stepped away and cleaned his hand, wiping bloodied knuckles on the expensive edge of his button-down. You reached forward and grabbed his arm, tempted to drag him over the bar with you. Your manager gasped when he saw the state you were in, recognized your protective hold on Yoongi’s shirt, and immediately turned to the group of men still gathered by the door. They held up their fallen friend, the one Yoongi still looked like he wanted to beat unconscious.

“If you four don’t get out of my bar right fucking now,” your manager said darkly, “I’m calling the police and kicking your ass the whole time until they get here.”

Without a second thought the group of men scrambled out the door, dragging their friend with them. The sudden silence in the bar seemed to echo.

Yoongi turned and gripped the hand you had on his upper arm, and before you could protest, he was hauling you over the countertop like a child, other arm reaching out to hook underneath your leg and draw you next to him.

“Come here,” Yoongi muttered, lowly and almost to himself. Something in his voice sounded borderline frantic. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you squawked, undignified and startled by his sudden manhandling. Yoongi sat you on the nearest barstool as your manager hovered nearby.

He leaned forward until the tip of his fringe almost brushed your forehead. “Look at me. Are you bleeding?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Having Yoongi’s face so close to your own—well, it was hugely distracting. Your manager turned away and helpfully, a fellow patron at the bar filled him in with what they witnessed.

“(Y/N)?” Yoongi asked, and you realized you’d been silent for too long.

“I cut my ankle, but that’s it,” you told him. Yoongi dropped to his knees, the fabric of his expensive suit no doubt getting stained by the sticky bar floor.

You gasped at him to get up, but he ignored you in favor of grabbing your ankle, lifting it to his face. The cut was already dried and scabbed over. You tapped him on the shoulder to grab his attention, except whenever he looked up, with his dark and infuriated gaze, looking at you from such a compromising position—you lost your train of thought again. Jeez, maybe a bottle really did hit you in the head.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, like he could read your mind. He stood up and leaned closer, hand hovering near your face, almost like he wanted to cup your cheek but was keeping himself restrained. “You didn’t hit your head? Should I take you to the hospital?”

“No, no, no,” you immediately said. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“But they assaulted you,” Yoongi seethed, like he was stuck on it, like the thought had just been boiling in the back of his mind since his very first punch.

“It’s part of the job,” you replied, and he stared at you, dark and guileless. He seemed to scoot even closer, until his hips were between your open legs, and his hand was resting on your elbow.

“You don’t have to stand so close to me,” you whispered. “I probably smell like a college frat party right now.”

Yoongi grimaced but didn’t comment, which you were grateful for.

“I’m going to review the security footage and ban those men from the bar,” your manager declared, walking up next to you. “We can call the police right now if you want to press—,”

“That’s not necessary,” you interrupted, and Yoongi’s grip on your elbow tightened. “Really, can I just go home early? I want to shower.”

Your shift didn’t technically end until three in the morning, when the bar closed, but your manager’s gaze softened at your simple request. “I’ll take the rest of your shift and clock you out when I leave. You don’t work tomorrow, do you?”

You grimaced. “I have another seven to three.”

“I’ll ask Cindy to cover it. Take tomorrow off.”

Despite hating your job, your manager really was a life-saver. You thanked him profusely, and once you were done, Yoongi said, “Get your stuff from the back. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Your chest tightened. Yoongi was usually gone by the time you got off, and probably didn’t know you walked to work. It was only a ten minute walk, and while it wasn’t a pleasant one to make at three in the morning, you had a knife and a can of mace in your purse for emergencies.

“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Min,” you told him. “Stay and finish your drink.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Go get your jacket. I’ll wait here.”

In the backroom, you tried to make yourself presentable. Your black shirt was soaked and smelled heavily of beer, which made you wince. You didn’t even like beer. You fixed your hair as best as you could and wiped your face with a paper towel. Grabbing your jacket, you put it on and made your way back to the front.

Yoongi was crouched on the floor with your manager, helping him clean up the broken glass. They were locked in a low conversation that you interrupted.

“Do you want me to help?” you asked, but Yoongi held up his hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” your manager said. “Get home safe, okay?”

You agreed and Yoongi stood, wiping off his hands. He grabbed his own jacket and his scarf, leading you outside with the palm of his hand hovering lightly over your lower back. It struck you as something so gentlemanly, your traitorous heart fluttered. It was bitter cold outside, and your thread-bare jacket did little to protect you. You hoped Yoongi didn’t notice.

Most of the vehicles in the lot looked second-hand, except the one at the end; it was compact, and oily black. It looked like it cost more than your yearly salary.

“The Maserati’s mine,” he commented, breath fanning in front of his face. You didn’t know what a Maserati looked like, but you could tell the slick car at the end of the lot must have been his. It was the most expensive-looking one.

“Black,” you noted. “Like your soul.”

He laughed, and thankfully, the tension in the air dissipated. Yoongi toed at the concrete, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak.

“So,” you started, “I don’t actually have a car.”

He stared at you blankly, which meant you had caught him off-guard. “Pardon?”

You wanted to snort. Pardon. Posh as fuck. “I don’t have a car.”

“How do you get to work?”

“I usually walk.”

Yoongi’s mouth opened before he snapped it shut, scowling. He opened it again. Closed it. Ran a tense hand through his hair. “Are you joking?”

“I wish,” you snorted, but had to suppress a flinch at the sudden harshness in his voice.

“Is your safety a joke to you?” he asked, suddenly, furiously. “First the guy in the bar, then you wouldn't let me take you to the hospital. And now this? Do you know how dangerous it is to walk home in this neighborhood during the day? Let alone at night?”

“I live here,” you snapped. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“What’s your address?” he asked. “I’ll drive you home.”

The idea filled you with dread. He seemed so suave and sophisticated. When he listened to you, he made you feel important. Everything that had happened tonight hammered nail after nail in the coffin of your fantasy, whispering to Yoongi in the dim light of the bar until the early morning. The fantasy where you were more than yourself and the life you lived. Having Yoongi drive you back to your shitty apartment in his fancy Maserati would be the final blow.

“No,” you replied.

He raised his eyebrow. “Why not?”

Because I don’t want you to see my shitty apartment. “It’s not necessary.”

“It’s midnight,” he said. “It’s dark. It’s cold. I’m not going to let you walk home by yourself.”

“I’ve been walking home by myself just fine for the past year.”

“(Y/N),” he begged. “Please get in my car.”

You bit your lip in indecision. It wasn’t like he was going to go inside, and it was freezing; you really didn’t want to walk home when it wasn’t necessary.

“Okay,” you agreed. “As long as you don’t mind.”

Yoongi started leading you to his car until he paused, glancing back at you from over his shoulder.

“One second,” he said, stopping in front of you. He unwound his scarf from his neck and took a step closer.

Yoongi wrapped his scarf around your neck, stopping to tuck your hair underneath your jacket. He was standing too close, and you were glad your face was already red because you knew you were blushing. You took a deep breath and were delighted to realize the scarf smelled like him.

“There,” he murmured, pleased. “You looked cold.”

“Well, it’s cold out,” you commented, and he flicked your forehead. You gasped in mock-outrage.

“It’s unlocked,” he said, walking forward and leaving you to trail behind him.

The interior of Yoongi’s car was black leather and just sitting in the front seat felt sinful. You were afraid to shift, painfully aware of the fact that you were wet and cold and soaked in alcohol like a maraschino cherry.

“It’ll take a second for the heat to kick in,” he said. “Where do you live?”

You described to him the short drive, teeth nervously chattering. When Yoongi started the car, it almost seemed to purr. He must have had a CD in, because the radio started playing light classical music.

You eyed him teasingly. “Fancy. Do you have any Tchaikovsky?”

His head snapped toward you. “You know classical music?”

“I know Swan Lake, and that’s about it,” you admitted, laughing ruefully. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s not a disappointment,” he replied. “Do you like it?”

The car felt warm, like you were enclosed in a bubble. Everything smelled like leather and Yoongi enough to drown out the stench of beer and vodka. The gentle sound of a piano filled the car, and you smiled.

“Yeah, I like it.”

You directed him downtown, tensing when you realized what the neighborhood must look like to him. Dark, and dirty, and covered in grime. Messy and trashy. The further he drove, the more his face creased in disgust. You felt embarrassed and defensive, because although you had no love for the neighborhood, it was still the place you had to call home. Judging it felt like judging you, too.

When Yoongi pulled in front of your building, he could do nothing but stare at it. It was short, square, faded and cracking at the edges. There was an upturned trashcan out front next to a dark lump that could have been garbage, could have been a sleeping homeless person. The yellow streetlight outside flickered.

“Thank you for the ride,” you whispered. “I’ll see you—,”

“Let me walk you inside,” he interrupted, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I want to make sure you get in safe.”

“It’s really fine,” you tried to say, but he was already turning off the car and stepping out. You quickly got out of the passenger seat.

“What floor are you on?” he asked.

“The fifth one.” Yoongi bypassed you entirely, and you had to jog to catch up with him as he walked inside, eyeing the suspicious lump on the side of the street.

He went to open the door but it stuck, metal creaking ominously. You reached out and grabbed the other handle. “You have to use the left door.”

He nodded, and the two of you went inside.

You’d never been more critical of your building than in that moment. You could see every flaw: the peeling wallpaper, the dingy furniture, the dirty floor, the water-stained ceiling. And you knew Yoongi saw it, too.

“We can’t take the elevator,” you told him. “It doesn’t work.”

The two of you climbed the stairwell, shivering slightly. He commented, “It’s cold.”

“There’s no heat,” you admitted, and somehow, the carefully neutral look on his face was even worse than an openly judgmental one.

You made it to the fifth floor just in time to hear your neighbor shouting through his thin wall, “Whatever, asshole!”

It was followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. You walked past your neighbor's door like you’d heard nothing, although Yoongi seemed startled. You were walking quicker than he was, like you were trying to leave him behind. Why couldn’t he get the message that you didn’t want him here?

You grabbed your keys from your pocket and jingled them, halting in front of your apartment. Yoongi stopped next to you, still eyeing the dirty hallway. There were several unpatched holes in the drywall from where your neighbor had punched the wall after arguing with his girlfriend.

Yoongi broke the silence by saying, “So, this is your apartment?”

“It’s a real five-star hotel, huh,” you said, sarcastically. You unlocked your door and turned your knob, but kept the door shut tight. You didn’t want him to see inside. “Watch out for cockroaches.”

Yoongi’s lip curled in disgust, and he started eyeing the floor. Your chest quivered and started breaking into pieces, because you were laid bare. You were (Y/N), in your shitty apartment, getting home from your shitty job, where you would probably be stuck for the rest of your life.

“It’s, uh,” he said. “Nice.”

Ridiculously, you suddenly felt like you wanted to cry. “Thank you for walking me inside. I’ll see you later.”

“(Y/N),” he went to say, but you were already shutting the door in his face, pressing your forehead against the cheap and cracking wood. A dull ache was starting in your shoulder where a vodka bottle had fallen, but it had nothing on the serious ache building in your chest.

~~~

Almost a full week passed before you saw Yoongi again.

Usually, he came in every Monday night. He liked the bar best when it was quiet, when it wasn’t crowded, when he could monopolize your attention for longer and longer periods of time. Monday night came and Monday night went, and it dragged on relentless as you waited for him, telling yourself you weren’t waiting for him.

You locked the door that night with crushing disappointment.

The fight had probably scared him off. Obviously, he regretted stepping in to defend you. What would have happened if he’d gotten seriously hurt? Sued? His good name, ran through the mud by the media?

Tycoon Min Yoongi Arrested After Late-night Barfight.

The mere idea made you shudder.

You carried your disappointment into Tuesday, but by Wednesday, you didn’t even bat an eye whenever the bell at the entrance to the bar rang. You were wiping down the countertop at ten o’clock at night when Yoongi sauntered in, nose red from the cold, hair wet and mouth pouting with it.

Like usual, the bar was quiet. Two old men sat in the middle of the counter and preoccupied themselves with watching the shitty television mounted behind the bar.

Your breath caught in your throat. Yoongi had a bad habit of always looking like a supermodel, no matter what condition he was in.

Nerves tied your tongue. You wanted to ask him where he’d been, but didn’t want to seem like you cared. For a moment, you weren’t sure how to act around him, but you decided to just play it casual.

“Is it cold?” you asked, dumbly. Of course it was cold. It was the middle of fucking winter.

“It’s snowing,” he said, sitting in his usual seat, setting his jacket on the counter. You started making him his drink just to avoid looking at him. “I’m driving you home.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Yoongi shot you such a sudden glare, your teeth clicked together when you shut it.

“Thank you,” you said, sliding him his drink. He tipped it back and downed it, and you stared mesmerized at the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed.

He set the glass back down and hissed, and you refilled his drink in silence. Yoongi kept his eyes trained on the countertop.

The atmosphere between the two of you felt tense and awkward, and it only got worse the longer the silence stretched.

Maybe it was finally time. Maybe Yoongi was going to say your bar was too seedy for people like him to visit. People like Min Yoongi deserved better than the half-ass booze you could supply, the half-ass décor, your half-ass service. Not even a good drink could make up for it.

You and Min Yoongi were from two different classes. It didn’t matter how special he made you feel. At the end of the day, anything between the two of you, even just friendship, wasn’t meant to be.

“I want you to quit,” he said.

You slid him his drink with a short laugh. You liked the way Yoongi spoke—short, blunt and honest. It mixed so well with his sense of humor, it was hard to tell the difference between the two. “You and me both, buddy.”

What had happened last Thursday had shaken you up much more than you were willing to admit. Controversy was part of the job—there was a constant risk that some belligerent drunk was going to push you too far. But it had never gotten that bad before, and you cringed to think about what might have happened had Yoongi not been there.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But I’m being serious. I’ll give you $10,000 to quit right now.”

He reached into his suit pocket and set something on the countertop. You were distracted by his oddly stern gaze when you realized his hand was sliding you a check, and it was filled out to you, and when did you tell him your last name? His handwriting was neat and controlled and he was sliding you a check with your full name on it for ten-thousand-fucking-dollars—

You gasped and slapped your hand over it. “Put that away before we get mobbed by every patron in this bar.”

“Put it away in your pocket,” he said. “Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

To your utter shock, Yoongi took your hand and started leading you down the bar, toward your manager’s office. A few people eyed you, making you blush. You snatched your hand away, and he stared at it forlornly.

“What are you talking about?” you asked him.

“I’m giving you $10,000 to quit your job,” he replied. “And then I’m going to pay for your living expenses while you find a new one.”

You stared at him. It seemed like, for the first time in your life, you were struck speechless. You’d have to make a mark on your calendar. “What the fuck.”

“I’m sorry for how I reacted last week, at your apartment,” he said, suddenly. He took a deep breath to steady himself and winced. “I was an idiot and I didn’t expect it. I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t expect what?” you asked. “For me to live in a dump? For me to be dirt poor? Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

He winced again. “I want to apologize anyway. Take this check and talk to your manager. I want to warm up the car before we leave.”

He seemed so confident that you would agree. You felt the embarrassment and frustration from the last week bubble up in your chest. You grabbed a rag from behind the counter and started cleaning the bar, just for an excuse not to look at him.

“I am not a charity case, Mr. Min,” you hissed. He looked up, shocked at the venom in your voice, before his face creased.

“That’s not what this is. Don’t purposefully misinterpret me,” he ran a tense hand through his hair, and you had never seen him so undone. Pride mixed with heat in your stomach, to see him like that—to know that you were the one who finally put such a fine-edged crack in his golden composure.

“(Y/N),” he said. “If I hadn’t been here last Thursday, what would have happened?”

“Nothing I couldn’t have handled on my own,” you bluffed, but it was a lie. Maybe your manager could have gotten there in time. Maybe some other kind patron would have tried to intervene on your behalf. But the result was the same—nothing about either situation guaranteed your safety.

“Please, quit this job,” he repeated, quieter, more pleading. “Right now. And I’ll pay for everything while you find a new one. Your rent, your water, your electricity. Fuck, do you have Wi-Fi? Do you want Wi-Fi? What’s your phone number? And so help me God, if you tell me you don’t have a cellphone—,”

“I have a fucking cellphone, Yoongi,” you snapped. “Even poor people can have a cellphone.”

He eyed you, unimpressed by your attitude. “And you say I’m the cactus of this relationship.”

“You are,” you defended, until, “and there’s no relationship between us. I’m your bartender, and you’re my customer.”

“Why won’t you let me help you?” he asked. “You’re miserable here.”

“A lot of people are miserable!” you burst out. A few people turned to look at you, but you ignored them. “Life isn’t fair! It’s not always happy, or fun. Sometimes, people have to do a lot of shit they don’t want to do to survive, and that’s life, okay? That’s reality.”

“Maybe that’s the reality for some people, but it doesn’t have to be for you,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with accepting my help, you know that? You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

You were so used to doing everything on your own, you didn’t know how to accept help. You didn’t know how to ask for support.

“A lot of people would be grateful for an opportunity like this,” he continued. “How would they feel watching you turn it down?”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Someone very smart actually just told me that life isn’t fair. So, sucks,” Yoongi shrugged. On the outside he seemed calm and collected, but you could see the white-knuckled grip he had on the countertop.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Yoongi said. “If you really don’t want my help, I’ll accept that. But I really, really want to help.”

You threw your rag to the side and took a deep breath, and then another. You knew you had a temper, and you knew you were too stubborn for you own good. How would you feel, if someone in your position had an offer from someone like Yoongi, and they’d thrown it back in his face?

“Job hunting is hard,” you muttered, and Yoongi had to lean forward to hear you. “It’ll take at least a month.”

“(Y/N),” he said. “It could take the whole damn year and I wouldn’t care.”

“I should probably turn in my two-week notice.”

“You quit right now,” Yoongi demanded. “Non-negotiable.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you said, to yourself. You weren’t Julia Roberts, and this wasn’t Pretty Woman. What the hell were you thinking?

“We can go over details at dinner,” Yoongi said. “I’ll pay.” He paused, and eyed you sheepishly. “If that’s okay, of course.”

You didn’t like the idea of Yoongi paying for your dinner, but you guessed you would have to get used to it. It was just dinner. It was basically a business meeting.

“I’ll let you pay if we go somewhere cheap,” you bartered. He didn’t look pleased, but accepted the compromise nonetheless.

“Not McDonald’s.”

You laughed. “Not McDonald’s.”

Untying your apron from around your neck, you took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the upcoming conversation with your manager, but you had a feeling that no amount of deep breathing would help you through what followed afterward.

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comicteaparty · 5 years

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March 16th-March 22nd, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from March 16th, 2020 to March 22nd, 2020. The chat focused on The Phoenix by Bri de Danann.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on The Phoenix by Bri de Danann~! (https://www.bridedanann.com/thephoenix)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace until March 22nd, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Discussions are freeform, but we do offer discussion prompts in the pins for those who’d like to have them. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic!

Whether you finish the comic or can only read a few pages, everyone is welcome to join and chat with us!

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 1

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic?

2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)?

3. Who is your favorite character?

4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most?

5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores?

7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content?

8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I'm really loving Cassidy so far - her confidence is infectious! One thing I'm interested in learning more about - the worldbuilding exposition we're given during the intermission. Like, it paints the Alliance in a REALLY positive light... which makes sense, because contextually this is an Alliance-produced ad/propaganda piece. So, I'm curious to find out what the actual story of Marketplace is.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Just started reading from the beginning..."You need a blue cat in every scifi creation" is making me feel very called-out right now, heh.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Aaaand the cat-guy runs up stairs on all four feet, that's a good touch

I wish a lot of these pages were bigger, or at least had the action spread out a bit more! Like, on this page https://www.bridedanann.com/pg-13-chapter-1 the "And...associate" is a very funny beat, but there's not enough space to put the speech bubbles one-after-the-other, so they read out-of-order and you lose the rhythm of the joke

That overhead shot of the city streets, too -- it's great, cool evocative setting, neat glowy future architecture, solid anatomy and a good feeling of motion with the figure -- so I wish the whole thing had more room to breathe.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I will second that criticism about the bubble order

Also on the topic of criticism, I don't know if the author already knows this or not, but the formatting is a bit messed up on mobile and you have to scroll a lot to reach the page(edited)

BriDanann

Thanks for the layout critique! It's something I've noticed and have tried to fix in my writing and bubble placement in subsequent chapters! I am still learning but I'm glad you like the setting and action! Also, for the mobile viewing on the site I am aware that it is messed up. Squarespace is honestly trash at setting up for mobile viewing, I've tried to finagle it but it won't stack neatly... this is why I put it on tapas and Webtoon, they are set up for mobile and it makes it much easier. Sorry for that inconvenience! I am looking into getting a better site for the home of my comic

RebelVampire

Something I like about the beginning of the comic was it just kind of defied my expectations. Like from the cover I was expecting something a bit more light-hearted, maybe even philosophical. And then nope, it's a space adventure. Yet at the same time I still get some of those beautiful more whimsical shots in the art, and it's an interesting combination. As for favorite scene, definitely https://www.bridedanann.com/pg-15-chapter-1 A very light comedic moment that takes the normal graceful leap of faith and turns it into what it would actually be like in real life for most people. Gotta love that subversion. Favorite character right now is Arerio. As the newcomer to the crew, I just connect with Arerio the most right now, plus I'm invested in Arerio's sort of bodyguard defense roll for the crew. Means Arerio is gonna get them spicy action scenes. So far, I've enjoyed seeing Cassidy and Arerio interact the most. I like that Cassidy is both frank with Arerio while also pushing Arerio to do crazy things like jump off random buildings. I kind of feel too that, again, as the newcomer, their lack of established relationship makes what will develop for it have higher stakes, vs. the people Cassidy has clearly known for a long time.

What I liked about the art most is the spacescapes. Beautiful color choices and blending, such as https://www.bridedanann.com/pg-1-chp-2 And like, if you're gonna have a space adventure, having great spacescapes like this is fantastic! Insofar, I like that the comic seems to be exploring authority and trust and what people do when they no longer trust the people in charge. While I don't have a favorite moment yet, I do feel this is a very important topic these days to talk about, as more and more young people are growing up unsure if they can trust authority figures. As for the story content, I've really enjoyed the world-building. Like that Intermission part was really right up my alley, and I enjoyed how expansive the world is yet balanced to not bring up the world at every turn in the main story. It makes for a good setting for space adventures. For the comic's strengths, I'm gonna say a combo of the world-building, the creativity in the world-building, and the effort put into the spacescapes. All together, these just make the space part of the space adventures seem more interesting, which surprisingly not every story nails in that regard.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

How much control does Squarespace give you over your CSS? If you can edit that, it would be really easy to do things like make the little spaceship-graphics disappear completely in mobile view, so readers don't have to scroll past them. (A host with a Wordpress installation would give you total control over the CSS. Switching would take some effort, the benefits might or might not be worth it for you, but it's probably worth looking into it and seeing what you think.)

Back to the comic itself -- just got through chapter 1, and, aha, this is an Oppressing AIs Who Want To Be Free kind of Space Empire? Plus, this narration about a planet being "discovered" and happily "added" to the Alliance -- even though it already had native residents, and the Alliance apparently decided to rename it without their input -- is...chirpily ominous.

Chapter 2 cover: oooh, is that a plant-person I see?

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 2

9. Given the comic describes itself partially as a “found family” story, how do you think events in the comic will bond the characters into a family? What obstacles will the characters go through that challenges their relationships, and what is the overall message about family?

10. Why is The Phoenix’s AI being hunted by the Alliance? Further, why are Cassidy and crew seemingly risking themselves to protect the AI from the Alliance? Which side is right in this situation?

11. Why and/or how do you think Cassidy wound up on the Alliance’s bad side? What about Arerio – why doesn’t Arerio trust the Alliance either? Overall, do you think we as the audience should trust the Alliance?

12. What aspect of the world-building so far do you think will become relevant to the events of the story – especially in regards to Cassidy’s crew’s activities? How will the addition of Arerio change how the group operates from what has been revealed so far about their activities?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Well, the Alliance is definitely evil, and Cassidy said AI Rights. Remains to be seen whether it's a general "the AI wants to have free will and not be controlled by authoritarian programming" issue, or something specific like "the AI refused to carry out a specific mission." I thought it was the ship's AI, given that it's not described as an android/robot/etc -- but now we've seen it enter the scene in a humanoid body, so I wonder if the issue is "it experienced mechanical dysphoria while ship-shaped, and the oppressive space empire wouldn't allow it to switch to a new body."

RebelVampire

From initial impressions, I get the feeling all the main cast are outcasts in some ways, at least as far as the Alliance goes. And I think that along is will what bond the characters, since regardless of events, it can always come back to "at least were outcasts together." As for obstacles though, I kind of feel like there's bound to be personality conflicts and while they might all agree the Alliance sucks, at the end I feel each choice Cassidy makes is gonna divide the crew in some way. As for overall message, though, I think it's that family can be anyone and you're not just stuck with the family or even birthplace you were given. Go to where the people who care about you is. As for why the AI is being hunted, not entire sure, but I'm sure a lot of it is just its an AI. People tend to be extremely fearful of the idea of AI or AI that isn't under control. I mean, there's a reason this is a common theme in sci-fi. So for all intents and purposes, I think a large part is just AI = danger to the Alliance. As for why Cassidy and crew are risking their lives, it's probably just they see the AI as a person, not some hardened criminal threat. As for whose side is right, probably neither in my personal opinion. XD They're two extremes that fail to consider the other point of view.

I get the feeling that Cassidy was probably a bit too free-spirited and rebellious for the Alliance's liking, so they outcasted her and snowballed the whole thing. In regards to Arerio, I feel like he witnessed something horrible and just noped outta the situation. I don't think we should trust the Alliance as an organization. Maybe individual people in it, but the whole organization is surely corrupt. I've talked a bit about the world-building I think, but I want to mention again I actually enjoy the Intermission the most. Really gave some context to the story. I kind of feel Arerio is gonna cause Cassidy to take more risks. Cause there is less of a need to be careful if you've got muscle. And while this may increase good deeds, it will inevitably put them in more dangerous as they become more infamous.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

The Intermission was hosted by an AI with some kind of official role, so it's definitely specific to AI that don't "follow the rules" in some way. Details to be revealed, I'm sure. And if one extreme is "I am definitely a person" while the other extreme is "You are definitely not a person", that's not a situation where you should try to consider each other's views and find a truth somewhere in the middle! You gotta stand up for the person, insist that they deserve the same human rights (...sapient rights?) as everyone else.

RebelVampire

I don't really view this as an argument of definitely a person vs. not a person for this story personally. I mean I'm sure that's in there. But I think this is more about "AIs are safe" vs. "AIs are dangerous"

Calliope Ψ ^,^

AIs will absolutely be deserving of rights. Their danger notwithstanding, it would be unethical to withhold inalienable rights from a sentient being simply based on their being digital instead of electrochemical.

RebelVampire

Just in case anyone thinks otherwise, I 100% think AIs are deserving of the same rights as people. However, I do think talking about safety is still important and to blanket say AIs are auto safe or auto dangerous are two extremes, neither of which is entirely correct. But obviously I'm basing this off my interpretation of the comic. It could shift to the people vs. not people debate, which would be a different matter to me.

Calliope Ψ ^,^

Humans are just as dangerous as AIs, that much is true, especially given how much we appropriate low-level proto-AIs to do our bidding. Though, I definitely understand where you're coming from ^^

RebelVampire

Yeah. Like i mean humans are the exact same, which is why we take precautions and have laws and enforcement to stop dangerous people. AIs should be treated in a similar respected but cautionary fashion. Just enforcement for AIs will obviously have to be different cause you can't exactly throw an AI in jail and hope for the same results.

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 3

13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic?

14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

mathtans

Found a little time today. So quickly running through the prompts:

1. Liked the setup of meeting someone who doesn't know the plot to act as our window into things... with the twist that Cassidy and crew are actually known by reputation at least.

2. The cloaked ship angle was a good one, I didn't think of that (I was envisioning that moment in Back to the Future II when Marty steps off the roof) and wow leap of faith by Arerio.

I think that kinda shows how the Alliance is bad news. Arerio was practically willing to die instead of be captured (though presumably he figured there was an ace up a sleeve somewhere).

3. Honestly, I like Sequoia. Cassidy's a bit reckless for my tastes, Arerio didn't really ping for whatever reason, and the others we're still learning about... and here's a character who seemingly drinks water by holding hair in a cup. I gather s/he's a type of tree. Seems to hang back and observe. Liking that. Of course, I'm weird.

4. The Cassidy/Tiko felt a little annoying at first but the interaction on the bridge later helped me to realize this is just a thing they do, and I like that they can be so casual with each other. (When it's not some life and death thing!)

5. Each character's distinctly different, though maybe that's more about the background than the art. I also liked the trip up the stairs and the fall off the tower. The visuals conveyed the scale/scope to me.

6. I'm bad with themes. I suppose the idea of coming together (when faced with a problematic Alliance)?

7. The AI thing has set up a good mystery. And maybe I'm watching too much "Picard" lately, but there's different places they can go with that that others have pointed out too... seems to have been a bit of a topic so far.

(I'm fading, I'll hit a bit more tomorrow.)

(Oh, I like the little comments at the bottom of the panels. So maybe that's a strength too.)

RebelVampire

What I'm most looking forward to seeing in the comic right now is just this first mission so we can get a feel as to what the characters are involved in. That will really set a lot of the tone for the rest of the story, so it'll definitely be a positive step forward. Overall, though, I really enjoy the effort put into the comic so far, and it'll be nice to see where it is in a few months~!

mathtans

Just to hit the highlights of the last questions, continuing from last night... there's probably the idea that family is the people who stick by you more than the people you're related to. In fact it might be interesting to see who some of their parents are (assuming they're alive) and whether they approve versus got into similar trouble.

The AI is being hunted because it's mostly armless. Eh heh... I'm wondering if maybe it's obsolete and refused upgrades or something? But maybe Cassidy and team are able to prevent any viral takeovers, the Alliance simply isn't listening? (That got a bit random but I don't think it's been pitched already.) And "right" is probably somewhere in the middle.

Alliance, as others have said, is probably shady (not the least of which because of the art portrayal?). But I guess there's some reason they're still in charge. ("Firefly" comes to mind, not because I was ever one who watched it, but because I think they were in a similar situation? I could be way off base.)

I liked the thought (I think it was Rebel) of the crew getting riskier now that Arerio is there. Though they seem a bit free spirited anyway, so it might be more a case of not raising their guard as much as they have before.

Anyway, I'd be looking forward to a bit more of the secondary characters (like Sequoia) as the twist of their mission (isn't there always a twist?) becomes apparent. Best with it!

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about The Phoenix this week! Please also give a special thank you to Bri de Danann for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked The Phoenix, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://www.bridedanann.com/thephoenix

Bri’s Redbubble Shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/bridanann/shop?asc=u

Bri’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/bridedanann

Bri’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/BriDanann

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic book club #webcomic bookclub #comic tea party #ctp #the phoenix #bri de danann

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