#some kind of fruit-related butterfly effect

[cinderella-ish]

For the Fruits Basket asks: 2, 3, 19, and 18/20 for Momiji!

Oh, yay! I'm so glad you asked! (ask game here)

2. This might be the hardest question of all, because all the characters are so richly developed and I genuinely like (almost) all of them! I have a certain soft spot for Yuki and Momiji, of course, as the characters I relate to the most, and a similar soft spot for Ayame and Arisa, because I relate to them in a way as well, though to a lesser degree.

I've been writing a lot of Kyo, Saki, and (weirdly) Hiroshi, so I feel really attached to them right now. I mean, Kyo is a character whose happiness genuinely healed me. Saki's unapologetic weirdness is just the best (and uhhh my friend group in high school had a few people who shared several traits with Saki, so I was bound to like her). And Hiroshi and Yusuke are literally the best part of every scene they're in. (Especially Hiroshi in Cinderella-ish. Seriously, his narration is top tier!)

And Machi and Kakeru have a special place in my heart, too, partly because of their roles in Yuki's development, but also because of the ways I relate to each of them. And, of course, Tohru. I mean, there's so much to say about her, but her deep, deep empathy and the richness of her arc and development are just gorgeous.

I do keep coming back to Yuki and Momiji, though. They're central to two of the scenes that I found most surprisingly powerful; Yuki when he tells Kakeru "that isn't what I want!" and Momiji in his speech to Akito, when he says "a happiness might exist for me!" Outside of the major plot points of the series (which are nearly all centered around Tohru and Kyo), these two moments are, I think, some of the most satisfying developments for any of the characters, period.

(Oops, that turned into an essay 😅)

3. If we're sticking to named characters, I think Katsuya is the only choice. I know Takaya couldn't develop every single character in the series, but Katsuya is one whose development would have enriched not only him, but Kyoko, Tohru, and Grandpa Honda as well.

I think that the Katsuya-Kyoko relationship can be read as problematic and even predatory exactly as written. It reads as romanticized because it's told from Kyoko's point of view. But Katsuya himself remains kind of an enigma, and it's just really hard to like him when we don't even know what made him think pursuing a middle schooler was okay.

19. Oh gosh. You're going to get a few long answers, I fear. 😅

I have several favorite fanworks! Off the top of my head:

Ripples, by @proseprincess

So, canon divergent AUs are probably my favorite type of fic, and I especially love fics where one canon event changes, and everything that follows changes due to something like a butterfly effect. In this two-part series, Tohru never met Kureno in the park, which changes everything that came after in a big way. I love that this tackles some massive changes to canon, yet they all feel grounded in the world and characters we all know. The second installment is incomplete, but still very worth the read IMO, not only because part 1 ends with a massive cliffhanger, but because it's just so inventive and unlike anything else I've read. Maybe my very favorite fanwork.

I'll be Standing There By You, by Eboni_A

This is a beautiful, devastating AU told from Yuki's point of view where he finds out in the final weeks of her life that Tohru has terminal cancer. We see Yuki drop everything to come and support Kyo and be with Tohru in her final weeks, we see Tohru die, and we see Kyo and Yuki (and everyone else) try to keep going afterward. It's heartbreaking yet hopeful, and the author made relatively recent comments about a potential sequel! Fingers crossed!

Inertia, by miss_coverly @lesbian-kyoru

This is another canon divergent AU where Kyo and Tohru become friends with benefits before the curse breaks. It's honestly shocking how beautiful this work is. The prose is gorgeous, the angst is dialed all the way up, the sexual tension is dialed even higher, the characterization is crystal clear, it's honestly a masterclass in POV, the sex is sexy, and I could go on and on. I never thought a blowjob scene would make me cry, yet it did.

The Pursuit of Repeating History, by RiddleAfar @mistergrass

So, when I first started reading fanfiction, I stuck strictly with canon-compliant works. Then, I dipped my toes into canon divergence AUs like those above, but I heavily resisted reading anything with alternative pairings.

Then, I got curious about that one really popular Yuki/Kyo soulmates AU fic, and gave it a read. By the end of the first chapter, I couldn't put it down. And when I was finished reading, I knew I had to check out everything else by that author, which is how I ended up reading The Pursuit of Repeating History.

This story honestly showed me the power of fanfiction. The author legit crafted lore for the Fruits Basket universe. And the "lore" chapters (I think they're referred to as "intermissions") are each beautifully-told stories in their own right. But the author also grappled with how the curse might work, and I think they did an incredible job. I'm actually rereading this beast right now!

We'll Work it Out Together, by inheritanceofgeek @mrsmarymorstan

Okay, I'm a sucker for anything with lots of Hiroshi and Yusuke, and this story is probably the most Hiroshi-and-Yusuke-focused story on Ao3. (Probably worth mentioning the author's sideblog, @2d-iendfrays which is an absolute treasure!) In it, Kyo figures out he's asexual, then figures out he's demisexual, all with the help of his two wholesome buds.

Like almost all the authors on this list, inheritanceofgeek has some other really fantastic works that are worth checking out, from sexual humor to Yuki/Machi smut to a touching piece about new parenthood.

How Can I Thank You, by SharkFairy77

Another brilliant Yuki/Kyo piece, in which Yuki hosts Kakeru and Komaki for dinner (at the apartment he shares with Kyo), and at the last minute, Kakeru asks if Machi can come. (Machi is Yuki's ex in this universe)

The piece starts with dinner prep, and then dinner, and the character writing is just incredibly spot on. I loved the arc of the story through the dinner, and the way Kyo and Machi come to an understanding.

But then, we get into some A+ YukiKyo smut.

I'll Be Here, by Blanche2023 @biancanekoyokai

(Full disclosure - I beta read this work!)

This is a very sweet and sad piece about Kyo's first few days in Kazuma's care after his mother's death. Blanche's characterization is outstanding, and she handles tricky things (like writing a young Akito who's also performing head-of-the-family duties) in a really clever way.

I don't think there's enough pre-canon fic out there, nor enough gen fic, and this piece is just beautiful.

Escaping the future, by Modzy78

I really love the way Modzy78 thinks about the Fruits Basket universe, and her take on the canon-divergence of "what if Tohru never confessed to Kyo" is inventive, suspenseful, fluffy, and just such a fun read! I also really love her other canon divergent AU Cursing the Cursed. And Modzy78 is honestly a superhero for the fandom.

The Talk, by Geoduck @drgeoduck

Honestly, Geoduck has a ton of works you should read, but I'll mention this one because it's probably the funniest thing I've ever read. And then it somehow gets even funnier!

The Ones Who Walk Away From Sohma House, also by Geoduck

If you're a fan of Ursula K. Leguin (my very favorite author!), then you are probably familiar with her famous short story, The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, and this short fic is an absolute must-read.

no one is lost, by emphasis

Momiji bumps into Ritsu in a gay bar. Not a pairing I ever imagined, but an excellent fic that puts Momiji in the position of "elder queer" to Ritsu. (Honestly, I wish there were more Momiji-as-elder-queer fics!)

Some other favorites:

The Night We Met, by pettyimperfections

Hold On, by Danyu

Heart Strain, by Kitty0430

I think about you all the time, by lucybeee @riceballcatfb (incomplete)

Making Nice, by Itsalreadyhalloweenright @riza-rin-rose (incomplete)

What's a White Lie Between Friends (& My Family)? by AnxietyAvocado

My Hands on You is Just a Fantasy, by unscheduledmakeouts

This Air is Blessed, by KyoDoodles

Please, Let Her Live, by @goldfishoflove

And that isn't even touching the dozens of phenomenal Yukeru fics! Just a small selection of Yukeru favorites:

fit back in, by @luftballons99

woebegone, by a-bigail @yunsoh

The Other Side of Paradise, by reconquer @yukisohmasmokesweed

If I Ever Feel Better, also by reconquer

if i do anything i regret tonight, no i didn't, by sacrificialParsnip (another fic where Momiji is an elder queer!)

i wanna be dyed with your colors, by halfhope

Like Fireworks in the Night Sky, by Princely_Hairdos (incomplete, currently being updated!)

President Perfect, by draebelle

tongue tied, by b_o_i (note: heed the warnings!)

And if you're familiar with OnigiriCat4Ever's canon continuation series, Always and Forever, some of my favorite works from that series include My Brother, Truth and Consequences, You Don't Understand, I Want to Understand, and all of their smut (collected in a separate series called Tohru and Kyo's Amorous Adventures, plus one explicit Hajime/Mutsuki fic).

And, of course, I'm really proud of my longfic, Bloom Within Us, and wrote it because it's the sort of thing I'd want to read. It's currently in progress, and I took a break from writing due to a family emergency, but I'm back at it and hope to start regular posting within a month.

uhhhh so I think I'll have to make my Momiji headcanons another post (hopefully tomorrow) because this got long! 😅 Thank you again for asking!

[chrysanthemumgames]

Hello!  I love your game! I always liked reading about antiquity, and this game is such a lovely way to have some fun with Greek myths. Your writing is wonderful: the pacing is nice, the language is very eloquent, and the characters are charming—considering that it is only a WIP, you've done such an amazing job! I don't think I've even noticed any bugs or typos! This is brilliant! 

I loved the moment when Hades and the MC greet Hera, and if you play as "on the more socially-graceful side" Persephone, Hera recognises it and comments on how your character "rather effectively covers [Hades'] weaknesses." And then later, the game also says: "You can manage well enough with it, and you think your participation probably smooths out what might have otherwise been a few minor bumps in things." I really like the idea that a charming consort doesn't clash with Hades, but sort of complements and completes him, that your differences don't impede your coregency but strengthen it (personally, I'd love to become a proper Marie-Antoinette, a charming social butterfly overshadowing my socially awkward husband, lol, but never mind that).

Also, I am so excited to see what will come out of the possibility of starting your own cult! With a temple, too! Oh! I really hope we'd get to interact with our followers more, solving their problems, sure, but also just having fun, you know? I mean, having more of a "Cult of Dionysus" rather than "Eleusinian Mysteries". Because, so far it sort of feels like we don't play as much as "Demetra's child" but rather as "customisable Persephone". I love Dionysus, and I think it would be great if we had a choice to lean more towards Dionysus than Persephone. Because as it is now, most (if not all) details, in choices and in flavour text, relate much more to Persephone, like being a deity of spring (and not harvest, fruits, or vine) or having a very plant-based magic (and not something more chaotic and unhinged). Which is to be expected, of course, and I'm not saying that something should be different, this is literally the premise of the game, I understand that, but I think it would be cool to have a chance to choose something more Dionysus-related, perhaps in later chapters. I mean, like, for example:  

1) when Charon asks: "What would you like out of your time here?" to be able to answer something like "just to have fun" or "throw a party";

2) or when Pyri asks: "What do you do?" have choices like "theatre", "dancing", or "playing music and singing" (I think this kind of falls into the "exploring the arts" category, so I'm not saying there should be an extra choice as such but rather perhaps just a little mention of theatre and music in the following flavour text?);

3) or when the game says: "In between the work of getting your garden established, you find that over the next few weeks you have a fair bit of free time to spend as you like" choose to do something more chaotic? Boisterous? Wild? Like, get really wasted? Have a party with some souls? Organise a theatre performance? The present choices are totally fine, but they all do seem quite... tame. But perhaps in the future, we get to do something more rowdy? Unhinged even?

4) or have an option to decorate your head with grapes and ivy;

5) or be able to grow grapes in your garden? We can, of course, grow berries, fruits, and vegetables, so, again, I'm not saying there should be an extra choice, but perhaps just a bit of additional flavour text?

But again, this is just some backseat comments; feel free to ignore them! The main thing that I wanted to say is that your WIP is beautiful, and I really hope you won't abandon it! I am so very excited to see it finished! And I'm sorry this turned out to be so long! It's OK if you just leave it unanswered!

Hi there!

I'm really glad you're enjoying FoA; I have to admit that there are typos, though, so I'll call myself lucky that you haven't found any. ^^;

As to your suggestions, definitely reasonable of you to notice that the Dionysus-flavored options are not yet as prominent. One of the things I have slated for my eventual big editing phase is putting more of those in; some of them may even look like yours, as you've spotted quite a few places where they might fit.

Generally, the move to more revelry/wine/overall unhingedness is meant to be a move, rather than something the PC can be equally at the beginning alongside the spring/life/plant stuff, so there won't be loads of opportunities for it right off the bat, but I do want to add more as the story progresses, and I've admittedly been kind of neglecting that so far. Fair point. :)

[whileiamdying]

How to Think About Classic Hollywood’s “Problematic” Movies

by Richard Brody March 11, 2021

A new series on TCM contextualizes racist portrayals in films such as “Gone with the Wind.” Perhaps more insidious are the many films whose sins were ones of omission.Photograph by Fred Parrish / MGM / Photofest.

There’s an admirable new series, titled “Reframed,” that’s playing Thursday nights on TCM. It features the channel’s hosts—the film scholar Jacqueline Stewart alongside Ben Mankiewicz, Dave Karger, Alicia Malone, and Eddie Muller—contextualizing classic movies that may be “troubling and problematic.” The series, with introductions and post-broadcast discussions, débuted last week with an obvious but nonetheless crucial selection, “Gone with the Wind.” Stewart’s post-broadcast discussion with Muller, a film-noir specialist, is fruitful; its most salutary effect is, quietly but powerfully, to demolish the historical illusion of the so-called mainstream. The discussion is launched by Mankiewicz (yes, relation to the protagonist of “Mank”—he’s his grandson), who quotes Malcolm X saying that, when he was in the theatre watching “Gone with the Wind” and saw the performance of Butterfly McQueen, who played an enslaved woman named Prissy, he “felt like crawling under the rug.” Malcolm’s reaction, Stewart says, exemplifies the fact that there was “a range of responses to the film—it was just not universally praised.” Which is to say, it was only among white viewers, critics, and journalists that the movie’s adulation was both virtually unanimous and oblivious to its harmful distortions.

Many of the films in the series have sequences that should make any viewer cringe now, such as the blackface routines in “The Jazz Singer” and “Swing Time” (by Al Jolson and Fred Astaire, respectively) and the depiction of Native Americans in “The Searchers”—and that doubtless made many viewers cringe at the time of the films’ release, even if their voices were hardly reported in the “mainstream” (i.e., white-run) press. The “Reframed” series has the virtue of putting a warning label on those movies, a skull-and-crossbones sticker indicating that the contents of these movies are poisonous and should be approached with caution, not casually or heedlessly consumed. But there’s another kind of Hollywood film and another kind of toxic cinematic practice that tend to fly under the radar of critical reframing, because their sins are more ones of omission than of commission: the large number of classic Hollywood movies that give characters of color no substantial identities or discourse at all. That silence resounds appallingly throughout the history of Hollywood filmmaking, and it has to do with a fundamental dereliction of aesthetics, one that should call into question Hollywood’s artistic influence in the world of movies to this day.

A telling example is found in the drama “Come and Get It,” from 1936, directed mostly by Howard Hawks and then, after he was fired, by William Wyler. It’s the story of a Wisconsin logging foreman named Barney (Edward Arnold), who jilts the woman he loves, Lotta (Frances Farmer), in order to marry his boss’s daughter; many years later, having become a paper-mill tycoon, he meets the woman’s daughter (also played by Farmer, and also named Lotta) and falls in love with her. There’s a scene in which Barney, the younger Lotta, and two others travel together by rail, from Wisconsin to Chicago, in a private train car. There, a Black porter ushers them in and awaits orders from Barney, who addresses him as “Snowflake” before cheerfully dismissing him. Barney’s casually racist bonhomie may be in keeping with the character and the times (the action is set in 1907); the question is what the porter himself has to say about it. At some point in the journey, the porter would inevitably be in the company of other Black employees, and they would talk to one another—in ways that would obviously differ drastically from the way that they’d address the train’s white patrons. But the film never makes the porter or his perspective a part of the story; he is merely there to get the foursome into their private car and, from there, into the train’s public dining car.

The film “Come and Get It,” from 1936, exemplifies how the greatest and worst things about classic Hollywood movies are inseparable from each other.Photograph from Getty

In choosing “Come and Get It,” I am deliberately singling out one of my favorite films, by one of the directors who helped spark my love of classic Hollywood movies, because my point is that the greatest and worst things about classic Hollywood movies are inseparable from each other. Hawks—who always took part in the writing of his screenplays—once defined his method, in an interview with Joseph McBride, as “to tell my story as simply as possible.” His simplified style—keeping the camera at eye level, having actors speak tersely and move briskly—was extreme, but it was also exemplary of what made Hollywood successful, both commercially and artistically. In the essay “Rediscovering America,” from 1955, Éric Rohmer defined Hollywood style in two words: “efficiency and elegance.” For Hollywood directors, he added, “ellipsis is just a storytelling device.” The porter called Snowflake has been sacrificed on the altar of such a standard-practice ellipsis. One would be hard-pressed to make a case for considering him central, let alone essential, to the drama of “Come and Get It”—it’s easy to see how his story would have been omitted in the service of efficient storytelling. Hollywood’s inspirations of visual style and symbol, its ability to deliver characters’ emotional truths with a breathtaking rapidity and understatement, all arose from the same condensed and sharpened, conceptually refined and distilled dramatic methods that centered certain figures and left others on the margins or out altogether. The problem with Snowflake isn’t that a further and more detailed depiction of him doesn’t fit into “Come and Get It”; the problem is with the narrowness of the very idea of what constitutes a well-told story in the first place.

The modern, more inclusive political cinema, in the United States and elsewhere, owes its existence to the expansion, even the explosion, of this notion. The group of filmmakers responsible for the change was the one to which Rohmer himself belonged (and of which he was also the intellectual godfather), the French New Wave. The first cinephilic generation of filmmakers, the New Wave directors absorbed Hollywood’s conventions along with its artistic inspirations and, when they made films, their understanding of the latter became a lever with which to pry open the former—to wrench the conventions apart while still acknowledging their mythological power. They weren’t, for the most part, political filmmakers (only Jean-Luc Godard grabbed that mantle fervently), but their furious originality became a prolegomenon to any future political cinema.

The New Wave quickly proved to inspire political cinema internationally, as in Portugal, where Fernando Lopes broke the boundaries between documentary and fiction to see and hear a poor and washed-up boxer speak in his own voice and unfold the agonies of his times, in “Belarmino” (from 1964). As in Brazil, where Glauber Rocha burst the seams of realistic drama with a blend of mythopoetic fury and political analysis. As in West Germany, where Rainer Werner Fassbinder turned gangster films and hangout films, melodrama and costume drama and science fiction, into scathing historical and political critique. And as in France itself, where such filmmakers as Med Hondo, with “Soleil Ô,” and Melvin Van Peebles (who lived there in the nineteen-sixties), in “The Story of a Three-Day Pass,” developed freely collage-like methods and the extreme subjectivity of New Wave filmmaking into a new cinema of Black experience. In the United States, independent filmmakers such as William Greaves, with “Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One”; Jim McBride, with “David Holzman’s Diary”; Lizzie Borden, with “Born in Flames”; and Yvonne Rainer, with “Privilege,” developed and extended the New Wave’s self-implicating and self-questioning methods to make politically and formally radical films that reconsider the nature of movie narrative and the social order together.

The most conspicuously challenging and consequentially daring of New Wave-inspired story-breakers is Spike Lee, who—though his work eventually made its mark in Hollywood—burst into cinematic consciousness with “She’s Gotta Have It.” The film is something of a conspicuous homage to the jazzy and rhetorically disruptive, self-consciously frame-bursting work of Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut. The fragmentation of its story, the interruption of drama for direct address, the stylized and visually distorted images, the emphasis on extruding and foregrounding cultural heritage and historical currents, even the polyphonic and rhetorically emphatic spotlighting of voices—they all work in the interest of Lee’s own flow of associations, his wrenching apart of narrative in the interest of his first-person vision, which is as much a sonic and verbal one. (The critic Matt Zoller Seitz has distilled a crucial aspect of the Lee-Godard connection as “turning subtext into text.”) “Do the Right Thing” is more than an extraordinarily lucid and discerning political film; it’s also one of the most (perhaps the most) aesthetically radical films ever made by a Hollywood studio, and those two virtues are inseparably connected.

Similarly, the exclusions enforced by the classic studios—the complete absence of Black filmmakers and executives (a situation dramatized brilliantly by Julie Dash in her counter-historical drama “Illusions,” from 1982), the marginalization of Black actors, the near-total absence of female directors and producers—are inseparable from the exclusion of subjects, characters, ideas, and facts. And both exclusions are inseparable from the system’s tacit formal exclusions—the efficiency of storytelling, the suppression of digression and disruption, on which that classic style was composed. There’s no such thing as “the story” that’s latent in a subject and waiting to be discovered, or that preëxists within a movie like its Platonic form; there’s only what a filmmaker has in mind and wants to show, to hear, to see, to say. Hawks told McBride, “If you can do characters, you can forget about the plot. You just have characters moving around. Let them tell the story for you, and don’t worry about the plot.” But which characters?

The actor playing the role of Snowflake in “Come and Get It” is credited, on IMDb, as Fred (Snowflake) Toones, an actor who also ran the shoeshine stand at the Republic Pictures studio. Many of his roles are for characters with no names at all (“Pullman Porter,” “Washroom Attendant,” even “Native”). In another great film, “Big Brown Eyes,” from 1936—the one in which Cary Grant’s screen persona was definitively established—Toones plays a character called Chalky; in dozens of others, he’s called Snowflake. Yet in Hawks’s film the strange interpenetration of life and art, the metafictional element, goes entirely unaddressed outside of the character’s name. The Pullman porter whom Toones plays in “Come and Get It” is a figure of enormous historical significance: all of them were Black, and the first were formerly enslaved people who were hired to give white passengers a taste of deferential service. The job came with many related indignities, including the practice of passengers addressing porters indiscriminately as “George,” without regard to their actual names. In short, both the real-life Toones and the job that his character held in “C

ome and Get It” are both movies in themselves—movies that Hollywood never made. The administrative and aesthetic system that make such demeaning silences the norm, even the rule, is why, as the efforts of the “Reframed” series suggests, nostalgia for classic Hollywood isn’t only misguided; it’s indecent—as are today’s cinematic storytellers who presume to follow its lead.

Richard Brody began writing for The New Yorker in 1999. He writes about movies in his blog, The Front Row. He is the author of “Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard.”

[mcleaha]

hello lovelies ! i’m bøffy , i’m 20 years old , prefer she/her pronouns , and currently reside in the pst timezone ! uhh . . . i am posting this intro at nearly 5 AM my time , and i would be almost willing to bet it’s littered with errors and it’s . . . probably a bit all – over – the – place since this is very much a new muse ! however , with that being said , if you give this a like , i will definitely contact you via tumblr ims or d!scord ( 𝓲𝓷𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪 / 𝓮𝔁𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓪#1384 ) to plot !

[  jasmine brown  . 21  .  cis female .  she/her  ] just saw MALEAH AMICK dragging their suitcase up the steps to CABIN 1B  .  good luck living with HER  ,  i hear that that they’re INDECISIVE  ,  FORGETFUL ,  SOCIABLE  & CREATIVE  .  Apparently they’re the ATTACKING MIDFIELDER .  let’s hope the upcoming season doesn’t affect their JUNIOR year of ART EDUCATION .

STATS:

name: maleah amick .

nickname(s): leah .

age: twenty one .

gender identity: cis female .

pronouns: she/her .

sexual orientation: bisexual / biromantic .

birthday: 26 february 1999 .

zodiac sign: pisces .

myer-briggs: esfj .

pinterest: coming soon !

HISTORY:

               born on the 26th of february 1999 in orlando , florida , maleah was the youngest of the three amick siblings . her mother worked as a prestigious board – certified pediatric surgeon at a local children’s hospital , and her father worked as a high school mathematics teacher and volunteered as the school’s unpaid soccer coach , a move that saved the program from ending due to budget cuts ( he claims he was roped into the position as a first – year teacher with no seniority , but while he’s reluctant to admit it , he eventually grew a passion for the sport he had previously known little about ) .

               with her mother’s long shifts and emergency work – related calls , she ultimately became closer to her father and two older brothers while growing up . most knew her father as a man who towered over them at 6’7” , ordering his team to run laps or practice drills ; however , maleah knew him as the man who would crawl around the living room floor playing barbies with her or would prepare fruit and herbal teas as she twirled around dressed as a princess , declaring it time for a royal tea party . just as easily , she could be found exploring the great outdoors or playing whatever sport was currently in season alongside her brothers .

               she practically followed in her brothers’ footsteps . as they approached high school , each brother chose one sport to specialize in , hoping to secure a position on a college team and eventually on a professional team . maleah did not have professional athletic goals , but although she had immaculate grades with limited effort put towards academics , she knew extra – curricular activities were important for college applications . thus , when it was maleah’s turn to choose which sport to pursue , rather than having to weigh the pros and cons and make her own decision ( or perhaps , fearing that she would make the wrong decision ) , she simply chose the sport that her brothers had previously chosen : soccer .

               her high school coach knew the perfect position for maleah . years of informal practice with her brothers in the backyard had enhanced her skills . she had learned how to evade skilled high school defenses by pretending as if she was heading in one direction before bolting in the other .  soccer was one of the few areas in life in which she possessed enough knowledge to make quick and effective decisions ; she could read the field and immediately determine the best course of action : dribble , pass , or shoot . ultimately , she possessed the vision and the creativity necessary to secure playmaking and goal-scoring opportunities for her team .

               with a line of college scholarships , both academic and athletic , waiting for the attacking midfielder’s choice ( unfortunately , none from either of the schools her brothers played for ) , the time came for maleah to make a decision . as deadlines for summer practices , class registration , and tuition payments crept closer , she finally determined a means of deciding . she numbered her offer letters , 1 through 13 , and allowed a random number generator to make the decision for her . thus , mere chance ( or perhaps fate ) led maleah to hollis university .

               her first semester at hollis was . . . rough , to put it lightly . while most freshman shed a few tears as they watched their parents’ car drive off into the distance , homesickness lingered in maleah’s life . coasting through high school with limited effort had done her zero favors ; with no effective study skills , her grades dropped dramatically . between soccer and trying to salvage her grade point average , a social life was virtually out of question . ultimately , she found herself on academic probation , unable to play soccer , for her second semester of freshman year at hollis .

               luckily , she was able to develop effective study habits , and even discovered along the way that maybe pre – med was not the best major for her . when asked what she wanted to do , maleah gave an entire list of generic answers – “i want to help people” and “i want to make a difference” came up quite often , but nothing specific enough to point her in the right direction . thus , she changed her major almost every semester , desperately seeking for the right fit . in the meantime , though it took several letters petitioning her temporary removal from the team , she was able to resume playing soccer during her sophomore year .

               as junior year approached , maleah was almost certain that she was back in her coach’s good graces – no longer viewed with a sense of skepticism . she had proven herself capable , finding her name on the dean’s list nearly every semester and assisting her team in numerous wins throughout the soccer season . however , with hollis’ soccer teams’ restructuring , maleah can’t help but question if her coach views her as a valued athlete or a liability .

PERSONALITY:

               two words : social butterfly . almost to a fault . even if someone has expressed quite literally zero interest in talking to her / getting to know her , she will still make an attempt . kind of a . . . people – pleaser , in a sense , she just wants to be well – liked ?

               avoids ! conflict ! at ! all ! costs ! generally just . . . tries to avoid people or situations that upset her . not very prone to like . . . yelling or crying , but those close to her can definitely sense a change in her demeanor when she’s upset ? just . . . a lot more tense , probably lots of eye – rolling and just . . . subtle , quiet signs that she is over whatever the problem is .

               kinda . . . chill , mellow , easygoing ? she very much lives in the moment , and tries not to stress too much about the future . always down for a drink , a party , whatever – genuinely just around for some fun and some friends !!!

               the kind of person who genuinely gets excited over like those fun facts and jokes that are on popsicle sticks and whatnot – absolutely must share the information with everyone within earshot . honestly , those jokes are very . . . on point with her own personal sense of humor jflakdsj .

HEADCANONS:

               she suffers from a terrible case of youngest child syndrome . ultimately , without guidance , she’s terribly irresponsible . she’s always having to run extra laps because she sets her alarm too late to make it to morning practices on time . she’s always receiving overdraft fees for spending more money than is available in her checking account . forgets everything – from homework assignments to names to grabbing her keys before locking the door on her way out . just . . . imagine a child asking for an adult’s help and her looking around until she comes to the realization that “ oh , shit , i am an adult ” .

               she’s practically always doodling – in the corners of notebooks , on napkins while eating lunch , on her clothing , on her own skin . she loves making art , particularly drawing or painting portraits or nature . ( ultimately , she only decided to incorporate this into her choice of major after hollis threatened to not allow any further changes to her major ) .

               she has a . . . unique sense of style . she has a passion for thrifting and upcycling . practically lives in hoodies and t – shirts that she has purchased from secondhand stores and cropped herself . always adding cool iron-on patches to her clothing . she should be listed as your emergency contact if you’re prone to ripping your clothing because she can definitely fix it .

               she probably thinks she’s good at trash-talking on the field , but she actually sounds like a second grader ( and that’s being kind ) . if you looked at her browser history , there’s probably at least one record of her actually googling “ best soccer trash talk ” .

CONNECTIONS:

friends !! friends she’s met through courses throughout her adventures of attempting every major possible , mayhaps soccer friendships that continue off the field , mayhaps that complicated emerging new friendship state for some who are new to hollis ! unlikely friends ! best friends !!! quite literally those unbreakable ride – or – die friendships !

muses !! i feel like every artist needs that little dose of inspiration , even if it’s simply the inspiration of a work – in – progress portrait throughout the duration of camp ! complaints of “ stop moving ! ” and her stopping every ten minutes to ask what they think and probably at some point , her flinging a brush dripping of paint in their direction (if things didn’t end in an all – out paint fight djlfakds ) .

enemies !! honestly i’m sure there is ?? so much ?? potential for this , bt . . . mayhaps someone’s just . . . fed up w her irresponsibility ? thinks she doesn’t take her soccer position seriously ? maybe someone doesn’t think she takes anything seriously ( they wouldn’t be . . . wrong tbh ) . maybe someone from cali takes that “ california vs florida ” feud a little too seriously jflskdja . idk there’s always bound to be personality clashes !

exes !! relationships that ended badly , so she actively tries to avoid them and who even knows what happens when she’s forced to acknowledge their existence at some point at this camp !!! maybe relationships that ended on mutual terms so they’re still p chill with each other ?? maybe ended relationships that never quite got closure so there’s still unresolved feelings !!

hook-ups !! they are . . . college students . they are . . . college students stuck at a camp all summer . idk i feel like this one is pretty self – explanatory jflakds .

honestly i am tired & want to sleep , bt genuinely i am up for & open to anything ! good influences , bad influences , unrequited crushes , requited crushes , idk the world is y(our) oyster !! these are . . . rlly just some ideas to get the whole process started bc i am actually terrible at . . . thinking of plot ideas on the spot . always open to jst . . . doing a thread and seeing how things naturally flow too !

[inmyarmswrappedin]

In honor of a Vilde character finally having her POV strongly feature in a season (if not having a season to herself only), I am posting the third chapter in my series of posts about some fan banners I made for certain Skam España characters over the summer. I’m pleased that some of the elements in both Viri’s trailer and Viri’s promo pic are similar. Mostly the use of pink, which is kind of a gimme when it comes to Viri, but I will find my headpats where I can get them lol.

Background: Initially I was going to go with a solid baby pink background, but it didn’t feel busy enough. The image is actually not very on brand, lol. The background image is the pattern for Emmy Cicierega’s It’s Toile About You shirt for Threadless, cloned and tinted pink. The pattern itself is pretty funny, but like I said, not really related to Viri and picked for its busyness.

Collage concept: Viri is a Mr. Wonderful fan, so obviously, I had to build the collage around Mr. Wonderful patterns. We have cute animals, flowers, plants, fruits, celestial bodies, nail polish, a unicorn, a laptop, a book and a pencil. I wanted all of these cute things to distract from the things Viri is ashamed of, which are also present in the banner. There are several items that pop up in the banner and which are covered with stickers from Picsart.

The effect I wanted to achieve was this: as much as Viri wants to pretend her life is a never-ending Mr. Wonderful montage, she can’t help the things she’s ashamed of to come up to the surface. She tries to cover them as best she can, but the stickers coming from a different site with a style that isn’t Mr. Wonderful’s imply she can’t have the Mr. Wonderful life she wants.

Season themes: Viri’s concept is the one I was proudest of when I made these banners, but I found that unless I told people there were hidden elements in the banner, no one realized I had put them there. In case you want to see whether you can pick the items Viri’s ashamed of for yourself, I will put the key, so to speak, under a Read More.

From left to right:

A butterfly covers an empty wallet. It signifies Viri’s family’s financial situation.

The name VIRI, in a colorful, curvy font face, covers the name Elvira Gómez, written in a sober, black Courier New script.

A pink heart covers the Puente de Vallecas subway station sign. Vallecas is a Madrid neighborhood strongly affected by the 2008 economic crisis, and there are certain clues on the show that Viri lives in this neighborhood.

A kitten in a box covers a virgin statue. Unlike the other Vildes, Viri was unable to relax enough for Viri and Alejandro to have PIV sex. Viri probably sees penetrative sex as the only “real” sex act, and so she probably still considers herself a virgin. In season 1, she was pretty determined to go through with having sex with Alejandro because she thought it was time.

Two roses cover a body weight scale, and specifically the number on the scale. This is an oblique reference to her ED.

[Nora Grace]

[Jorge Crespo]

[whumptasticwednesday]

Insult to Injury ft. Dadneto (Peter Maximoff - X-Men)

Author’s Note: Hey, ya’ll. I’ve been burning the midnight oil to get this fic out on time, AKA 2 consecutive nights of staying up till’ 3 am. I’ve had the idea for a Peter-centric Dadneto whump fic for a decent amount of time, and after receiving a lovely anonymous prompt, I decided to incorporate both my idea and theirs. Here we’ve got Peter after the events of Apocalypse, debilitated, and accidentally giving himself a nasty case of salmonella, before Erik comes to help. I’m pretty proud of this one, so I hope you enjoy it! This fic is unedited, sorry, so please let me know if there’s any glaring issues. For my next fic, I’m shifting away from X-Men for a hot sec so I can write a nice Detroit: Become Human whump fic with our favorite android son, Connor. I’ve been super excited about my plot concept, so I’m ecstatic to start writing it. Anyways, I hope you like this one, I worked very hard on it, and I hope you’re all excited for the DBH fic coming soon!

-Ash

Word Count: 6299

Warning: Emeto and decently graphic descriptions of physical illness

Setting: Post-Apocalypse/Pre-Dark Phoenix

If there's anything Peter Maximoff knew in this moment, it was that not being able to do the one thing your body was genetically enhanced to do, sucked. A lot.

It had been only a few days since the X-Mansion had been rebuilt and things all fell back into this synonymous routine as if the entire building hadn't exploded a short while ago. In Peter's opinion, it was all kind of creepy how easy it seemed for these kids to all just go back to learning when their home and school just got eviscerated in a hellfire, but he didn't think much of it.

All he could think about in this moment, was how immensely bored he was. Peter always had something going on with him; he was either thinking about his impending dad-related issues, plotting a prank, or deciding to go off and steal an entire Walmart's worth of Twinkies in the blink of an eye, there was always something.

Yet now, the rest of the X-Men were off with Charles helping cover up heat from the international press by cleaning up all the damage and destruction in Cairo and showing what Charles had dubbed: "diplomacy", which was too huge of a word for Peter to ever use in an everyday sentence; too many letters, and Peter was left back at the mansion since he really couldn't use his powers effectively at the moment, so it would be pretty useless for him to be tagging along.

Peter normally wouldn't have given a damn, maybe even excited at the prospect of being able to rig his friends' rooms with elaborate traps with Jello and staplers or something of the sorts while they weren't around, yet now, when faced with inescapable boredom that followed him wherever his broken leg did (everywhere), he was dying to have anything to do. As the team was suiting up to get on the jet to go back to Cairo, Peter had pathetically hobbled down to the X-Men bunker on his crutches, begging to be taken with. But they'd simply gassed up the plane and flew off, leaving Peter alone, and oh so very bored.

Which brings us to Peter now, attempting to create an omelette with 6 different cheeses, 8 different and poorly-diced peppers, a heaping assortment of minced tomatoes, and a sprinkling of those off-brand fruit snacks that are always better than the on-brand ones for some reason. It wouldn't be a Peter breakfast without some form of sweet, and in his eyes, it stuck to the healthy-ish theme. It had fruit in the name for a reason, didn't it?

The kid always had a massive appetite, and everyone that knew Peter knew this as well. You'd be hard pressed to find him without some snack or form of sustenance in his hand, scarfing it down like there was no tomorrow. It was all a byproduct of his enhanced metabolism. All that energy to run had to come from somewhere, didn't it? Little did he know, this super stomach of his would come to kick him in the ass in a few short hours. But for now, the silver-haired man child of a mutant was limping around the mansion's kitchen making a very... exotic breakfast for dinner meal.

Peter plopped the strange looking (decently gooey) excuse for an omelette into a large plate with some Twinkies and orange juice on the side. As he devoured his dinner, Peter thought anxiously about Erik. It had taken him 10 years to connect the dots, work up the courage, and even think of confronting the man to tell him of his true parentage, yet wimped out at the last minute, leaving the ambiguous: "I'm here for my family too." Peter groaned audibly to himself as his mind once again replayed the events he'd already replayed a million times before. It was embarrassing as all hell. Luckily, nobody that did know told Erik anything, which Peter was very grateful for.

Imagine learning about a woman you left 2 and a half decades ago actually birthing a son you had no idea existed and just now learned of... but not from him, despite several encounters beforehand where he had ample opportunities to do so. It'd make Peter feel like even more of a loser than a 27 year old who still lived in his mother's basement. But, to be fair, Peter was no longer a grown man living with his mom, he was a grown man living in a school where he was many years past the oldest enrolled student, while not teaching a single class; it was a step up from the basement, trust me.

Once finished with his omelette, Peter quickly washed his dishes and made his trek up the small flight of stairs to reach his room on the second floor. Over the past few days, Peter had learned just how high a set of stairs could be, especially when you end up falling down them on several attempts to slide down the handrail (and failing miserably while being laughed at by dozens of impressionable pre-teen children.) What a loser.

After reaching his room, particularly winded from this dinner excursion, Peter was grateful to see that he hadn't unplugged his television from the wall after his embarrassing fall in an attempt to get to the bathroom by himself, without his crutches, or the lights on. A simple recipe for disaster in nearly all circumstances, yet for some reason, the universe held pity for Peter and his debilitated state, and decided to not make his day any worse than it already was.

Peter ultimately decided to entertain himself with a good night-long play session of Pac-Man on his Atari 2600, also still miraculously undamaged from last night's fall. He booted up the inferior version of the game (seriously though, he'd have to get Kurt to help him teleport his arcade cabinet from his basement to the school, playing this one was getting a bit tiring on the eyes.) It sufficed, he thought as the TV harshly flashed on.

Now normally, Peter would have been up all night with his video games and rock music blaring in the background, yet tonight, something (besides his immobile leg) felt really off. Each distinct 'WOMP' from the console as the yellow circle man consumed the dashes and dots felt like a sledgehammer into Peter's eardrums, leaving a resonating ache at the base of his skull. He didn't think much of it and brushed it off, simply turning down his music a notch and backing away from the TV a few inches.

The next confusing sign that something wasn't quite right was the disconcerting shivers wracking his body. A chilly breeze seemed to sweep the room as if the AC was on full blast with the windows open on a November midnight, yet it was July and all the windows were closed and when he went to check if his AC unit was acting up, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That's whack, Peter thought to himself as he plopped onto his bed, Atari abandoned on the rugged floor.

He didn't know how long he spent staring at the unmoving chandelier hanging lamely from the ceiling, but it felt as if seconds later, the room was not only freezing, but spinning, and suffocating. Everything felt way too close. Peter could feel every fiber of his shirt rubbing against his jacket, the itchy inside of his cast pressing up against the entirety of his right leg, and the presence of his goggles resting on his neck, now seeming like a noose closing in on his throat. He hastily tore off the eyewear and tossed them on his nightstand before deciding to shed his jacket and weakly throwing it across the room. Another move he regretted.

Without the jacket to keep his arms warm, the newfound seemingly frosty atmosphere felt like a icy flurry against his skin. In spite of his mind's confused wishes, Peter ripped the heavy blanket off the end of the bed and closed it around himself like a caterpillar ready to emerge as a butterfly the next time it saw the daylight. Peter sure as hell didn't feel like a caterpillar, but if the feeling of metamorphosis was a growing sense of intense nausea and cramping in the stomach, then hell yeah, he was crushing this butterfly business.

Fuck, what's wrong with me?! He thought to himself as he rolled onto his side. Peter rubbed at his eyes, hoping to clear the dizziness, yet only further irritating them. God damnit, he sighed internally as his face scrunched up in discomfort, releasing one of his hand's hold on the blanket to cradle his aching stomach.

"Is this karma for all that shit I stole when I was younger? That's just mean, man," Peter rasped to nobody in particular. He thought about it more though and responded to his own question, "Then again, I think that's pretty fair. Haha...Shit, man. Never thought I'd say this, but I think... I think I need help."

The sledgehammer-like headache was pounding with every bass drum beat lightly emanating from the sound system Peter hadn't turned off, another move he regretted. He couldn't decide if the pros outweighed the cons: hobbling through the dark to possibly remedy a source of his suffering, but relinquishing his hold on the only thing keeping him from feeling like freezing. Peter played it safe, much to his cranium's dismay.

Peter stared off towards the wall at nothing in particular as he tried oh so hard to draw his mind's focus from how terrible he felt to literally anything else. It wasn't working out so well. And so, Peter laid there, blanket tossed over himself, single leg drawn up to his chest, shivering like a leaf in a rainstorm, as nauseous as a toddler who just rode their first roller coaster, feeling like he was about to cry, and alone. What a miserable way to spend the night.

------

If there's anything Erik Lehnsherr knew in this moment, it was that he was beyond irritated that Charles wasn't at the mansion to run his own school. Despite leaving the school once he'd helped rebuild it to try and seek solitude to wrap his mind around his place in the world and everything that'd happened to him, Erik was back at the mansion once again. He was ready to lay down the foundations for his new mutant hideaway, Genosha, and needed Charles's connections to the government to help smooth over his charges and get clearance to have his isolated society where he might truly find happiness and solace. The universe had spoken, and he obviously wasn't cut out to be a nuclear family kind of guy.

Unbeknownst to him, Erik had once again meandered into a setting with his unrealized son. Also unbeknownst to him, that son was currently cooped up alone in his room, feeling like death.

Erik uncomfortably paced around the mansion, checking Charles's office, the X-Men bunker, and all the other places he might have been, yet the telepath was nowhere to be found. Erik sighed, he knew coming this late was a bargain, one, it turns out, he'd come to lose. The school itself was eerily quiet. It was if the entire mansion was empty or something. Peaceful, yet unsettling for a man who knew nothing but chaos.

Erik was about to borrow a book someone had abandoned in the foyer when he heard the muffled melodies of American rock music echoing from the upstairs floor. It must be that problematic Peter child, Erik thought to himself. From what he told himself was a civil duty to the rest of the sleeping kids in the school (but was actually his own way to cope with his curiosity) Erik decided to check up on the snarky young man to ask if he'd turn down the tunes.

As he approached the door, Erik was bracing himself for something extremely untamed. Perhaps a messy, greasy slophole of a living area, or maybe a drunk and uncontrollably obnoxious man dancing to his music in the nude. You never really knew with Peter, and Erik had come to expect the strangest out of the boy from the few genuine interactions they've had.

Erik gently tapped his knuckles against the door, waiting patiently for a 'come in', or something along the lines of those words, yet it never came. Raising a questioning yet not too surprised eyebrow, Erik knocked again, using slightly harder bangs, not wishing to make a ruckus and wake anyone else in the hallway up. Again, nothing. Although it could have simply boiled down to Peter not hearing him from his loud and abhorrent music, Erik was growing slightly irritated with the lack of a response. So with his last reserves of patience, he knocked one final time, once again listening for a signal or cue to enter. He was met with nothing yet again.

Wondering for the worst and fully expecting to meet a blackout drunk Peter when he opened the door, Erik tentatively jiggled the doorknob, which just so happened to be unlocked, and stepped inside. Thankfully, he was not met with a naked dancing or woefully drunk mutant speedster, but most would probably argue that what he was met with was quite worse. And that being a rancid stench of sick and sour nastiness lingering in the air, a poorly plopped pile of blankets draped over the culprit of the odor, and the culprit himself lying pale and flushed on the floor beside his bed, covered in his own vomit.

Erik's nose crinkled up from being met by the strongly nauseating smell of the room, reaching for the light switch on the wall to aid the sad little table lamp and glow of the TV in illuminating the room. Now he truly saw the pity-worthy situation for what it was. Peter laid in a heap on the ground next to his bed; he'd clearly trying to make it to the en suite bathroom just a few feet away. However, with his dizzy mind and immobile leg, he didn't make it very far and ended up expelling his dinner in a much less... dignified location (if you could consider a toilet bowl a very dignified location), that undignified location being all over his lap and onto his faded Pink Floyd t-shirt.

Not knowing how to really handle the situation, Erik called out a soft, "Peter?" hoping to elicit a response. Yet, just like at the door, he was met with nothing. As he approached the boy, thoughts of anxiety and panic circled through his mind. What would he say to him when he woke up? Would he be uncomfortable with Erik of all people coming to help? Would he be confused? Would he not care? He felt undeniably and inexplicably awkward. Erik shook the thoughts from his conscious as he knelt down to try and meet Peter's face.

"Peter?" he asked again. Erik tentatively reached over to tap the boy's face, which was contorted in a pinched expression of discomfort, marred further by the vomit drying in a trail down his chin.

Once Erik's hand made contact with Peter's cheek, he wanted to retract it. From the split second interaction, Erik had felt the clammy, sweaty, and scorching hot skin and was growing concerned. The slight physical prodding finally made Peter respond.

"Mom?" he asked groggily, voice cracking, "I'll put my dishes in the sink in a minute... I'm tired..."

Erik let out a harsh sigh, bending his neck in an attempt to make eye contact with the boy.

"Peter, I'm not you-" Erik was cut off.

"Yeah yeah... I'm not your maid. I know, Ma. Just... give me five."

"Peter." Erik stated bluntly yet with a hint of unease, unsure if Peter was delirious or just messing with him, "look at me, please."

Peter cracked open his eyes and blearily met Erik's stoic and collected face. He blinked a few times, slowly and deliberately, calculating who was kneeling in front of him, before letting out a weak and wheezy chuckle, "hey there, refrigerator ornament. Wassup?"

Erik rolled his eyes, responding with, "I came to ask you to turn down your atrocious music so you won't wake any of the other children who are trying to sleep. When I came in here, you were passed out on the floor. Would you like to explain to me what happened?"

"Nah... it isn't all too interesting"

"Peter, can you please act like an adult for 2 minutes? Please?"

"Oh man, the Nazi-hunting, president-killing, horseman of the Apocalypse is bustin' out the PLEASES. Look out, world, Lord of the Vacation Souvenirs has a new tactic... MANNERS!"

Peter burst out laughing at his own adolescent joke, ending in a wheezy struggle to catch his own breath. Erik couldn't tell if he was just screwing with him or genuinely needed help. This behavior seemed pretty normal for the immature mutant.

"Look, Peter, I really just need to know if you're okay. Can you answer that simple question, please?"

"Man, your tactics are workin' like a charm. I guess I'll tel-" Peter was cut off by a repulsing gag, hunching over and expelling his stomach's contents... again, this time, however, onto Erik's shirt, quickly travelling in a sad trail down onto his freshly-ironed pants. Peter's bloodshot eyes went side with embarrassment as he quickly transitioned his gaze to the floor.

Erik's face was caught frozen still as his mind caught up with what had just happened. As repulsed as he was, it wasn't like he hadn't seen worse. But that still didn't make the fact that he was just puked on any less disgusting. After audibly exhaling through his nose, Erik once again focused on the miserable man child in front of him, who was now anxiously tapping his fingernails on the hard plaster of his cast, deliberately trying to avoid eye contact.

God damnit, Peter, He thought to himself as he continued tapping, it's bad enough leaving him with a painfully ambiguous response during a battle to save all of humanity, ultimately ruining a perfectly good chance to fess up, but now look what you've done. You fucking threw up on him. Peter felt himself growing smaller as his subconscious shamed him for his uncontrollable bout of illness. It was stupid and ultimately all in his head, but it didn't make him feel any less shit about his situation.

After taking the few quiet seconds, Erik stood up, and whether it was out of pity or some subconscious moral quest, grabbed Peter by the armpits and dragged him to the bathroom.

"W-what the?" Peter asked, confused by the harsh white light of the bathroom and the sudden shift in scenery.

"Well I'm not going to let you sit in your own disgusting clothes. I have standards, you know. Can you undress yourself? I'll get us both some clean clothes."

Peter grunted in response. It meant: yeah, I think I can take off my own clothes, bro... once the room stops spinning. Erik, however, had already up and left, stripping off his own soiled shirt and rifling through Peter's dresser drawers, and taking the opportunity to flick off the television and silence the music that had been awkwardly filling the room's background space up until now.

Peter didn't have much variety in his clothing, dark jeans and band logo t-shirts were most of his dresser's arsenal. Not wishing to be clad in a Metallica shirt for the rest of the night, he dug a bit further into the seemingly endless assortment of shirts till he found a plain white short sleeve, sighing in relief. He grabbed a random shirt from the top of the assortment which just so happened to have the Journey logo on it, and set off to find new pants for the boy.

Back in the bathroom, Peter was still laying slumped against the bathtub, shivering. Everything around him had seemingly slowed to a halt, not unlike when he was running past the speed of sound, but this time deceleration just felt... wrong.

The crashing rhythm of the rock music had come to a halt, yet it didn't cease the incessant throbbing ache in his head, as if the bass riffs and the harsh taps of the snare were on a permanent loop with earbuds permanently glued to his ears. He was trying his best to prevent himself from groaning or whining as to not sound like even more of a child in front of Erik, but honestly, he didn't want his nonexistent father right now, he wanted his mom.

Peter was snapped from his self loathing by Erik's footfalls growing progressively louder as he approached him. Erik had thrown on a pair of track pants and a random white shirt. He was holding a pair of sweatpants and another shirt for Peter so he could be free of his sweat-slick and vomit-covered clothes.

"Hey, you don't get to keep those. I like those pants," Peter stated sarcastically, still trying to put up a front, although he was unsure why. He'd needed help, it was painfully obvious, so why was he still pushing his father away? Resentment? Anger? Pride? No... fear.

"Arms up," Erik instructed, preparing to take Peter's shirt off for him.

"Yo, you know I'm not a toddler, right? I can take off my own god damn shirt."

"You sure don't act like you're a day older than one, and I don't wanna risk you accidentally suffocating getting stuck in your own clothing so... arms up."

Peter sighed and did as he was told. Erik swiftly peeled the top off the boy and felt around his back, finding it clammy and warm. As if he'd just went from the tropics to Antarctica, the shirt leaving his skin exposed his skin to a whole new level of cold. The sensation ripped through his spine as his teeth started chattering. Hoping Erik had a brain underneath that skull, Peter was (im)patiently waiting for the man to save him from the frosty winds of his newly installed Arctic bathroom and slip the new shirt over him already. However, much to Peter's dismay, Erik turned on the tub's faucet, soaking a hand towel in cold water before leaning over and placing it on Peter's exposed back.

The second the frigid cloth made contact with his skin, Peter recoiled, back arching backwards, arms frantically bending to try and remove it. Erik sighed, slightly out of pity, and continued holding it down.

"Is this some cruel punishment? What did I do?" Peter pleaded, hoping to distract himself from crying by use of humor.

"You're scorching and sticky and it's just disgusting. I'm cooling you down, so relax," Erik explained. "It'll be a few more seconds, I just needed to get all the sweat off of you."

And as quickly as it had begun, the endeavor was over and Erik was threading Peter's strikingly pale and flimsy arms through the shirt holes. Peter audibly sighed, feeling like he'd just spent an hour in an industrial freezer and was now back into a normal temperature.

Erik's eyes drifted to Peter's legs, immediately noticing a flaw in his plan. How was he going to change Peter's pants with that full leg cast?

"Peter, how do you typically change your pants considering your current... situation?" Erik asked.

"It's pretty simple. I don't," Peter replied bluntly.

"W-what?"

"Well, after I got my leg set a few days ago, I changed into jeans, not wanting to be in flight suit pants for the next week of my life, and I haven't swapped since. It's like, physically impossible."

"So... you've been wearing the same (disgustingly dirty) pants all week?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Hank says I should be grateful that it'll heal in a couple days, most people you'd find passed out on their floor covered in vomit with a full leg cast would have been wearing their nasty pants for weeks."

Erik sighed, tossing Peter's soiled shirt and the sweatpants back into the bedroom before meeting his gaze.

"Alright, Peter, I'm going to set you up in bed now."

"Sounds grea-" Peter was once again, clamping his hand over his mouth, pathetically dragging himself over to the toilet to prevent throwing up all over himself again.

Erik saw his distress and lifted the toilet lid and seat, prompting Peter to start heaving into the sad and dreary porcelain bowl. Each dry or productive heave sent another pulsing wave of pain and violent nausea from his stomach to seemingly every conceivable inch of his body in a viscous cycle of suffering. Erik could do nothing but watch as the silver-haired boy wretched in agony, each heave causing his breath to hitch, caught in his throat, as another bout of sick rushed up past his lips, crashing into the toilet bowl.

Erik wanted to reach over and rub Peter's back or offer a semblance of physical comfort for the anguish he must have been feeling. He'd often do this for his daughter, Nina, whenever she had a stomach bug. Erik reached out his hand, only to quickly retract it, shaking haunting thoughts from his mind. This boy was not his child, and in no way would he ever come close to being Nina. What was he thinking?

Guilt quickly overtook the memories as Peter finished his session of sickness. He sagged limply against the side of the toilet, face still partially hidden by the rim of the bowl. When he looked up at Erik, he looked awful. Beyond awful.

Red-rimmed eyes, clearly there as Peter attempted to stop the obvious tears from spilling over, met cool yet collected ones, the former's being full of pain, not just from this embarrassment or the physical turmoil he'd just endured, but something else. Erik knew those eyes. He knew them because for so long, they were the ones he'd stared at in the mirror, day after day, for years, until he'd found Charles, only to come face to face again with those demonized eyes in the form of an immature mutant puking his guts out on his bathroom floor. They were the eyes of a young man who was lost, feeling alone, hiding a part of themselves they wanted to let go, to set free, so they could truly be happy, yet he couldn't possibly decipher what could be internally destroying the boy.

"I-I'm sorry you had to watch that..." Peter said softly as his head lolled over.

"It's fine," Erik replied with a tone to match that of Peter's.

"I'm pretty sure... that I'm done. For now?" It came out as more of a question, but at this point, Peter wasn't trusting any signal his body was sending him. Every impulse had been smudged and cloudy in his mind, and paired with the seemingly endless headache and the relentless chills racking his body from the fever, Peter was sure that if his mind were a computer hard drive, it would have self destructed out of a deadly virus slowly hacking into the hardware.

But alas, Peter was no computer, and so he was stuck with this mystery illness, cooped up in his room, unable to run, with Erik mother-hecking Lehnsherr. His fever-addled mind was barely functioning at this point, so he didn't register anything but dizzying blurred images swirling around his head and slightly-grumbled voice swimming in his ears as Erik scooped the kid up like a newlywed bride and carried him off to bed.

Peter had never been more grateful to grace the comfort of his duvet, ready to sleep. He halfheartedly grabbed at it in an attempt to cover himself and finally warm up. Erik sighed with pity, grabbing it for him and draping it over his shoulders before moving over to stand by the nightstand and awkwardly watching Peter try and get comfortable.

Despite the obvious fact that his body wanted him to sleep, Peter's mind was racing everywhere except the realm of unconsciousness. Every thought was emphasized ten-fold as it bounced around his head until the only things remaining were his want, heck, his need, to tell Erik the truth, and the hesitant and unsure anxiety lingering in the background of his subconscious that was stopping him from doing just that.

Fevers, though, as Peter was quickly learning, tended to do weird shit to what your brain was really trying to accomplish, often scrambling any message you tried to expel to the point where it may or may not have even been your true intentions. And hell, it was an even bigger gamble if you'd remember any of the dumb shit you'd done or said. It was as if the heat had boiled all the potentially embarrassing memories away, which was at least kinda nice.

With everything happening, Peter thought it best for Erik to just pack up and scoot from the premises, as not to accidentally say or do something stupid that might come back to bite him in the ass later, but Peter wasn't about to pull an asshole move on the man who'd just helped him despite not being obligated to at all.

So, instead of verbally asking, Peter did the next most "mature" thing he could have in his debilitated and helpless situation. He pretended to be asleep in a pathetic hope that Erik would leave on his own. He didn't. Peter ended up looking like he was trying way too hard to be asleep than any real asleep person, and after a few minutes, Erik caught on.

"Peter, I know you're not actually sleeping," Erik said, not putting on any sort of specific emotion.

Peter cracked one red and tired eye open, meeting Erik's gaze yet again. Peter sighed and turned over onto his side, back to the other man, bleary eyes trying to focus on anything that wasn't Erik. Sleep, a seemingly effortless task for most, eluded Peter as he let out an a low whine. This was miserable.

"Hey, Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I umm... never mind..."

"What were you going to say?"

"It's nothing... I just feel stupid since I can't even do the easiest thing on the planet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

The question struck Peter like a cold dagger to the heart, it sounded so much like something his mom would say, who was practically the only person he wanted in that moment. Peter didn't like to be weak or expose any of his fears. He preferred to be distant and reserved, to hide all that insecurity with stupid dry humor and sarcasm. His mom and his sisters were really the only ones who he'd truly been open with, and when faced with these new circumstances, finally able to reconnect with the father he never had, he was frozen in place, and after pushing people away and closing himself off for so long, not knowing what to do to reach out and truly face what he needed to.

Completely internally and externally overwhelmed, Peter let his dam of pride burst, letting his emotional flood pour out of his eyes in the form of earnest, choked sobs. He bit his lip and weakly rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to hide his distress.

Erik was taken aback, taking a step towards him, before backpedaling as fast as the initial paternal instinct had seized him. He didn't know what to do. Erik was conflicted, scared of overstepping boundaries, but wholeheartedly wanting to comfort the clearly suffering boy lying in bed in front of him.

And in a flash of instinct, an unspoken, deep-rooted, yet unknown draw towards the silver-haired boy, Erik sat down on the mattress, back meeting Peter's, and leaning over his shoulder to rub his back

Erik's hand was shaky, unsure if it should truly be there. He felt the heat radiating off Peter's skin through his t-shirt. Erik glanced down further to Peter's face, and despite the hands trying (and failing) to cover his eyes, saw it covered in a new sheen of sweat quickly mixing with his tears, pale and pasty with angry crimson patches sitting pretty as pictures on his cheeks and forehead. Everything in that moment accentuated both how awfully awkward Erik and truly terrible Peter felt.

Erik didn't even know if Peter was lucid anymore. He was breaking down into tears, shivering and being comforted by someone who was practically a stranger. Eventually, the sobs dwindled into whimpers and Erik's nerves were starting to taper off himself. The room fell into a weirdly calm silence as the two decided to not say anything. Until Peter's shaky voice cut through the room.

"Y-you know... when I was a dumb little kid, I thought I-I could outrun germs. Look at me now. I can't even cook a f-freakin' omelette without making myself sick... I never needed to cook for myself, it was always my mom, or Hostess cakes."

"..." Erik wanted to say something, anything, but he was unsure what, or if Peter would understand.

"I can't do anything right... life tosses me chances and I just fuck em' all up."

Erik soon realized Peter was no longer talking about his omelette, but something deeper.

"I just wish... you could've d-done this for me when I was still that dumb little kid. I wish for so much to be different. I'd always wanted a d-dad, and when I finally figured out who he was, I learn he'd gone off to kill the president! I-I don't know..."

"W-what?"

"I m-might not be able to outrun germs, but my entire l-life, I've outrun everything. The law, my responsibilities, adulthood... But now, the one time when I finally can't run from anything, out of all of my problems, I gotta face you of all things. N-not the way I thought this would happen..." Peter's words died out as he fell silent.

Erik wasn't sure he'd heard Peter properly. Until something in his mind clicked. Everything he's done up until now: "my mom once knew a guy who could do that..." and "I'm here for my family too..." Oh my god, he thought, I'm... I-I'm Peter's... father? Who else had he been with before his wife... Magda. Oh god.

Erik pulled his hand away from Peter's back. This caused Peter to moan and flip onto his back, staring directly at Erik, eyes cutting straight to his heart like knives.

"W-why'd you stop? It was nice..." Peter admitted shyly.

"I-I need a second, Peter. I'm sorry," Erik sighed as he pushed himself off the mattress.

Peter said nothing as his eyes drifted back to his bedspread. Disappointment lurking behind his bloodshot irises.

Erik walked off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He stared up at himself in the mirror, hands gripped tightly around the basin. This couldn't be happening. Not after Nina, not again. Erik was just... terrified. Terrified of the idea of getting close again. Anyone who's ever been a part of Erik's family... had died. His parents, his wife, his daughter; he didn't want Peter to join the list of people the universe was just deemed to kill. He knew that Peter was far from dying, it was a simple fact that the kid couldn't cook and he'd fed himself something underdone. Yet, it was all happening, it was all too fast, and everything felt so damn scary.

He knew, deep down, that this was the truth. It only made sense that the Magda didn't wanna tell her son that his dad was an internationally targeted terrorist that's murdered dozens of people, and this kid had no reasons to lie about it. God... Erik didn't know how to feel, what he should do, but he did know that had a need to comfort Peter, who'd just confessed a secret he'd been hiding for who knows how long, and was now laying alone, probably feeling abandoned again, after pouring his heart out knowing full well it might be shot down.

Whether it was all intentional was yet to be seen. Again, fevers did weird shit.

Erik let out a low sigh and opened the door, finding Peter curled up on himself as best he could, softly whining, mumbling incoherently to himself. Erik stepped over and sat down on the bed again, the entire mattress dipping from his weight.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I am very happy you told me..." Erik was searching for the right words, "the truth."

" 'r welc'm" Peter mumbled as his puffy eyelids slid over his tired brown eyes.

"Is there anything you need me to do for you right now?"

"J'st... stay please. I-It's embarassin', I know, but I just... my mom used to do it..."

"Alright, Peter. I'm not gonna leave, so just try to sleep, okay?"

Peter didn't need to be told twice as his mind and body worked in harmony, finally allowing Peter to be lulled off to the realm of unconsciousness. And although he knew it wasn't necessary, Erik wished to add to the intimacy of this quiet moment, a type of moment so rare and inconstant in both of their lives, so he pushed himself up against the headboard, laying out flat on the bed, and carded his fingers into Peter's silky silver locks. And out of habit, maybe a sort of tendency he'd developed from doing it with Nina, or an obligation to share what he felt Peter deserved, he began to hum his family lullaby, ever so slowly and softly, drowning out any other thing the world wanted to toss at them. Because in that moment... Erik and Peter had found something they'd both been missing for so long, peacefulness and contentment. And for that short night, it was all they needed.

[hellolibrarygarden]

Creating Ambiance With Gardens

During his 40-year career as a garden writer and photographer, Derek Fell has designed numerous garden spaces, many involving his wife Carolyn. The best example of their work can be seen at their home, historic Cedaridge Farm, in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. There, they have designed more than twenty theme areas, including shade gardens, sunny perennial borders, tapestry gardens involving trees and shrubs, a cottage garden, herb garden, cutting garden and an ambitious water garden.

Derek worked as a consultant on garden design to the White House during the Gerald Ford Administration. Derek designed Ford's 'Win' garden, following his 'Win Speech', advising the nation ten ways to fight inflation.

Many garden designs by Derek Fell have been implemented without inspecting the site. The great late architect Frank Lloyd Wright designed beautiful homes for his clients, entirely from photographs without the need for a site inspection.

Fell's garden spaces have been featured in newspapers, magazines, books and also on television, including Architectural Digest, Gardens Illustrated, The Garden (the magazine of the Royal Horticultural Society), Country Gardens, HGTV, QVC and PBS.

Derek has authored more than sixty books and garden calendars, including 550 Home Landscaping Ideas (Simon & Schuster), The Encyclopedia of Garden Design (Firefly Books), The Complete Garden Planning Manual (Friedman), Garden Accents (Henry Holt) and Home Landscaping (Simon & Schuster).

Curb appeal and ambiance are important to brighten up your propoerty or prepare it for sale. Feel free to ask Derek any garden related questions regardless of how big or small.

SOME GARDEN TYPES

Water Garden. Water is the music of nature. It can be tricked over stones, cascaded from a great height so its crashes onto rocks. It can fall in a solid sheet or as silver threads. A beautiful water garden with waterfalls and stepping stones can be located in sunlight or shade. The water garden shown here is located at Cedaridge Farm. It includes a pool for dipping, and it features both a collection of koi and hardy water lilies. A popular water garden design features a koi pool fed by a series of waterfalls, and the water re-circulated through filters to keep the water clear.

Sunny Perennial Border. This can be formal or informal, square, rectangular, round and kidney shaped, in the form of an island bed or backed against a decorative hedge, wall or fence. Plants can be chosen to produce a parade of color through all the seasons, or concentrated for a particular season. Color themes can be polychromatic like a rainbow, monochromatic (for example all white - perfect for a wedding), or it can feature an Impressionist color harmony, such as yellow and purple; orange and blue; red, pink and silver; blue, pink and white; even black and white or black and orange (one of Monet's favorites). A popular perennial garden design is two parallel border with a grass path leading to a focal point such as a sculpture or gazebo.

Tropical Garden. You do not need to live in a frost-free area to have a beautiful tropical garden. At Cedaridge Farm we have two - one is a tribute to the design philosophy of the late Roberto Burle Marx, who designed dramatic tropical gardens around Rio. It is in a lightly shaded area and features plants that are hardy (like 'Sum & Substance' hosta) but look tropical and tender plants that are tender (like banana trees and tree ferns) that either need moving indoors during winter or can be discarded like annuals at the end of the season. Our second tropical space is a patio with tropical plants grown in containers.

Shade Gardens. We design two kinds of shade gardens - one where the plants provide mostly foliage interest (like ferns, hostas, heuchera and hakone grass), and plants that flower well (like impatiens, coleus, and lilies), or a combination of the two.

Woodland Garden. Whether you have existing woodland or you need to create a woodland from scratch, the result can be sensational. Decide whether you want deciduous trees that provide fall color or evergreens that stay green all winter, or a mixture. At Cedaridge we made a 'cathedral' garden where the existing trees are trimmed high so the trunks look like the columns of a cathedral, and the branches arch out to meet overhead like the vaulted ceiling of a cathedral. Below, we provide two more layers of interest, at ground level and the under-story.

Vegetable Garden. We can design you an easy-care garden of raised beds where vegetables are planted in blocks or an edible landscape where edibles are grown for ornamental effect. We can provide the plan for a garden that was approved for the White house during the Ford Administration where Derek Fell worked as a garden consultant. Derek Fell's book, "Vegetables - How to Select, Grow & Enjoy", won a best book award from the Garden Writers Association.

Herb Garden. The herb garden at Cedaridge Farm is a 'quadrant design', feature in numerous calendars and books, including Derek Fell's 'Herb Gardening for Beginners.' We can also provide a cartwheel design or a parterre herb garden for bountiful harvests of fresh herbs. The Herb Garden can also do double-duty as a vegetable garden.

Cutting Garden. The cutting garden at Cedaridge Farm features bulbs such as tulips and daffodils for spring, and ever-blooming annuals to follow the bulbs so armloads of flowers can be harvested from April through October.

Victorian Garden. A garden with romantic overtones! Imagine a white gazebo framed by mostly white flowers for a wedding in the family. Or choose from among several color harmonies, such as yellow and blue, red, pink and silver, or blue, pink and white.

Cottage Garden. You don't need a cottage to have a cottage garden. But if you do, such as a guest cottage, why not wrap it in shrub roses and climbers, plus those delightful English cottage garden plants like poppies, sunflowers and pinks. We also like to include plants to attract butterflies and hummingbirds.

Stream Garden. Lucky you if you have an existing stream to be landscaped. At Cedaridge Farm we have a stream, but when we moved here it was overgrown with poison ivy and brambles. Today it is criss-crossed with bridges, and beds of moisture-loving plants like astilbe and water iris. If you don't have a stream, but would like one, we can create a design where the water is re-circulated along one that's man-made but looks natural.

Orchard. You don't need a lot of space for a productive orchard. By making the right choices, fruit trees can be grown in containers or espaliered against fences and walls to save space. Peaches and apples can be trained over arbors. Just a few plants of small fruits like strawberries and raspberries can be highly productive.

Bog Garden. Ideal for soils that tend to remain moist all season, bog gardens can be extremely colorful and highly imaginative, incorporating stepping stones and bridges to cross wet areas, and growing some of nature's most diverse plant families, such as water iris, Japanese primroses, astilbe and waterlilies.

Japanese Garden. The problem with many Japanese gardens is a tendency to use pseudo-Japanese elements such as Chinese dragons. Derek Fell has twice traveled to Japan, has written award-winning articles about Japanese garden design, and has the experience to design authentic-looking spaces in the Japanese tradition using elements of Zen or Feng Shui, or a combination of the two disciplines to create a magical space.

Italian Garden. Although Italian gardens can be highly ostentatious, requiring steep slopes to achieve the best effect, like the Villa d'Este, near Rome, small spaces can achieve the aura of an Italian garden. Derek Fell has not only visited some of the finest Italian Gardens, such as La Mortola on the Italian coast, and Boboli overlooking Florence, he has toured and photographed the Vatican Gardens.

French Formal Garden. The elaborate style of Versailles Palace and Vaux le Vicompte, may be beyond your means, but elements of French garden design, such as a parterre garden, can be incorporated in small spaces.

Monet's Garden. This beautiful artist's garden north of Paris contains more than a hundred special planting ideas to create what Monet considered his greatest work of art. Moreover, his planting ideas have undoubtedly inspired more new garden design than any other garden. Monet's arched bridge, his waterlily pond, his arches leading to the entrance of his house, and his color harmonies are just some examples of Monet's innovation that people today like to emulate.

[hatredofmusic]

My 50 Favorite Albums Of The 2010s

Alien Observer / Dream Loss [Only two of a large number of insanely good records Grouper released this decade]

An Empty Bliss Beyond This World [Weird music weird feelings. Memory and its fragility and impermanence.]

Because I'm Worth It [Of the post Hype Williams output, Dean gets the most recognition, but Inga's solo album gives me all kinds of weird feelings too.]

Between Two Selves [Maybe the best deep house record of the decade]

Black Is Beautiful [The most intriguing record from one of the decade's most intriguing bands. Here they are at the height of their powers, together, as a musically powerful group. I miss my red vinyl copy :( ]

Black Ken [In 2017 rap is a barren landscape and Lil B is its wandering prophet. It took a long time to gestate but Black Ken sounds like exactly what it is. It is post-post-rap. It is the self produced Lil B mixtape. It is Based.]

Black Up [This is the dopest hip hop record of the decade, of all the ones I heard. I should get into their other one.]

Blue Flame [6 Kiss was released in December 2009 digitally and in early 2010 on CD, so I can't in good consience call 6 Kiss a 2010s record, but someone might, and if you do, it instantly becomes the most important hip hop album of the 2010s. I could probably write continuously in adoration of Lil B. To me Lil B was the endpoint of rap. There is very little post Lil B of interest to me in hip hop. When I heard his music I felt this was it, rap has eaten itself. Blue Flame is like rap hell where everything that qualifies what makes good hip hop has been destroyed and is so far behind us in the rear view that we can only focus on what terrifying things may lie ahead.]

The Butterfly Effect [If you don't already know Shinichi Atobe, get to know him. His reemergence was one of this decade's proudest legacies and all of his records are worth putting on repeat.]

Cosmogramma [Wild, jazzy, futuristic... a total departure from his prior work. The Coltrane family is quite good at outdoing themselves.]

Donato Dozzy Plays Bee Mask [Great psychedelic ambient record. I listen to this before sleep all the time.]

Double Cup [Rashad's vision of Chicago is expansive and innovative. He is the heart and soul of footwork. Pick any of his records, or even any compilation he appears on, and it will rank among the most important footwork records. See also: the Rollin' EP, AND, RP Boo - Legacy!]

Electronic Dream [Beyond the MPC work, this feels like it slots in with all of what was going on relating to nostalgia and memory at the time. This sounds like late night Dance Factory on FM radio. Somehow, classy and sleazy at the same time.]

Floral Shoppe [Uhhhhhh I think vaporwave is cool and important and there's probably a whole mess of amazing vaporwave records from this decade but this is the best one right?]

For Those Of You Who Have Never (And Also Those Who Have) [Weird ambient music, weird ambient feelings. See also: Colonial Patterns]

Going Places [See also, the companion record "Being There".]

Grid of Points [Grouper's mini album is a heartbreaker.]

Hash-Bar Loops [I was in Amsterdam for half of 2011 so this is an oddly important record to me]

Holding New Cards [Variety hour with Keita Sano is exhilarating]

It Can Be Done, But Only I Can Do It [Omar-S made the most ebullient house music of the last two decades. He is simply the king of house right now. I will be humming his tunes until death. No one in the genre writes a simple melody better. Great fully formed house LPs are supposed to be an anomaly and he just cranks them out. This one has his best tune, which was one of the best tunes of the decade.]

Jai Paul [The Jai Paul leak was the best album of the decade by far]

Joy One Mile [Futuristic sounds from synth queen. I miss my copy :( ]

Late Nights With Jeremih [Best free mixtape of the decade by a country mile.]

Made The Harbor [The only folk record this decade that I adored]

The Magic Place [Lovely ambient! I adore it It's just so beautiful. I miss my copy :( ]

The Narcissist II [With this we are still in the most fruitful era of Hype Williams mythology. Inga Copeland drops in for arguably the duo's finest moment]

Platform [Wackiest things in 2016 included elections, sports championships and this Holly Herndon record, which I somehow did not sell :) ]

Pull My Hair Back [I didn't sell this one either, I couldn't, it's too important to me; every track on this Hyperdub classic is lovely]

The Psychic Paramount II [Excellent prog noise rock. I saw these guys open for The Jesus And Mary Chain once when I was on acid]

Quarantine [Weird music weird feelings. I miss my copy of this record :( I had to sell it for rent money or something but man was it a nice record with nice artwork.]

Ravedeath 1972 [Just one of his many great ones]

Replica [It may be the smartest move to list Chuck Person's Eccojams instead but Replica is an album I have some personal attachment to. 2011 was a rough weird year and this is a rough weird album. I listened to it on acid. I listened to it in Paris. It fucked me up.]

Resonant Body [The state of rave music in 2019 is very good]

Rhizome [I was at this show. As far as Merzbow output goes, this was easy listening. I didn't even need the earplugs.]

Room(s) [Quite sophisticated juke type music. At the type it felt quite innovative. I still listen to Machinedrum quite a bit, and I really dig those Sepalcure records, but tbh this was the one Machinedrum record I was really into]

Ruins [Ooof. Just unbearably unbelievably beautiful. I guess Grouper must nab The Artist Of The Decade Award from my personal award show.]

Severant [This one aged well. It sounded crazy and like nothing else at the time and that's still how I feel about it.]

Social Housing [I get the complaints but I think we have all become far too removed from Chicago house and we are blessed to have current producers do the style so well.]

Splazsh [Someone once wrote that Darren's pieces play on distance. Listen accidentally from another room and weird sounds snake their way into your memories and feelings and emotions.]

Syro [Plenty to love from everyone's favorite electro-trickster. It launched a more than adequately fruitful period for the Cornwallian]

The Tape Hiss Hooligan [Green Ova affiliated. This is a hard asf rap record. It's really good stoner rap.]

The Teac Life [Plenty of great singles and LPs and more from Legowelt this decade but this was his best one. Cinematic psychedelic deep house. The free reissue with bonus tracks was just an incredible value.]

Thank You For Letting Me Be Myself [Omar truly outdoes himself. He's the only guy making LPs of straight ahead club music that is anywhere close to this good. Plenty of gems to be found here.]

Ultimate Bitch [Lil B turned up to 11. Virtually all essential elements of his mystique are present. Shocking, hilarious, out of control, unbelievable.]

Vulnicura [Björk had a great decade and I would recommend picking up Utopia also. This was her best one.]

Where Dancefloors Stand Still [A DJ Sprinkles deep house mix cd? Order me 500 copies]

XXX [Either you like Danny Brown or you don't. I get it if you don't.]

Yeezus [Don't talk to me about MBDTF. It's good, we all liked it, but I prefer the follow-up way more.]

100% Galcher [Any and all Galcher releases qualify as interesting music for this decade. 100% was only the first taste of Galcher Lustwerk but it included all of his best early material.]

808s & Dark Grapes II [Tremendous.]

[justm3h]

Plot - Triskaidekaphobia

Summary: Marco has lived many lives. Lives as a civilian, lives with the Marines, lives as a pirate and the smallest butterfly effect makes each adventure new. But each death has him waking up after eating the first fruit of his life.

Another chance, another life.

One more shot to make things right.

Characters: Marco the Phoenix, Monkey D. Garp, Bell-mere, Donquiote “Corazon” Rosicante, Coby, Gol D. Roger, Silvers Rayleigh, Shanks, Benn Beckman, Makino, Monkey D. Luffy, Edward Newgate, Thatch, Portgas D. Rouge, Portgas D. Ace, Sabo, Monkey D.Dragon, Buggy, Straw Hat Crew, Kureha, Nico Olvia, Marshall D. Teach, Trafalgar D. Water Law

Pairing: Rouge/Roger, slight Makino/Shanks but mostly Gen

1-8

The first life Marco lives is boring and normal. He passes peacefully, a respected but simple village doctor, flames flicker even as he’s eyes fall shut for the last time. Only for that not to be true, as he opens them once again to hands the size of a child and not an old man.

The second life he travels the South Blue. He wants to see what the sea has to offer him and he makes friends and learns so much. He dies this time by drowning, and decides he doesn’t like it very much.

The third time, he starts figuring things out. Each death has him wake up right after eating the worst tasting fruit of his life. He’s grown use to the blue flames that heal and the obsession with cinnamon but the healing is a gift enough.

Marco travels further, learning skills of a sailor. He enjoys navigating the most, for the stars are the only thing that seem to be consistent with every redo.

His third adventure ends, accidentally being eaten in the calm belt. Another mistake he swears to Never Make Again.

The fourth one comes and he realizes he needs to learn how to fight and joins the Marines.

He’s not very good at first, more often than not, he fumbles and fails and it stuck in a lower position for some time. He only hears later of the Summit War and even then it’s just boring news that doesn’t matter on the blues.

One drowning later and Marco becomes a Marine again on count 5. His ‘talent’ is noticed. He’s sent to the Grandline and trains with other fresh recruits. He is in awe as he catches sight of the admirals and of the legendary hero Garp. The Marines try to figure out what fruit he ate but have as much luck as he has in the past. He makes it as far as Captain before dying tragically protecting his men.

6 and 7 are much the same. Joins the Marines and is satisfied with the rank of Captain. He enjoys having the spunky Bell-mere under his tutelage til she is transferred and quit soon after. Marco enjoys seeing Rosicante grow from a brat he babysat to a fine Marine although still a walking disaster.

Marco always takes different posts and assignments, never wanting to have the confusion of knowing something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from befriending a few of the same people over and over again, but those are just some binds he’s not willing to let go.

But 5 to 7 are also where Marco really starts to notice something wrong with the world. He never noticed on the Blues, too isolated from the Grandline and the Red to pay much mind to it.

There was corruption, Marines taking bribes or turning a blind eye to the pleadings of the people who begged for help. The admirals were bias, unable to get pasted their own convictions to just help.

It caused Bell-mere to leave and Rosicante’s death.

It hurt.

8 seems to hurt the most. He was put under the care of Garp. He learned so much about the Vice Admiral, Garp yelled about his brat grandkids and Fists of Love were a daily occurrence. Regardless of his violence, Garp was what the Marines should have been. Heroes. Marco could see it in the boy and his friend that Garp adopted, made all too clear when the pink haired boy jumped in front of a cannon.

He and Bogard would watch from a distance as the two chore boys trained. Fought for the right to be Marines. Bogard taught Helmeppo, the tall blond better with blades, while Marco taught Coby the basics of hand to hand til Garp took over their training.

Marco always made sure to patch the young men up at the end of the day, a doctors work never done, even after they picked a fight with Garp’s grandson.

“Dumb Brats,” he joking at Garp as he checks over Coby and Helmeppo after their fight.

Marco got a good look at Garp’s grandson, Monkey D. Luffy. He was much like his grandfather, even as they both fell asleep in the middle of their own fight.

But Marco hasn’t seen pirates like these since Roger, despite the Marine propaganda, his cabin boy Shanks, or Whitebeard. Considering the rookie pirate had Red-Haired Shanks’ old straw hat…. Who if all the praises Coby said were true, saved him and a whole town, was more hero than a pirate had the right to be.

Monkey D. Luffy who dreamed of being King of the Pirates. Well, Marco could admit to himself he wouldn’t mind seeing the boy become the second King.

Even if the crew couldn’t handle a few cannonballs from Garp at the moment.

Then Marineford. The stories he had heard in passing before, if he lived long enough to hear them, paled in comparison to the actual event.

It was a massacre. Garp fell and so did his grandson. Whitebeard died on his feet seeing his adopted son and blood son of Gol D. Roger perish under the executioner’s blade. And there impaled on a molten fist was Coby, the boy Garp hoped would continue his legacy.

Marco died, a screech echoing over the battlefield as he flew to attack the lava man, with ice and light ripping through his body.

9 and 1st Time Pirate

9 he wakes to wings not hands and realizes just exactly what the fruit did to him.

Marco does not join the Marines this time, preferring to not think about all the blood and death he still had nightmares about.

This time, he flies and travels. The seas no longer limit him and stars will always be his guide. He doesn’t tire but can just fly for what seems like forever.

The blond witnesses Gol D. Roger’s death, spotting the would be faces of many soon to be known names. It’s curious but Red Hair asks if he wants to join his crew.

“Why?”

“You look interesting!”

Needing something new and knowing full well what kind of pirate the young man is from endless rants from Garp, Marco accepts. Not like he has anything better to do.

It’s maybe the worst decision he’s ever made as the seemingly endless parties usually leave it up to him to keep them on course, unable to get drunk without the help of seastone.

He’s grateful when Benn joins, if not just to keep Shanks somewhat in line for a pirate. There are questions about his knowledge of the Marines and he makes no point to hide that he ‘quit’.

“Being a pirate suit you more?”

“Seems so Cap.”

If more pirates were like Red Hair, he ponders, watching the man make a fool of himself for a pretty green haired girl, then there wouldn’t been so many issues in the world.

Marco meets a young Monkey D. Luffy, still as mischievous as before, and laughs at the reaction Shanks has when he learns the kid he’s taken a shine to is related to Garp.

“He’s got his Grandfather’s smile.”

“I’m concerned how you know that, Marc.”

It goes much like canon, Luffy is kidnapped and is taken to the middle of the bay and Marco is actually the one who flys Shanks out there.

Marco has a first hand experience of watching Shanks lose his arm. He apologizes for not being faster but Shanks just smiles.

“He’s worth it.”

Shanks becomes Emperor, Marco and Benn both arguably first mate but Marco gets his first bounty poster.

“The Phoenix?”

“Pretty on the nose with that one.”

They have many clashes, with pirates and other Marines alike. Marco finds he enjoys the meetings with the man called Whitebeard the most. At worst, they have a fight but usually they are all too hungover by the time it gets to that.

The morning after a rare party between Shanks and Whitebeard, the air was full of the smell of breakfast and hint of something else. It made Marco pause his berated tairaid against Shanks’ stupidity and abruptly walks away. He followed the smell, leading him to the Moby Dicks kitchen where a man in a chefs suit was elbow deep in kneading bread. But the smell. He breathed it in barely noticing Shanks and Benn following.

The chef looks up and smiles.

“Hey! You’re on Shanks crew, right? I’m Thatch, head chef and 3rd commander! Nice to meet you… hey hello? You in there?”

Thatch looks confused as he holds up the cinnamon and Marco’s eyes follow. Left, right, up, down. Thatch eventually hands Marco a fresh roll and he literally coos with joy.

Shanks LOOSES it. Marco screeches, launching at Shanks with a kick. They run out of the kitchen and Thatch is just so confused and Benn is amused.

The Red Force is then on always stocked with Cinnamon and Thatch always gifts Marco with new cinnamon treats to try, a personal challenge of his.

Marineford comes again, Shanks having tried to prevent it but failed. It was hard to hear that Thatch had been killed but Marco keeps focused as they fight Kaido to make it in time to do anything.

By the time they arrive, it’s much the same nightmare as before. Garp survives but both his grandchildren have fallen, Whitebeard stands dead once again with much of his children at his feet. Shanks was able to save Coby, the boy just inches from having a face full of magma. The Marines scream victory but Marco can only feel hollow.

He’s been on both sides of that battlefield now and neither feel like a victory.

The Red Hair pirates help with gathering the dead, Marco keeping watch on everything as much as he can. Garp looks at him with such mistrust it hurts more than anything.

He offers his condolences, something he couldn’t offer a corpse previously. Garp is somber but accepts. The true sadness is when he gives Shanks the straw hat telling him that Luffy would have wanted him to have it.

It’s not til after the funerals that Marco sits with Shanks and Benn. He’s got a sea stone ring on as he drinks and drinks.

He tells them the truth. He’s old and seen this before and nothing changes. Death seems to be the only result.

They talk to him about the Marines, about the first time, about everything.

“I see these things and don’t know how to fix them. All the paths seem to lead to that blasted war.”

Benn looks at him, “Have you really tried?”

Marco stares into his drink. Has he? He’s taken different roads but never really did much to change things did he?

The phoenix finds new determined and confidence in the faith that both of them have in him to fix things. They won’t remember him, no one does, but they were proud to call him nakama for all these years.

“If you ever need us, find us again, tell us something that only we would know and a bottle of booze. We’ll drink together again.” Shanks tells him before stabbing Marco through the heart.

10 and the Guardian

10 and Marco awakes on a mission. He grows just old enough to be accepted as a cabin boy and flies. Flies far, far away from his home to the Grand line. Where he find the Roger pirates, a budding crew well on their way to greatness. He learns from the best, gaining first hand experience on why the Pirate King was so formidable.

Haki is a well worth nightmare to learn from two of its greatest users. Even if it meant that he had to babysit a younger and somehow even more reckless Shanks and fellow cabin boy Buggy.

Marco watches with a whole new level of sadness at Roger’s passing. Shanks again asks for him to join his crew but Marco declines stating that he’s going to travel for a bit and figure out where life takes him.

Where it ends up taking him, is more preset than he would have Shanks believe. He follows Garp to a small island in the South blue where he see Rouge give birth to the little boy named Ace.

Garp confronts the man but Marco has kept his powers a secret from the Marines this time, a fall back for if things got dicey. He follows Garp, bird shaped so know no one is the wiser.

He spends years watching over the boy. Raising him in ways that Garp couldn’t. He’s there for when Garp brings Luffy to the town for Makino to care for. He watches over these boys that are so, so important.

And he meets Shanks again when the Red Hair Pirates come to town.

Marco lets Shanks meet Luffy and pulls him aside to take a walk. They walk to the forest where Shanks feels eyes watching. Marco remains calm and jovial even as two young boys attack him with metal pipes.

He easily defeats the two and leaves Shanks stunned for once. He watches as both brats yell at Marco for beating them again as Marco scolds them right back for their poor technique.

The tall blond introduces the two brats as Ace and Sabo, his charges shared under Garp.

“Garp?! That old fart?!”

“Hey! Don’t you call gramps an old fart, dye job!”

“What did you just call me brat?!”

Shanks and Ace bicker with each other as Marco and Sabo watch amused.

Shanks spends most of the walk back grumbling about pain in the ass kids.

“He takes after Roger but I see more of Rouge in him.”

“Ugh he’s just as stubborn as the Cap.. tain.” Shanks pauses… and stares at Marco then back at the forest and the back at Marco. “He- That’s?!”

“You have to swear never to speak of this Shanks… Garp and I have protected him for this long. I would hate to think we failed because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Never. For the Captain and Rouge’s son never…. tell me more about him Marco.”

“Let’s go talk over drinks.”

Marco still enjoys getting a shocked face out of Shanks.

For the whole year he’s in the East Blue, he splits his time between Luffy and the two boys on the mountain.

Shanks shares stories of his time as a cabin boy on Roger’s crew, which causes Ace to get mad but then he’s pacified when hearing other tales of his mother.

Ace doesn’t hate his father quite as much this time but still has enough of a stigma to still be angry with him.

But canon has a way of happening and Shanks once again loses an arm for Luffy. Marco watches with sadness knowing his friend will be sailing from the Blue permanently. He bids them a safe journey and for Benn to keep his sanity. Shanks just laugh and they share a hug.

Garp returns, furious that Marco lets his brat grandson be influenced by that damn Red Hair. Marco just shrugs, knowing full well if Garp meant it he would have come back sooner. News of Red Hair being in the East Blue wasn’t hard to find, Marco could clearly remember Garp complaining about it while he was in the Marines. The Phoenix does inform Garp that Shanks knows about Ace and the grandfather sighs.

“He’s got his mother’s freckles as clear as day.”

“Suits him.”

“Aye.”

Luffy befriends the boys who become brothers then canon canon canon. Marco can only do so much good saving Ace and Dudan, and then going to search for Sabo. He finds the boy on a ship in a coma in the hands of…

“Ah, hello Dragon.”

The two talk, Marco explaining who the boy is and his… situation. Marco holds off on moving the boy till he wakes, his injuries far too severe to move him right away.

So Dragon and Marco talk. Marco is kind enough to share stories of Luffy growing up, something the father smiles at. It’s a peace offering.

Sabo awakens with amnesia. He reacts poorly to going home but seems to take pause at the mention of brothers.

“Ace? Luffy?”

“Yes. Those are their names.”

“I have brothers.”

Marco and Sabo go back home, with Dragon leaving Marco with his den den number in case there’s something Garp can’t handle. Ace and Luffy barely let Sabo out of their sight for days but help the boy relearn things and heal.

Years pass and both Ace and Sabo are the age to set sail. Marco stays with Luffy as they watch the boy’s two older brother sail away together. Marco tells them to watch each others backs and keep their wits.

“More than anything stay safe, stay alive.”

“You worry too much Marc, we’ll be fine.“

"I’ll keep him out of trouble Marco.”

“Hey!“

There Marco remains hearing about the two’s adventures with brief updates via the mail. He’s pleased to see both have taken up with Whitebeard. The old man would keep the boys safe.

The day Luffy sets out, Marco goes with him. Luffy pouts but he’s pleased that he’ll have some of his family with him. Marco flies high above enjoying the sun and completely misses the whirlpool until it’s too late. He can only watch as Luffy bobs in the water stuck in a barrel.

Just great.

East Blue basically happens with a plus one Marco. He tries to stay out of the way as much as possible, he’s not Luffy’s crew, these aren’t his fights but seeing all these familiar faces is both nice and painful.

He watches Coby’s beginning and the strength he got from Luffy plus how much Helmeppo changed.

Seeing Buggy, Roger’s other cabin boy, again was interesting.

"Buggy!”

“Oh damn, a flashy idiot from the past.”

“You know this clown?!”

“We were part of the same crew.”

“Did he have the nose then too?”

“ah… ”

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

They travel from one island to the next, picking up a first mate, navigator, and then a sharpshooter. Marco was sad to hear about Usopp’s mother passing, he hadn’t been aware of her death while still traveling with Shanks and as a doctor, it was probably something he could have prevented.

Marco left the Baratie early, flying after Nami with the other boat following his lead.

Marco pats Luffy on the head before he goes, “Stay safe.”

“Yosh~!” He nods at Hawkeye and flys off.

Learning exactly how Bell-mere passed was hard. She died like a hero protecting her girls and he could respect that after now raising so many kids, so many times, himself.

Still he honors Luffy’s claim of dibs but does destroy the Marine ships nearby, earning his bounty to raise once again.

Lougetown was interesting. He has no wish to see the site where Roger died, he’s seen it too many times as is and walks towards a familiar presence on the other side of town. He finds Dragon in a hole in the wall pub and they have drinks.

Small talk is exchanged and the leader of the revolutionary army has some good gossip… and some bad.

“Ace and Sabo have been seen leaving the new world for paradise… its said they are tracking someone named Teach…”

“Damn…”

Their talk is cut short when the wind picks up from a storm rolling in… and a person barges in yelling about an execution in the square.

“Looks like your son found trouble again. Does he get that from you or his mother?”

“No comment.”

Marco rushes ahead, allowing Dragon to slip away into the shadows. He doesn’t do much but does strike some more fear of god into Buggy for messing with his chick.

“I FORGOT HOW PROTECTIVE YOU GET JEEZ.”

They escape with a shared nod between Dragon and Marco.

When they start sharing their dreams on the way up reverse mountain, Marco has a vague one to share “To prevent the future.”

Que the beginning of the Alabasta arc. Past knowledge has always been limited when it comes to Luffy’s journey. It was filled with misinformation and other hole so he was honestly not expecting for there to be a GIANT WHALE. Oh, hi Crocus.

“You know this flower?”

“Reluctantly, yoi.”

“Brat!”

“My name is Crocus, the lighthouse keeper of Twin Capes. I’m 71 years old, a Gemini and type AB blood.”

“ YOU’RE A CAPRICORN YOI.”

They sail away from the capes, experiencing the strange weather of the Grandline for the first time. “It feels like coming home.” The Blues no longer felt quite the home, like the Grandline.

They arrive at Whiskey Peak and Marco is instantly suspicious. He joins the drinking with merry joy. They could try to get him drunk all they wanted but even with a seastone ring, he’s partied with Roger, Shanks and Whitebeard. This was nothing.

He fake passes out with Nami and Zoro, both having caught on to the plot.

Baroque Works reveals themselves and Marco fights the Millions. They are weak even by Grandline standards but their numbers prove to be the most annoying.

As Vivi explains what’s happening to her country and Mr.0 being Crocodile things are starting to become clear on how the Navy originally covered the whole mess up.

Little Garden is basically identical expect Marco is with Sanji as most of this goes down. So he’s not involved with any of it.

When Nami comes down sick, Marco tries to cure her but is unfamiliar with her illness. His memory reminds him of a long since wiped out Disease that it could be but he doesn’t have the ingredients. His flames help keep her fever down but are unable to do much else.

When Marco isn’t looking after Nami, he’s taken over navigation getting them safely to Drum… Mostly, til this hippo gets on deck. Marco has the sick satisfaction of seeing Luffy send the little gremlin flying for eating a chunk of Merry.

Marco would fly Nami all the way to the top but its too snowy and windy for him to make the flight safely with a passenger, especially one as sick as she was. He joins Luffy and Sanji in carrying her up to the top, the cold not really an issue. Luffy tries to fight him on it but Marco hits him on the head with his own Fist of Love.

“She’s Nakama, Luffy. I’m going, yoi.”

“…Fine.”

Marco is the one to carry Sanji to the top while Luffy still has Nami. He’s exhausted but awake when Chopper finds them by the cliff. He heals naturally, bundled up in a blanket by a fire. He hears Dr. Kureha’s story about Chopper and the island, casually wondering if it would have been the same for him had he known from the beginning he could shift into a flaming bird.

Wapol’s arrival at the castle is unwelcomed in his opinion and short lasting at least. He, as always, stays out of the fight, but assists the Doctor in keeping Sanji out of it as well.

lucky:i like how he’s present but not changing things

Wapol is defeated giving Kureha and Marco a chance to chat. It turns into this and that, the will of D., and…

“Your eyes look old.”

“I bet.”

“How many cycles have you gone through, Phoenix?“

”…what?“

"Rebirths? Is that what you call it? Bah. no matter… not everyone can age as gracefully as me.”

She admits that she read about it once briefly in an old medical tomb. A previous user went insane on their 13th rebirth.

“I’m on my 10th, yoi. I don’t even know why it keeps happening.”

“Well you might want to figure that one out soon.”

“Any hints?”

“The book mention they went crazy and burned to ash, nothing about a cure.”

“Fantastic.”

They leave, both merry and somber. Marco won’t abandon Luffy to go hunt for a solution he may not even find.

So the Strawhat crew is finally almost to Alabasta. Mr.2 doesn’t get Marco’s face cause he was in bird form looking down on the shenanigans.

The dock and Marco feels the two familiar presences with a large smile. They meet back up with Ace first then Sabo who was spying as Ace got into trouble with Smoker.

Luffy introduces his two brothers much to the crews shock. Two Whitebeard pirates and they are Luffy’s brothers?! Marco laughs glad to have his boys back in one place if not just for a bit.

Ace and Sabo inform him they’ve been tracking a traitor named Teach. Marco actually pulls them both aside and tells them to be careful and don’t underestimate him.

“Do you know something Marc?”

“…I don’t like this. If he’s underhanded enough to stab a crewmate, who knows what else he has planned.”

“We’ll be careful.”

They travel across the sand and dunes, Marco switching between flight and walking. The heat is aggravating but manageable.

They seem to be on a wild goose chase when the rebel army moved and the rain base is also a dead end. They race to stop Crocodile, Luffy and he crew taking care of the fights while Marco flies the bomb into the middle of the sky to explode.

They rest and recover, Marco getting scolded for once for his recklessness, and finally set sail on Merry on to discover a new crew mate.

Marco isn’t sure what to think about Nico Robin. But she doesn’t seem to have any ill intentions so he accepts her easily enough.

When the log post points up to a sky island, Marco offers to fly up and set it so they can just continue on but Luffy pouts at him, rejecting his proposal to no one’s surprise.

Marco stays on the ship at Mock town, avoiding the encounter with Blackbeard and his crew.

The Skypedia arc goes as well as expected. Marco briefly explains the basics of Haki as Enel tries to strike them again and again with lightning.

Luffy wins, Marco comments on Enel’s poor luck of finding the one man in all the seas immune to his attacks.

Marco can tell something is wrong with Merry. At night he can hear a hammer tapping away. His worst fears are confirmed at Water 7.

The Phoenix can only watch as the crew learns of Merry broken keel and then of Luffy’s fight with Usopp. He can’t condone Usopp’s behavior but understands why the long nose felt so deeply about it.

Because he going to miss Merry too.

Things are only further complicated when Robin leaves along with the arrival of CP9. In his lives, Marco never encountered the Marines spies but had heard enough about them to realize they were bad news. With the reveal of the blueprints for Pluton, Marco is on high alert.

Marco follows the escaping CP9 with the captured Franky and Usopp, flying high above to not be seen.

The crew is all reunited as they approach Enies Lobby. It’s through his travels, Marco has learned a great deal of the corruption of the Marines, but hearing of the truth for the buster call on Robin’s home is sickening.

One by one, the Straw Hats beat CP9, Marco taking care of many of the minions running around the place.

As the buster call arrives, Marco destroys many of the Marine ships until Luffy defeats Lucci. The crew escapes on Merry, Marco watching from the sky’s over head. Even he can’t help but cry when they give her a funeral by fire.

Marco is elated seeing Garp, Coby and Helmeppo again. It’s on friendly terms for the first time since he had been a Marine and he missed their shenanigans. Luffy’s father is no surprise to him and Garp calls him out, Marco admitting he’s met him before.

“Damn annoying brat.”

They set sail on the new Thousand Sunny, Marco knocking away some of Garps cannonballs. Somethings never change.

Thriller Bark is interesting, Marco had heard of Moriah’s island ship but had never seen it and now was wishing he never had the chance. His shadow was never personal stolen from him, Haki keeping it safe from Moriah’s grubby hands.

Brook is about the closest thing Marco has ever seen to his own rebirth powers but quickly discovers that’s not quite right as he could only do it once and he never looped.

Still Marco can’t help but sympathize that the skeleton spent so long by himself.

For all their attempts, the one to finally take down Oars is Marco. He had waited and watched and seen them give it their all but the truth is clear. They can’t quite manage.

But he can.

Still the first time in a while he’s been able to let loose, becoming far too lax this loop to have any time to fight. But Oars falls and Marco feels refreshed.

He worries as Luffy takes so much damage from Moriah and the with the arrival of Kuma he has to step in. Marco is the one to take all of Luffy’s damage instead of Zoro. He knocked both Sanji and Zoro out to do it. Kuma looks at the fallen young men and then at Marco who just smiles.

“You’ve helped raise Dragon’s son into a fine man with a good crew.”

“He did that all by himself, yoi.”

Marco awakens to the worried looks of the Straw Hat crew, all wondering what happened.

He smiles and says it was nothing as both Sanji and Zoro look at him blankly, the area covered in his blood. They can be mad at him all they want, he’d make the same choice every time.

They sail to Sabody and Marco ditches the crew at Shakky’s bar, talking with her over drinks for a bit. He’s informed that Ace and Sabo were not as careful as he had hoped, they were captured and sent to Impel Down.

“Damn those brats. I warned them.”

“It gets worse Marco-kun. Ace has been scheduled for execution.”

“Of course he has.”

Marco is still at Shakky’s when the Straw Hats and Ray return.

“Welcome back Ray-san.”

“Ah Marco! Been a while!”

It’s revealed that Marco was also on Roger’s crew along with Ray much to the shock of everyone, including Luffy.

“How was I supposed to know?!”

“I’ve told you enough stories that you should have figured it out, yoi.”

The crew has to make a run for it as they are outclassed and outnumbered by gathering Marine forces. Between Kuma, Pacificas, and the Admiral Kizaru, they stood no chance.

Marco tries to protect the crew from Kuma but fails as he too is blasted away, unable to break out of the paw bubble.

Marco is sent to the Red Force to the shock of its crew. He’s fucking furious, fighting Kaido and flying as fast as he can directly to Marineford but arrives too late.

Now not only were Ace and Luffy dead, but Sabo as well. Marco collapses in grief, dying as magma melts him.

So ends loop 10, probably the harshest yet on his poor heart.

11 and Canon at last

Marco is at a loss for what to do at the start of 11. It feels like he’s missing something and can’t quite figure out what.

He travels to the not yet destroyed island of Ohara, still known for its vast knowledge and thousands of books.

Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to find a single one on helping him. Marco had located the medical book Kureha mentioned but it listed more of what happened should he fail than succeed. Doomed to ash, it seemed was his fate.

While there, he befriends a woman named Olivia, now knowing that this woman was Robin’s mother.

They talk only a handful of times before he departs, but he warns her that Ohara was already suspected to be researching the void century and to be careful.

He flies to Roger, the man still young and not yet a pirate. Roger humors Marco as he asks questions, generally amusing as the boy, still a boy, takes a small comfort in huddling into the man’s side.

“I don’t know how to save them, yoi. Every time I try, they die worse than the last.”

“Maybe it’s not about saving them, but giving them the best chance at survival?”

“What Ray said! I know I’d give up everything to save my crew!”

Rayleigh offers that if what he’s tried so far didn’t work, maybe he could try something else. Marco thinks and there’s one crew directly involved he hasn’t tried yet. He thanks the two and promises they’ll meet again someday and flys to find a young Whitebeard.

Marco joins Whitebeard’s crew, watches as it grows from a handful of men to multiple divisions. It’s hard to call him Pops, having been enemies and only sometimes allies, but Newgate is just as stubborn as Roger in many cases and looks so proud the first time the name slips from his mouth.

He never fights against Roger and his crew, usually brushing past the bewildered pirates with a bottle split between him and Ray, even if he has to deal with the ‘you’re too young for drinking’ comments.

Marco is promoted to first mate and is stunned as that spot has always been Diamond Jozu’s position. But the crew voted and they trust him and he’s their big brother. It makes Marco feel warm.

Marco is the one to recruit Thatch, young and bright not yet with his iconic hairstyle. But his cooking is just what they need on a growing crew and Thatch thrives.

Life continues, and things come to pass just like before. Roger dies and Marco sees first hand the decline of Whitebeard. The realization time is killing his old Captain’s rival is hard, not even his flames can heal old age.

He probably enjoys the fights with Shanks crew the most because he knows what they want, a good drink and maybe a fight. As Pops and Shanks yell and clash he walks up to Benn as offers him a drink and a safe place to watch from. He’ll take every chance he gets to enjoy the company of his friends before its slips away.

It’s been years but it also passed in a blink of an eye as reports of Jinbe fighting an upcoming rookie reaches the deck of the Moby Dick. Marco lets out a breath. Ace.

Marco never saw how Pops took one look at this brat and wanted him on his crew.

Never saw how Thatch’s eyes lit up as Ace snapped back sarcastically and knew he found something fun.

Never saw how the crew slowly adopted this angry child as their own and he gradually accepted them too.

Never saw how Luffy’s first bounty poster made his whole world and how it was all torn down when one of his own division kills Thatch.

Now Marco sees how the once happy family fell, all because of one devil fruit. They only later identify it as the Dark Dark fruit, and reading the far too short description of its powers, leaves Marco wondering what other secrets it had.

So we have canon, Ace goes after Teach despite Marco’s warnings and pleas. He does and Marco can only mentally prepare himself for the worst. Shanks distracts Kaido as they head to war. It’s planned a bit differently than he’s seen it in the past, but that’s what past knowledge gets you.

He goes to war like canon and the war ends like canon. Ace and Pops are dead but Luffy escaped with the help of the up and coming supernova, Trafalgar Law.

It feels like a fever dream as Marco stands in front of the two graves of Ace and Pops, shoulder to shoulder with Shanks once again.

“I could use a drink.”

“Get me a seastone ring and I’ll give you a story too.”

Marco and Shanks drink in quiet in the Captain’s room on the Red Force. It looks nearly identical to the times when he’s been on the crew, even has his wanted poster on the wall.

“Why am I on your walls, Shanks? Trying to get me to join more than just your crew?”

“You know, I put it up when I was smashed and never felt like taking it down. Seemed to belong there.”

“You don’t say.”

They drink and drink til bottles litter the floor. Marco is the only one still going, drinking and talking about everything. Shanks slowed when the bird mentioned his multiple pasts and stopped when Marco said they had once been nakama. It was sobering and he started comforting the man when the tears got to be too much.

“I got so close Shanks. I only have one try left, yoi.”

“Sounds like you got close this time Marc… just… whatever you do next time, do what you want. Make the changes that matter to you.”

Marco waits til Shanks is asleep before taking a nearby knife and plunging it into his heart.

Triskaidekaphobia

12 and one sane life left, Marco awakens on a mission. If this is going to be his last chance… then he’s going to make sure all the people he cares about survive.

He joins Edward Newgate as the very first member of his new crew, easily calling the older man ‘Pops’ and man decides he likes the sound of that.

There’s nothing he can do for Roger, his illness incurable even to his healing blue flames (it was something he tried very early on), but before the man’s death, they drink and Marco tells him all sorts of stories about a boy named Ace and his brothers. Roger laughs till he cries.

“You know something Phoenix, if I ever had a son, he would be named Ace.”

“It’s a good name.”

“It really is.”

He’s sure Roger realizes the truth in the end, telling the Phoenix to look after him and his mother for him.

It took some planing and a lot of luck but after Roger’s execution Marco was able to lead Garp to Rouge faster than previously. It took secret letters and a few other bribes but the Marine was able to smuggle the woman off Baterilla, taking her and the baby she carried to the East Blue where she would be safe.

Marco handled the business on Ohara personally, but when Olivia failed to listen to his warnings, he knocked her out. Shoving her at Saul and Robin, the group escaped the Buster Call but were still tracked by the government for years to come.

Years later, he arrives in the North Blue just in time to save his old ward from several gunshot wounds, helping him and the crying boy to the next town over.

He sends money and a letter to Bell-mere telling her she’s worth more to her girls alive than dead.

Marco clears Tom’s name before Spandam can kill him, Cutty Flam is still presumed dead after attempting to stop the sea train.

The Phoenix sends medicine to Usopp’s mother and prevents the death of Chopper’s mentor Hiluluk.

Marco easily befriends Ace, welcoming him into the new crew. He saves Thatch from death, but for all his careful planning Teach still escapes.

With the war still on, Marco plots and toils.

Upon Shanks’ visit he has both crews agree to be close at hand incase something goes wrong, which it will and does.

Completely cuts the whole confrontation between the two captains having seen it too many times.

“None of us have time for your squabbling, not our crews or Ace, yoi.”

Hearing of the execution, Marco sends out orders to all their allies and just one more.

He calls a number he had memorized long ago. It didn’t pick up the first ring or even the second but on the third…

“Hello Dragon.”

It’s all set as Marco stands on the Moby in the middle of Marineford. He’s done all he could in planning for this.

He watches as Luffy predictable falls from the sky, challenging anyone who dare stands in his way. He watches as the Marines pull out all their tricks to stop Whitebeard. He watches and waits and there.

Ace’s true weakness that he was always too kind, Marco thought as the fire man would not let the taunt go. He stops and that’s all the chance Akainu needed. The admiral attacks but Akainu’s fist impaled not Ace but him. There was a just hiss as flames tried to heal, gasps of Ace and Luffy watched in horror.

“Run, damn brats.”

Marco falls but it’s the first time he’s satisfied. He laughs and fixes a stare at Blackbeard.

“It will never be your age.”

The Phoenix lives and dies in cycles. It brings the dawn, the coming of a new time.

Marco hopes that with his death, it will be their age, Luffy’s or Ace’s or Sabo’s. That’s what he wishes to see. Them to live, them to be free.

Broken Hourglass

Marco awakens to what he assumes with be 13, where he will slowly go mad and lose all sense of reality till he turns to ash.

Instead he’s surrounded by crying faces.

“What?”

“You big feathered idiot!” Cried Thatch rubbing at his face, attempting to hide flowing tears. “What were you thinking?!”

“Wh-“

“I think we all know he wasn’t thinking anything good.” Answered Shanks appearing with a grin just in eyesight.

Marco took the moment to get good look at all the faces surrounding him. There were his boys, Luffy, Ace, and an all grown up Sabo just as much hugging each other as they were to clutching on to his sash.

There was a tall blond man in a pink hat crying next to a much smaller boy with pink hair, a man with a spotted hat giving them awkward comforting pats on the back.

Pops was over to the side with Garp and Rayleigh, the old guard watching over them.

Marco sat up, noticing no hole in his chest and that they were no longer on Marineford. “What happened, yoi?”

“You kinda exploded. Sent Akainu flying back and the battle almost continued if it wasn’t for pinky here. We thought you were dead till the ashes came together and there you were Marc, bird form and all.”

Marco gulped looking at Shanks. “M-Marc?”

“Yeah. We all remember. Some of it? Most of it? Ehhh how did you ever keep it all straight???”

Marco laughs and laughs. Because no one died and that mattered more than anything.

Epilogue

Bell-mare remembers and sees the note and is absolutely gonna punch him when she gets the chance.

[splicer02]

Homebrew Item: Belt of Chaotic Potions

NOTE: This has not been tested, I'm planning on changing the effects based on situations.

Item Description: A long leather belt, it can either be worn across the chest as a bandoleer belt, or crossed around the hips. The belt is covered in runes, a skilled magic user can possibly tell that these runes basically mean Chaos and Creation (transmutation). There are four pouches on the belt for potions, they can be slid up and down to position anywhere. In my game, the item was a gift and came with a set of instructions. If you wanted to, you could just have the belt already be full of water vials, and surprise the player after a long rest.

Rules: Obviously you can use this list for whatever, but here is the intended purpose. The Potion Belt has 4 spots for vials. Before a long rest, you put a vial filled with water in each of them. After the long rest, roll on this table 4 times, noting the order (1, 2, 3, 4) so when they go to use one you can keep track of which one it is. The player can attempt to identify the potion, using something like Arcana or maybe even a new skill. Describe the visual details (keep track of that, and hopefully the player keeps track too because they can use that knowledge to identify the potion in the future), smell, etc. I've roughed out this for identification. 1-5 - they have no idea what this potion might do 5-15 - they have a rough idea of if this potion is good or bad (drink or throw it at someone) 15-20 - they know what this potion does

Any vials filled with water can be used in the belt, if the vial is empty or filled with something other than water than nothing happens to that vial. Negative effects have a relevant save DC of 15 (I know there are some written, I came up with this general rule after), and the times in here are kind of arbitrary, make them last however long you think works. Some of them are meant to be thrown, some are meant to be consumed, as the player doesn't know what they do this can lead to some pretty fun results.Most of these are meant for fun, so play around with it based on what suits the situations.

Potions below

Potions (percentile die): 1: Delusion - User believes that the potion bestows a useful magical effect based on the situation. 2: Scales - AC increased by 2 for 1d4 hours, colour matches eye colour 3: Skin Colour Change - 1d6, skin changes colour for 1d4 days      1 - fluorescent pink      2 - green      3 - blue      4 - purple      5 - black with stars      6 - red 4: Liquid Rock - when the liquid is removed from the vial, it turns into a stone 5: Butterflies - when opened, a swarm of butteflies is released 6: Fabric Acid - melts away any clothing it touches 7: Nekovoice - target meows instead of speaking for 1d4 minutes 8: Eyedrops - just.. sterile eyedrops 9: Liquid Wookie - causes hair to sprout wherever it touches 10: Stagger potion - causes loss of balance, disadvantage on dexterity checks for 1d4 minutes 11: Illiteracy - the person forgets how to read and write all languages 12: Spasm potion - any time the target uses an action, roll a d10. On a 1, they twitch and lose the action. This lasts for 1 minute. 13: Fire - ignites on impact, dealing 1d6 damage on first round, ignites flamable material and deals 1d4 if fire continues 14: Shards - deals 1d6 piercing damage, target takes 1d4 damage whenever they use that body part for 1 hour 15: Numbness - Thrown: choose a limb. If a 17-20 is rolled, potion hits that limb and causes numbness, unable to use limb for 1d4 minutes. Lower rolls can hit other parts of body 16: Random drink - roll 1d10      1 - Wine      2 - Rum      3 - Beer      4 - Milk      5 - Tea      6 - Coffee      7 - Hotsauce      8 - Hot Cocoa      9 - Gravy      10- Cordial 17: Bards Brew - the next 3 sentences said must be rhymes 18: Gender - Swaps your gender for 1d4 hours 19: Reset - seemingly has no effect, 1d4 minutes later teleports target back to place where potion was used 20: Minor Healing Potion 21: Illusionary fire - target thinks they are on fire for 1d4 minutes, wisdom save 15DC 22: Attractive - target becomes instantly attractive for 1d4 hours 23: Confetti - explodes in confetti 24: Gravity Water - water falls out upside-down 25: Love Potion - you fall in love with everybody you meet for 1d4 minutes 26: Grass - Grass and flowers grow where this potion touches. Causes existing plants to grow to twice their size rappildy, causing difficult terrain. 27: Amnesia - you forget where you are and why you are there for 1d4 minutes 28: Levitate - you levitate 4 inches above the ground for 1d4 minutes. Movement must be made by pushing or pulling against something. 29: Third Eye - you grow a third eye on your head for 1d4 hours, granting +2 to perception 30: Mutation - you grow an extra toe on each foot and extra finger on each hand for 1d4 hours 31: Hair Colour - same rules as skin colour change 32: Dance - forces the creature to dance for 1d4 minutes 33: Mana - restores 1 first level spell slot - must be used within 1 hour 34: Flight - you gain a flying speed of 10ft but lose your walking speed for 1d4 minutes 35: Drunk - Causes instant drunkeness for 1d4-con hours - disadvantage on dexterity, wisdom, and inteligence, advantage on charisma and strength 36: False Invisibility - causes the belief that they are invisible for 1d4 minutes 37: Tiny Wish - can make 1 wish, will grant the wish on an extremely small scale 38: Slime - when opened, spawns 1d4 baby slimes, non hostile 39: Language - learns one additional language, chosen by the DM, but cannot speak it 40: Jump - Double jump height for 1d4 minutes 41: Speed - double movement speed for 1d4 minutes 42: Smoke - when opened, smoke spews from the bottle for 1d4 minutes, obscuring the area 43: Illusionary Fire Breath - belch fire with the same visual effect as the dragonborn fire breath 44: Bubbles - every time the creature opens its mouth, bubbles come out for. lasts 1d4 minutes 45: Stat Boost - +1 to a random stat for 1d4 minutes 46: Magnetic liquid - causes any metal objects in the area to fly towards the liquid 47: Blood Thinner - causes bleeding damage (1HP per round) from all phisical attacks for 1d4 minutes 48: Random Liquid 1d10      1 - Blood      2 - Oil      3 - Perfume      4 - Ink      5 - Garbage juice      6 - Cooking Oil      7 - Chloroform      8 - Soap      9 - Adhesive      10- False Poison (drinker seems dead for up to 1d4 minutes) 49: Shape change 1d10 for 10 seconds, can communicate telepathically and cast spells, otherwise cannot move. Turn back to normal if they take damage      1 - Mundane Animal      2 - Vegetable      3 - Object      4 - Item of Clothing      5 - Gas      6 - Liquid      7 - Statue      8 - Tree      9 - another player      10- insect 50: Sobriety - instantly become sober 51: Mimicry - can only mimic words and sounds for 1d4 minutes 52: Plant Voice - can only speak to plants for 1d4 minutes, others only hear a creaking sound 53: Hair growth - causes existing hair to grow at a rate of 1ft a minute for 1d4 minutes 54: Age - ages at a rate of 10 years a minute for 1d4 minutes, returns to normal at the end 55: Eye Glow - eyes glow brightly for 1d4 hours, granting darkvision and a disadvantage on stealth checks 56: Nose - nose grows twice as large for 1d4 hours, granting advantage on perception checks related to smell 57: Language Comprehension - Understands all language for 1d4 minutes 58: Random Language - speaks in a language they do not know for 1d4 minutes 59: Inspiration - grants 1d6 inspiration die for 10 minutes 60: Illusionary Size Change - seems to grow twice as large or half as small for 1d4 minutes 61: Susan Storm - turn invisible for 1d4 minutes, does not effect worn clothing or items 62: Gills - grows gills for 1d4 minutes, water breathing but cannot breath air, relieved by drinking water, releases if they suffocate 63: Beard - Immediately grows a waist length beard for 1d4 hours 64: Taste - any food or liquid consumed tastes amazing for 1d4 hours 65: Spider - Spider climb for 1d4 minutes 66: Knowledge - advantage on int checks for 1 hour 67: Identify - instantly identify the next magic item they see 68: Xray vision - clothing is no longer visible to the target for 1d4 minutes 69: Sick - Con save DC15, fail suddenly vomits uncontrollably 70: Egg - Causes feeling of needing to use the bathroom, after 10 minutes feel extreme pain and lay an egg. if kept, egg can hatch into 1d10      1 - Unfertilised      2 - Tiny human baby that ages and dies in 10 minutes, looks exactly like creature that lays the egg      3 - Fully grown adult who tips their hat and walks through the nearest wall      4 - A swarm of insects      5 - 100gp, 25sp, 3cp      6 - another potion (roll on this table)      7 - random miniaturised animal      8 - Random Trinket      9 - Chicken 10- Baby Kenku 71: Fetch - feels the urgent need to chase anything thrown for 1d4 hours, wisdom save dc15 each time they see a thrown object 72: Insects - releases a swarm of harmless but terrifying insects that fly into the nearest creatures face before dispersing 73: Greater Healing 74: Lucky Vomit - painfully vomit money for 1 minute, 1d10gp, 1d10sp, 1d10cp 75: Optimist - everything seems hopeful 76: Pessimist - everything seems terrible 77: Fear - the next item or creature that they see 78: Smile - cannot stop smiling for 1d4 minutes 79: Sad - cannot stop crying for 1d4 minutes 80: Existential Crisis - realises that they are in a game for 1 minute, immediately forget after but are left with a feeling they are being watched 81: Other Amnesia - everyone but the target forgets about their existance unless they are looking at them for 1d4 minutes 82: Spices - 1d10      1 - Garlic      2 - Rosemary      3 - Mint      4 - Nutmeg      5 - Cinnamon      6 - Cloves      7 - Mustard      8 - Ginger      9 - Pepper      10- Salt 83: Food - target feels full and tastes 1d10      1 - Bacon and eggs      2 - tomato and cheese sandwich      3 - salad      4 - fish and chips      5 - buttered corn      6 - hearty stew      7 - dried fruit      8 - candy      9 - fresh bread and butter      10- fried rice 84: Hole - creates a 2 foot wide/deep hole (does not harm living creatures, but can still pass through hole) 85: Silence - mouth disappears for 1d4 minutes, can communicate through telepathy 86: Water walking - walk in water for 1d4 minutes 87: False speak with animals - believe they can talk to animals for 1d4 minutes 88: Mini Wild Magic - roll on the Wild Magic table and create a miniature version of the effect 89: Bloody Tears - blood leeks from eyes for 1d4 minutes 90: Mind Reading - hear creatures thoughts but it is their native language for 1d4 minutes 91: Moustache - you already know what this one does 92: BO -  smell really bad for 1d4 minutes 93: Sneezing - after a lot of build up, it's just a sneeze 94: Rage - Barbarian rage for 1d4 minutes 95: Rot - rots anything it touches (deals 1d4 damage for 1d4 rounds to flesh) 96: Luck - can reroll, must keep second roll 97: False Race Change - appears to become another race for 1d4 hours 98: Breeze - your clothes and hair are ruffled by a wind only you can feel for 1d4 hours 99: Tattoos - your body is covered in black marking following the viens beneath your skin. lasts until you are next healed by magic. 100: Greater Delusion - User believes that the potion bestows a useful magical effect based on the situation, grants 1d10 inspiration

[deztinywarriors]

ES Spectre 2.0 Chapter 48

[theseadagiodays]

April 27, 2020

Art Became the Oxygen

It is true that artists, many of whom rely on public gatherings for their livelihood, are some of the hardest hit during this crisis.  Yet, it’s musicians who are toiling away in basements to serenade us through isolated days.  It’s comedic actors who are offering us essential nighttime laughs.  And it’s visual artists who make meaning from this madness with images that inspire, console and provoke.  The individuals of the creative community are like the unsung frontline workers of this pandemic, only without any salary to support their craft, or a 7 pm cheer to motivate them.  Yet still, they make things because they must, just as artists have done since the beginning of history, particularly in times of strife. (SEE: https://usdac.us/news-long/2017/8/9/art-became-the-oxygen-free-artistic-response-guide-available-now)

In previous periods of economic hardship, the US government responded with forward-thinking programs like the WPA (Works Progress Administration) of Roosevelt’s New Deal (1935 to 1943).  It was designed not only to fund huge infrastructure projects, but also to employ thousands of artists, musicians, writers, and theatre performers to stimulate the economy.  Legacies of this program include Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God; Jackson Pollack’s Composition with Pouring; and Mark Rothko’s earlier urban studies like Entrance to Subway, where you can see the seeds of his famous color studies from later work.

After natural disasters, senseless violence or war, artist activists have also rushed to the front lines, time and again, to help rebuild communities by activating their social imaginations and stimulating their civic agency with creative collaborations.  

Philippe Thiese gathered digital stories of Hurricane Sandy volunteers in this short film: https://www.sandystoryline.com/stories/sandy-volunteers-remember-the-storm-and-explain-how-they-got-involved/.  

The siblings of Eric Garner, a young African-American man killed by unjust police violence in 2014, came together in grief to write the song, I Can’t Breathe,based on his harrowing last words.  Their music served as a rallying cry to a community berieved and betrayed by their law enforcement: https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/eric-garners-family-drops-moving-new-song-i-cant-breathe-192574/

And when a 2011 tornado took 161 lives in the small town of Joplin, Missouri, mural artist Dave Loewenstein asked kids about their dreams for the future of their town, resulting in this stunning piece, The Butterfly Effect.

So, in the great hope that we’ll kick this virus’ butt, and we will be left with a glut of ventilators, how about we use them to revive our society’s artists, since they are the vital oxygen that feed our souls.  

In Vancouver, we are already lucky enough to have our City government responding with funding for the Murals for Hope project (#makeartwhileapart), which is transforming solemn, boarded-up shops and restaurants into colorful and encouraging messages that can help sustain us until their doors reopen again.

Geoff and I are also trying to do our small part to stimulate the creative economy, while beautifying our home in the process.  We are very excited to have just commissioned a mural artist to spruce up our tiny backyard space, which we’re transforming from a gravel parking spot into our own tropical oasis.  Here are some inspirational images as well as a shot of the yard in its current state. And hopefully, I can post the finished product, which will be painted onto the rotting fence, in a couple of weeks.

April 28, 2020

Art of Relationship

This period is not just requiring us to get creative with keyboards and canvases and cameras.  It is forcing us to re-examine the very patterns that make up our daily lives and fit them all inside the same four walls with the same self, spouse, and/or kids, 24/7.  Suffice it to say, this is no small task.  But, if any of you are like me, the grand solutions have sometimes involved tiny changes.    

Personally, my greatest challenge has been to find ways to carve out slivers of shared pleasure amidst my partner’s insanely stressful, often 13-hour work day, now that the pandemic has his team at our local transit authority in serious crisis mode.  Of course, I’m a firm believer in hard-work.  The pursuit of a classical musician requires many years of 5+ hours-a-day of practice.  But I’m also a fun-lover, and a huge proponent of life/work balance, particularly having had to learn this the hard way, thru a chronic overuse injury.  So, for me, Geoff’s manic schedule during the first month of isolation seemed far from optimal. And while this was especially difficult for him, it compromised joy for both of us.  

Seeking guidance as we adapted to the new normal, we found a great online series by Esther Perel, whose regular podcast, Where Should We Begin? always leaves us with sound, simple dance steps that we can apply to the Art of Relationship.  Here, she has created a 4-part series that specifically addresses problems which co-habitators might face in our current reality.  https://events.estherperel.com/april-2020-webinar-resources/?fbclid=IwAR0kRHkuQvEGxcpNuHvPKmmExamZ2Jj_EMZzR-zGp8eDejCR94hE-ZvGYjY

Inspired by her wisdom, we decided that the 7:30 am meetings, which had been occupying our kitchen and bleeding into our morning coffees, every day, could be skipped for a 15-minute walk thru our neighborhood park.  And, let me tell you, what a difference a quarter of an hour can make!  

April 29, 2020

Finding Variety in Repetition

It occurred to me, the other morning, that this experience feels a bit like fasting.  Since college, I’ve routinely devoted a week, every spring, to some kind of dietary shift, for my general health, and as a general mindfulness exercise.   While I’ve tried versions of the Wild Rose and other popular cleanses with some benefit, the method recommended in Staying Healthy with the Seasons has always suited me best. It requires you to slowly wean off many foods (meat/fish, then sugar/alcohol/coffee, then dairy), gradually move to only liquids, eventually evolve to a middle day of just water, and then similarly reintroduce each food gradually.    What I’ve loved about this approach is how much more aware of my cravings I become, how much I notice the “manufacturing of consent” that happens all around me to inspire my “wants”, and finally how various symptoms are suddenly absent once I’ve eliminated certain foods.  Consequently, the slow reintroduction of foods allows me to notice, in much more specific detail, which foods stimulate which responses in my body (IE. huge bursts of energy from fruit; afternoon crashes from sugar; indigestion from soy; sustenance from bread and pasta - NOTE: Contrary to the wheat-vilifying trends that currently prevail, I typically thrive on an anti-Atkins diet, as someone who reaps tremendous fuel from carbs).  

The parallels we are experiencing now relate to the stimuli that we’ve been “denied” by our self-isolating reality.   Speaking for myself, instead of travelling frequently, as I often do, or eating at different restaurants every week, or working at a different café every day to switch up the creative energy around me, I have had, like everyone else, to learn to find sustenance and interest in a much less diverse set of circumstances.  I am eating at Chez Me three meals a day.  We are grinding our own beans and whipping up our own daily lattes.  And most all of our daily walks and bike rides now start from our home.  

But even within the boundaries that we can reach from the nexus of our own address, we have been able to slowly expand our radius of exploration to corners of our city that we had never seen before.  This has felt a bit like switching to a vegetarian diet and gaining new appreciation for the crunchiness of a snap pea, or the filling nature of a portabello mushroom.  

In these explorations, we have discovered infinite surprises which include a cliffside view of the Fraser River from Everett Crowley Park (top image), an old landfill-turned-lush green space in Vancouver’s southeastern-most quadrant.  We’ve seen old growth forest that we had no idea existed so many kilometres from the shore, in Burnaby’s Central Park on our city’s eastern border.  I’ve spotted my first-ever fisher (weasel) sneaking around beachside boulders on the northern edge of the city.  And closer to home, I’ve noticed the whimsy of our neighbors’ gardens in far greater detail than I had ever looked before (as in the Gaudiesque, smiley-face hedge pictured above).  Our ventures from home have been guided by little more than our edict to “follow the pink”, as in the most blossoming streets.  And to document these journeys, I’ve been mapping the various routes we’ve taken.  Interestingly, the trajectory somewhat resembles a many-petaled flower.

Looking for minute changes in what seem to be patterns of sameness is also the secret to one of my favorite movements in music and design: Minimalism. Perhaps this is why Max Richter and Steve Reich have become the soundtrack I’ve turned to most during the pandemic.  Because their music trains our brains to find beauty in repetition while seeking excitement from the subtlest nuanced shifts.  

Meanwhile, I know that many of us would love for there to be a magic wand that could lift all of our restrictions over night and allow us to return to exactly “the way it was before”, in the same way that I long for a mocha frappuccino when I fast.  However, what we have been hearing from our leaders is that the more likely and safe choice will be to move into a gradual re-opening of our cities - a slow reintroduction of certain freedoms.  So, the lessons we can learn from fasting and Phillip Glass ought to prove very useful as we try to be patient and appreciative of this prudent approach.   Then, once we begin to shop and drive and socialize more, perhaps this perspective can allow us to also more clearly notice how we respond to each stimuli as we re-engage with it, And hopefully it will inform a new normal that can be more sensible and moderate and in harmony with this planet that we call home.

And, in case you’re curious to listen to a little minimalist fare...

Notice how welcomed the first chord change is in Max Richter’s Catalogue of Afternoons: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ubjylmxrj9o

Or drape yourself in his hypnotic music like a warm duvet with his 8-hour lullaby, Sleep: https://open.spotify.com/album/0JLN7JryQ2T7lBEYIrSQF1

And for a mind trip of the eyes and ears, try Steve Reich’s Piano Phase on marimbas: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3QoM7dgs_0

April 30, 2020

Film Festivals for free

Pahokee, at this year’s live-streamed Vancouver International Film Festival

Done wondering if Carol Baskin killed her husband?  Couldn’t care less if Giannini and Damian actually ever get married? Well, for those who’ve exhausted the Netflix catalogue, there are plenty of other ways to enjoy film from your home. Lots of festivals have generously uploaded their content online.  So, whether it’s mountain adventure, short films, foreign movies, or arthouse you’re looking for, here are some easy ways to link to those that are totally free:

Banff Mountain Film Festival - https://www.banffcentre.ca/film-fest-at-home

Cannes, Sundance, Tribeca, Toronto, Venice, Berlin and others have collaborated to bring an awesome line-up of livestream videos to the world in their 10-day We Are One Festival, starting on May 29th.  While the festival will stream for free, viewers will be asked to donate to the World Health Organization’s Covid-19 solidarity response fund.

If you happen to remain gainfully employed, and it’s important to you to keep supporting independent film making, Vancouver International Film Festival has created a rental-fee structure for a number of films that they’ve now made available for streaming, too: https://viff.org/Online/default.asp

And Sedona Film Festival has done the same - https://sedonafilmfestival.com/mdfhome/

May 1, 2020

Boredom Killers: Ping-pong, birthday song, and Magritte gong wrong

Combing the internet for creative inspiration that I can share with readers has truly been a joy.   It’s also got our own creative jucies flowing.  So today, I thought I’d post just a few of the ways we’ve staved off boredom over these past weeks.

Tennis is one of our true passions.  It’s actually sort of how Geoff and my relationship began.  Given that we didn’t want our paddle skills to get too rusty, we didn’t let the fact that our little laneway house couldn’t fit a ping pong table stop us: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kait-zCV94s

Coming from a huge birthday-celebrating family, I’ve tried to make sure that friends with birthdays during quarantine could still feel pampered on their special day.  So, 6 of us put together this silly ditty for our good friend Roger: https://youtu.be/EZKyrdOlvPk

And, we’ve jumped on the art replication bandwagon too.  The Met & the Getty Museum have both followed the lead of the Dutch gallery that first initiated the Instagram art challenge which asks people to recreate famous pieces of art with only 3 objects from their home. https://www.instagram.com/tussenkunstenquarantaine/

Here’s Geoff and my attempt with Magritte’s Lovers. The challenge also asks for participants to create new titles, so this is ours, Kissing Strategy for Stay-at-home Lazy Toothbrushers.

[straykatfish]

Research the still life and flower painting of the 17th century Dutch Golden Age.

Make notes on particular paintings you admire and find out about techniques.

Research at least one with iconographic significance and discuss the meanings ascribed to the objects.

Explore still life through the 18th to 20th centuries and discuss how the subject matter was dealt with; in particular the early Cubist approaches of Braque and Picasso.

Consider how contemporary artists are interpreting this genre.

Specifically, this task refers to 17th century masters from what’s known as the Golden Age. Running an initial search, my first thought was just how much related to food and possessions – displays of wealth that, in effect, were the instagram posts of their day; here we are, look at how laden our tables are and how glossy our burnished goblets. These carefully posed and positioned items are not for diners, but for observers, and they say that the owner of that produce is not only wealthy enough to have it all on a table at once, but also – as this must have taken some time and food items tend to go off – to sacrifice it in the interests of having it immortalised by a reputable painter.

The skill though, is indisputable. Hyper-realistic and glossy, the meat could be wax with a varnished shine to it, and the flowers silk sprayed with water in homage to dew. The ones that struck me in particular, and I deliberately avoided those depicting dead animals or meat, included Pieter Claesz, Simon Luttichuys, Maria van Oosterwijck, Clara Peeters, and Balthazar van der Ast, although my absolute favourite is Vermeer and so I would like to include him on this list just because his work is so quiet and domestic and so often includes still life as incidental but critical elements of his work.

From Vida Hull’s 2013 ETSU video lecture.

From Vida Hull’s 2013 ETSU video lecture.

Looking more closely at these works I quickly fell down the rabbit hole of iconography which I’d thought to address as a separate issue but which turns out to be unavoidable once you know it’s there. Dutch 17th century artists were embedded in a Calvinist christian religious ethic and so almost every element of a still life was drenched in symbolism. I had often wondered why so many of these paintings featured skulls and now that is so obvious it barely merits mention. What is less obvious is the subtle signs associated with slightly drooping flowers, timers with sand running through them, insects – short lived and ephemeral but with special dispensation for butterflies which represent the soul and continuity.

The prevailing ideas behind these symbols or icons come from the notion of vanitas, that core theme of religion that says nothing mortal is worth anything. According to Hull in her 2013 video lecture (see below) it comes from Ecclesiastes who proclaimed ‘Vanity of vanities, all is vanity’, a commentary on earthly preoccupations with the material which quite coincidentally makes me think the writers of at least one Carry On* film were smarter than I’d imagined.

Vanitas paintings seem to have been heavily loaded reminders to anyone in the know, which may have been most of their audience, that life is short, you can take nothing with you, not even your learning and certainly not your money, so you had better be sure you are in good grace with your maker.

Many of these were, to my mind, gross and overblown which I discovered has its own term – pronk – that mercifully, again to my mind, led to an anti-pronk movement favouring simplicity. I have to thank the Saylor Academy video (2011) used in the East Tennessee Art History programme for this.

I think I had understood iconography as a much more ostensibly religious and obvious set of images and features, but this is much more subtle. The videos above make this clear but for text, I found this 2016 glossary by Zeynap Rekkati in his blog Mearto, which deals with the valuing of art, to be an invaluable guide. As Rekkati says:

When these artworks were painted, their audience could understand what messages were conveyed at the first glance. However, for a modern audience, these still-life scenes can look like just random supermarket objects.

Or as I thought them to be, 17th century Facebook posts. Now it becomes possible to examine with more insightful purpose something like this by Balthasar van der Ast:

via Bridgeman Education, accessed 14th February 2020.

It is a still life, or nature morte – it is dead – which conveys instantly the message of mortality. There is fruit, which stands for the ‘general transience’ of life (and in case we miss this, there is some drooping foliage down towards the right), and flowers which also are ephemeral. One of these seems to be a rose which, according to Rekkati, symbolise the virgin Mary’s suffering via their thorns. The butterfly is there, perhaps representing the soul and immortality in the less materialistic spirit world, and insects which, being short-lived (and also maybe the agents of decomposition?) lay on with a trowel the message of impermanence. Rekkati doesn’t mention birds but the Rijks museum sees them thus:

Birds are often encountered in 17th-century Dutch genre scenes, in which they usually have a sexual connotation because the Dutch word ‘vogelen’ (birding) means to engage in sex.

which puts quite a different perspective on the otherwise innocuous picture. In the same vein, and it’s hard to make it out, there are shapes under the shelf which may be snails and which also carry sexual connotations, this time relating to the immaculate conception, reportedly because people were unable to figure out how snails mate.

This brings me a long way from seeing these paintings as somewhat overblown, even schmaltzy, pieces of self promotion. Rather than saying look how rich I am (although some probably are), they’re reminding everyone how materialistic they are and how this will not carry them through to their heavenly destination. Heavy duty art. There is hope though, and hope is a butterfly.

It’s difficult for me to pick one ‘I admire’ as per the task, because really I’m not fond of this style at all. The ones I find most striking though, and that I might replicate somewhere if possible, is the dramatic black (or very dark) backgrounds that sit behind many of the flower arrangements. It seems to me that drama of this kind takes immense skill otherwise black/very dark might simply deaden the whole image instead of popping it out. This one for instance by an unnamed artist of the Antwerp school c1650s (via Bridgeman education) to me exemplifies this technique and is as simple as the vanitas pieces are complex. The deep blue, repeated beneath for the shelf and given a lighter tone to distinguish it, throws the tonally consistent flowers forwards and makes them the only thing to look at in the frame. I found some contemporary photographic replications of this style in which the items shown and the colours used make the same dramatic statement. These will appear further along in this discussion.

Unnamed artist of the Antwerp School c1650s. Oil on copper. Via Bridgeman Education accessed 15th February 2020.

As to techniques, I was surprised to find that many painted on panels (and the piece above is on copper). This for instance, by Balthasar van der Ast who reportedly used this particular painting as a kind of all-in-one catalogue, showing what he could do and also the quality of paint, especially the blue and the reds, he could deliver:

  This unattributed but well-referenced piece titled The Highly Systematic Methodology of Dutch 17th century Painting Techniques discusses technique in seven categories:

canvas – the article talks about canvas becoming a more available support during the 16th century, and readily available by the 17th. This must have made the production of paintings both cheaper and less weighty to move around, although on recent visits to galleries I’ve noticed a resurgence in metallic supports, particularly aluminium.

ground – I like this quote as it resonates my reluctance to waste paint:

if one were working on canvas, they might use the mixture of pigments and oil created from cleaning their brushes to prepare their canvas.

The idea that some of these masters were reusing/recycling their resources appeals to me although I doubt this was an ecological choice.

underdrawing – this surprised me:

Occasionally the drawing was applied over the priming layer but more often than not it was beneath it, on top of the ground.  The design would be drawn, more or less precisely, in silverpoint, black chalk or ink.

I think I’m understanding the priming to be one layer of pigment from brush cleaning and ground to be another, with the underdrawing sometimes being beneath the latter. Complex underdrawings were sometimes achieved using a metal pin.

imprimatura – I haven’t found a definition of this term other than one relating to ownership/authorship or licensing, but here it seems to refer to yet another layer of medium, the function of which is to isolate the ground and add a colour priming wash to underpin the actual painting. Today’s techniques, particularly when using acrylics, are remarkably simple in comparison.

dead colouring – yet another wash layer:

Following the imprimatura, one would ‘lay an even, flat wash of colour for each individual object to be depicted.  Dood-verf or dead-colour formed the basis for depiction of forms which would be worked up in finer detail from this uniform tone.

I really can’t conceptualise this. Maybe it has to be seen in action.

binding medium, – this, often oil or egg tempurer which possibly artists made themselves was used to bind pigment together and improve adherence to the canvas. Again, how simple are our present day methods by comparison.

and

pigments – as we might expect, there were documents in which the best ways of using, or mixing, or applying pigment were described – the wikipedia of their day and probably much pored over by anyone wanting to get the best from their materials.

There are probably descriptions of individual techniques that I’m missing here; brush, pigment, support, ground preferences. Today we might be inclined to add music which, while not a medium having a direct impact on a visual product, certainly one that many people would choose to set a mood appropriate to the work, or just to screen out extraneous sounds that irritate and distract.

18th – 20th century still life

The obvious ones would be Cezanne, Van Gogh, Braque, and Picasso and for me the massive attention given to many of these pieces wears them a little thin – although I have to confess to having no real insight into Braque’s Cubist approach. I understand the theory behind it – the idea of bringing three dimensionality to painted images by incorporating several views in one place – but I find it hard to relate to. Cezanne’s work I find to be brighter than van Gogh’s, possibly because his strokes are more angular and defined. This article by Kelly Richmond-Abdou in My Modern Met (2018) juxtaposes examples of each, which is probably the first time I’ve had the opportunity to make that distinction.

Cezanne, Basket of Apples c 1893. Via Bridgeman Ed. accessed 16th Feb 2020.

van Gogh, Sunflowers, 1889. Via Bridgeman Ed. accessed 16th Feb 2020.

I came across Giorgio Morandi recently via the drawing module and found his simple, very quiet style much more interesting. He’s a proponent of tone rather than line, and of understatement and stillness, and I wondered whether this was a reaction to the turbulent times (two world wars) through which he had been living and working, an attempt to keep some thing, any thing, quiet and undisturbable. Although his earlier work seemed to me to be much darker and a little less contained, as in this piece for instance from 1936:

Still life, oil on canvas, 1936. Via Bridgeman Ed. accessed 16th Feb 2020.

Later paintings seem reflective of the ice cream colours that began to prevail post WWII and that I recall seeing in 1950s open air swimming pools and holiday seafronts.

Giorgio Morandi, 1953, oil on canvas. Via Bridgeman Ed. accessed 16th Feb 2020.

Giorgio Morandi, 1949, oil on canvas. Via Bridgeman Ed accessed 16th Feb 2020.

More recently, I found these by photographer Paulette Tavormina while searching for Dutch flower artists and my goodness, the vibrancy there is in these pictures. Tavormina is explicitly going for the Dutch Golden Age style in her photography. David Sim, in his article about her work, quotes her thus:

“I have long been drawn to the 17th century Old Master still life painters Giovanna Garzoni, Francesco de Zurbarán, and Adriaen Coorte. I am particularly fascinated by Zurbarán’s mysterious use of dramatic light, Garzoni’s masterful compositions and colour palette, and Coorte’s unique placement of objects.”

And it shows.

Cropped from Watermelon Radishes (2009) by Paulette Tavormina. In International Business Times 30th December 2015.

  I know very little about 21st century still life artists and so I ran a search to see what caught my eye and this Pinterest page came up which led to another specialising in Daryl Gortner’s hyper-realistic and very colourful – also quite confection-focused! – work. This is a clip from that page, accessed 16th February 2020:

This is Daryl Gortner’s website where it is clear, in case anyone was in doubt and let me say I was, that these are oil paintings, not photographs, the effects achieved by layer upon layer of “painting and glazing, providing intense depth and richness.” Also an absolutely meticulous attention to detail and extraordinary skill.

Looking finally at the ways in which 21st century artists are interpreting the still life genre, I found a lot of photography and a great deal of commentary on modern life, which is not unexpected although today’s messages are less about our relationship with a god, as with those other gods of commercialism and politics.

This article by Mike Petry in The Guardian (2013) lists ten artists, some of them photographers, some sculpters or painters, and one very definitely replicating the Dutch iconographic style, but most delivering a message of some kind relating to contemporary issues. Rebecca Scott, for instance, comments on “the fictional notion that by buying some new tableware she could or should make her home perfect”, while Martin Collishaw “seemingly remakes a 17th-century Dutch still life but as a contemporary photograph”, and Gabriel Orozco ” used a pencil to mark out a map of a lost life. The starkness reminds us that beneath flesh and blood, our own skulls lie hidden“. A less ostentatious version, perhaps, of Damien Hirst’s diamond encrusted platinum skull.

Artists, as ever, are speaking to audiences even though there are times when the audience is not listening or it doesn’t understand the message. Maybe we should sometimes be clearer.

Rekkati, Z. (2016) Decoding the hidden meanings in still life painting. Mearto.com

Richmond-Abdo, K., (2018) How artists have kept still life painting alive over thousands of years. My Modern Met.

Petry, M. (2013) The 10 best contemporary still lifes. The Guardian, 19th October 2013.

  *For the benefit of frustrated head-scratchers, it’s Kenneth Williams in the 1964 film, Carry on Cleo, protesting “Infamy, infamy – they’ve all got it in for me!”

Project 2, Still Life. Research point 2, Dutch still life painters. Research the still life and flower painting of the 17th century Dutch Golden Age. Make notes on particular paintings you admire and find out about techniques.

[sciencebulletin]

Scientists recreate in flies the mutations that let monarch butterfly eat toxic milkweed with impunity

The fruit flies in Noah Whiteman's lab may be hazardous to your health. Whiteman and his University of California, Berkeley, colleagues have turned perfectly palatable fruit flies—palatable, at least, to frogs and birds—into potentially poisonous prey that may cause anything that eats them to puke. In large enough quantities, the flies likely would make a human puke, too, much like the emetic effect of ipecac syrup. That's because the team genetically engineered the flies, using CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing, to be able to eat milkweed without dying and to sequester its toxins, just as America's most beloved butterfly, the monarch, does to deter predators. This is the first time anyone has recreated in a multicellular organism a set of evolutionary mutations leading to a totally new adaptation to the environment—in this case, a new diet and new way of deterring predators. Like monarch caterpillars, the CRISPRed fruit fly maggots thrive on milkweed, which contains toxins that kill most other animals, humans included. The maggots store the toxins in their bodies and retain them through metamorphosis, after they turn into adult flies, which means the adult "monarch flies" could also make animals upchuck. The team achieved this feat by making three CRISPR edits in a single gene: modifications identical to the genetic mutations that allow monarch butterflies to dine on milkweed and sequester its poison. These mutations in the monarch have allowed it to eat common poisonous plants other insects could not and are key to the butterfly's thriving presence throughout North and Central America. Flies with the triple genetic mutation proved to be 1,000 times less sensitive to milkweed toxin than the wild fruit fly, Drosophila melanogaster. Whiteman and his colleagues will describe their experiment in the Oct. 2 issue of the journal Nature. Monarch flies The UC Berkeley researchers created these monarch flies to establish, beyond a shadow of a doubt, which genetic changes in the genome of monarch butterflies were necessary to allow them to eat milkweed with impunity. They found, surprisingly, that only three single-nucleotide substitutions in one gene are sufficient to give fruit flies the same toxin resistance as monarchs. "All we did was change three sites, and we made these superflies," said Whiteman, an associate professor of integrative biology. "But to me, the most amazing thing is that we were able to test evolutionary hypotheses in a way that has never been possible outside of cell lines. It would have been difficult to discover this without having the ability to create mutations with CRISPR." Whiteman's team also showed that 20 other insect groups able to eat milkweed and related toxic plants—including moths, beetles, wasps, flies, aphids, a weevil and a true bug, most of which sport the color orange to warn away predators—independently evolved mutations in one, two or three of the same amino acid positions to overcome, to varying degrees, the toxic effects of these plant poisons. In fact, his team reconstructed the one, two or three mutations that led to each of the four butterfly and moth lineages, each mutation conferring some resistance to the toxin. All three mutations were necessary to make the monarch butterfly the king of milkweed. Resistance to milkweed toxin comes at a cost, however. Monarch flies are not as quick to recover from upsets, such as being shaken—a test known as "bang" sensitivity. "This shows there is a cost to mutations, in terms of recovery of the nervous system and probably other things we don't know about," Whiteman said. "But the benefit of being able to escape a predator is so high ... if it's death or toxins, toxins will win, even if there is a cost." Plant vs. insect Whiteman is interested in the evolutionary battle between plants and parasites and was intrigued by the evolutionary adaptations that allowed the monarch to beat the milkweed's toxic defense. He also wanted to know whether other insects that are resistant—though all less resistant than the monarch—use similar tricks to disable the toxin. "Since plants and animals first invaded land 400 million years ago, this coevolutionary arms race is thought to have given rise to a lot of the plant and animal diversity that we see, because most animals are insects, and most insects are herbivorous: they eat plants," he said. Milkweeds and a variety of other plants, including foxglove, the source of digitoxin and digoxin, contain related toxins—called cardiac glycosides—that can kill an elephant and any creature with a beating heart. Foxglove's effect on the heart is the reason that an extract of the plant, in the genus Digitalis, has been used for centuries to treat heart conditions, and why digoxin and digitoxin are used today to treat congestive heart failure. These plants' bitterness alone is enough to deter most animals, but a small minority of insects, including the monarch (Danaus plexippus) and its relative, the queen butterfly (Danaus gilippus), have learned to love milkweed and use it to repel predators. Whiteman noted that the monarch is a tropical lineage that invaded North America after the last ice age, in part enabled by the three mutations that allowed it to eat a poisonous plant other animals could not, giving it a survival edge and a natural defense against predators. "The monarch resists the toxin the best of all the insects, and it has the biggest population size of any of them; it's all over the world," he said. The new paper reveals that the mutations had to occur in the right sequence, or else the flies would never have survived the three separate mutational events. Thwarting the sodium pump The poisons in these plants, most of them a type of cardenolide, interfere with the sodium/potassium pump (Na+/K+-ATPase) that most of the body's cells use to move sodium ions out and potassium ions in. The pump creates an ion imbalance that the cell uses to its favor. Nerve cells, for example, transmit signals along their elongated cell bodies, or axons, by opening sodium and potassium gates in a wave that moves down the axon, allowing ions to flow in and out to equilibrate the imbalance. After the wave passes, the sodium pump re-establishes the ionic imbalance. Digitoxin, from foxglove, and ouabain, the main toxin in milkweed, block the pump and prevent the cell from establishing the sodium/potassium gradient. This throws the ion concentration in the cell out of whack, causing all sorts of problems. In animals with hearts, like birds and humans, heart cells begin to beat so strongly that the heart fails; the result is death by cardiac arrest. Scientists have known for decades how these toxins interact with the sodium pump: they bind the part of the pump protein that sticks out through the cell membrane, clogging the channel. They've even identified two specific amino acid changes or mutations in the protein pump that monarchs and the other insects evolved to prevent the toxin from binding. But Whiteman and his colleagues weren't satisfied with this just so explanation: that insects coincidentally developed the same two identical mutations in the sodium pump 14 separate times, end of story. With the advent of CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing in 2012, coinvented by UC Berkeley's Jennifer Doudna, Whiteman and colleagues Anurag Agrawal of Cornell University and Susanne Dobler of the University of Hamburg in Germany applied to the Templeton Foundation for a grant to recreate these mutations in fruit flies and to see if they could make the flies immune to the toxic effects of cardenolides. Seven years, many failed attempts and one new grant from the National Institutes of Health later, along with the dedicated CRISPR work of GenetiVision of Houston, Texas, they finally achieved their goal. In the process, they discovered a third critical, compensatory mutation in the sodium pump that had to occur before the last and most potent resistance mutation would stick. Without this compensatory mutation, the maggots died. Their detective work required inserting single, double and triple mutations into the fruit fly's own sodium pump gene, in various orders, to assess which ones were necessary. Insects having only one of the two known amino acid changes in the sodium pump gene were best at resisting the plant poisons, but they also had serious side effects—nervous system problems—consistent with the fact that sodium pump mutations in humans are often associated with seizures. However, the third, compensatory mutation somehow reduces the negative effects of the other two mutations. "One substitution that evolved confers weak resistance, but it is always present and allows for substitutions that are going to confer the most resistance," said postdoctoral fellow Marianna Karageorgi, a geneticist and evolutionary biologist. "This substitution in the insect unlocks the resistance substitutions, reducing the neurological costs of resistance. Because this trait has evolved so many times, we have also shown that this is not random." The fact that one compensatory mutation is required before insects with the most resistant mutation could survive placed a constraint on how insects could evolve toxin resistance, explaining why all 21 lineages converged on the same solution, Whiteman said. In other situations, such as where the protein involved is not so critical to survival, animals might find different solutions. "This helps answer the question, 'Why does convergence evolve sometimes, but not other times?'" Whiteman said. "Maybe the constraints vary. That's a simple answer, but if you think about it, these three mutations turned a Drosophila protein into a monarch one, with respect to cardenolide resistance. That's kind of remarkable." Provided by: University of California - Berkeley More information: Marianthi Karageorgi et al. Genome editing retraces the evolution of toxin resistance in the monarch butterfly. Nature (2019). DOI: 10.1038/s41586-019-1610-8  Image: A Drosophila melanogaster "monarch fly" with mutations introduced by CRISPR-Cas9 genome editing (V111, S119 and H122) to the sodium potassium pump, on a wing of a monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus). Credit: copyright Julianne Pelaez Read the full article

[ebenpink]

Life In the Sanitized Bubble (Or Why Probiotics Are So Important) https://ift.tt/2LEFwLh

For the vast majority of human history (and prehistory), men, women, and children had near-constant contact with the natural world around them. They were walking on the ground. They were playing in the dirt. They were digging for roots and grubs. They were eating with their hands. They were field dressing animals and wiping their hands on the grass. Nothing was sterilized; the tools to sterilize the environment didn’t exist. You could boil water, but that was about it. Bacteria were everywhere, and humans were constantly ingesting it. Even as babies, preindustrial infants nursed for almost four years, so they were getting a steady source of breastmilk-based probiotic bacteria for a good portion of their early lives.

The Agricultural Age: Farms and Fermented Foods

After agriculture and animal husbandry hit the scene, human diets changed, but their environmental exposures didn’t so much. Every day they interacted closely with the soil and/or animals (and their respective bacteria). And they also continued ingesting probiotic bacteria on a regular basis through the use of fermented food—for at least the last 10,000 years. Honey into mead, grains into beer, fruit into wine, alcohol into vinegar.

We know that fermented dairy has been an integral part of any traditional dairy-eating culture because fermentation is the natural result of having milk around without refrigeration. You take raw milk and leave it out for a couple days at room temperature, and it will begin to separate and ferment. Introduce an animal stomach and you can make cheese. Introduce specific strains of bacteria, and you can make yogurt or kefir. But the point is that dairy fermentation—and, thus, the consumption of dairy-based probiotics—was unavoidable in pre-industrial dairy-eating societies.

In areas without (and some with) dairy consumption, they fermented plants. Kimchi, sauerkraut, pickles, chutneys, soy sauce, miso, and natto are just several examples among hundreds.

Modern Diets, Modern Environments

Here’s my point to all this: probiotics in one form or another have been a constant input in the human experience… until today.

Today? We live sterilized lives.

We wipe everything down with anti-microbial agents.

We wash all our plates and eating utensils with ultra-hot water and powerful soaps.

We wear shoes.

We don’t touch (or see) dirt for days, weeks at a time.

We stay indoors most of the day.

We pasteurize our dairy. We render shelf-stable (and thus inert) our sauerkraut and pickles.

We sterilize our water.

We take antibiotics.

We eat processed, refined food that’s been treated with preservatives and anti-microbial additives designed to remove all traces of bacteria.

We employ tens of thousands of scientists, bureaucrats, and agents whose primary role is to ensure our food supply is as sterile as possible.

I get all that. There are good reasons for doing all these things, and on the balance I’d of course rather have clean water, clean food, and antibiotics than not, but there are also drawbacks and unintended consequences. We live in a sterile world, and our guts weren’t built for a sterile world. They’re meant to house a diverse array of bacteria.

What Are the Consequences Of Living a Sterile Life?

Hippocrates, the father of medicine, said that “all diseases originate in the gut.” The most obvious example, digestive issues, are some of the most common in the post-industrial world. Constipation, diarrhea, bloating, and general digestive distress affect tens of millions. Food intolerances and allergies, which also have a link to gut health, are rising.

Even conditions that aren’t intuitively linked to gut health, like autism or hay fever or even heart disease, may actually have a connection with the state of our guts or digestion.

At least since Biblical times (and probably earlier), humans have identified a connection between the gut and our emotions. “I’ve got a gut feeling…” or “I feel it in my gut.” Though it’s usually portrayed as “merely metaphor,” this connection isn’t spurious and can feel quite real. Remember when you held hands with that pretty girl or handsome guy for the first time? You felt those butterflies in your gut. Or how you had to rush to the bathroom before giving that big talk in front of your college class? You felt the nervousness and anxiety in your gut.

Evidence is accumulating that our gut bacteria can manufacture and synthesize neurotransmitters like serotonin and GABA, and even sex hormones like testosterone. We’ve even identified a legitimate physiological pathway running from the gut to the brain and back again. Couple that with the fact that gut health seems to play a role in depression, anxiety, and other related conditions, and it starts looking like our lack of exposure to probiotic bacteria could be triggering (or at least exacerbating) the rise in mental health issues.

Supporting Our Guts In the Age of Sterility

The foundation of gut health has to be diet: 1) Eating fermented foods to provide probiotic bacteria and 2) eating plant and animal foods that provide prebiotic substrate to feed and nourish those bacteria. That’s been the way of humans for tens of thousands of years—from ingesting soil-based and animal-based bacteria on the food we ate as foragers to directly producing and consuming fermented food—and it should remain the primary mode of probiotic procurement.

But there’s also a place for probiotic supplementation. Food alone probably can’t atone for the sterile existence we’ve built for ourselves. Food alone can’t counteract the several years of breastfeeding you didn’t get, the dirt you didn’t play with, the antelope colons you didn’t handle with bare hands, the untreated water you didn’t drink. You may get it now, but what about ten years ago? What about when you were a kid?

Evolutionarily novel circumstances often require evolutionarily novel responses to restore balance.

And probiotics aren’t even that “novel.” We’re clearly designed to consume probiotics in the food we eat, and probiotic supplements utilize the same ingestion pathway, especially if you consume them with food. The dosages may sound high. Primal Probiotics, the one I make (and take), contains 5 billion colony forming units (cfu, a measure of bacteria that are able to survive digestion and establish colonies in the gut) of good bacteria per dose—but that’s right in line with (or even well under) the dose of probiotics found in common fermented foods.

A single milliliter of kefir can have up to 10 billion cfu.

A cup of yogurt can contain up to 500 billion cfu.

A tablespoon of sauerkraut juice can contain 1.5 trillion cfu. Kimchi is probably quite similar.

A single gram of soil can contain almost 10 trillion cfu. A gram of soil is easy to consume if you’re eating foods (and drink water) directly from the earth.

Now, Primal Probiotics isn’t the only option. It may not even be the best option if you have specific conditions that other strains are particularly adept at addressing. (I’ll cover this in a future post.) But the way I designed Primal Probiotics was to be a good general, all-purpose probiotic with particular applications for Primal, keto, and other ancestrally-minded people living their modern lives.

For instance, one of my favorite strains I’ve included is Bacillus subtilis, the very same bacterial strain that’s found in natto, the traditional Japanese fermented soybean. B. subtilis addresses many of the issues we face in the modern world. It helps break down phytase in the gut and turn it into inositol, an important nutrient for brain and mood and stress. It helps convert vitamin K1 (from plants) into vitamin K2 (the more potent animal form of the vitamin). It can even hydrolyze wheat and dairy proteins to make them less allergenic.

There’s also Bacillus clausii, an integral modulator of the innate immune system (PDF)—the part of the immune system that fights off pathogens, toxins, and other invading offenders. Innate immunity is ancient immunity; it’s the same system employed by lower organisms like animals, plants, fungi, and bacteria. It’s the foundation of what we know as the immune response. What’s funny is that B. clausii has such a powerful effect on our innate immunity that one could argue B. clausii is an innate aspect of our gut community.

I’ve also included a small amount of prebiotic substrates in the latest iteration. I use raw potato starch (for resistant starch) and a blend of fructooligosaccharides and galactooligosaccharides. The prebiotic doses are low enough that they shouldn’t exacerbate any gut problems or FODMAPs intolerances and high enough to provide enough food for the probiotics to flourish.

Again, you don’t have to take Primal Probiotics. It’s my opinion that they provide the perfect combination of strains for most people’s needs, especially when combined with regular intakes of fermented veggies like sauerkraut and fermented dairy like yogurt, cheese, and kefir, but the actual strains themselves aren’t proprietary. You can find them elsewhere if you want to get individual probiotics. Hell, you may not even need a probiotic supplement. Depending on your personal health background, the level of sterility in your life history and current life (if you grew up on a farm drinking raw milk, for example), and the amount of fermented foods you currently consume, you may not need supplemental assistance.

But it’s sure nice to have around.

Anyway, that’s it for today.

How do you get your probiotics? Do you find them necessary for optimum health? What kind of benefits have you experienced from taking probiotics, either via food or supplementation?

Thanks for reading, everyone. Take care.

//

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The post Life In the Sanitized Bubble (Or Why Probiotics Are So Important) appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

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[syntheticaesthetic]

50 More interesting questions

Rules: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!

I was tagged by @praxid!

1. What kind of food can’t you stand?: I’m sort of picky about texture. Not big on things that are sort of gelatinous - so no jello for me. I’m also not big tropical fruit person so I don’t like pineapple or most melons.

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?: Brushing my hair. It mats up while in a braided bun as I sleep. It takes hours to brush out. 

3. Have you got any useless talents?: I don’t have any talents really.

4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?: Film/photography/writing.

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: Melissa McBride, Sonequa Martin-Green, Andrew-Lee Potts, Kit Harrington, Karen Gillan, David Tennant, Scarlett Johansson, Jamie N Commons, Danai Gurirra, Donald Glover, Milla Jovovich, Tatiana Maslany, I should top. I find lots of people pretty. 

6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?: Reading, interneting, hitting my brother with sticks and getting hit back.

7. What is something you’re proud of?: I decided I wasn’t going to let another student film festival go uncaptioned at my college. I was the only one who captioned every film and I don’t think anyone has captioned the film festivals since, but I know that there were a few students that were able to attend the festival I did because they felt welcome for once. Fuck the kids who bitched about the captioning, it wasn’t for you.

8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?: Lying. For fuck’s sake just tell the truth. Also, don’t be cruel or intolerant of people’s differences or differences of opinion. Fuck you, there’s room for everyone and everyone’s thoughts. 

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?:  I’m a leader when I feel I must be - if absolutely no one else will step up, but I much prefer being a follower.

10. What kind of student are/were you?: I worked harder than anyone else to achieve mediocre status. 

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?: I told someone I liked a wristband/sweatband they were wearing and we became fast friends. I picked a school based on school colors. I followed my roommate to an ASL club meeting because she wanted me to get out of the dorm. I got a tumblr hahah. Honestly though the people I’ve met on tumblr have saved me so thank you.

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: Eyes - I don’t like eye drops, people touching their eyes, eye things happening in movies. I don’t like spiders. I’m still a little afraid of the dark. 

13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?: Tim Wright,  Jay Merrick, Clint Barton, Abby Maitland, Connor Temple, VERONICA MARS, Jessica Jones, 

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?: I get the munchies. And giggly. And sleepy. And I desire Left 4 Dead. Its my drunk video game. 

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?: I fall in love with concepts. I fall in love with characters. I fall in love with every dog I meet. But I’ve never had the opportunity to fall in love with a person. I love my friends, but I think that’s a different question? 

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?: One close friend.

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?: I’m a neat-freak who has given up. Dog hair will never be eradicated. I don’t have the energy to clean the way I want. My mind is too chaotic and I need clutter around me or I feel uncomfortable. Weirdly enough I was watching a documentary on Carrie Fisher and her mother, and I saw Carrie’s house and went “that’s me!” It seemed that her house was that way because of her bipolar status. I’m not bipolar but I do have major crippling anxiety and I think I clutter and throw art and things all over the walls as some sort of comforting mechanism. I’m unable to decorate like Adults do - I can’t do minimalism. It stresses me out. 

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy: Pacific northwest. Woods near a big lake or the ocean. Older farmhouse with brick and reclaimed wood. I have a room decorated in my usual chaos. There’s a bay window big enough for me and Ruby to both be on it at the same time. Its raining and the fall leaves are piled on the ground. I have candles and incense burning. Good music. Maybe a friend sitting on the computer next to me. There’s coffee and marionberry pie. Its october and everything is foggy and spooky and gentle and calm. Its probably sunday.

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: I don’t have any human kids. I like them, I think they’re funny. I’d want some if I was confident in my ability to care for them and raise them right and take care of them in all the ways they deserve.

20. What was your favorite book as a child? Harry Potter. To find something that not everyone else my age would say....Everything’s Eventual?

21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: Undertale. Its fine but I can’t get into it in the way everyone else does. 

22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: Films on YouTube by indie filmmakers.

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?: Andrew-Lee Potts during the early days of Keychain Productions. Blood On Benefits made me want to make films, and I think spending a month with him working on all those short films would have made me actually live my dream rather than giving up on it. 

24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: I want to make films. I want to write an original story. Maybe make a video game? I want to make something. Do some crafting. Meet someone and actually date them. I’d like to have a kiss at some point, to see what that’s like. Have friends that live nearby that I can see frequently. 

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: No! Opinions are dangerous and people don’t like having friends that have different opinions than them, and I’d never have friends because I either don’t share the same opinions or I don’t feel strongly about my opinions. I’m very open to having people change my opinions. I’m not married to them. Please change my mind, I like thinking about things in a new way. But I am not going to share my opinions because it just causes so many fights among people - I just don’t feel safe doing it. 

26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: I’m sure it was fashion related but honestly I don’t care to think too hard about it. 

27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?: Only doing eyeliner on my bottom lids?

28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: True empathy. The ability to have practical skills that help people. 

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): Hmmm....nerdy things? I mostly get gifts from Tumblr friends because we share fandoms so while the fandoms vary its usually homemade things based on our favorite things. And bless you all for it too - As my mom could tell you I beam for weeks upon receiving your guys gifts! I wish I could repay the kindness!

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?: I can do some really basic ASL. I used to do some basic spanish but that was many many years ago and I don’t think it would come back easily.

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: Woods, middle of. I need my million dogs and my lots of land and fresh air. 

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: the MCU lol

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: Being the center of attention gives me anxiety.

34. Favorite holiday?: SPOOKY SCARY

35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: My anxiety demands I have plans. Now, those plans are allowed to change, but I need to start with plans. 

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.): No.

37. What hobbies do you have?: Internet. Fanfiction writing (hahahahahaha). Photography. When my hand heals I wanna do leatherworking.

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: I just want to know what my dog is thinking. So a superpower that lets me know what dogs are thinking/saying?

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: Could someone answer this for me? Because I don’t think anyone’s ever given me feedback on this one. 

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: That I needed to do something about my anxiety. It gave me so many health problems and kept me from living my life. 

41. Worst injury you’ve had?: I’ve slammed my head against giant rocks. Hurt my knee in volleyball.

42. Any morbid fascinations?: Weirdly enough, not really! Post-nuclear apocalypses maybe? http://althistory.wikia.com/wiki/1983:_Doomsday was something I spent weeks immersed in to the detriment of my mental health.

43. Describe your sense of humor: Sarcastic, bitter, shitty puns? 

44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose?: 80s? Goth scene, I could have seen Depeche Mode and The Cure in their prime. 

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: life

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: Being a shitty friend. Now I know how to not be that shitty?

47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): Gimme that face tattoo.

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: I like to think pessimistically so that if its true I’m not surprised but if it turns out better I can be pleasantly surprised!

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: That they genuinely loved me and that I made a difference in their life. 

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: I don’t know........ How bone achingly lonely I am? Maybe someone can help me out on this one too. I don’t know if anyone really “understands” me - I don’t communicate my mindset well. 

I’m tagging: @gallifreystands @the44thpilot @autumnxtoxashes @ms-fagerstrom @marionarnold