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mask131 · 2 years ago

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Roman gods are not Greek gods: Mars

MARS

To start this series, I think the best deity to exemplify the difference between Greek and Roman gods is Mars, the Roman equivalent of Ares.

Everybody knows Ares. The cruel and bloodthirsty god of war, a deity who enjoys bloodbaths and massacres, the twin brother of strife and discord, the father of terror and panic, an embodiment of brutality and violence existing to oppose the most rational, civilized, intelligent and honorable form of war practiced by Athena, deity of strategy, peace and wisdom.

And yet, when you look at Mars, over in Rome… While he is indeed a god of war, like Ares, he has absolutely none of the “dark” or “ugly” sides of Ares. He isn’t a brute, he isn’t mindless, he isn’t a god of carnage feared by all. He isn’t a god of destruction. In fact, he is the sole embodiment of the “good war”. All of Athena’s symbolism as the “goddess of the right way to wage war” can be found in Mars, and all of Ares’ symbolism as the “god of the wrong way to wage war” is thrown out of the window, nowhere to be seen. The reason why is in my general introduction: the Romans were soldiers at heart. Roman culture was a military culture. Waging war and sending legions to conquer their neighbors was how Rome asserted itself as a great power, how the city-state grew into an empire, how the Romans built themselves as people. The army was the main way to maintain order and control in the various provinces of the Empire ; being a soldier was one of the most common careers of a Roman, and the military hierarchy was just a common way of climbing the social ladder ; a part of the nobility of Rome was of military origins. War was a big, big thing for Ancient Rome – and as a result they did not had any “negative” view of war (unlike the Greeks who constantly lived in the fear of both barbarian invasions and civil war among themselves). For them, a god of war would be the god that helped their culture affirm itself, that helped their empire grow, that was present in their everyday life, that maintained order in their lands and that helped structure their very society. And this is why Mars is a “good” god of war, unlike Ares.

To illustrate this, the cult of Mars was heavily centered around shields – showing that he embodied a war and a military supposed to protect as much as it should attack. He was a god that generals prayed to before going on any military campaign, offerings were given to him before any battle, and if the Romans were victorious it was him they thanked. In fact, Mars was often depicted in the company of personifications of victory, such as Victoria or Vitula. Yes, he was also escorted by deities that inflicted terror on his enemies, similar to the Greek Phobos and Deimos (here Pavor and Pallor), but he also counted among his companion allegories such as Honor or Virtus – the very concept of honor and courage, for Mars was a god of bravery and the keeper of the moral code of warriors. His war was one of virtue and discipline, not of chaos and wickedness.

But this is all just one of the two main aspects of Mars – the other being… flowers. Yep. A flower god. Now we’re really not in Kansas anymore – you imagine Ares as a god of flowers? As I said in my general introduction, the Romans were primarily “farmer-soldiers”, with a very… rustic and agricultural pantheon before the massive Hellenization. And Mars is the “perfect” Roman god because he literally has both sides: a god of war and a god of plants. In his “primitive”, more Latin incarnation, Mars started out as a protector of vegetation and a deity making sure that nature flourished – his festivals were during the third month of the year, the month of March (named after him) and coincided with the opening of the tree-buds and the apparition of the first flowers, making him a god of spring.

While he lost most of his agricultural functions to Ceres and Liber Pater as Rome became a much more military nation, he still kept several traits of his primal characterization – for example his old epithet “Gradivus”, originally tied to “grandiri” (to grow, to become tall) was reinterpreted as tied to “gradi, gradus” (to march, to step) and from a god helping plants grow he became the god of the marching soldiers, aka infantrymen – it was on Mars Gradivus that generals and soldiers swore an oath to be valorous in battle. There is also how soldier’s prayers for Mars to protect their weapons and blade from “rust” originated as prayers by farmers to have their wheat protected from another type of “rust”, a special type of wheat fungus. The fact he was celebrated in spring became more than just a celebration of him “waking up” nature and giving back life to strength and plants – he was also perceived as “waking up” bravery and courage in men’s hearts. Because, with the end of winter, battles and military operations could start again (they were usually “paused” during the winter). And thus “war and prosperity” became seen by the Romans as just two sides of the same coin, and spring as the season of both flowers and soldiers. Mars was perceived as the god of “virility”, and for the Romans virility was as much a social virtue AND the very concept of life force – virility was the way a soldier or general had to be, but it was also virility that helped crops grow and that helped create plants.

A last interesting way the two sides of Mars were united is through his spear. Mars’ iconic weapon was his spear (the two items of his military cult were the shield and the spear) – and often said spear was depicted as wrapped in laurel garlands. While originally a symbol reflecting his role as a vegetation god, the idea of garlands of leaves and flowers became associated with victory in battle and peace after war – which is why for example a crown of laurel became a symbol of a champion, winner or conquerer in Rome.

Other important facts about Mars:

# Mars had a very important role in Roman history, and was thus seen as one of the “ancestor” gods of the Roman civilization. He was said to have been the father of Romulus and Remus, the brothers who actually built the city of Rome ; and he helped the second legendary king of Rome, Numa Pompilius, by offering him a magical shield that was tied to Rome’s fate and would help protect the city as long as it stayed undamaged. This important role led to him being actually called “father” in religion: Mars Pater, Father Mars (which is a name also present in earlier incarnation of the god as “Marspiter” or “Maspiter”).

# In fact, Mars was one of the most prominent and important Roman gods, with temples present everywhere. It is said that he was one of the gods of the “archaic triad” (the triad of main gods of early Roman religion), alongside Jupiter (imagine: Mars was equal to Jupiter!) and a purely Roman deity known as “Quirinus”. What is slightly confusing however is that while sometimes Quirinus and Mars are treated as separate, other times they are treated as one of the same: “Mars Quirinus” was one of the aspects of Mars, as the god of the “quirites” (citizens of Rome), the protector of Rome’s civilians, as well as the keeper of treaties and oaths ensuring peace as a whole.

# Ovid actually gave Mars a birth legend that was the one of Hephaistos in the Hesiodic tradition: Juno/Hera, jealous of seeing Jupiter/Zeus giving birth to a child on his own (Minerva/Athena), decided in retaliation to also give birth to a child on her own. But unlike Hesiod’s Theogony where Hera worked on her own and the result was an imperfect, deformed baby ; in Ovid’s tales, Juno asked for the help of the goddess Flora, who offered her a magical flower that impregnated the goddess and led to the birth of Mars. (This legend furthers highlights the “vegetation” aspect of Mars).

# While March became the “third month” of the Roman calendar, with the month of January (named after the god Janus) marking the new year ; originally March was the first month of the early Roman calendar, and on the first day of this month (so the first day of the year) was celebrated the Matronalia, a festival of mother and married women centered around Juno. It was also thought to be the day Juno gave birth to Mars. Thus, the birth of Mars, god of vegetation, from the mother-goddess, by a magical flower, was the original opening of the Roman year – a year which, as you can see, in the agricultural lifestyle of early Romans was entirely centered around nature, beginning with the rebirth of vegetation and ending with the “death” of plants in winter.

# While Ares’ sacred animals reflected his nastier side (the destructive boar blinded by rage, the corpse-eating vulture), Mars’ sacred animals were the woodpecker, the bear and the wolf. The latter was very important – a she-wolf nursed Romulus and Remus, Rome’s founders, as babes, and thus the wolf became the symbol of the “nurse and nurturer” of Rome, it became the animal of the defense of Rome, and the very representation of Rome itself.

# Ares had a female divine companion, which was a purely Roman goddess and the main “warrior goddess” instead of Athena/Minerva – it was Bellona, goddess of war, sometimes said to be the sister, daughter or wife of Mars. But while she was the main war goddess of the Roman pantheon, she was not the equivalent of Athena at all – in fact, in a true ironic twist, Bellona was said to be a more brutal and savage deity than Mars, asking for mutilation and blood in her sacrifices, and being escorted by the Roman version of Eris (Discordia) and by the Furies (Roman Erynies). So overall, Bellona was more of a “true” equivalent of Ares, while Mars is more of an equivalent of Athena… Mars also had another consort-goddess which was sometimes equated with Bellona: Nerio, the personification of “valor” – and just like Mars, she had a dual nature as both embodying a social virtue, a form of “majestic power” (valor as we understand it today), and a manifestation of the vital force and life-power.

# As you can deduce from above – the whole thing of Mars and Venus being in love actually did not exist until the Hellenization of the Roman religion. It was then that the love story of Ares and Aphrodite was brought over, and forced upon the Roman gods, even though Mars and Venus had nothing to do together prior to that. However, while the Romans quickly adopted the Mars and Venus love, they kind of ditched a very important aspect of the Greek story: the adultery. It was present in the first manifestations of the Greek tale in Rome, but the Romans did not like to speak of such vile or unpleasant things like adultery (unlike rape for example, which Romans ADORED), and so it did not stick. This tale fascinated the poets, the artists, the philosophers, precisely because they adored the beauty and idea of Love and War being united as a couple, and so they refuse to have it be presented in a negative light like the Greek did. Ares and Aphrodite’s relationship wasn’t a love story, but an infidelity story almost turning into a grotesque farce – it was the Romans who romanticized and embellished Mars and Venus’ relationship into a beautiful love story, to the point that the two deities were implied or considered to be married to each other, and were seen as the ideal model for married couples. It helped that both were consider the “parent gods” of Rome, Mars as the “father” through Romulus/Remus, Venus as the “mother” through Aeneas. An interesting thing concerning the Mars-Venus relationship: in Roman depictions of the relationship, Venus is always presented in a dominating or leading position, while Mars is often shown in a submissive, relaxed, rested way, often disrobed, disarmed, if not outright nude or sleeping. As I said, the Mars-Venus relationship was heavily perceived through poetic and philosophical lenses, and as a result these depictions wanted to insist on how Love actually brings calm, peace and rest in War, allowing War to leave its weapons and abandon itself to pleasures and quietness.

#roman gods are not greek gods #roman gods #greek gods #roman mythology #greek mythology #mars #ares

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foodienamedmaddie · 4 years ago

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Week 4, Blog Post Due 9/16

Q1. Why is having your “cultural-lens” zoomed out so vital in terms of perspective with intersectionality?

In the experience of a judge dismissing Emma DeGraffenreid claim referred to in the TED Talk by Dr. Kimberle Crenshaw, we see a major lack of perspective. In this case, a car manufacturing company claimed that they had both racial and gender inclusion, yet they lacked Black women in their workplace (Crenshaw, 2016). So keeping the mind open to recognizing not only racial and gender bias but the two combined is important. Workplace structures and their culture within hiring need to be checked to ensure there is fair and equal chance for minorities to be hired and thrive within a company. Growth can occur when industries are challenged and held accountable for having a diverse and inclusive environment. Accountability is especially significant when recognizing broken systems in which our society was built upon. Bringing attention and confronting tragedies and injustices among minorities, more specifically Black Americans in this case, is needed in order for change. #SayHerName.

Q2. Is there a way algorithms can be neutral and objective?

I would suggest we change algorithms as soon as possible if we want to reach the goal of algorithms being neutral and objective. I had never heard of algorithmic oppression prior to taking this course- which is frightening- so I believe educating people on the topic itself is a great place to start to head toward impartial algorithms. The more algorithms are built into systems the more we see minority groups be discriminated against. Minority groups are already at a disadvantage enough, to have another major entity in society to go up against is unjust. Moving toward a more equal and just society becomes slowed when prejudice is embedded within technological systems. Technology is a fairly new creation and can be a great use to move toward but it is significant for these systems to be created right. Companies should be demanded by law to create unbiased algorithms and if they fall short of those expectations then I believe there should be consequences. When there are situations of racism due to an algorithm failing that are brushed off, it deems it okay for other companies to loosely create algorithms. In addition, when things are done fast there is more room for error.

Q3. How do codes affect society?

As Ruha Benjamin states in “Race After Technology,” codes were made to control society itself, and to have certain expectations when presented a code (Benjamin, 2019). Once one is coded, it is hard to be un-coded, so to speak. As mentioned in this piece, once someone is entered into a gang database it can be very difficult, almost impossible to be removed. And you cannot ignore the fact they were entered into the database because of where they live based on zip code and their names. This is significantly unjust as these people entered in the database become monitored. And now they have to live their life in fear because their name and residential area deems them as a gang member? People’s names can also be a determining factor of whether they get a job, accepted into college, accepted for a credit card, granted a home loan, and numerous other circumstances.

Q4. How can unequal access to the internet increase inequality in today’s world?

As technology is such an exponentially growing entity, it is almost imperative to have access to the internet to be successful. Especially in the circumstances due to COVID-19, children who are without technological equipment to access school material can put them at a disadvantage. The internet has allowed for development economically and socially, yet it is not equally accessible for all social groups causing a larger gap in inequality.

References:

TED. (2016, December 7). The Urgency of Intersectionality | Kimberlé Crenshaw [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akOe5-UsQ2o&t=3s

Noble, S. U. (2018). Algorithms of oppression. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1pwt9w5

Benjamin, R. (2019). Race after TECHNOLOGY: ABOLITIONIST tools for the New Jim Code. Social Forces, 98(4), 1–3. https://doi.org/10.1093/sf/soz162

#sayhername

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rawsanma · 4 years ago

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In Memoriam of "Shin Evangelion: Curse"

*The following article contains a full spoiler for "Evangelion 3.0+1.0".*

I sat together with a person who was not in birth when EOE was released, and after watching the film we talked a bit and thought about the people who passed away without ever seeing this. I understand that fans from the old series and those who came from the new series may have very different perceptions of Shin-Eva. So I'd like to first correct a few things I said in my first impressions.

It may be somewhere between an honorable movie and a mediocre movie in general, but as Evangelion, it's garbage.

After about halfway through the two hours and thirty-five minutes, I started to look at my watch again and again. The double ending, which is both a personal novel and a product, was a fleeting fantasy, and the two songs "One Last Kiss" and "beautiful world (da capo ver.)" were not used effectively in relation to the story, only being played in the staff roll.

When I saw the first 10 minutes of the movie that was released last year, I thought that perhaps Paris was chosen as the setting for the story of "humanity fighting together in the face of destruction" or "the expansion of the Eva world (not G Gundam, but G Eva!)", but that was not the case at all. He just wanted to depict the battle using the Eiffel Tower as a FATALITY,　I realized that he hadn't made a single millimeter of progress since when he asked Hayao Miyazaki if I could film only this action scene of Her Highness Kushana in the re-animation of Nausicaa, he was scolded, "That's why you're no good!"

At the beginning of the film, they try to carefully describe the things behind the scenes that were not told in Eva Q. The third Ayanami like the TV version is the main character, and they go on and on about living in the countryside, copying "My Neighbor Totoro". The large family of our parent's home that we go back to during the summer vacation is presented as an image of happiness in life and a decent human being. It is also connected to Gendou's narrative during the Human Instrumentality Project but isn't it too Showa-era and too simple a solution? I am interested in how the young fans who are children of nuclear families who left their large families in the countryside and moved to the city saw the too sudden depiction of "life in the countryside". It was almost a gag to see Ayanami walking around in a plug suit which is a sexual orientation that has manifested itself after Space Battleship Yamato, in the images of pre and post-war farming villages depicted by recent NHK morning dramas. The director, influenced by his wife, must have been immersed in the LOHAS and vegan lifestyle as a fashion statement, which is only possible because he is an urbanite with too much stuff and too much money. As for this theme, it has already been presented in the watermelon field scene in the second film, and it is merely a re-presentation of the same theme in a diluted form.

I've pointed out before that Eva Q is "a crack in reality because of the loss of reality to rely on. "It's rude not to eat what you're served!", Shinji was scolded by Touji's father, who looked like a subversion of Hayao Miyazaki's work (Gedo Senki!). I have a simple question, how can the interior of a house become so old and wretched after only 14 years? How can a community of people of all ages be formed in just 14 years?　There was a line that implied that Touji had killed someone for the village, and it is possible that the director had extremely beautified the "Showa era" as a sanctuary where people who are hurt and regret their committing murder during the war as a soldier live nearby, and when he opened the last drawer after using up all the materials, he found the image of the original landscape of his childhood.

Misato and Kaji's child, which is only described for a few minutes, is also abrupt, and I don't feel that it is more than a plot device for the purpose of staging the reconciliation with Shinji later on. Some people seem to be moved by the fact that "behind Misato's cold attitude towards Shinji in Q, there was such a conflict in her mind," but it's the opposite. All the answers are just excuses after wasting nine years of work. Even if the wounds healed and treated with a gentle "I'm sorry," after being beaten severely by a raging DV husband, the fact of the beating would not disappear, and the wife would feel nothing but fear at the sudden change in her husband. To a situation that he had set to minus 100, he spent 2 hours and 35 minutes gradually pouring water drawn from other places and past works to bring it back to zero...I've never seen such a horrible match pump. Well, now that I'm writing this, I'm thinking that I've seen this before.

The relationship between Eva Q and Shin Eva is very similar to the relationship between "The Last Jedi" and "The rise of Skywalker" in Star Wars. In a self-absorbed rampage of conjecture that did not listen to the opinions of others, the historical stage of the series that had been built up was turned into a mess, and then the destroyed story was carefully built up again from the ground using unnecessary length, and only the shape of the story was created to end it without being disgraceful, and every scene that tries to make things more exciting is a copy of past work. As for Star Wars, since 8 and 9 were directed by different directors, I was able to settle my feelings of resentment towards Ryan and gratitude towards Abrams, respectively, but as for Evangelion, the director looks like a child who has been proud to clean up his own mess and have his female cronies praise and pat him on the head. Moreover, what kind of sympathy do you expect when you are told to "I'll make amends" for the mere act of wiping your ass after defecating, in a cool, Showa-era chivalrous tone?

In this film, as a recovery from Q and a summary of new Eva, there are elements throughout the story that critics can easily relate to the old Eva. “Oh, I can talk about this in connection with that!” This is what gives them a good impression and it has nothing to do with how the old fans perceive it. The director seems to have a dedicated person in charge of communicating and negotiating with the outside, but now he wants the critics to communicate with the fans about Shin-Eva. As long as he doesn't speak for himself, he can correct their interpretations later based on the "misunderstandings" of the people in between himself and his fans. This is a very Japanese-style system of surmising feelings, a system of authority that is formed when only a limited number of cronies are informed of the true intentions of the president. If I talk about it in too much detail, right-winged Yakuza will show up very soon, so to make it short, it is an indigenous control structure unique to Japan that originated from the "Mikado behind the bamboo blind". This time the director was very conscious of that, and I was able to see that Eva, who was a challenger, has become an authority that does not tolerate any criticism.

And what fan from the past could enjoy watching the endless battle scenes after Shinji returns to Wunder in the middle of the film? One after another, the sister ships of Wunder appear--there's almost no difference in appearance, but Ritsuko is able to guess their names the moment they appear. Right after the line "I'm pretty sure there's a fourth ship," the fourth ship comes crashing upon them from underneath, with no intention other than to make us laugh, right? As well as the repeated tenseless bombardment fight with no description of damage no matter how many artillery shells are hit, and it's quite painful being poured Asuka and Mari's Me-Strong Battles which are already enough by the time of Q, continuously down my throat like a goose with a funnel in its mouth. There's no way to synchronize my feelings with the screen, and it just creates an atmosphere as if the story is going on with the unattractive super-robot action that I pointed out in Q. It's no use pointing out, but the repair and supply problems of Wille side in a world where the industry has been destroyed were shown in the farming village part, though it was inadequate. But those of NERV side, an organization of only a man and an old man, was completely thrown away.

The last part of the story about the Human Instrumentality Project is like a fanzine where Gendou, Asuka, Kaworu, and Rei are lined up in a row and complemented in turn and then dismissed, whereas EOE was a total complement through Shinji. The director has tried to upgrade his framework by borrowing them from EOE and has failed miserably. Someone who has created works by putting his emotion and flair into a copy has dabbled in copying his own work. As a result, he had to confront his own sensibilities from when he was young and had to compare the old and the new by his old audience. Frankly speaking, only the techniques have been traced, the sound and the screen have become gorgeous, but the emotion and the sense have deteriorated. The face of the giant Ayanami that was replaced with a live-action one -- probably based on the face acting of Shinji's voice actor, and the "untested ordeal" of her tweet means this -- appears in the background like a gold folding screen in the high sand at a Japanese wedding reception. You're getting tired of all this, and you're not making it seriously, are you? The battle between Eva Unit01 and Eva Unit13 in Tokyo-III, which I expressed my anxiety about before the film's release, is a scene where the company's CG team can't produce what the director expects and he is so frustrated that he has the same mindset as in the final two episodes of the TV version, "I'd rather get a minus than a red", and after that, it became like a gag scene, including Eva fights in Misato's apartment and Shinji's school classroom, as if he was staged them in desperation. The side-shooting screenshot of the little Wunder charging at the head of the giant Ayanami is a picture of ”Cho Aniki (Japanese STG)” itself, and it's also meant to be funny, right? It's a series of loose, sloppy, and tenseless scenes that can't be compared to EOE.

What the hell have the CG team been doing for the past nine years, getting paid with no progress and making Eva look like an outdated piece of crap? Didn't anyone have the chivalrous spirit of the Showa era like "Don't embarrass our boss!"? Don't be so relieved when you get the green light! The director has just given up on you! There were a few scenes where the person at the top of the editing and collage, who has been making the coolest pictures, was not given as much good material as he used to be and seemed to make desperate staging in a way that he would never have given the green light in the past. It's been more than 10 years since Xapa was established, but I guess they don't have enough talent to meet the director's vision. Perhaps because of this, the conclusion of the film is exactly the same as the old one, that the director has no choice but to use his personal feelings to finish Eva, but the film ends up being a self-imitation of "Sincerely Yours". It is sad to see a person who "surpasses the original by putting his heart and soul into the copy" start to copy his own past works on the big screen of the theater, because he has become a big name in the animation world after reaching the age of 60, and there are no others left to be copied. However, right after "Komm, süsser Tod" started playing in the old movie, the scene where the titles of each episode and the reverse side of Cels were played in succession was projected on the wall of the studio using a projector -- the title of the new movie was added. It made me mad and thought, "Don't touch my EOE with the dirty hands of the merchant. I'll kill you."

The last things that the man who "transfers his own life onto films" presented in his costly self-published private novel were a naked confession of his own mental history up to the point where he met his wife, which he temporarily entrusted to Gendou, and the words "I think I loved you" and "I loved you" exchanged between himself and the former lover who could not be together and themselves who had separate spouses, just a reckoning of the muddled love affair that existed behind the scenes of EOE. I half-jokingly said that the distance between the director and Asuka's voice actor was important for the end of Eva, but it turned out to be true in a different way. During the recording session, Asuka's voice actor was told by the director, "I'm glad Miyamura is Asuka," which sent chills down my spine as it conveyed the horror of a creator who doesn't hide everything about his life and relationships and uses them to create his works.

In the scene where Shinji says "I liked you too" to the adult Asuka, who is wearing a tight latex suit and drawn in a more realistic character design (making us aware of the cosplay by Asuka's voice actor), while she is lying on the EOE beach, I thought "You guys should do this in a coffee shop or something between recording sessions! Don't make us watch middle-aged man and woman having unpleasant conversations on the big screen of the theater!", I almost screamed out. I think that's the scary part, the director's one-sided love for Asuka's voice actor is falsified by having the character say that she liked him, as if it was a mutual love. The director's statement at the beginning of the pamphlet says that he started working on the sequel right after Evangelion 2.0 without hesitation, using the worldview of "Q". I'm not trying to quote the line "You can change the reality you don't like by getting on Eva.", but it's not as if he's trying to cover up the fact, but he really believes that using his strong imagery, and it made me feel a bit chilly that there was no one around to correct his misconceptions.

At the end of Human Instrumentality Project, I wondered if the fact that a senior member of the movie industry had praised the shooting of EOE by flipping Cels over as a "tremendous deconstruction" was still fresh in his mind. This time, too, it was postponed after postponement, and even though the makings have been done in time, he showed the other side of the production with line drawings and roughs. The reason it was so innovative was that it was the first time anyone had tried it then, and now, 25 years later, it's just a rut. It's disgusting that everyone is praising the master's strange drawing habit and saying, "Oh yeah, that's it, that's it." As I've said before, it's like "defecating in a sixty-nine," which was successful because the first partner happened to be a scatologist. The expression of EOE was sharp and ”Rock’n’‐roll”, but Shin-Eva's "fun of anime images" has gone into the realm of traditional art, like slow "Gagaku".

The director hadn't decided who Mari Makinami was for a long time -- he was so indifferent to her that he threw the actor's acting plan to a sub-director -- but with Shin-Eva, he's changed her into an equal to Moyoco Anno, his wife. In other words, the flashy battle in the middle of the film, which is unimportant to many viewers, is revealed to have been a very pleasant pretend play for the director, in which he has his former love and his current wife fight on his favorite robots. Once again, we are shown the director's so-what-attitude, which has not progressed even a millimeter since "I'm an asshole," and which he can complete his work only by masturbation. So it's no wonder that they couldn't depict the extremely simple catharsis of Shinji's great success with Eva Unit01, which is what most of the old fans want. Because a robot with a pathetic old man on board can't get an erection due to impotence, let alone masturbation!　Oops, excuse me, sir.

And as I said before, it's time to realize that the English language has become so popular in Japan that it's become lame. You use Infinity, Another, Additional, Advanced, Commodity, and Imaginary, just because it sounds cool to you, right?　Everyone criticized the naming "Final Impact", but I never thought I'd see the time when I'd faint from the lack of taste and coolness in Evangelion, such as Another Impact, Additional Impact.

And the ending, with the wedding report in a live-action aerial shot of the director's hometown, newbie fans are screaming that it is like, "They're doing a very positive version of the old "Return to Reality!". But I felt it was too empty and cynical because it was intended to be read that way by the director. It depicts only the elation of marriage, and the pain of getting along with a partner and his or her family with different values is cut off (well, maybe Q was expressing the hardship of married life......). But isn't the emotional weight of a marriage report much higher when you meet your partner's parents?　The fact that he ended the movie by showing his own hometown instead of his wife's hometown leaves me with the impression that he's definitively an egotistical geek through and through. "You may have graduated from a good university and are making good money in the city, but if you're not married and don't have children, aren't you somehow humanly flawed?" After 25 years, Evangelion, which was such a forward-thinking Sci-Fi, is now completely in sync with the earthly ethics of Showa-era's farmers and farm horses. "I got married and it saved my life. I don't know about you, but why don't you try?" You can think what you want, but if you want to convey it as a message of salvation, you have to express it in the content of your work, not in your own talk.

I've been married for 20 years, I have two children, both of whom are about to reach the age of adulthood, I've paid off the mortgage on my home, and I'm finally at the end of raising my children, but all of that is just an outer shell of a social skin that has nothing to do with my true nature or where my soul is! There's no connection between what kind of life an individual lives in the real world and the Sci-Fi sense of wonder, in fact, there shouldn't be any connection! If you're a science fiction fan, take a page from the great Arthur C. Clarke! I was a nerd with a negative value of 100, but when I got married, I gradually poured the "common-sense values" of the Showa era into myself, and now I'm a true man with no negative value? Don't write such pathetic fiction proudly! Listen, what you presented to the audience at the end was the same thing that someone would say to you, "You seedless stallion!" It's the same kind of unethical and vulgar message that you shouldn't be giving! The old Eva became a classic of Japanimation, and no one was able to properly scold you, or you keep away those who tried, and the result of this is directly reflected in the ending of Shin Eva!　You've reached your 60th birthday and you only have such poor social common sense, damn it!

I'm sorry, I was so excited that I lost my control a little bit, just a little bit. I think the director is relying a little too much on his wife, who is ultimately a stranger on, to be his laison d'etre (lol). If they were to break up in the future, it would certainly be the soil for the next Eva, the content and development of which is completely predictable, but that is no longer my concern. I wonder if his wife doesn't like the fact that he's mentally dependent on her like this, and that it's being shown on screens all over the country. If it were me, I'd be furious, but since she's a creator, I guess she understands how he feels. Ignoring the other person's feelings and continuing to force what he believes to be love on her, thinking that it will make her happy, seems to me that there has been no progress at all since the way he treated his girlfriend 25 years ago. The person I want to hear from the most right now is not the self-proclaimed Eva fans who are looking at each other from the side and giving positive feedback in celebration of the final episode, but his wife. If the director had a child, he would not have been able to distinguish between his own ego and that of the child, and would have doted on his child, making a documentary film about his or her growth, but would most likely have turned into a controlling and poisonous parent in his or her adolescence. And he animated his feelings for his child who was rebelling against him, without the child's permission, considering it as a one-sided redemption for the child, and the child who was exposed to the whole country about their home life would have distanced from his father more and more.

In the end, Evangelion did not become a product like Gundam, but rather a robot animation that was the director's weird personal novel. The repeated use of the word "job" in the film has stuck in my mind, but in order for the studio to survive, it had to make Evangelion a product in this new series, and I'm sure that was the initial motivation behind the production of these new films. Your real "job" was to make Evangelion the same as Gundam, to protect the people who came to you because they loved Evangelion. Years from now, I can see a future where Xapa will be like Ghibli, behead the staff and continue as a copyright management company. The director, who didn't want to be embarrassed as a creator by a new challenge adopted the safe way -- I can't believe that I have to use the word "safe" for Evangelion -- to end the new series that relied on EOE only for himself, not for the future of the people who came to admire him. That's what Shin Evangelion is all about.

The good part? The fact that he didn't bring Shin Ultraman trailer at the end of the film makes me think he has grown up a bit. If you're declaring "Farewell, All Evangelions" with the intention of hurting, disappointing, and disinterested old fans like me, then your malice is unfathomable, and that's quite a feat. Brilliantly, your intentions have permanently killed a part of me that used to be an Eva fan.

As horrifying as it is to imagine, it must have crossed the director's mind to reschedule the film and set a new release date for March 11. The only reason he didn't do so is not that he has grown up to be a sensible adult, but rather because the idea of linking Evangelion 3.0 with the Great East Japan Earthquake was a fact that is too painful for him to make it public.

Ten years ago today, many lives were lost and Evangelion was destroyed.

This fact will never disappear, no matter how much the director denies and covers up with the "true" history. If there is any mission left for me as a fan, it is to continue to pass on this fact to future generations as a storyteller. It is a huge loss for Japanese fiction that the end of the great Evangelion has become a self-recovery work of the great failure of the reboot affected by the Great East Japan Earthquake, and that the potential of the great Evangelion has been consumed by the self-defense of someone who cannot admit his own mistakes, and I sincerely regret it. Shin Evangelion will be forever cursed by the dead, who yearn to see the sequel of Evangelion 2.0, and the living, who yearn to see the sequel of Evangelion 2.0.

This curse will be completed when it spreads, arrives, and is burned by the powers that be as a false history. I pray that my thoughts will reach him!

#evangelion 3.0+1.0

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ineloqueent · 5 years ago

Text

an ode to impossibility

Brian May x Fem!Reader | 1979

click here for a fic playlist (yes, i made a playlist and an aesthetic too...)

synopsis: in which Freddie decides that Queen should spend an actual night at the opera, and Brian decides he’s fallen for Odette.

warnings: swearing, drinking, complete angst fest from dusk til dawn and dusk again, implied smut

word count: 8.1k

a/n: for jess (@brianmays-hair)— happy birthday!! i hope you have a wonderful day. you’re so so lovely, your writing is just rivetingly gorgeous, and you are nothing short of absolutely inspiring. anyway, i believe you once mentioned something about brian and a ballerina…

⭒

Barcelona, 19th of February, 1979

Though it was Monday night, it would seem that the entirety of Barcelona, dressed to the nines, had been packed into the Gran Teatre de Liceu.

“Freddie,” Roger said as he sat down beside John, “I could’ve sworn you said we were going to the opera, not the ballet.”

“This is the opera, darling,” Freddie told Roger’s skeptical expression. “The opera house. We are seeing a ballet. Know the difference.”

Roger looked vaguely disappointed. “So no screaming vikings, then?”

Freddie rolled his eyes.

“So long as it perks up misery guts over there,” John jerked a thumb in Brian’s direction, “I’m okay with anything.”

Brian stammered in protest, but he was ignored as Freddie sighed, “Thank you, Deacy.”

“Even if it is a little disappointing about the lack of vikings.”

“Alright,” said Freddie, “both of you can shut up. I’ll be solely talking to Brian for the remainder of the night, thank you.”

Deacy snorted, and Roger muttered, “Good luck.”

Freddie turned to Brian, “What is it that’s got you in such a sulk, anyway?”

“I’m not in a sulk,” said Brian, folding his arms over his chest.

“You’re looking quite the grumpy sod, though, aren’t you?”

Brian shifted his legs in discomfort, only to knock his knee on the seat in front of him, hard. He winced, rubbing his injury. “I’m not, it’s just, they’ve not really made these chairs accommodating for tall people.”

“Poor you,” said Roger tonelessly. Brian fought the urge to snap at him.

“Maybe if you were taller, you wouldn’t be mistaken for a girl all the time,” he mumbled.

“Brian,” chided Freddie. “That’s low, even for you.”

Roger squinted at Brian from the other end of the row. “But then I wouldn’t be comfortable in these chairs.”

“Shush, all of you,” Deacy waved his hand. “Show’s starting.”

Sure enough, the house lights were being dimmed, and a hum of sound led by violins rose from the orchestra pit.

Brian sighed heavily, and Freddie patted his arm. “You’ll be alright, darling,” he said.

But Brian wasn’t so sure.

Nothing in his head had made sense lately. Or maybe what scared him was that it was only inside his head that the world made sense.

Everything around him felt like madness, felt like it was falling apart as rapidly as it’d come together. The world seemed to know who he was, but Brian was entirely in the dark.

To the world, he was the gentle-smiling, brainiac guitarist for perhaps one of the most popular bands on the music scene. But Brian often found it difficult to smile. And he hardly felt clever when he couldn’t even understand his own inner workings.

The world spun, and his head spun with it.

The dancers spun onstage.

He hadn’t even noticed the rise of the curtain. But there they were.

Brian leaned his chin into his palm, watching passively. He’d never been much for either ballet or opera, preferring plays, in which the characters made their intentions clear by speaking them and were generally easier to keep up with. Still, he could admit that the dedication and skill required of ballet dancers was immense, and impressive in its execution.

He hadn’t, however, been paying attention along the way, and thus had now absolutely no idea as to what show he was watching. It wasn’t until the second scene that it dawned on him.

And then, the music was unmistakable. Tchaikovsky.

This was Swan Lake.

Brian sat up a little; he’d always liked this particular piece of music. Mysterious, lulling, nostalgic— it was beautiful, and suddenly, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the stage.

But maybe that particular fact had something to do with the appearance of the prima ballerina.

She was gorgeous, yes, but this was not what utterly enamoured Brian upon first sight.

It was the way she moved.

It was said that the majority of human expression lay not in the wealth of words, but in the depths of body language, and as the prima ballerina moved, she wholly became Odette, and Odette became the epitome of expression. Brian found it hard to believe that he was watching a dancer, a real human being, rather than the porcelain figurine in a music box, because her grace was immaculate; not the whisper of a mistake seemed possible between her steps. Brian felt oddly moved by it all, because it was when he played music that he felt the most alive.

And now here was this dancer, bringing to life a whole other world through the way she moved to music.

He hoped she knew how beautiful her expression was. He hoped she knew that she spun across the stage as though the floor were the sky and she danced among the stars. He hoped she knew.

He resolved then, madly, to tell her, so that he could be sure.

He couldn’t bear for her not to know.

⭒

“Well,” Roger stretched his arms above his head, “that was nicer than I thought it’d be, but I think I’ll go back to the hotel now.”

“Pretty lady waiting for you?” Deacy quipped.

“No,” Roger scoffed, “I’m just tired, christ.”

Freddie patted his shoulder. “You can’t blame us though, can you, dearie?”

He turned to Brian as they all began to shuffle out of the theatre alongside the rest of the audience, afforded anonymity by being in a crowd instead of before it, and by the fact that Barcelonians did not seem to recognise English musicians. “Ready to go, Brian? You’ve had your head in the clouds all day.”

Brian frowned, preoccupied by the notion that nagged at his mind. “Actually,” he said, “do you mind if we take the back way out?”

Freddie glanced around. “I didn’t think anyone had recognised us,” he muttered, lowering his voice and his head.

“No, no,” Brian waved a hand. “There was just somebody I needed to talk to.”

“Well, I for one don’t speak any Spanish,” said Roger. “You’re on your own.”

Brian shrugged. His own haphazard Spanish would have to do.

Freddie’s brow furrowed. “Alright then, darling. Lead the way.”

Brian nodded and began weaving through the abundance of people steadily swarming in the opposite direction. It was rather like swimming upstream.

At the door to the backstage area, Brian hesitated.

There was no one to stop him from going in, and the door itself was wide open. Everyone in the theatre was so intent on leaving that no one had bothered to block this entrance.

“Brian?” John prodded. “You wanted to talk to somebody?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

He walked through the doorway, and though the space was mostly quiet, laughter floated from a corner, where a small gathering of people stood talking. Some seemed to be from the ballet company, while others bore the demeanour of critics come backstage to discuss the show.

And there she was.

Odette, as Brian had subconsciously nicknamed her in his head. But he’d seen her name in the program. He only hoped he could remember it between crossing the room and finding the courage to speak.

He turned to the others, but found that they had been distracted, drawn to a table full of drinks that proclaimed ¡gratis! by way of a little card set amongst the glasses.

Now Brian really was on his own. Odette drifted apart from her flock of admirers, a crown of feathers still on her head. Though she now wore a tracksuit instead of a tutu, she was no less elegant than she had been onstage. Even the way she held herself spoke an otherworldly grace.

Brian swallowed. Then he approached her.

“Disculpe, ¿Señora Y/N?”

She turned at his polite intrusion, lips parted in a question, and she looked almost surprised.

Brian blushed, abruptly terrified that he should make a grammatical mistake in the face of this Elysian being. “Tu eres… eras magnífico.”

Her lovely face was grim, her hands clasped tightly around her water bottle, and Brian feared he’d somehow insulted her. Somehow.

“Perdón,” she mumbled, “but I’ve got absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”

Brian could have laughed in relief. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I know what I’m saying either.”

She smiled radiantly, and Brian felt instantly more at ease.

“Well,” he said, “seeing as neither of us speak Spanish very well, I’ll stick to what I know and try English.”

She laughed lightly, folding her arms over her structured frame, one which had undoubtedly been built up with years of hard work, endurance, dedication.

Brian’s eyes caught on hers, only to have him flush again under the sway of her gaze. “Although at the moment, it seems I don’t speak any language at all.”

She laughed again, shaking her head slightly. “You’ve managed more words that I have,” she said kindly.

Brian laughed with her, to try to ease the tension knotting in his chest, but the air he breathed only grew thicker.

“I just wanted to say that you were phenomenal,” he began, and her eyes softened. His courage steeled upon seeing that she didn’t look as though she wanted him to leave. “I mean, really, truly, absolutely phenomenal. “The control over your movement, your poise, your expression,” he continued. “Just— everything. It’s indescribable. All I can say is that you’re a wonderful dancer. Though I’ve sure you’ve heard that a thousand times before, so much that it must sound like white noise at this point.”

He was rambling, and he knew it, but she didn’t appear to mind.

“Actually, no,” she responded to his unasked query. “I haven’t heard that a thousand times before.”

Brian blinked, perplexed, but she said, “People tend to take one look at the prima ballerina and tell her she’s beautiful, not that she’s talented. And,” she went on, “that’s the first time I’ve gotten phenomenal. From Brian May, no less!”

Brian was baffled. “You— you know who I am?”

“Do I know who you are?” she repeated, with satire. “Of course I know who you are! And I know who those three milling about the drinks table are as well. You’re Queen. You’re quite phenomenal yourself.”

Brian felt another blush colour his cheeks. “Maybe not quite phenomenal. We’re doing alright for ourselves, though.”

She smirked, and she was royalty herself, appalled at the ineducation of a commoner. “You’re on a world tour. I’d say that’s pretty damn phenomenal.”

“Well,” Brian balked, “thank you.”

She then fixed him with a curious stare, her eyes flitting over his face in a delicate manner. “How long are you here for?”

“Three days,” he responded slowly. “Two after today.”

“Any chance you’ll come see me again?”

Brian asked carefully, “You’d like me to?”

She smiled. “You wouldn’t?”

“Yes,” said Brian. “I mean, no, I—”

“I know what you mean.”

Brian nodded. The conversation was finished.

But there was a glint in her stare where she stood, transferring her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes, then back to her heels, as though she couldn’t stand still, as though she longed to dance, even after having finished a performance. Brian felt the same when he finished concerts. So he asked what he’d been meaning to all along.

“Would you go out for a drink with me?”

She looped an arm through his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

⭒

You usually spent your nights alone, because after the shows, you were tired, and so was everybody else.

But tonight, you were wide awake. And it had everything to do with the curly-haired guitarist sitting directly across from you.

You leaned your elbows on the table as he talked, observing more than listening. You’d asked Brian to tell you about himself, but you knew very well that everything he told you would be disproportionate to the truth; he was too humble to offer you insight on his own achievements.

So you watched instead. Watched how delicately he held his glass of beer, how his eyelashes fluttered when he talked about something that brought forth in him great passion, how his teeth caught on his lip when he paused in deep thought.

You loved to watch him think. You could almost see the rampage of ideas and impressions as they danced forth behind his honey-coloured eyes.

“Brian,” you raised your voice over the noise of the crowded bar, and he leaned forward. “You’re not telling me about yourself.”

He angled his ear toward you. “Say that again, love.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you said instead.

He turned toward you. “And where to?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

A smile curved over his lips. “My favourite place.”

Out of the bar and into the night you went, Brian’s arm hovering at the small of your back as he guided you past the beginnings of a brawl by the pub entrance.

Barcelona was a lively place, the hum of people and their festivities not slowing, even outside the tourism season, even on a weeknight.

Neither of you knew the city well, so it was fitting that you should explore it together. Between the cobblestone alleyways ensconced by potted plants, flickering lamp posts, and the sparkling sea, it was all very picturesque. Like a fairytale— como un cuento de hadas, in Brian’s words.

“So you do speak Spanish.”

He was good at it, too. His accent was nearly flawless. Had you closed your eyes, you might have mistaken the soft rumble of his words for that of a native speaker.

But then again, had you closed your eyes, your thoughts might have wandered to another place entirely, one where you imagined what it would be like to have him whisper his lovely words across your skin. You drifted closer to him with each swaying step down yet another Barcelonian street.

“Do I?” He smiled endearingly, and your stomach flipped. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You liked this side of him, the one which seemed to surface when he relaxed. Slightly cheeky, a little less enigmatic and a little more bold. Definitely attractive.

“Liar,” you said. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

And please, for the love of god, keep doing what you are doing.

He laughed in response. “I’m glad I have you fooled,” he said.

Amongst the alleys you weaved aimlessly, admiring in silence the way that no two street corners you turned looked the same, how the entire ambience of a road was changed as the light bent differently around little details or imperfections in the brickwork.

The buildings were high and though they sat close together, their roofs were flat and did not obstruct the sky; the darkness above you could still be seen.

The sky reminded you of the stage, how it was difficult to see anything— anyone— beyond the darkness, and how when the quiet settled in, it was almost as if you were dancing alone, without an audience, with only the music and yourself.

Brian wondered aloud about life on tour with the American Ballet Theatre, and in describing it to him, you quickly realised that your worlds were very similar. You knew the early mornings and he knew the late nights, and he understood the lonely melancholy of flying from city to city without ever looking back.

The loneliness. It was something you shared.

The stars were not visible, but Brian lectured you on them anyway, and for the first time that evening, you had the impression that he was talking without holding anything back, limitless in his awe of the night sky.

You asked an abundance of questions, not out of politeness, but of genuine interest. The manner in which he spoke of the stars was invigorating, enthralling, and you wanted to feel this sense of wonder forever fill your heart, as beautifully as it filled his.

“That’s beautiful, Brian,” you’d said. His lips had closed over the remnants of a sentence only partly-formed, ended almost before it had begun because he’d trailed off in thought.

“You think so?” he asked, turning toward you with a wilderness in his eyes. He’d stopped walking. “I bore everyone half to death with all this.”

You shook your head, “How could anyone be bored?”

He had a gravity about him, and an air of pensiveness that brought you pause, because you’d never before wanted to listen to someone forever, until now. Until Brian.

You suddenly craved the familiar weight of your pointe shoes, because you longed to dance. It was all you could do when your inspiration bubbled over, and right now, beneath Brian’s soft gaze, even if you’d tried, you wouldn’t have been able to remember what it was like to feel lost.

Thoughts cascaded in a waterfall through your mind, begging to be spoken, to be heard. You wanted to tell him about his gravity, his pensiveness, how he made you want to dance.

Instead, you told him to wait for you in the wings after tomorrow night’s performance, because the implications of doing so said far more than you ever could.

“Hasta mañana,” he bid you as you parted company after he’d walked you back to the theatre.

Until tomorrow, spoken so simply, as though you’d always have tomorrow.

It had not escaped you that he would depart in less than three days.

⭒

Barcelona, 20th of February, 1979

He’d come running from the stage, had handed off his guitar and swapped his jacket, and was out of the arena before most of the audience had even begun to move.

If he was quick, he could just catch the end of her show.

He took the first taxi he found, armed with flowers and a vague recollection of the instructions he’d been given yesterday by his favourite ballerina.

At the stage door, Brian addressed the security guard in what he hoped was adequate Spanish. It seemed to be, because after showing the man a pass, Brian was through.

He followed signs, through corridors patterned by the autographs of performers past, until he reached a staircase, and at the top of that, the final door between him and the wings.

There, he stopped, hesitating on the doorstep to decision.

I’m leaving tomorrow.

The old adage of ‘don’t get attached’ wasn’t one Brian was fond of, because he did get attached. Far too easily, and far too much, and if he was already so enamoured after having spent mere hours in her company, then there would be no chance of him forgetting.

After even a singular conversation with her, he’d realised that she was the romantic sort, the kind to inspire a renaissance with a single phrase, a glance, a touch, a breath. She spoke in poetry as fluidly as any other person would have breathed, and yet, it seemed that it had never occurred to anyone to tell her so. She lived in ignorance of her own etherealness, subsided in the shadows of solitude where such sentiments of narcissism would never have arisen.

But ethereal as she was, she felt far away— untouchable, almost— to those who perceived her, for who could fathom the existence of such a muse without themselves feeling displaced? She was a planet out of orbit from the sun that all others were drawn to; she was radiant enough that she could survive without its light, because she had light of her own.

A dreamer she was, and all longed to be a part of her dreams, for her presence was dappled sunlight on an otherwise rainy day, pinpricks of light flooding through the darkness like stars.

There would be no chance of forgetting her.

He would be forced to leave Barcelona with a breaking heart, and face the consequences of breaking hers.

If, of course, he had any hold on her heart.

Part of him hoped that he did, and part of him hoped that she did not care for him at all, if only to make his imminent departure easier.

He could walk away, right now, and never see her again. It would have been simpler, certainly, to avoid entangling his emotions any further, to live and let die this connection that probably should never have happened at all.

But hell, when had Brian ever done anything because it was simple?

He pushed open the swinging door and then he was in the wings, catching sight of her as she arched across the stage with infallible grace, unfathomable beauty.

She made everything around her beautiful, for she moved like light.

Starlight.

Yes, that was her. No one would have thought to describe her as any less.

And just like everybody else, Brian had fallen utterly head over heels for her.

⭒

You ran off of stage as applause resounded from the audience, your heart still thudding with adrenaline as the curtain sank to the floor behind you, as you sank from your toes to your heels, easing the weight from your ankles. It wasn’t a job in which one could relax, but never in a million years would you have given this life up. Nothing would ever come close to the rush of euphoria that was a pirouette, executed perfectly at centrestage, beneath the glow of a spotlight as radiant as the moon.

Except perhaps the look on Brian’s face as his eyes met yours.

Outside of youth, you’d never seen anyone smile so brightly. Only naïvete allowed such brilliance, when one still believed that nobody had ulterior motives, and that it only rained when it was meant to.

“You came!” you exclaimed, breathlessly flinging your arms around him.

He laughed, wrapping one arm around you and holding the other at a safe distance. “Careful, amor,” he said. “The roses have thorns, you know.”

“Oh, you brought me flowers!”

You let go of him because he’d almost lost his balance to your embrace, and he presented you with the bouquet.

“I know that everyone brings flowers, and red roses at that, but it felt wrong to arrive without any.”

But these roses were different. They were from him.

You pressed your nose into the petals, their velvety quality reminiscent of the satin of your ballet shoes, the aroma reminding you of the flower box outside of your bedroom window back home.

“They’re lovely, Brian. Thank you.”

He inclined his head, and you flushed beneath the weight of his eyes; you felt like royalty.

Still winded, though you should have caught your breath by now, you gestured toward the backstage area. “Wait by the sofas. I’ve got to change, but then I want to show you something.”

The smile already on his face broadened. “Okay.”

You brushed past him, but his fingertips brushed the underside of your wrist.

You spun, instinctively taking hold of his hand.

“Y/N, you were wonderful.”

Abruptly shy, you looked down. When you raised your head, his hazel irises twinkled.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and so you smiled instead. A small smile, a secret, one which would forever belong to the two of you, and to the darkness of the empty stage.

⭒

When you returned from the dressing room, Brian was reclining on one of the couches. His outrageously long legs extended before him, he twirled a silver coin in his hand, staring at the token absently.

“What’s that all about?” you asked, and he snapped his fingers closed around the coin, sitting upright in an instant.

“Christ, you scared me,” he said, pupils dilated. He lowered the hand he’d pressed against his chest, and unfurled his long fingers to reveal the coin.

“It’s my guitar pick,” he told you as you sank to the cushions beside him.

“You use a coin?”

“A sixpence,” Brian nodded, holding out the coin and dropping it into your palm when you offered your hand. Pointing to the edge of the metal disc, he leaned close enough to you that his shoulder rested against yours. “Look,” he said, his voice by your ear, “it’s the serrations on the side that give the sound character. Sort of scratchy, unclean.”

“Rock ‘n’ roll,” you responded, returning him the coin. He smiled as he tucked it away in his pocket.

You were suddenly aware of how close he sat to you. His chin could have rested on your shoulder if he had only lowered his head, his breath could have stopped your heart if only it had been upon your mouth.

You were stilled in the moment, and he stared back at you in your stillness, powerful in the silence suspended between you which bound your will to his.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” he asked, quietly.

Slowly, you stood, giving him a hand up. “Come on.”

⭒

It was a bit of a walk to the Arc de Triomf, but it did not much matter to you, because every alley and alcove was an adventure in itself, made for straying souls who wandered through the Barcelona night, not because they were lost, but because they were seeking that which would inspire them. You were amongst those restless adventurers, and from what you could tell of Brian, inadvertently, so was he.

Seemingly endless with life, each corner of the city was crowded, friends and newfound acquaintances sharing stories and drinks beneath the shelter of trees, breathing the ocean air as it washed in over the land. Laughter and music drifted from cafes and bars, and the Barcelonians appeared to have a fondness for warm light, decorating fences and walls with hundreds of strung up lights, candles, lanterns, so that the whole city glittered as brilliantly as its people. The night was not warm, but it still felt that way, with the previously sun-soaked boulevards radiating their daytime heat and Brian hovering close beside you.

The dark was beginning to fully set in for the night, and you smiled at Brian. He mirrored the expression, albeit with a furrow of his brow, because he did not yet know where it was you were taking him.

Still, he didn’t ask where it was you were going, because he knew you would not tell him anyway.

You led him along the scenic route of the city, partially to distract him, partially because it was his last night in Barcelona and if he was anything like you— and he was— then he would want to see as much of the city as was humanly possible. He would want to cradle in his mind the memory of the night, crispness of the night air, the energy of the people, and perhaps the thought of you at his side.

Years and years later, these moments would still glitter in your own memory, like mirages frozen in time and stained glass, like the windows in the churches in this city where you’d dared to live so boldly. But you did not know that now. It all passed you by, as things do, before one can remember to notice them and tuck them away for later, for when happiness feels far away. But then again, there would be no beauty in knowing which memories would resurface at odd moments in one’s life, to inspire, to build a dream upon, to draw an unexpected smile. Chaos— now that held beauty.

The beach came into view, the cool breeze blowing in from the water. Barcelona’s lights twinkled about the edges of the crashing waves, the hills of sand.

A lone busker, aged in face but bright in soul, armed with only a battered acoustic guitar and his lilting voice occupied a place on the path by the beach, and Brian touched your elbow as you went by. Though you did not understand the words, the tune he sang was mournful. It made you think of flowers floating abandoned through water in remembrance of the lost.

“I know this song,” Brian said, and then said nothing more. Instead, he took your hand and spun you once around, as though the two of you were dancing. Then he continued walking, as though nothing had happened.

There was a sadness in his face, equal in sorrow to the song of the busker, and he did not look at you.

You studied his face silently, wondering what he was thinking. But it was nigh impossible to discern anything at all; he had suddenly become completely closed off, utterly unreadable. You yearned to take his hand again, if only it would make him smile.

At one point, you passed a fountain and could not resist stopping by the trickling water, gazing at the mounds of coins sacrificed in the hopes of fulfilling some hopeless wish.

He halted with you. “What is it?”

You leaned against the fountain, skimming your fingers across the surface of the water and staring as gold, silver, and copper glitters in the depths. Some of the coins looked older, roughened by age and the exchange of hands, oxidised in greens and blues, while others appeared almost newly minted. Shiny and unworn, those new coins would never see anything but the fountain, and perhaps their opulence would thus be forever preserved. Maybe some people preferred their treasures preserved, but you loved the little nicks, the little imperfections, that came with time. Character, as Brian had said. Those new coins had no character.

“Who do you think they were, all those people?”

Brian leaned against the fountain as well, then perched on the rim when his height proved to be too much to avoid falling in. “Who?”

“The wishers.”

“Well, there must have been many,” he said, sweeping a hand over the water.

A strange melancholy had taken you over, and when you looked at him, his eyes were soft and wide; he was not simply humouring you. This ancient place— with its gothic architecture and hidden streets and squares— it stirred something within him too.

“Do you think they stopped,” you went on, “like us, because they came across the fountain, or do you think they came to this place on purpose?”

His expression was pensive, peacefulness tempered by sparks that lit up his eyes in wondrous thought. Oh, how you loved that look about him. It made you feel alive.

“Both,” he said. “Some made their way here, and others found their way here, perhaps walking a path they did not intend to follow but did so without knowing.”

You sat down beside him. “Do you believe in fate?”

“No,” he murmured. Then, “I don’t know.”

“What about wishing with coins in a fountain?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “No harm could come of it. Unless of course you’re throwing away your last coin.”

“But you wouldn’t be throwing it away,” you said. “You’d be spending it, on a wish.”

“Best hope your wish is worth it then,” he responded, not unkindly, but with a playful undertone.

You blinked at him in confusion, but he dropped his hand to his pocket and pulled out the sixpence. He held it up and it sparkled in the light of the flickering street lamps.

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Is your wish worth my sixpence?” he asked, turning the coin between his fingers.

Not just any sixpence. His guitar pick.

“How long have you had that sixpence for, Brian?” you said softly.

His smile faltered, in a strangely open show of sentimentality. “Since the beginning,” he said.

“Meaning…”

“Meaning nine years.” His eyes left the coin and found your eyes instead. “So. Is it worth it?”

You shook your head slowly. “Nine years, Brian.”

He leaned toward you, holding the coin between you. His eyes were warmer than the light which bathed the street. He whispered, “What are you wishing for, my love?”

You shook your head again. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“But it’s worth it, then?”

You nodded.

“For you, amor.”

He kissed the sixpence and tossed it into the fountain, and you wished that one day you might see him again.

⭒

Time, it seemed, was of no consequence in Barcelona, and washed away as easily as rain. The walk disappeared between the folds of time, and when you next rounded the corner of a road, the Arc came into view.

Brian laughed, “Ah, so we’re going sight-seeing?”

“No,” you shook your head, “not quite.”

He frowned.

You smiled. “Come on, starchaser.”

You slipped your hand into his, and slowly but with decision, he folded his fingers through yours. You felt the flutter of his pulse against your wrist.

The Arc came into better view, but squinting up at the sky, you could see that you still were not quite close enough.

A few more steps, and then you were there.

You pulled Brian’s hand so that he came to stand right before the Arc.

“Look up,” you told him, and he raised his eyes to the sky.

Beneath the Arc, the moon rose in glistening whites and yellows, illuminating the sky in a halo of light and giving the archway the impression of housing a crystal ball.

“I saw it last night, when I was on my way back to my hotel,” you said. “I know you still can’t see the stars, but—”

“I love it.”

You turned your gaze on Brian’s face and found that he was staring at the moon, his expression caught between wonder and wistfulness.

Then he looked at you.

The wonder and wistfulness remained.

“I love that you thought of me when you saw it,” he said softly.

For a moment, you thought that he might kiss you, staring at you so unabashedly, his eyes flickering between yours, as though he intended to draw you to him and finally replace your intake of breath with his lips. But he didn’t. He took your hand again.

“I’m not usually this forward,” he murmured, running his thumb over the back of your hand, and your heartbeat quickened.

“You call this forward?” you laughed, but the sound caught in your throat as you stared at his fingers curled around your own.

“I’ve only known you a day,” he replied.

It was true, you realised. You’d only just met him, really. But with his soft-spoken manner and intelligent conversation, a day had multiplied for an age, and you’d spent a hundred years waiting for him to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I know,” you said.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He shook his head slowly, clasping both of your hands. “Why is it that it’s so easy for me to say all this to you now?”

His skin was warm, his fingers calloused, and his touch was so gentle that it weakened you where you stood.

“Sometimes,” you said, “we’re more honest with strangers than with those closest to us.”

“Why?”

You frowned. “I don’t know— anonymity? A lack of feeling responsible for whatever impact our words may have upon the listener?” He turned your hand over absently as you spoke, tracing circles over your skin. “Or simplicity?” you continued, fighting the urge to shudder. “For the simple fact that they do not know us and will not judge us on the basis of how they believe we should act, in accordance with how they know us? It’s difficult to understand, and nonetheless, it seems to happen.”

His eyes flickered. “I care.”

“What?”

“I care how my words will impact you,” he reiterated. “Would you not, in my place?”

“I would,” you responded quietly. He’d somehow moved closer without you noticing, and when his hip brushed against yours, a tingle rushed down your sides.

“So that cannot be it.”

“Simplicity, then.”

“Yes,” he hummed, “I think that makes more sense.”

“Only, the longer you speak with somebody, the less simple it becomes.” You were referring to the two of you, and he knew it. “And the less of strangers you become.”

“Maybe,” he went on in a low voice, “that is how all relationships should be built.”

“How?” you dared to ask.

“Without judgement, from the beginning.” Here he paused, and where before you’d been occupied with the caress of his fingers across your skin, you met his eyes. “So when I tell you now that you are beautiful, I mean not only that you are beautiful, but that you are an artist, talented and soulful too, and it shows, in all that you are.”

After everything, he still cared enough to make you understand that he wasn’t trying to belittle you by noticing your beauty, but rather that he earnestly thought you beautiful as well as everything he’d said yesterday, and couldn’t bear for you not to know.

It made your heart ache.

“Brian—”

He tilted his head ever so slowly, and when his hand came to rest on your cheek, he kissed your lips. Delicately, tentatively, until you pressed up against him and pulled him closer, kissed him harder, like a storm drawing him into the abyss, and from the storm you became the abyss as you drowned in his touch.

When your hands drifted to his hair and your fingers wound in his curls, he drew back from you.

“You mustn’t do that,” he whispered, and a shiver skittered down your spine behind his trailing fingers.

“Why not?” you hummed, and he brushed his lips over the corner of your mouth.

“Because you’ll drive me absolutely mad.”

You smiled languidly. “All the more reason to do it, then.”

His kiss was less hesitant this time.

⭒

By the end of the night, you thought he must have kissed you in every place in the city— beneath stone arches and under overhanging flowerpots, by fountains and along the waterline of the beach, by monuments and to the audience of marble-eyed statues, never once shy in his affections, as he had previously been.

With each breath he lingered longer, and you became more desperate to keep his mouth on yours, to have his hands roam your skin, to run your fingers through his hair and to hear him hum with pleasure at your touch.

And then the rain started.

Out of nowhere, it came rushing down from the sky in a heavy torrent, like sand spilling through an hourglass on borrowed time, and Brian pulled you under the awning of a closed shop.

You laughed as he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips now speckled with rainwater that tasted like the open sky and the flower fields one might have found beneath.

He brushed his nose against yours, stroked a gentle finger down your face.

“It’s late,” he whispered, and his breathlessness made your heart stutter.

He was so beautiful. And here he was kissing you.

“Then take me home,” you said.

He opened his eyes, drawing back slightly. “Are you sure, my love?”

“Yes,” you breathed, because you couldn’t remember when you’d last wanted something as much as you wanted this. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” you added, should he have thought less of you.

But he smiled. “Nor do I.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I know,” he said. “But it is still today.”

You ran with Brian through the rain, huddled under his jacket with clasped hands.

At the door to his hotel room, he fiddled with the rain-coated key until it finally latched in the lock and you stumbled inside, already pushing the jacket from his shoulders as he closed the door.

He kissed you hungrily now, to quell the thought of how little time there was left in which to do such things, to satisfy the burn of desperation that surely scalded him as much as you.

It made you reckless, the thought of him leaving, but you were determined that your recklessness should not be synonymous with regret, and so you slowed your movements to appreciate the softness of his mouth, the elegance of his being. Brian fell into step with you, and when he eased the blouse from your shoulders, his fingertips trailed lightly across your skin.

The cotton finally fell from your frame and he gazed at you with parted lips, a look of utter adoration in his eyes. His hands came to rest on either side of your face, and he leaned into you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You were on your toes to kiss him and he was bending down to meet you, but then he caught your lower lip between his teeth and you whimpered. “Bri—”

He breathed your name, easing you back a couple of steps until your legs touched the bedsheet, where he gathered you into his arms and laid you gently atop the covers.

You pulled him down to you, relishing the little groan that escaped him when you parted your lips and pushed your fingers into his hair. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, his lips grazing beneath your ear, leaving tender kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, until his breath whispered against your legs and his lips the inside of your thighs.

The world fell away from around you, because there was nothing more to it when Brian was yours in the moments that followed, pretty and gentle, achingly slow in his movements.

⭒

In the afterglow, the city lights danced across the walls of the unlit room as Brian’s long fingers skimmed up and down your arm.

You were nestled close to him, your nose buried in the crook of his neck as you breathed in his lovely smell of soap and sea air and flowers, and he pressed the occasional kiss to your shoulder, as though to remind you that he was still there and had not changed his mind in how he thought of you.

Somewhere, a clock struck an early hour, and you flinched.

He was leaving today.

You wondered faintly if you would ever see him again, ever kiss those fluttering lashes and gesturing hands, with which he belonged more in Italy than in England. Or better yet, in Barcelona, with you.

So you kissed him everywhere now, and he kissed you back, and you hoped that the memory of your lips would serve you better than that of your mind, because you forget things all too easily these days; they slipped away from you in black and white fragments like piano keys, all feeling fading away into nonsensical noise and hazy pictures. It terrified you.

Brian hummed quietly when you shivered, wrapping his arms around you in wordless solidarity.

“It was always going to be short-lived,” you murmured, as though it would make it any simpler for you to let him go if you spoke aloud the logic which eluded your melancholy heart.

Brian said nothing, and you sighed.

“An English musician and ballerina signed with the American Ballet Theatre. You have your city, and I have mine.”

He ran a strand of your hair through his fingers, tucking it behind your ear. You watched him move, marvelling at his prettiness for the thousandth time, and at the thought of him choosing to lie here with you— you, of all people— adoration rushed through you. You longed to kiss him again.

But his hazel eyes found yours, and he kissed you first— softly, fleetingly, his touch dying away all too soon.

“Let us have Barcelona, then,” he said. “Our city.”

His words warmed you where fear had turned you cold.

Beneath the guise of sleep, an overwhelming sadness washed over you and pulled you under.

You pressed closer to Brian, and his hold on you tightened.

⭒

Barcelona, 21st of February, 1979

He held her hand as tightly as he dared all the way to the theatre.

The theatre was where he would leave her.

It wasn’t meant to go this way. These things weren’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to find happiness and then be forced to let go of it. You were supposed to find happiness and then by god, you were supposed to hold so tightly to it that even light could not have escaped your grasp, to be a black hole for the desire to be loved.

Brian knew that it was unrealistic, and given the way life had treated him, he should not have believed in this, this naïve idea that things would right themselves when he needed it the most.

But he was a dreamer. He couldn’t help it.

The light was slipping through his fingers.

And she moved like light.

With every step, the theatre and the dismal fate that awaited beyond it loomed closer.

Brian’s chest clenched painfully.

He began to walk more slowly, and he felt her lessen her pace beside him, felt her eyes fall upon his face as he swallowed.

They came to a stop by the doors, and he turned to her. He did not let go of her hand.

She stared up at him with doe-eyes, tears beginning to rise in their depths.

Wordlessly, he put his arms around her, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, but he preferred to gaze at her for just a moment longer.

“Write to me,” she murmured. “But don’t call me when you land.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have to get used to the thought of living without you, and I can’t do that if I still remember the sound of your voice.”

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, and she turned her face to press a kiss to his fingers. “Prefiero un minuto contigo a una eternidad sin ti,” he whispered.

“Brian,” she laughed softly, sadly. “I still don’t speak Spanish.”

He didn’t laugh, because he was trembling as it was and did not need anything more to wrack his frame with shudders. It was cruel, how little time they’d had.

Exhaling slowly, he repeated,

“I would rather spend a minute with you than spend an eternity without you.”

She choked on a sob, and her arms wrapped around his middle as she laid her head against his chest.

“I’ll wait for you,” she whispered.

He took her face in his hands and pressed a final, bittersweet caress to her mouth.

Then he coaxed her gently from his arms, to find that saltwater streaks had stained her face.

“Oh, love,” he murmured. He touched his lips briefly to her tears, wishing for all the world that he would not have given her reason to cry in the first place. But as much as it hurt to leave her now, he would not have wished her memory away.

His hands slipped from her face to her shoulders until they found her hands again.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

But she shook her head. “Hasta mañana.”

She had remembered. Dimly, he was aware of the tears that pooled in his own eyes.

He had only just found her, but after today, he would never see her again. Until tomorrow, she had said. And yet, they did not have tomorrow. But he could pretend. Perhaps if he left, imagining in his head that he would see her again tomorrow, then perhaps he could keep it all from tearing him apart. At least, that was what he told himself. But he was a fool, as those in love can be.

“Until tomorrow, my love.”

He couldn’t look at her as he let her fingers fall abandoned to her sides, as he took the first of many steps in the direction away from her, the way he did not want to go.

The ephemerality of existence had briefly been eclipsed by the lightness she had brought him. But he was not a black hole, and nor was she. The gold would not stay.

She had told him that she would wait for him, but who was to say when they would meet again? It might be months, it might be years. It might be a decade. It might be more.

He couldn’t ask her to wait.

He caught a glimpse of her as he rounded the corner, watched her wrap her arms around her shoulders and duck her head as she went inside. A wave of déjà vu washed over him and steeped his heart in sour melancholy. He was right back where he had started. Far away.

The world would spin as the years passed, and as it turned they would be thrown farther apart, disillusioned by the terrible realisation that what they had always believed to be naïve was exactly so. Nothing would come as a surprise, because nothing changed and nothing was new, no matter how much they might have wished for it to be.

She would forever dance in his memories, but she would not wait.

And he would lay no blame.

Who waits forever anyway?

⭒

a/n: my sincere apologies to everyone who speaks/understands spanish. i’ve been learning spanish for four years now, so i hope that experience was enough to make my grammar acceptable, haha

#this is the angst i was talking about two weeks ago oops #tina's writing #brian may x reader #fic

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strongerwiththepack · 4 years ago

Note

I got explosive device and storage unit, with Gordon? :D

Finally my boi! This is definitely the last one for the day but if anyone wants to leave anymore of these Whump Generator prompts for me feel free! I’ve really enjoyed writing them today <3 Thanks for the ask, hope you enjoy x

Gordon & Explosive Device & Storage Unit

“Okay that should be it.” Gordon nodded to the storage unit personnel as the doors to the escape pod whooshed shut. Water drained from the pipes past Gordons feet before the submersible pod detached from the unit.

Underwater storage units were very popular nowadays. Mostly for industrial use, big companies used them for long-term storage. They weren’t usually staffed, except for maintenance purposes. Too bad the maintenance was the most common cause of an accident. Today was one of those situations.

The airlock doors had gotten jammed with half a meter of open space letting the unforgiving ocean overtake the facility. The escape pods had shut down due to water damage but Brains had talked him through how to override the failsafe and activate the pumps.

“All personnel are heading up to the surface now Thunderbird Two. Heading back to Four.”

“FAB Gordon, good job.”

Gordon waded his way through the knee-deep rushing water. He’d honestly have preferred if it had been entirely submerged, then at least he could’ve swam it. His eyebrows knotted together as he noticed flashing up ahead. He trudged his way forward to check it out before gasping in alarm.

He swiftly turned back the way he came, moving with much more urgency as he splashed through the water.

“Thunderbird Two, the chaos crew is here!” Gordon panted. “Fuse has left a bomb inside the facility.”

“Dammit, get out of there Gordon!” Virgil growled over the comm.

“Trying!” Gordon ground out. “I’ll go through the-“

Gordon was thrown forward as the explosive detonated. He felt the heat lick at his back even through the suit and fell painfully into the water. The flow became much stronger and debris now littered the stream.

“Gordon!” Virgil was shouting over the comms. “Answer me!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Gordon groaned as he kneeled in the water. He heard Virgil sigh in relief on the other end of the comm.

“Can you get out?” Virgil asked. “Scott and Kayo are on their way.”

Gordon looked back at where the explosive had been. The blast had further damaged the integrity of the unit, water was gushing through. The lights flickered as sparks flew from the destroyed wall.

Then he heard beeping. Turning his head, he saw another bomb blinking rapidly to his right.

Too close. Too close. Gordon thought as he scrambled to his feet but it was two late. The second explosion went off and all he felt was a searing burning before he slammed into something solid and everything went black.

“Gordon! Gordon, please respond!” Virgil pleaded across the comms.

He opened up another channel. “Scott there’s been another explosion! Gordon isn’t responding.”

“I’m still 10 minutes out Virgil.” Scott replied regretfully over the comm.

Another explosion rocked the storage unit and Virgil cried out in alarm as the structure continued to crumble.

“I’m going down there.” Virgil declared as he unbuckled his harness and stalked down to the module area. “John, can you remote pilot Four back to the surface?” He knew his space-bound brother was listening in.

John’s FAB was drowned out as Scott interrupted. “It’s too dangerous Virgil. What if there are more explosives? What if the chaos crew are still down there?”

“All the more reason to get Gordon sooner rather than later.” Virgil replied calmly as he pulled his helmet over his head. “I’m going.”

“Thunderbird Four has breached the surface.” John reported before Scott could protest further.

“Just be careful Virgil.” Scott demanded. “Please.”

“I will Scott.” Virgil softened. “Heading down.”

Thunderbirds Four was always an uncomfortable fit for him. His shoulders were too wide for the seat and it always felt claustrophobic. This wasn’t a choice though. He grit his teeth as he manoeuvred the small submersible down to the flooding storage facility. Moving around the structure, he started scanning it using his brothers Bird. The scans were sent straight up to Thunderbird Five.

“Anything John?” He queried once he’d been round the building once.

“There may be a small opening on the lower right side.” John relayed as a map and route appeared in front of Virgil “But the inside is flooded with debris, it’ll be hard to get through to him.”

“I’ll manage.” Virgil promised before bracing himself to be flipped backwards into the water.

He swam forward once he oriented himself, the holographic map flashing from his watch. He turned on his shoulder torch as he reached the opening. He easily pulled himself though as a small current of water was still flooding the facility. The water was almost up to the ceiling, it would be fully flooded soon.

Virgil’s first problem presented itself. There was a wall of debris currently cutting him off from his brothers location, this was going to be a slow process. He’d just started shifting some beams when a gasp came across the comms.

“Gordon!” He and Scott both exclaimed.

Virgil continued. “Gordon, are you okay?”

Gordon’s harsh breathing continued to sound in his ear. “Virg?” Gordon croaked.

Virgil’s heartrate spiked as worry surfaced once more.

“Yeah, I’m here fish, I’m coming to get you.”

Gordon moaned through clenched teeth. “M’trapped.”

“Just stay calm Gordon, what can you move?” Virgil queried gently as he started moving debris away faster.

He could hear his brother shifting through the comm before the younger blond gave a sharp cry of pain that turned into a sob.

Panic flared through Virgil. “Gords, what’s wrong?”

“The whole left side of my suit is burned.” Gordon gritted out before taking a few panicked breathes. “And there’s urghh-there’s a slab of concrete on my chest.”

There was a shrill beeping from Gordon’s end.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked, fearing it was another bomb.

“M-my oxygen meter.” Gordon groaned. “My suit was damaged in the explosion. I only have a few minutes of air left.”

Virgil heart thudded so loud he was sure it could be heard over the comms.

Gordon gave an almost hysterical laugh. “Not looking great for me is it?” His voice cracked at the end and his breathing shuddered to reveal his true feelings.

“Just relax Gords, breathe slow.” Virgil soothed, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ll get you out of this.”

He switched channels so that Gordon couldn’t hear him anymore. “There’s no way I can shift all this stuff in time.” Virgil relayed urgently. “We need a new plan.”

He heard John typing frantically in the background. “Your laser won’t be strong enough underwater to cut through any of the walls.” John mumbled. “And Thunderbird Four won’t be able to get far enough into the facilities for you to use her laser. There’s not enough time to construct a pod-“

“I don’t need to hear what we can’t do John!” Virgil grumbled. “I need an option here.”

“I’m looking Virgil!” John shot back.

“Cool it, both of you.” Scott barked. “We need to keep a level head here. Treat it like any other rescue.”

Virgil took a deep shaky breath. “FAB. Sorry John.”

There was no answer from his space-bound brother and Virgil didn’t want to interrupt him even though the seconds were ticking by far too quickly.

“I’ve got it!” John finally said. “There’s a surface protocol built into the facility that will activate the buoyancy balloons and bring it to the surface. The control room is to your left Virgil, looks like a clear path.”

Virgil was already swimming that way as Scott spoke. “Won’t he be crushed without the water providing some buoyancy to the concrete?”

John hummed. “It looks like it’s just one slab on top of Gordon but surfacing the building could cause further structural damage, so yes it’s a risk but-“

“But we don’t have any other choice.” Virgil finished for him as he reached the control room. “What am I looking for John?”

“Red lever on the wall by the door.”

Virgil spied said lever and grabbed it, forcing it down through the resistance of the water. Nothing seemed to happen at first and Virgil’s heart sank. This was their last chance. Then the building shuddered and Virgil could hear the whoosh of air as the bags below the structure inflated. They started to rise.

“Virgil, I’ve mapped a new route for you to Gordon. Once the water drains, your laser should be able to cut through that wall to get to Gordon.” John relayed.

“FAB.” He switched comm channels again as he swam back to his brother once more. “Gordon! We’re heading to the surface, just hang tight.”

Gordon’s wheezing breath came across the comm. “FAB.”

“There might be a bit of pressure once the water drains but I’ll be right there. We’re going to get you out of this.” Virgil was trying to convince himself just as much as Gordon.

He could tell as soon as they breached the surface, the currents increased as the water started to drain away. The building groaned dramatically and Virgil held his breath but it seemed to hold.

Once the water was at shoulder height Virgil activated his laser, cutting through the top half of the wall, impatiently waiting for more of the water to drain.

Gordon gave a choked grunt when he was almost though, crying out in pain before going eerily silent. Virgil decided he’d cut far enough at that point and finished off the incision, pushing the chuck of concrete through to the other side.

He clambered through the hole and immediately set sights on his brother. Gordon was lying on top of a collapsed wall with a thick slab of concrete pinning him down. The left side of his helmet was charred black and Virgil feared for the state of his suit once he removed the slab.

His brother was unresponsive as he set up the load-bearing stands at three key points under the concrete. Once he activated them, they slowly began to raise the debris. As soon as it was safe to do so, Virgil carefully slid his brother out from under it.

He removed his brothers helmet checking his airways. Breathing was weak but there. The worst part were the burns down Gordon’s suit. From the neck to his hip, the neoprene fabric was charred and melted. Virgil could see areas where the fabric was melted into Gordon skin and he shuddered.

“Hey fish” He choked, running a hand through his brother hair. “Told you we’d get you out. Maybe open those eyes for me in return?”

Gordon face remained slack and he sighed as he took out his portable medscanner. Scott clambered through the hole in the wall, pulling a hover stretcher with him, just as he got the readings.

“Aw Gords” Scott sighed as he knelt down on the other side of him, pacing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What does the scan say?”

“Third-degree burns all down his side, cracked ribs from the concrete, possible concussion.” Virgil grimaced as he read it off. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“FAB.” Scott sighed as they expertly lifted him onto the hover stretcher, the lack of response from their brother at the movement was alarming.

Virgil sighed as he took another sip of the 4th terrible cup of hospital coffee he’d consumed. Gordon had been in surgery for 3 hours now and they still hadn’t heard anything. John and Kayo were working with the GDF to try and track down the chaos crew. Virgil clenched his fists. They’d gone too far this this time. He had no more chances left to give them.

“I think we should do some more underwater rescue training.” Virgil said suddenly. Scott, the only other occupant in the room, turned towards him.

Virgil continued. “We’re out of practice. Gordon deserves to know he can count on us when he needs it.”

“You think he can’t?” Scott queried.

Virgil shrugged. “I’m just always so out of my element down there.”

“You saved him today.”

“John came up with the plan.” Virgil still had to apologise properly for snapping at him earlier.

“And you got him out. We’re a team Virg, Gordon knows he can count on us.”

Virgil hummed in supposed agreement but if he went out swimming more than usual in the next few months no one mentioned it either.

fin.

#thunderbirds are go #Gordon Tracy #myfic #4 little fics and 6000 words later - I would call that a successful day!

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puddygeeks · 5 years ago

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𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 - 𝙿𝚘𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝙾𝙲 - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟹: 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: A street kid turned starfighter racer from Corellia, born in the midst of the Galactic Civil War, finds her racing career at an end. Determined to seek out a new life, she embarks on a series of misadventures that culminate in her finally enlisting in the Resistance. She’s stunned to discover that her old racing nemesis, Poe Dameron, is a valued member of the organisation and has to confront the maddening effect that his charming smile has on her heart.

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: OC x Poe Dameron

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Language, sex (lack of smut), mentions of torture.

Chapter Three

“Honey I’m home!” I called as I stuck my head out of the cruiser that Han and I had built from scrap and climbed out to drop down onto the docking bay. Marching through the Eravana with the confidence of a job well done, I passed through the sizable cargo ship with a comfortable familiarity. I’d discovered that being part of Han’s crew had given me a strange sense of belonging and that sometimes it’s simply the people that make somewhere a home, rather than the length of time that you spend there.

As I entered the cockpit, I threw a neatly wrapped packet into Chewbacca’s expectant hands in a well practiced routine. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” I smirked and he growled back thankfully. I opened my mouth to question the absence of our captain, when heavy footsteps from behind us announced his arrival. Han held his hands on his hips as he assessed me and I knew that he was eagerly awaiting a report.

“Well, were they happy with the donation?” He enquired with a nervous shift in posture that I quickly recognised. He was always antsy when we delivered to the Resistance and although hiding out in the ship whilst I handled the covert supply drops had been his idea, he still seemed on edge every time that I returned.

“They were very grateful.” I confirmed and observed as he released a slow breath that I hadn’t realised he was holding. He visibly began to relax now that he knew the job was complete and I decided that it was best for me to relay my message now, rather than waiting until later when I would make him uncomfortable by bringing it up again. “General Organa sent her personal thanks. After she grilled me on how you were.” I crooned with a sly smile and Han’s face dropped at my words.

“You spoke to Leia? I thought I specifically told you to go through my contact and to keep it under the radar?” He groaned in an exasperated manner and there was a clear hurt in his voice.

Although I hated witnessing Han even slightly upset, I also considered his avoidance of his wife a poor coping mechanism and hoped that in time I might be able to convince him to speak to her. Thanks to Chewbacca, I knew the bare basics of what had occurred with his family, but I could tell from my brief visits to the Resistance that the General missed him. Over our many years together, I’d come to care for and depend on Han, and it was a continuous drain for me to watch him floundering in smuggling, knowing in my heart that he wasn’t truly happy.

“You did, and for once I actually followed your orders exactly. You don’t seriously think the General doesn’t know that they’re from you, just because I attend in my own ship? Even you and I can’t smuggle our way past that woman, she knows all.” I drawled in a light tone in an effort to combat the growing tension in the space and he sighed deeply. His frustrated, jerky movements made it all too obvious that he was distressed by this information and a heavy silence sat between us as he continued his internal battle. The atmosphere always became awkward when we discussed anything surrounding his family and I glanced over at Chewbacca for backup. He rapidly turned away as if he hadn’t seen me and I knew that I would have to take the chance of saying what needed to be said alone, which had become a well practiced routine.

“Look, I know it’s not really my place to comment, but why do we need to keep doing this discreetly? If she already knows who it’s coming from, why don’t we just go straight to the source and find out exactly what they need? Surely-”

“No!” Han cut me off sharply and I startled at his sudden outburst. Realising that he had been unnecessarily harsh, he calmed himself before speaking again but his tone remained firm. “We’re not involved in this fight and we’re going to keep it that way.” He ordered and I threw my arms up in exasperation at his unwillingness to compromise.

“Why are we even here then?” I grilled as I felt the bitterness of disappointment gripping my chest and attempted to remain in control of my temper. It seemed ridiculous to continue in this charade and I couldn’t understand the sense of associating with the Resistance if it was such a strenuous task for him. It seemed that he wanted to remain on the outskirts of something that was too precious to completely remove himself from, whilst his fear ensured that he never invested fully.

“We’re here because it makes good business sense. We’re smugglers, we follow where the money is and right now, the Resistance has the biggest budget in the galaxy.” He justified in a poor attempt to conceal his emotional attachment to this arrangement and I couldn’t contain a disbelieving scoff that escaped my lips.

“Good business sense?! Since when have you ever had that?” I retorted as I crossed my arms and scrutinised him with an unimpressed expression. He squirmed under my gaze as I waited for him to provide another excuse, but eventually it became clear that he didn’t intend to do so. “Are you seriously going to pretend that this is about money? We both know that we’re doing this so that you can help the Resistance and evade her at the same time. I just don’t understand why when she so obviously wants to talk to you. Can’t you just take a delivery yourself, use it as a way to start a conversation?” I suggested in a desperate bid to reach past his carefully placed defenses but I knew from his face that he was about to shut me out again.

“You’re right, you don’t understand.” He stated in a cold tone and I stubbornly fought back the feeling of hurt that lingered at the back of my mind. Every night when I laid in bed, I wished that he would allow me to support him with his pain as he always had for me, but he was never ready to speak about it. It was a struggle not to take it personally, but I tried to remain patiently at his side. “I’m gonna finish the check on the thrusters. Be ready to get going in five.” He mumbled before he turned on his heel and stormed away. A deep disappointed sigh fell from my mouth as I settled into the pilot's seat and Chewbacca groaned loudly at me.

“Well, you weren’t going to say anything. Maybe if you weren’t so soft on him, I wouldn’t have to push him.” I defended, earning an indignant tone in his response and I furrowed my brows at the co-pilot in offense. I was relieved that the mechanic Han had introduced me to during my racing career had been a wookie, as it had allowed me to become well practiced at Shyriiwook and meant that I didn’t have to rely on Han’s biased translations. “Oh, bro-code my ass. You’re a wimp.” I grumbled, to which he promptly rotated his chair so that I was no longer in his line of sight.

***

It had been a year since I first delivered to the Resistance and each time that I saw the General our talks grew a little longer. The routine had become familiar and I found myself growing comfortable in my new role. I busied myself with unloading our latest donation until I had a gentle cough from behind that caught my attention.

“My dear girl, we really must stop meeting like this.” General Organa’s voice was warm and welcoming as she entered our drop off point and I smiled fondly at her. There was an overpowering wisdom about her that encouraged a calmer side of me when in her company and I enjoyed our brief, infrequent talks over deliveries.

“This place has really grown recently.” I stated absentmindedly as I stared through the trees at the rapidly developing base and she watched me with interest. I’d never been inclined toward a lifestyle as structured as the Resistance, nor serving under the New Republic. It all seemed dependent on far more training and commitment than had ever been in my nature, but the more time that I spent in the General’s company, the more I found myself wondering if I would ever grow to become as undoubtedly level-headed and respectable as she was.

“It certainly has. It’s truly astounding what a determined group of outstanding people can achieve.” She commented in her usually wise manner and I hummed quietly under my breath. “It’s far more impressive up close, perhaps I could give you a tour?” She offered with an alluring smile and I felt a guilty tug at my heartstrings as I thought of Han waiting in the ship for my return. I couldn’t deny the temptation of the exciting base, as it’s large airfield called out to me with it’s promise of adventure and I glanced between it and the delivery conflictingly. “Come, it won’t take long and my boys will ensure that your donation is safely transported.” She crooned as she placed a hand gently on the small of my back to guide me and I allowed her to shuffle me along without protest. I knew that Han would expect me to take a while signing over the stock anyway and so resolved to simply ensure that I was quick enough to be back around the same time as usual.

General Organa led me into the bustling activity of the impressive base and I was pleasantly surprised by the variety of people present. There was a strong sense of purpose that was almost tangible in the air and I could feel it’s intoxicating effect washing over me as my guide cleverly presented their fleet. The assortment of craft was dizzying and although there was nothing particularly new or flashy here, I found myself feeling envious of the variety of ships that the engineers were able to work on. The General keenly studied my expressions as I gazed over the hangar with awe and she cleared her throat as she prepared to make her case.

“You know, there could be a place for you here, Jax. A young woman with your kind of skills and experience would be an incredibly valuable asset to the resistance.” She stated calmly and I peered over at her with confusion.

“No offense General, but what would you know about my experience?” I asked with a subtle defensiveness and I was taken about when she chuckled under her breath. My activities over the past seven years didn’t seem the type that would match well with a respectable military organisation like the Resistance and I could only conceive that she’d been confused by the well mannered behaviour that I’d shown in every interaction with her. Although our relationship had grown more casual over the years that I had been supplying for her, I still maintained my respect when speaking to her and couldn’t imagine that she realised how different I was when with Han.

“Oh, I know a great deal more than you would expect. My husband wasn’t the only one to keep track of you when you disappeared from Corellia. If your reputation is accurate, you are reckless, unpredictable and cunning, but according to his description you are also determined, passionate, loyal and willing to fight for your beliefs. Those qualities are invaluable.” She confirmed with a slightly mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she scrutinised me and I shuffled on the spot with embarrassment. I hadn’t ever considered that Han would discuss me with his family and I cringed as I considered the numerous foolish decisions of my past that could have been shared with her. “We don’t discriminate here. If an individual can fly, or fight, or contribute in any way and are willing to be somewhere that matters, we’ll welcome them with open arms. There are people from all walks of life here, I’m sure you could find your place.” She offered in a tantalising pitch and I sighed thoughtfully as I considered the opportunity.

“It’s a very kind offer and I really appreciate it, but I need to be getting back to my Captain.” I answered tactfully, despite the feeling of disappointment that blossomed in my chest and rather than looking disappointed, she smiled as if she had expected it.

“You truly care for him, don’t you?” She enquired, her eyes focusing in to examine me closely so that I felt I couldn’t lie, even if I had desired to do so. I nodded slowly and a genuine appreciation spread across her finely aged face. “I’m pleased, it’s a relief that he has you to monitor him. He can be deeply foolish at times.” She remarked with a far off expression and I chuckled lightly in agreement. “Should you ever tire of smuggling, my offer will always stand. And that applies to your stubborn old Captain too.” She winked for the first time that I’d ever seen and as I strode away from her to return to my ship, her words swirled in my head, leaving me with more to consider than ever before.

***

The clunky fighter ship lurched dramatically and I was thrown in my seat as I struggled to maintain my grip on the control panel. My gunner set up was extreme and difficult to control as a result of being built from a combination of mismatched parts and although I’d been trained to use it before, I’d never staked our survival on it until now. As I frantically fired upon the surrounding fleet, Han & Chewbacca attempted to manoeuvre us out of the mess that I had once again caused. It was difficult not to be overwhelmed by the onslaught of tie fighters that whizzed around us and as I felt myself beginning to crumble under the pressure, I recalled what I had just witnessed.

The bodies that littered the streets, families fleeing in terror, desperately clinging to their children, destruction on a scale that I could never imagine happening in front of me and a pit of anger bubbled from inside me. My hands squeezed around the controls tightly until my knuckles turned white and I threw myself around on the robustly rotating chair with a newfound veracity.

“They’re flanking us!” Han’s panic stricken voice rang loudly through the tight space and I focused on the cluster of ships with a frightening accuracy. For a while, the combination of my fury filled shooting and Han’s legendary piloting seemed to be making quick work of the pursuing forces, until a cruiser arrived to loom over us menacingly. I felt my stomach plummet at the sight of it and my hands began to shake. “Now we’ve got trouble! Hang on back there kid, I’m gonna get us out of here.” Han’s voice, although assertive, revealed his terror and I took a deep breath as I awaited his moves.

I could barely tell which way was up any longer as the ship rocketed through motions that I would never have dared and the force threw me around manically. For a while, I couldn’t tell what was happening, until I heard the telltale sounds of the engine warming for a jump to lightspeed and realised that Han had simply been creating enough space for us to escape. The surging sounds became overpowering as we hurtled through a dizzying display of lights and I prayed that this would be enough to lose the attackers.

I took a moment to catch my breath as we slowed to a reasonable speed, but before I could even open my mouth to question, we were thrown into another crushing journey. After multiple mind bending jumps, we finally emerged into an unfamiliar system and I felt as if my head might explode from the strain. I hesitated for a few moments to ensure that we definitely weren’t moving any time soon and then hastily removed myself from the harness to check on Han and Chewbacca. From the moment that I stepped off the ladder into their floor, Han strode toward me with a fire burning in his eyes.

“That stunt you pulled back there was stupid and reckless! We don’t tangle with the First Order for a reason, do you see that now?” He yelled and I could feel the anger radiating from him in waves. His attitude only further fueled my already frazzled temper and I stared back at him in disbelief.

“They killed all of those people Han, slaughtered them where they stood, for nothing! I couldn’t just leave them.” I defended in a disappointed tone and he scoffed bitterly. He opened his mouth to attack again but I cut him off sharply. “It was a little girl, she would’ve died! I didn’t even think before I acted and I won’t apologise for that.” I spat with a tone of disgust and I noticed that his nostrils flared with the rapidness of his breathing.

“You could have helped her without drawing attention to us. I didn’t give you a blaster to shoot StormTroopers with!” He scolded like an incensed parent and I threw my hands up in exasperation. I couldn’t believe that we were arguing about logistics over such a horrific situation. “You almost got us killed. For the hundredth time, we are not political, Jax! It’s not our fight.” He argued as he dropped from shouting to a desperate plea and I laughed darkly under my breath. The energy of the pent up emotions that I was mentally battling caused me to pace around as I spoke in an effort to maintain control of my words.

“We’re not political? I’m so sick of hearing you say that! We’ve been delivering supplies to the Resistance for 4 years, since its inception. How can you try to separate us from that?” I growled as I concentrated on controlling the flow of my thoughts and although I could tell that Han was simmering back down now, my venom was far from spent.

“We are contractors, that’s it! We’re not part of the Resistance, we’re already separate.” He confirmed in a pedantic examination and I felt the last of my reserve finally snap at his continued agenda. This situation had been worsening between us for several years and I could no longer patiently wait for him to be ready to address it. I’d spent enough time travelling to gather the pieces around his past and discovered the full reasoning for his refusal to resolutely pick a side in the war that was brewing across the entire galaxy.

“Of course we’re not, because you’re not willing to do too much, or to actually include yourself in the organisation that opposes your son! I don’t know how you can watch all those people die and just do nothing?!” I cried with a rawness to my voice that I had never allowed to show before and I watched as a combination of hurt and fresh anger crossed Han’s face. I hadn’t meant to spurt out such a personal attack, but the strain of avoiding the topic had finally crashed over me and I could no longer control the words that fell from my lips.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He growled in a low voice and I could feel myself being puppeted by the fury that washed over me.

“Well maybe I would if you ever told me the truth! You lay down all these rules for being a part of your crew but you don’t even follow them yourself. You change your mind like the wind. You’ve forgotten all of the smuggler guidelines and morals that you used to preach when I was a kid, you’re backstabbing people and gambling harder with every job. Chewie told me that you almost lost the Falcon twice before someone finally stole it for good! Whether you want to talk about it or not, something is clearly eating you alive and it’s making you reckless. I can’t keep following a Captain like that and ignore the suffering around me. We need to fight!” The words flowed out of me in a jumbled, emotional blur and Han’s brows furrowed together as I revealed desires that I buried from him for a long time,

“If you’re so desperate to fight, why don’t you just go join the Resistance?!” He spat with an indignant attitude that crawled under my skin and I felt my hands shaking in resentment.

“You know what, maybe I will! General Organa has asked me to join every single time I’ve delivered over the past 4 years and I’ve always turned her down. Maybe that was a mistake” I retorted in a childish manner and he scoffed with an expression that revealed that he had long suspected this was the case.

“Go ahead, I’m not stopping you!” He stated firmly as he held out his hands in an offer and I clenched my jaw in frustration.

“Fine!” I growled with a determined tone. “I’ll pack my stuff, you know where to drop me off.” I announced as I turned on my heel to stomp off to my small lodgings in the ship.

In a saddening similarity to when I left Corellia, my modest possessions fit into a single holdall and it took very little time for me to be ready to leave. A heavy tension filled the air as I remained sat on the bed and awaited our arrival to the Resistance. Although the decision had been made in conflict, I felt in my gut that this desire to fight had been lingering inside of me for some time. I’d heard some horrifying things during my time smuggling with Han and we’d arrived to find the aftermath of attacks before, but seeing the devastation that they caused firsthand today had lit a fire inside me.

I adjusted my clothing to ensure that I would look presentable, despite the knowledge that the General at least would be thrilled to see me, no matter what I wore. In the back of my mind, I worried that I might resemble a smuggler too much as I examined my reflection and attempted to push my curly, ebony hair into some kind of style. It fell scruffily around my jaw and there was a thick silver stripe of hair running right from my parting to the tips near my face. I’d possessed this my entire life and regardless of many attempts to cover it, it remained stubbornly visible. The slight hint of my first serious crash was still evident in the burnt section of skin on my left temple and as an adult, I’d grown fond of the battle worn look that it gave me.

I wore a black bodysuit, with open sections on the side that revealed some skin around my waist and a gap near the top. On my bottom half were some standard, tough grey trousers and I slid an old brown jacket with a fleece trim over the top to cover some of the less appropriate clothing. A thin chain hung around my neck with a simple gold circle hanging from it, which was the last treasure of my family. I stared into my large brown eyes and took a deep breath.

The ship touched down on the surface of D’Qar and I snatched up my bag before I could think twice. I marched toward the exit with a forced confidence, despite the nerves that fizzled in my stomach. As I reached the door, I paused and Han appeared at my side with a remorseful expression.

“You don’t have to go.” He muttered as he stared at the door in an effort to avoid meeting my eyes and I steeled myself to contain the tears that threatened to escape. This was the right decision for us both, I knew that in my heart but the reality of leaving my home and the troublesome pair who had become my family was more difficult than I had even anticipated.

“I know, but I think it’s time.” I replied quietly and he sighed deeply. A few moments of silence passed whilst we both remained frozen to the spot, a million unspoken words filling the empty space between us. There was a tug at the back of my mind to stay, to watch over Han and his self destructing behaviours no matter the cost but I felt the call of the Resistance louder than anything else.

“I always knew that I couldn’t keep a young fire like you away from the good fight forever. I’m just glad that you allowed me to protect you for so many years.” He admitted as he finally risked glancing over at me with a sentimental expression.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around, old man?” I teased with an emotional smile. For a moment, I was hopeful that this didn’t have to be goodbye and that he could continue protecting me, even in my new role.

“I can’t come with you, Jax.” He added in a sombre voice and I felt my face fill with disappointment.

“Why not? Every time the General asked me to join, she told me that there was a place for you too. They could really use your experience Han, you could teach them so much.” I pleaded with desperation as I clung to our bond and he smiled at me in understanding.

“I just can’t, kid.” He stated as his voice almost broke and I nodded slowly in heartbroken acceptance. It was gut wrenching to accept that all of my years of carefully attempting to guide him back to his wife had failed, but I finally had to face that he was not able to conquer his fear. The time had come for me to acknowledge that our paths had to split and I sighed at the thought. “Besides, they won’t need me, I’ve taught you everything I know.” He remarked lightly with a proud twinkle in his eye and I forced a sad smile.

“What will you do?” I asked with concern, as I considered the disasters he could get into without my place as his voice of reason and he shrugged casually at me as if it weren’t a big deal.

“It’s a big galaxy, plenty of people I haven’t conned yet.” He jested with a familiar hint of playfulness in his voice and I felt a fond smile spread across my lips. I tried to force down the anxiety that threatened to crush my chest and reminded myself that he had been a successful smuggler for years before me. “Don’t worry, I’ll be better than I have recently, Chewie can make sure of that.” He asserted and I found that this was more reassuring than any level of trying to convince myself to trust him.

Before I could respond, Chewbecca appeared from wherever he’d been eavesdropping with a pained cry and rushed over to pull me into an embrace that almost resulted in me suffocating in his fur.

“I know Chewie, I’ll miss you too buddy.” I crooned as I extracted myself from his grip and craned my neck to glance up at him. “Looks like you’ll have to be the bad cop now, think you can handle that?” I teased, earning a dissatisfied groan.

“You be careful with the Resistance, don’t ever let them ask for too much from you and don’t let them get you killed.” Han ordered in a stern, parental manner and I saluted him mockingly.

“Yes Captain.” I answered in a monotone voice and he rolled his eyes at my performance. “Be careful here too. And tell me when you’re ready to search again for the Falcon! I can’t stand the idea of seeing it in anyone else’s hands.” I instructed with an aggressive point at them both and Han held his hands up in surrender. I turned to press the door release and it opened to reveal the familiar sights of the base.

“If you ever need me for anything, no matter how small, you know how to reach me.” Han added with a sense of finality and I glanced back over my shoulder at him. I took one last scan of the inside of the ship that I had long considered home, before finally stepping onto the ramp to descend into my future.

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scribbles97 · 5 years ago

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Left Behind -- Chapter 26

In which Scott takes control

PART 1 / PART 2

Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25

Grandma had told them all to go back to the hotel and sleep. Scott had refused and instead insisted on staying with Mom for at least a few hours before he went anywhere. The others had at least had a chance to see her earlier, to say hey and tell her to get better soon. He didn’t doubt they would have time the following day to sit with her too.

He had hoped that he would at least have the evening to himself.

Part of him didn’t want to turn and look when the door opened at his back. So he didn’t. Instead he chose to keep his eyes fixed on Mom’s long slender fingers in his hand as he smoothed his thumb over the dry skin of her knuckles.

“Scott,” Tia cleared her throat, “It’s Hugh and Kyrano. Shall I let them in?”

He liked Tia. She was the only security he knew that actually did as he asked sometimes. If he wanted the room to himself for the night, she would see to it that that were the case. If he told her, she would kick the two older men out of the hospital until the following day.

Her voice dropped, shifting to a tone not meant to be heard, “It looked like it involved the hand over.”

Sighing, he squeezed his mother's hand, “I feared as much.”

“I don’t ha--” Tia started to offer, cutting short when Scott stood with a shake of his head.

“Let them in.”

Neither man looked entirely happy as they entered the room, each with a briefcase in hand, each representing two sides of the same coin.

“Here?” He asked, glancing around the quiet room and towards the sofa and two armchairs in the far corner.

“Here.” Kyrano nodded as he gestured towards the seats, “The room has already been swept for any devices and any built in security taken offline. It’s the most private place in the hospital right now.”

Stepping around the foot of the bed, he glanced to his mother, “You’re sure it’s necessary?”

“Both International Rescue and Tracy Industries require someone to sign off on things daily Scott, we’d only be delaying the inevitable if we didn’t get on with it.” Hugh nodded as he took a seat, “Which do you want to start with?”

He shook his head again as he sunk down in one of the armchairs, “Why me? I mean, there’s Uncle Lee and Aunt Val, you two, Kayo, Penny… why do I have to be the one that’s…”

He trailed off with a sigh, not even sure what it was they were handing over to him. Mom had mentioned it once or twice, asked him if he wanted it to fall to him in such a case. Before he had never minded, the extra responsibility had been something he had looked forward to. The thought of being the one in control, having everyone look to him had been exciting, had made his stomach and heart swell in pride.

Now, it just seemed daunting.

“You agreed to it.” Kyrano stated, “Evangeline and Lee had no wish to be involved with the business side of things, and equally agreed they did not wish to become responsible for their nephews in the field.”

He knew the fact really, both his aunt and uncle had always reminded him that out there they were equals. There wasn’t a time he could remember aunt Val exerting authority over him, sure there had been a time or two with uncle Lee, but he had only been looking out for him.

It kind of made sense they didn’t want to be responsible for sending them out there though.

He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to send his brothers out into danger.

“So,” He nodded to Hugh, “What do I need to know about the business?”

The man smiled, his eye going to the case on the table and opening it up, “If you are happy to, son, I will keep doing what I’ve been doing, and you’ll only have to sign off on new projects, purchases over half a million, and anything the board require of you.”

That much he could manage. For all he had once questioned Hugh’s reasoning for becoming so involved in Tracy Industries, he had to admit he had reached a point where he was damn grateful for it.

He wasn’t entirely sure where he would start with it otherwise.

Glancing over the digital documents that got pushed in his direction, his thoughts stumbled.

What would he have done if it weren’t for the two men in front of him?

Thirty years old and he had no idea how the business worked or what Mom did behind the scenes of IR. All he did do was save lives and keep up maintenance on the ships.

When had he let himself become the billionaire layabout the papers liked to portray him as?

“Can I add a clause?” He asked looking up, “Or, something? Is a clause the right word?”

Hugh straightened, frowning as he looked from the document to Scott and back again, “It would have to be approved by the board.”

Right, about that much he knew. Anything big, anything important, anything that altered the structure of the company had to go through the board first.

Would the board like someone that had very little idea coming into power over them?

“I need to learn a lot.” He admitted softly, “Hugh, I hardly have any idea how any of this works and that’s not… I should know this stuff. I can hardly run a business when I have no idea what I’m doing with it, I need to learn, and fast.”

Hugh smiled, shaking his head as he leant back in the sofa, “No clause needed for learning, son, tell me when you want to start, and I’ll teach you everything there is to know.”

Something in his chest eased, allowing his shoulders to sag slightly as he nodded. Mom trusted Hugh with everything, he knew he could do the same.

Even if he didn’t particularly like the circumstances that had forced him into it.

“Tomorrow,” He started, “Early. I guess getting to know my way around the offices a bit better would be a good start.”

Hugh nodded, “Hotel lobby, eight o’clock. Do not be late.”

He wouldn’t plan on it for the world.

Taking a breath, he looked to Kyrano, “So, IR?”

The older man watched him for a long moment, green eyes hard. Scott couldn’t help but swallow under the gaze, unsure as to why he was being subject to such scrutiny.

“How much do you know about the running of International Rescue, Scott?”

A damn site more than he did about the business, that was for sure.

But was it enough?

“Day to day running involves reviewing certain mission logs flagged up by the board, injuries, fatalities, and equipment problems. I’ve helped where I can with a few of them in the past.”

A few being the odd one that involved his team, his family. When Mom had had her hands full and he had offered to take some work off of her hands. She had always said that once he had learnt to critique his own team's work she would let him branch out to the other teams.

Did that mean she didn’t yet trust him to be thrust into her role?

“You will also have the decision of when and who to launch from the Island.” Kyrano added, “It will be down to you to choose who you send into danger, Scott. Can you do that?”

Mom had done it on a daily basis. She had sent three of her five sons, her brother, and her best friend, out into the very same kind of danger.

Sometimes she had gone with them, other times they were all split apart, each in a different corner of the world and sometimes beyond even those reaches. Yet, he had never seen her hesitate.

Was it faith in them that made her able to do it? Or was it a faith in the machines she had helped design and build?

He trusted the machines he used implicitly. It was a running joke that they all had an understanding with the ships they flew, almost like a bond between man and dog. The safety measures in place in each ship alone were enough to keep him out of trouble for the rest of his life, that was without considering everything the suit he wore did for him.

The same was true for the rest of his family.

Except…

All those measures had been in place for Dad and Mom.

Yet, there they were.

The measures had failed them both. Their faith in what they did and the equipment they had hadn’t been enough to protect either of them.

Twisting in his seat he looked back to the bed. Biting his lip he sucked in a breath as he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. She was alive, barely. Simply because she had believed so much that she could launch Gaat’s ship, that she could get out there and find Dad.

“If you’re going to ask how she did it,” Hugh started softly, “It wasn’t without being afraid.”

In the back of his mind, he knew that much. Mom had never shown fear, but he knew that it was there. It was what all the arguments and shouting had always been about. It was why they had fought so bad just when he was about to graduate.

Yet she had still trusted them all to go out there, trusted that they would come back safe, trusted that even though the worst had happened to Dad the same wouldn’t happen to them again.

Mom had put her fear for those she loved to one side and trusted their capabilities.

They all knew what they did was dangerous, yet they had all chosen to walk the path laid by their parents. Each of them had sworn an oath, putting the lives of others above their own. How many lives had they saved thanks to the trust Mom had given them?

All he had to do was give his brothers the same trust.

In return he hoped that he could fill the shoes left for him. That the trust his family placed in him in return was well placed. That he could make the right decisions like his parents always had, and do the right thing by his team.

He would make them proud.

He had to.

Standing, he returned to his mothers side, taking her bandaged hand and squeezing her fingertips gently.

Tears threatened to sting his eyes at her lack of response, but he knew he couldn’t afford it. Swallowing hard, he screwed his eyes shut and took a calming breath. Focus was what he needed, something to do, tasks to complete.

He knew the first task on his list.

“I’ll make you proud, Mom.” He whispered, “I promise.”

Behind him, Kyrano cleared his throat and he knew he had taken too long to answer.

“If Mom did it, I can do it.” He nodded, turning back to the men as he kept hold of his mother’s hand.

Kyrano stood, holding out a pen to him, “In that case, you’d better take this.”

He frowned, recognising it as not a pen, but something that Mom had always carried with her yet she had refused to talk about.

Meeting Kyrano’s eyes, he saw the same hard look from earlier. Cool, critical, asking questions that Scott wasn’t sure of.

“Wha--”

“Kill codes.” Kyrano stated, “As leader of your team you must carry this with you at all times. If ever a Thunderbird under your teams command becomes compromised, it is down to you to make the call to shut the ship down. This device will generate a random code that allows you to do so.”

The thought made his stomach lurch, that maybe he would have to prioritise safety of the organisation over that of his family.

Mom had carried it with her.

He could too.

Nodding, he took the device, “What next?”

Kyrano’s smile was tight as he nodded in return, “Sit down, there is still much to discuss.”

#thunderbirds are go #Thunderbirds 2015 #Lucy AU #Scott Tracy #Kyrano #Hugh Creighton-Ward #Left Behind Part 1 #Left Behind Part 2 #Left Behind Part 3 #scribbles writes

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mediaeval-muse · 4 years ago

Text

Book Review

Descendant of the Crane. By Joan He. New York: Albert Whitman & Company, 2019.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: YA fantasy

Part of a Series? Not yet?

Summary: Princess Hesina of Yan has always been eager to shirk the responsibilities of the crown, but when her beloved father is murdered, she’s thrust into power, suddenly the queen of an unstable kingdom. Determined to find her father’s killer, Hesina does something desperate: she engages the aid of a soothsayer—a treasonous act, punishable by death... because in Yan, magic was outlawed centuries ago. Using the information illicitly provided by the sooth, and uncertain if she can trust even her family, Hesina turns to Akira—a brilliant investigator who’s also a convicted criminal with secrets of his own. With the future of her kingdom at stake, can Hesina find justice for her father? Or will the cost be too high?

***Full review under the cut.***

SPOILERS in the last paragraph of the “Plot” section.

Content/Trigger Warnings: violence, blood, references to torture, slavery

Overview: I really wanted to like this book. I really did. The premise seemed promising, and I loved the idea of a Chinese-inspired fantasy world with a touch of courtroom drama. Unfortunately, there seemed to be too much going on, so much that I couldn’t connect with this book’s characters and the narrative didn’t flow in a way that drew me into the intrigue and mystery. I would have given this book 3 stars on premise alone, but because I didn’t feel like the scenes built on one another, this book only gets 2 stars from me.

Writing: He’s prose is fine for a YA novel in that it is fairly straightforward with a few poetic images sprinkled in here and there to evoke emotion. It’s very similar to a lot of other YA prose I’ve read, and I don’t personally think anything sets it apart. I did notice, however, that would sometimes use imagery or metaphors that I found more confusing than illuminating. For example, He describes a character as taking to the shadows “like a knife in a sheath,” which would have been ok, but the character was supposed to be more dangerous in the shadows - and a sheathed knife isn’t a threat.

I also found that He would reference bits of lore, backstory, or worldbuilding at odd moments, and sometimes, this info wouldn’t be especially relevant. It felt like she was trying to make references to her worldbuilding without infodumping, which is all well and good, but these references would sometimes distract from the main action.

I also thought He’s pacing and focus was off; the trial/mystery plot would sometimes fade to the background, while the tensions with neighboring kingdoms wasn’t really felt until a certain point in the novel, then it disappeared again. Some events received more attention than I think was warranted, while others received less. For example, we get a lot of scenes of Hesina doing paperwork, but then the ending felt rushed and a lot of information was dumped on us after several plot twists. There were times when things would be summarized rather than played out “on screen,” which is ok sometimes, but it often felt like He used summary so she shock the reader rather than lead them on a journey.

And lastly, I noticed that He has the tendency to use constructions where things other than the characters have agency. For example, “fear creeped into her” or “hope fluttered through her” and the like; it wasn’t bad, per se, but it was noticeable, as if He didn’t want her characters to have as much agency.

Plot: Describing this plot is fairly difficult, since, in my opinion, none of the scenes seem to flow or build upon each other to create a structured narrative. It seemed like He wanted to write a courtroom drama, a high fantasy novel, and a political saga, all of which came together to meditate on things like truth, history, and oppression. It was a lot to cram together, so much so that instead of an action-packed saga, I got a narrative that I couldn’t focus on because there wasn’t the time to explore themes or events in detail. In other words, because a lot happened, all events were rushed and felt shallow. The murder trial plot, for example, didn’t feel very developed; all of the courtroom drama felt pretty standard (this suspect couldn’t have done X because she’s left handed and the cut had to have been made by a right handed person) and most of the people who are trying to fabricate evidence are pretty bad at it. The political conflict, too, seems to be an afterthought, as the people’s desperation for salt isn’t really felt (just told to us) and no one seems too bothered about the raids along the border. I think the novel would have worked better if it focused primarily on the trial and following characters as they uncovered evidence that would be important for that trial. Not only would the narrative structure have felt tighter, but I think the courtroom drama could have been a good vehicle to explore the themes that He seemed interested in (things like oppression and truth can definitely come up with the right focus).

I also found myself to be frustrated by the plot twists because many of them felt random. There wasn’t a lot of groundwork that was laid to make them seem plausible, and I personally don’t like twists that I can’t see coming on some level. Don’t get me wrong - I think a little shock is good here and there, but I think plot twists work best when there is some hint that something is awry. The twist with Hesina’s father, for example, felt earned, whereas the ones involving her brother Caiyan and Lilian, felt random. I especially did not like that the whole epilogue was devoted to explaining how one of the plot twists was made possible; the behind-the-scenes action was dumped on us all at once, and I don’t really like it when I read a whole book and am then told “actually, this was happening the whole time” without some hints during the narrative that there is a bigger picture.

Also, just a quick note: while the plot twist with the Tenets is interesting, I feel like it has the possibility to be a scapegoat in the vein of “prejudice is due to a magical curse rather than something real and ingrained that we have to do hard, continuous work to remove.”

Characters: Hesina, our protagonist, is a Princess who becomes Queen for the purposes of having control over her father’s murder investigation. Personally, I found Hesina to be somewhat bland. She’s not really a ruthless ruler or cunning strategist; most of her decisions are driven by emotion, which can be a good character flaw, but it wasn’t really balanced out by a trait that I found particularly defining. The most she has going for her is that she’s pretty brave and is sympathetic to people who are oppressed, but I don’t think Hesina developed enough for me to really see her character as having an arc. I did sympathize with her dilemmas, especially when she had to make difficult political decisions, but I wanted a little more from her.

Akira, the convict-turned-lawyer who is tasked with solving the case, is a ho-hum love interest who Hesina chooses to represent the crown in her father’s murder case because a Sooth vaguely tells her to “find the convict with the rod.” Akira is written as somewhat mysterious, with skills that seem to come out of nowhere: he is good at fighting, knows some languages, and seems to be good at understanding chemical compounds. All these seemed to be laid as breadcrumbs toward figuring out his tumultuous past; however, I didn’t feel like I was dying to know more because Akira is so aloof and fades in and out of the background. We also don’t really see him putting together clues or explaining how he figured things out; most of the time, we get a summary of what he said (”Akira explained this chemical reaction”), so he doesn’t feel like a major player in the plot. Even his background is dumped on us all at once in summary, which made it less emotional to read. The romance between Akira and Hesina also felt a little forced. While it doesn’t take up a lot of space in the story, it did feel a little random. I didn’t really understand why Hesina decided she wanted to kiss Akira, and the emotional moments they exchanged didn’t really feel genuine.

Supporting characters also felt a little one-dimensional, such as Hesina’s mother, who doesn’t get along with her daughter (because of mental illness? other reasons?) but does get along with her son. Civil servants also weave in and out of the story at convenient moments, and commoners are fairly faceless. I did, however, enjoy the family dynamics between Hessina, her brother Sanjing, and their half-siblings, as it created some complicated personal and official court tensions, while also showing some family affection that transcended “legitimate” bloodlines. The dynamics between Hessina, Caiyan, and Lilian were especially well-done, as they seemed to balance each other out. I would have liked to see more instances where Caiyan’s and Lilian’s experience living on the street affected how the plot went; He tells us this detail, but I think it only comes in handy once.

Other: I don’t think every fantasy novel needs a lot of world-building, but more support in this book would have been helpful. I might have missed some details because a lot was going on, but I constantly found myself asking questions like “What are the limits of Hesina’s powers as queen? Why can’t she command this person to do this thing? Why bargain with her main enemy, Xia Zhong, instead of expose him right away?” I also think some of He’s terminology needed to be reworked, as she used phrases like “sticks of black powder,” “Investigation Bureau,” and “pillow log” - terms that got the main idea across, but felt a little clunky.

I did, however, like the idea of the Eleven and the Tenets, especially their role as historical people/documents that are idolized and not challenged. There’s a real opportunity in there for some exploration of how history is sanitized or how bad things are overlooked in the attempt to present the current state of a nation in the best possible light - it reminds me of the ways in which America idolizes the Founding Fathers yet glosses over aspects like slave ownership.

TL;DR: Descendant of the Crane suffers from a shallow exploration of too many plot threads, plot twists which feel in service to shock value, and a forgettable main character and love interest. While it does have some interesting themes, such as the idolization of historical figures, there was ultimately too much going on that I found it hard to focus on any one thing for long.

#book reviews

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virdityshattred · 5 years ago

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[ Muses]

Name: Micheal

age: primitive

creature: Archangel

height: Tall, towers over others. Varies based on context.

Titles: Prince of heaven. Judge of souls. who most faithful. Holy savior [ via ending the war in heaven]. Defeater of wicked. Brother.

reputation: Machiavellian chess master. Big intimidating leader who is always victorious in every single battle and makes all their foes cower and beg for atone.

Fc: { In the present} Kit Harington { Pre war} Gaspard Ulliel

Education: Learned to fend for themselves as a child self taught combat and stealth,discovered weapons and takes an instant interest in them it becoming quickly apparent to them this may be a better tool for survival. Studies olden magic and how to wield it. Knows elemental magic. Observes the heavens inside out and everything about the newly built world because was genuinely curious. Reflects on past mistakes as to have current wisdom.

Temper: Has a firm calmness built up over centuries unsuspecting often gets mistaken as being ‘ tame’ in reality is simply focused. Knows when to strike and when to not. Not quick to anger their rage comes when it comes when others least suspect which tends catch others off guard. Volcanic like rage and aggression. As a child wasn’t obedient to God but only quietly observes on and off quiet, very fierce. Before the war was more stern then they’d be later because was in training to learn to lead.

In the present temper is essentially the same expect has perfected their calmness more. Wings: They don’t shine like everything else in the heavens they’re dark grey and tend to be lost before it. Feathers are not white they’re light grey and has no shine at all. They are wide like other angelic wings but just looks alien next to the modern world. Abilities: Angelic strength and typical abilities healing etc natural talent to hold fire and control it. Knows how to summon olden elemental magic [ thunder and lighting, the rain and the sun ] to restore balance. appearance:

appearance: Their true form is an image of God in all their splendor.Their grace is comfortingly warm as a guardian yet fearsome an appearance, akin to a dragon/ lion and watchful knife like eye which towers over others, their flame benign and radiant. Until anger arises. Awe inspiring sight,Warmth to aid them in times of need and feel extra protected. As they cradle the angels who remain loyal to heaven and are so willingly to fight for them upon the battlefield, as well as off of it. Their warmth giving them peace to lull them off to an eternal the warmth giving them peace, lull off to an enteral rest. Before swearing blood thirsty vengeance.

Fears: Shadows, puts him a bit on edge but stands strong. Confined spaces and darkness. Was a bit afraid of heights as a child.

Likes: Swords, has an extensive collection of weapons. Reading books in their spare time. Beauty, has a great appreciation for it. Music. Fair play in everything, is the one to break up fights. Practice duel.

Dislikes: Demons. Humanity on and off it depends. Sore losers. Being seen as all together prim and proper. Mistreatment. Being underestimated but uses that as an advantage of course.

Background: God spent many ages learning their purpose as the writer of life and death and fate, they craft worlds some which they deem excellent for their sharpness. Others they despise for their flaws the structure isn’t as sharp as they’d thought despite careful thinking. Wrong wrong wrong. They craft strange fearsome prototype creatures and destroys the weaker. Wrong wrong wrong again.

After so long they watch their own creations thrive and the weaker crumble of natural causes and comes to truly understand their own purpose. Eventually they craft another another world which compared to the others shall be much brighter. In a flash of bright light they craft a divine paradise within the celestial space, among the other planets which is a home to their other creations.

They get bored and start to crave to craft a new kind of creature they smile at the thought, an image of the stronger creatures a creature which shall represent themselves for all they are. Their new creation does not turn out the way they’d thought necessarily. They do not shine before the new world their voice is out of tune. However they do see the strength akin to their prototypes that being the only reason they hold faith in them and decides to call them Micheal and gives them a conscious and puts them to the test.

Micheal had been brought into a world full of deprivation and is rough around the edges. It’s full of strange creatures and beautiful things as well as dangerous. The one strange about the child which God notices is that Micheal instantly builds instinct for survival.

The child had never cared about being saved they’d never been innocent all they’d ever cared for is survival. They do everything in their ability to learn it quickly bit by bit becomes mature very quickly despite being young. The one shortcoming is that the harder they’d try the more they feel the darker side of their power creep upon them, seeming to whisper to them about how they can never escape.

Their own demon within themselves that’s never far behind. Micheal has built up a tough shell and stand strong in the face of and puts up fists. Consequently crafts their own fates. Apart from survival Micheal learns to protect the softer of the strange creations.

The creator only sits back and observes. They come to see the potential in them and the fate they’d crafted for themselves, they can’t help but smile at that they’d it was worth keeping them around.

Although they also see Micheal can be very dangerous as well and needs balance.

They craft another who shall be a gentle form of light they are bold and cunning, their voice is sweet and melodic instead of loud and commanding when they sing all comes to listen or stops what they are doing and takes time to listen. God calls them Lucifer.

Micheal doesn’t mind their brighter light and how different they are from themselves, as well as similar in little ways. God gives them to Micheal to raise them to prove responsibility. Micheal gladly does instantly holding a vast amount of love for their new kin, they are very excited to have company at long last and thanks their creator.

Micheal teaches Lucifer all the wisdom they’d learned and provides them with everything they’d possibly need. They teach them the essentials of the structure of world they’d been brought, teaches them how to fly always willing to bend over backwards for their beloved sibling etc.

Other angels come into creation in which Micheal finds it hard to open up to them, Lucifer is their first friend and their entire world for so long. Lucifer motives them to open up to others and treat them just in the same way they’d done with them.

In due time a new world is crafted which the creator calls Earth and declares it as something of a playground for their creations. It’s very strange to them of course, an extensive world full of planets and such which are still being developed. At the same time is subtly similar to their own home. The creator was subtly training their first angel to lead.

They gave them to task to keep everything in order alone, make all the decisions etc. They’d chosen to act as a ‘ neutral big brother’ the one who breaks up fights etc.

[ Note: I acknowledge garden of Eden but I’m time skipping over it to make things more simple. yay for originality ]

Earth comes to be populated by strange new creatures the population is called humanity, it is ordered by the creator that all the angels. “ Respect them in the highest degree and aid them” This creates conflict in the heaven among all the angels. Some instantly dislikes humanity feeling they’d corrupted Earth which is loved by many. Others don’t mind them so much them and accepts them for what they are.

Micheal continues to being the ‘ neutral big brother’ and only know has to step up a bit more as the conflict progressively becomes more and more. Micheal’s heart is very wide for being driven by ‘ selfless compassion’ however is Lucifer they are the most concerned about knowing them inside out. It pains them to know there is. The one thing that pains them the most is the knowing there is nothing they can do, nothing that can be said. Lucifer just as they’d already known does rise in the war Micheal fights them ferociously it’s all they can do they can do to treat them fairly. Lucifer is skilled but just not as much as them therefore reason why Micheal has the advantage and conquers them in the end.

Micheal does not blame Lucifer for rebelling they only blame humanity for it thus becoming part of their reason for conflict about their feelings for humanity. It takes Micheal an enormous amount of power and energy to cast down their beloved kin as well as their own siblings.

Micheal collapses onto their knees needing a minute, all around them they hear the other angels crying out in sorrow at the loss of the morning star and the others. At the same time hears the joyful cries appreciative of being freed of their sufferings during the war they sing out. The combination is very loud and Micheal is very overwhelmed. “ sancti salvatoris. Ave sancti salvatoris!! “ [ Holy savior hail holy savior in Latin ]

Micheal now more firmly understanding the crown they wear proudly embraces it with the plan the in mind to be the best leader they can be. They know their own purpose and fate and intends to follow that. Make the world a better place beyond the heavens to the best of their ability therefore develops into a benevolent leader while keeping their role as ‘ neutral big brother’

[[ Head canons]

Hc: They’d never been obedient to God only an observer. Father like son. Hc: Their rage shows in three levels

Hc: Their rage shows in three levels.

1: They are standing perfectly still yet the ground seems to be burning to ashes, as they are just starting to get angry. Similar to a volcano showings of eruption.

2: The ground continues to be burnt to ashes now splitting open in places as it violently shakes. A bitter taste in the air / surroundings. With every step they take the ground sizzles under their feet as a result of their angelic power combined with rage.

3: Rage which is murderous and blood thirsty. Subtle but is similar to God’s wrath, their grace is comfortingly warm as a protector, now it burns with intent to get vengeance for either themselves or for those they hold dearly. Intention to destroy the criminal who dares to harm those they care for. To scour the world of sinners who commit in similar wrongdoings as to assure nobody else suffers in the same way. The flame is blood red and burns multiple times hotter then it ever did before, now an inferno. God both smiles at it but also can’t help but cringe.

Hc: They are self destructive in the way that their own ‘ selfless compassion’ destroys them every time. Their instinctive knowing they need to survive destroys them too, sometime they can’t control. Nobody can. Hc: God almost destroyed Lucifer for their boldness they’d spent a long time carefully planning how they’d a mixture between bold and neutral like Micheal however Micheal begged them to give them a chance. God hands the light bringer to Micheal aggressively – like ‘ take this trash ‘ despite their lovely appearance.

–

Name: Lucifer

age: primordial

Creature: Archangel height: A foot shorter then Micheal

titles: Light bringer. Son of dawn. Morning star. Prince of light. Bringer of dawn

Education: Raised by Micheal who’d originally been given the task to smash down their boldness. Micheal tries but can’t bring themselves to do that for they’d already deeply loved their kin already at creation. It’s not their bold they are bold. They teach them all the basics of survival teaches introduces them to weapons, not necessarily as a tool of survival. Instead teaches them stealth and physical combat. Provides Lucifer with all the wisdom they’d possibility need and advice. took an interest in magic when was young and learns light manipulation and air.

Temperament: Has a unpretentious calmness towards the world can be mistaken being tame. Micheal quickly learns to become savage as a child to for survival, they are the same way except via being very eager to impress Micheal by learning weapons etc and to express their undying love for them. can have a bit of a melodramatic/ diva like attitude. Stubbornly persistent and refuses to listen to anyone, only trusts in themselves ‘ holier then thou ‘ attitude. Can be stern not afraid to be harsh. Softer attitude compared to Micheal’s rough one.

wings: Pristine white wings which have a gentle glow about them in order to balance out their brightness, their feathers are beyond words soft. They land in flawless pattern with their brightness as well. A true work of art.

Abilities: Blessed ability to wield the sun to bring the dawn, blessed ability to bring back plants after they wilt and mold them into something different; gifts given to them because the creator favors their shine. Talent with using thin blade knives.

Appearance: Slim figure their own light superbly outlines it golden sun kissed long hair that trails down their back in perfect length from their wings. Gentle light blue eyes with a glint of sun behind them which makes them fierce showing the power. When they move every step they take falls into perfect harmony with the previous one, perfectly rhythmic.

Fears: Darkness and being alone. Feeling unwanted. Thunder puts them a bit on edge. Failure but won’t ever admit it. Likes: Seeing others happy. Dancing. Knowing they are genuinely needed and loved. Blades. Resting. Star gazing. Gardens.

Dislikes: Feeling on the spot due to pride will fight to not admit things. being underestimated, and being infantilized.

[ Head canons]

Hc: Feels that wearing anything at all is unnecessary because of their brightness, would rather parade themselves about the heavens to everyone at all times. Micheal doesn’t approve they thew together a sheet like outfit, sheet like dress thing. Lucifer isn’t having this because it’s useless and has a habit of just randomly having ‘ naked time’ every chance he gets.

Hc: Is called ‘ Prince of light’ not necessarily because of their brightness but instead because at creation, the creator gave them a set of things to create with having taken interest in them. They crafted the power of light while God is light

Hc: Other then playing music and crafting it. Their other favorite thing to do is lay in the grass within the secret gardens of the heavens and muse idly about just about anything.

Hc: God won’t let them die. They won’t let their beauty fade with time, they have far too much potential which is worth while. If they did happen to die they’d fade into a simple but beautiful flower than rise again like a like a phoenix.

—

Name: Mikael

age: primitive

creature: Archangel

height: Tall, typically towers over others.

Fc: Eva Green ( Pre war] Daenerys Targaryen

Titles: Queen of heaven. Holy savior [ via ending the first war]. The most loyal. Fair queen. Judge of souls. Defeater of wicked. Protector of heaven. Sister. Our mother. Mother of flame.

Education: Discovers weapons and gets curious, self teaches themselves combat and stealth, experimented with weapons when was young to learn how to use them. Discovered books on their own, instantly enjoyed reading studied magic etc because enjoys it. Learned magic knows how to summon elemental magic, lighting and thunder and sun. Reflects on past mistakes to gain present wisdom. Has a deep to the core habit of isolating themselves when gets a chance.

Wings: Light grey with a faint tinge of white in places like a flickering light bulb about burn out, undimmed before the heavens. A form of light grey which almost looks dark but there is a tinge of white in places—- but God just didn’t see that all. Feathers were already a bit ruffled upon creation and not as perfect as God had thought.

Temperament: Has a not so much firm calmness towards not a firm attitude simply quietly calm, unpretentious via isolation as a child. Persistent very much has a motherly attitude both stern and kind. Controlled aggressive especially on the battle field. Insecure, seldomly lets anyone know the scope of it. If at all is very private about it and keeps it hidden all together.

Appearance : Not necessarily an image of the creator is very subtle but shows more in their rage, unsuspecting controlled aggression which strikes when foes least suspect; it is ruthless. Yet is merciful and willing to give due to those who deserve it despite if may be foe. Their ‘ true form’ has the appearance of a lioness sharp watchful eyes like a blade ambition burns in their eyes always watching.

Fears: Darkness. Shadows, enclosed spaces. Solitude but chooses to stand and be strong.

Likes: Poems and songs, sometimes writes songs. Dancing and blades in all forms. Learning, going on adventures. Battle in all forms. Spending time with others. Moon light, but also tends to feel melancholy — but then there is the stars, likes to stargaze.

Dislikes: Unfairness. Seeing others sad because it agonizes them on the inside. Being thought of as ‘ soft’. being overglorified but remains passive despite that.

[ Head canons]

- Hc: She has a pet Phoenix named Nikita.

- Hc: Her favored weapon is a silver thin blade weapon,instead of a flaming righteous sword. She prefers thin blade weapons over thick. Has a collection of thin blade knives and such.

- Hc: God didn’t reject her flaw of not being shiny physically instead they saw her burning flame, which is how they knew she holds potential to be something great. They explained creation to her and then gave her a set of things to craft with, telling to craft something– anything. Mikael felt the most attracted to heat and light and therefore crafting fire proving her worth God gave her the title. ‘ Child of flame’ which became ‘ mother of flame’ which her ability to wield it. Gets seen as a fire goddess by those loyal to heaven.

- Hc: She’s loved romantically only once. Mikael had a lover named Deweli who was knight/ protector like herself from another celestial world. He was kind and charming strong and handsome, smart and protective etc They shared lots of laughs together and lots of cuddles etc really deeply loved each other. He was planning to propose marriage to her. Before Deweli got a chance he was called to war, Mikael offered to go in his place. They know she’s strong she can fight but tells her. “You are so strong my love. I’d rather die knowing you are safe. If i die, i would pass with a smile on my face for having you only on my mind. “ Then he did die in war.

At first it was hard for her to bring herself to move on after that she didn’t want to believe it, wanting so much to go back to those happier times. The only thing she knows is that she will get vengeance for Deweli. Eventually she then learns just who killed her knight, nobody can escape such vicious vengeance that holds capability of eluding fate.

That’s how much she loves Deweli.

She finds them and kills them in cold blood. Finally able to move on she swears to herself for honor towards her lover and eternal faithfulness. She asks God that when she dies someday that she may be joined once more with Deweli again they agree to this. For now she decides to hold onto their memory. — Name: Gabriel age: Primitive, third eldest to Micheal and Lucifer creature: Archangel height: Medium, one foot shorter than Lucifer. titles: Messenger of heaven. education: Learned stealth and weapons, physical combat from Micheal all the essentials. Learned music and poetry from Lucifer softer feelings that isn’t a bad to be bold and that mistakes are okay, introduced beauty to them etc. Learns from experiences as well gaining wisdom. temper: Mild mannered calmness attitude towards the world but can be short and lacking in patience despite all efforts, very critical of others and outspoken which is explosive when they loose their composure. Hard working, prone to being a workaholic. Kindly, considerate, arrogant but tries to keep it under control. Has a solider like attitude, though can be mischievous at times because Lucifer influenced that in them. abilities: Talented in physical combat, skilled with using thin blade swords but has a preference for knives. Typical angelic abilities healing etc. Skilled in knowing what to say, has always had a bit of a knack for it. appearance: Has a slender yellow figure with five arms has two heads of a dog joined together their a soft shade of gold which shimmers with the essence of hope. Their wings are both pristine white with tinges of light gold. three long thin dog tails and five eyes. Seven dark blue eyes one on the tip of their left wing the other on the right side of their neck two upon their thin face another upon the tip of their right wing and another and an eye which parts of their true form but is apart from it and floats in perfect movement with it, an eye which floats above their the top dog head and the other in front of the second. Has long dragon like claws. On Earth: [ fc: Jake Gyllenhaal ] likes: Books and learning, also to read fairy tales in their spare time, listening to music, spending time around family. The color dark green, admiring nature being a reason they love their job. Seeing others happy. The general feeling peace. dislikes: Disorder. Most of humanity, not all just certain humans. Infantilization feeling vulnerable put on the spot due to pride. Bigoted people. Being late. Know it all people. Bad manners Personality: Earnest, Dignified Good-natured, neat would rather remain neat then make a make a mess of things. Can be prim at times. Organized Passionate, perfectionist. Judgmental, Perceptive. Stubborn, self critical. heroism, Prideful. Can seem humorless but does have a sense of humor can be a bit bashful about having one, private. Loyal. [ Head canons] - Hc: They struggle between being gentle and serious and balancing the two out, has always been conflicted about it. Hc: They have a mild mannered calmness towards the world but can be very impatient because often before the war, God would send him to deliver the word to prophets but they’d be rather too stoned or bigoted to actually listen. Which is why they can’t stand bigoted people. - Hc: Has always idolized both Lucifer and Micheal but after the whole mess with the war, it becomes hard for Gabriel to not dislike Lucifer to not turn away from them entirely. Does have inner turmoils about this, they did betray heaven but doesn’t care if they did well if they did forsake them personally. Gabriel does care about the fact that Lucifer did betray their family. They do live in the shadow of Micheal’s glory, it’s not theirs for the taking instead chooses to be passive and keep their head down and not make a mess. ---- Name: Briathos Age: Centuries { by human standard: Young adult} Creature: Angel, Height: Medium Titles: N/a Education: Self taught physical combat observing from a distance learns to fend for themselves when was young. Personally later on personally trained by Micheal to make his skills more firm taught them stealth and the art in using weapons etc. Learns based on interacting with others. Temper: Seems quiet is very observant, is very laid back and in most cases doesn’t seem to be the one to be outspoken, the quiet kid who sits in the back of the room and watches. However when he gets angry he is very expressive and blunt. Has a very firm attitude towards the world in most cases a controlled sort of calm from years of being built up, then Micheal trained them which made it twice as much. Wings: Despite being an angel, typically messengers or guardians with white fluffy wings but theirs looks ’ weird ’ because they aren’t white or fluffy in fact they look devilish. They are dark grey with a tinge of black yet are ’ angelic’ but in different way that nobody other then Micheal saw past. Abilities: Has a talent in knives and thin blade swords knows how to strike first can kill if he can kill if he is not stuck in return, if he can catch others by surprise and quickly gain the upper hand. Both self taught physical combat skills as well as as trained. Knows how to play two faces. Appearance: As a young angel he was small they look weak and not what a typical young angel should be, deemed as something of an ’ abomination’ their eyes are watchful and cold as if thinking. ’ die’. Nowadays has the build of a typical angel but he stands out in the way that, their grace doesn’t shine, it’s not not warm. His eyes still look the same as they did as a young angel, wings the same. On Earth he takes on the image of a young man, well built simple man with light brown hair and green eyes. Watchful green eyes yet a slight glint of a mysterious look behind them, always watching. Fears: Thunder and lightning. Being alone but masks it skillfully, getting too close to others emotionally and would rather remain solitary. Enclosed spaces. Micheal’s anger. Likes: Knives thin blade swords. Books and to learn. Practice duel. Gardens and music is very drawn in by it. Playing tricks. Dislikes: When those he cares for are insulted. Being treated like a child, or generally being thought of as soft. Humanity Background; Briathos knew he wanted to be a fighter of some sort from day one. He could feel it within themselves, a knowing feeling a spark deep within himself. It was as if god was standing by him whispering to him what his destiny would be. As a youngling grew up, alone for the most part. Only because he wasn’t exactly raised by anybody. He was rejected by world because he looked ’ weird’ by heaven standard. His wings don’t shine before the divine world, because he was small and looked weak and not worth the time of anyone. Briathos taught himself to fight based off of observing other angels practice fighting, how they handled weapons and how the weapon was used as well as attempting to try the weapons too when others weren’t around. When things in heaven were completely calm and would sneak into the training room to learn to fight. In time Briathos in time his wings had developed and as well he’d grown taller, keeping mostly to himself being the ’ anti social’ type. Besides wasn’t going to stand to be mocked anymore. Eventually that’s exactly when the young angel met Micheal they by random chance happened to run into together, while on their way to practice train. Briathos asked them if they’d like to duel with them why not? Nobody else is around in which they do. Micheal had before from a distance seen this angel self training themselves they saw their boldness and strength. ‘ angels’ are normally only messengers consequently soft and meek. This angel is unique, they are fierce which all stood out to them. Interested but didn’t want to force themselves upon him and so the archangel decided to wait. They two fought but Micheal knew already based on watching how this angel’s skills are not so firmly established, they have the strikes of the techniques of ‘ hit and hope for the best’ but still they take their time in getting the upper hand. In due time Micheal did very easily of course, as soon as they do kindly smiles and offers to be their mentor in learning combat more firmly. The young angel agrees to this. After sometime in being taught by Micheal the two begun to become not just a student and teacher but also very close friends as well. Micheal learns about their skills and thinks them rather impressive however could be improved. Briathos looks up to Micheal to no endings they teach them stealth and all the essentials, while being both kindly but also stern too. Now having a better sense of direction, more firm skills. Briathos comes up with an idea as to what kind of ‘ fighter’ they want to be. They wanted to express gratitude to Micheal for taking time to teach them therefore swears their undying loyalty to them. They declare they want to help the army be strong, that they want to help the archangel in some way too as well. Briathos tells them they aren’t willing to interact with other angels that they want to be different from your everyday fighter of heaven. They reveal their idea of ‘ all purpose’ not necessarily a warrior a sleazy spy who gets involved in everything, willing to bend over backwards would do awful things but means well.

#(( reference ))

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newstfionline · 4 years ago

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Thursday, February 4, 2021

Pressure builds on schools to reopen during pandemic (AP) Pressure is building on school systems around the U.S. to reopen classrooms to students who have been learning online for nearly a year, pitting politicians against teachers who have yet to be vaccinated against COVID-19. In Chicago, the rancor is so great that teachers are on the brink of striking. In California, a frustrated Gov. Gavin Newsom implored schools to find a way to reopen. In Cincinnati, some students returned to classrooms Tuesday after a judge threw out a teachers union lawsuit over safety concerns. While some communities maintain that online classes remain the safest option for everyone, some parents, with backing from politicians and administrators, have complained that their children’s education is suffering from sitting at home in front of their computers and that the isolation is damaging them emotionally. The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said in a recent study that there is little evidence of the virus spreading at schools when precautions are taken, such as masks, distancing and proper ventilation. But many teachers have balked at returning without getting vaccinated first.

House Dems make case for conviction; Trump denies charges (AP) Donald Trump endangered the lives of all members of Congress when he aimed a mob of supporters “like a loaded cannon” at the U.S. Capitol, House Democrats said Tuesday in making their most detailed case yet for why the former president should be convicted and permanently barred from office. Trump denied the allegations through his lawyers and called the trial unconstitutional. The dueling filings offer the first public glimpse of the arguments that will be presented to the Senate beginning next week. The impeachment trial represents a remarkable reckoning with the violence in the Capitol last month, which the senators witnessed firsthand, and with Trump’s presidency overall. Held in the very chamber where the insurrectionists stood on Jan. 6, it will pit Democratic demands for a final measure of accountability against the desire of many Republicans to turn the page and move on. The impeachment trial, Trump’s second, begins in earnest on Feb. 9.

Activists wary of broader law enforcement after Capitol riot (AP) As federal officials grapple with how to confront the national security threat from domestic extremists after the deadly siege of the U.S. Capitol, civil rights groups and communities of color are watching warily for any moves to expand law enforcement power or authority. They say their communities have felt the brunt of security scrutiny over the last two decades and fear new tools meant to target right-wing extremism or white nationalists risk harming Muslims, Black Americans and other groups, even if unintentionally. “The answer ought to be to sort of pause. Because the instinct to do something is something I’m really quite afraid of,” said Maya Berry, executive director of the Arab American Institute, one of more than 130 civil and human rights organizations that say the FBI already has the tools it needs. “There’s an entire federal code in place that allows you to successfully go after this violence before you need to sort of say, ‘Oh, wait, you know, there’s this existing gap and we need more power,’” she added.

Jeff Bezos steps down (CJR) Jeff Bezos said yesterday that he will soon step down as CEO of Amazon. Andy Jassy, who runs the company’s cloud computing division, will replace him; Bezos will become executive chair, a role he says will give him more time to focus on outside commitments, including his ownership of the Washington Post. (As CNN’s Brian Fung noted, not many people can say “I’m quitting to spend more time with my newspaper and space rockets.”)

Dozen state police charged in the massacre of 19 in Mexico (AP) A dozen state police officers have been arrested for allegedly killing 19 people, including Guatemalan migrants, whose bodies were found shot and burned near the U.S. border late in January, Mexican authorities announced Tuesday. Tamaulipas state Attorney General Irving Barrios Mojica said all 12 officers were in custody and face charges of homicide, abuse of authority and making false statements. The killings revived memories of the gruesome 2010 massacre of 72 migrants near the town of San Fernando in the same gang-ridden state. But those killings were done by a drug cartel, while it is likely many people will find it more shocking that the Jan. 22 slayings allegedly were carried out by law enforcement. The attorney general did not say what motive the officers might have had, though corrupt local and state police in Mexico are often in the pay of drug cartels. Cartels in Mexico often charge migrant smugglers for crossing their territory, and kidnap or kill migrants whose smugglers have not paid or paid a rival gang.

Common pots prepared by neighbors feeding thousands in Peru (AP) At dawn, Genoveva Satalaya and her neighbors walk through Lima’s food markets hoping to find a kind merchant who will donate food to help fill the “common pot” that is feeding their neighborhood. The survival strategy that first appeared in Peru’s capital during the country’s civil conflict four decades ago has been vital since the coronavirus pandemic arrived in this South American nation. With the country again under a lockdown, Satalaya’s pot is feeding 120 people, including seniors, children and pregnant women. Satalaya and her neighbors prepare lunch Monday through Friday. There’s not enough food for weekday breakfasts or dinners or weekend meals. The common pots, also seen in other Latin American countries, have emerged as a symbol of the struggles of the region. Thousands of them are in use throughout Peru at levels not seen since the 1980s and 1990s during the armed conflict between the state and the Shining Path terrorist group. There are almost a thousand common pots in Lima that are recognized by officials in the municipality, but many, including the one run by Satalaya, are not registered and do not receive any kind of help. The government announced last week that it would send aid to many common pots, but since there are so many, the help may not reach every neighborhood.

Tycoon Ordered to Demolish His $70M Home (The Daily Beast) A French property tycoon has been ordered to tear down his $70m faux-Italianate palazzo in the hills of Provence after losing a 15-year legal battle over the 32,000 square foot structure, which was built without planning permission. Patrick Diter has been given 18 months to scrub every last trace of “Chateau Diter,” including its 18 bedrooms, two helipads, swimming pool, bell tower, Roman colonnade and orangery, from the landscape above Monaco. Subscription newsletter AirMail reports that France’s highest judicial court upheld a previous ruling in the appellate courts that the illegal château near the Provençal village of Grasse must be removed and the countryside restored to its original state. If the court orders are not complied with by June 2022, Diter will pay a fine of $600 per day. The court also slapped Diter with fines totaling $550,000.

Hundreds Arrested as Navalny Sentenced (Foreign Policy) A Moscow court handed Russian dissident Alexei Navalny a prison sentence of two years and eight months on Tuesday, as authorities hope to put an end to a saga that has seen thousands of Russians take to the streets in protest over the last two weeks. The court found that Navalny had broken the terms of his probation for a previous conviction for stealing $500,000 from two companies. Navalny denies the charges, and the European Court of Human Rights at the time called the case “arbitrary and manifestly unreasonable.” The reasoning behind his probation breach is murky, as Russian President Vladimir Putin claimed to have approved Navalny’s transfer to a German hospital for treatment after he was poisoned in August. Navalny’s relatively short prison term could soon be extended, as investigators prepare a fraud case that could carry another ten-year sentence. But Tuesday’s sentence may be just enough if it means Navalny will not be a threat in September’s parliamentary elections. The Kremlin has dismissed international condemnation of the verdict. “You should not interfere in the internal affairs of a sovereign state. And we recommend that everyone deal with their own problems,” Russian Foreign Ministry spokesperson Maria Zakharova said.

India farming protests resonate with US agriculture (AP) Images of thousands of farmers streaming into India’s capital on tractors and carrying banners to decry potentially devastating changes in agricultural policy can seem a world away, but the protests in New Delhi raise issues that resonate in the United States. Indian farmers have left their homes to march through New Delhi in a desperate effort to force the repeal of laws they believe would end guaranteed pricing and force them to sell to powerful corporations rather than government-run markets. Despite decades of economic growth, up to half of India’s population relies on growing crops on small parcels of land, typically less than 3 acres, and farmers worry that without guaranteed prices they will be forced to sell their land and lose their livelihoods. The images of farmers marching through New Delhi recall similar scenes in Washington, D.C., during the farming crisis of the late 1970s and early 1980s, when hundreds of trucks and tractors flooded the National Mall. Thousands of farmers lost their land, in part because of government policies that caused soaring interest rates as demand for their products plunged, leading to falling land values. In Iowa—one of the hardest hit states—there were about 500 farm auctions a month in 1983 when families had no choice but to sell. Decades later, those memories remain fresh for Rick Juchems, whose parents had to sell their 640-acre farm in Iowa. Just as feared by those protesting in India, the American farmers lost their livelihoods and sense of identity. “We were just trying to stay alive,” said Juchems, who later was able to continue farming thanks to his in-laws. “That’s what you work all your life for and then it’s gone.”

Myanmar’s Army Is Back in Charge. It Never Truly Left. (NYT) The men in army green never truly retreated. As Myanmar presented a facade of democracy to the world, the generals who had ruled the country for nearly half a century still dominated the economy and the halls of power. They even got away with what international prosecutors say was genocide in their murderous offensives against Rohingya Muslims. With its pre-dawn coup on Monday—unseating an elected government and putting its leader, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, back under house arrest—the military, led by Senior Gen. Min Aung Hlaing, was once again flaunting its ultimate authority. Yet in the process of reasserting their command, the generals have ripped apart a prized project: a carefully constructed political system decades in the making that allowed them to camouflage their fists behind a veneer of democracy. Though they allowed elections, army officers also reserved a quarter of the Parliament’s seats and crucial cabinet positions for themselves. The public, which felt like it could express its political aspirations by delivering landslide victories to Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy, is furious. And the international community, which chose to focus more on the civilian part of the country’s civilian-military system, is now aware that one side of the scale clearly outweighs the other.

Iran reaches agreement with South Korea (Foreign Policy) Iran has agreed to release the crew of a South Korean oil tanker in what its foreign ministry called a “humanitarian” move after the vessel was impounded in early January. The vessel’s seizure was believed to be a bargaining chip to convince South Korea to free up $7 billion in Iranian funds currently frozen in South Korean banks as a result of U.S. sanctions. South Korea’s foreign ministry welcomed Iran’s decision to release the sailors, saying it was a necessary next step to “restore trust” before resolving the issue of the frozen funds. Regarding the funds, the ministry stated it “will do what it can in a speedy manner while discussing consultations with the United States on the issue.”

Tigray crisis: Ethiopia region at risk of huge ‘humanitarian disaster’ (BBC) Opposition parties in Ethiopia’s Tigray region have warned of a huge “humanitarian disaster” if aid is not delivered urgently. The parties said people were already dying from hunger and urged the international community to intervene. Ethiopia’s government says aid is being delivered and nearly 1.5 million people have been reached. The parties also said 52,000 people had been killed since the conflict started in November. They did not explain how they arrived at the estimate but said it included women, children and religious leaders. About two million people have been internally displaced in the conflict in Tigray. The government has heavily restricted access to the region for the media and aid agencies. On Monday, the head of the Norwegian Refugee Council, Jan Egeland, said he had “rarely seen an aid response so impeded” in the 40 years he had worked in the humanitarian field. In a joint statement, three opposition parties—the Tigray Independence Party (TIP), Salsay Weyane Tigray, and National Congress of Great Tigray—said if food and medicine did not arrive quickly the “looming humanitarian disaster of biblical proportion” would become a “gruesome reality in Tigray”.

#headlines #news

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years ago

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Boing Boing Charitable Giving Guide 2019

Here's a guide to the charities the Boingers support in our own annual giving. Please add the causes and charities you give to in the forums!

Friends of the Merril Collection I'm on the board of the charity that fundraises for Toronto's Merril Collection, a part of the Toronto Public Library system that is also the world's largest public collection of science fiction, fantasy and related works (they archive my papers). Since its founding by Judith Merril, the Merril Collection has been a hub for creators, fans, and scholars. I wouldn't be a writer today if not for the guidance of its Writer in Residence when I was a kid. —CD

The Tor Project The Tor anonymity and privacy tools are vital to resistance struggles around the world, a cooperative network that provides a high degree of security from scrutiny for people who have reasons to fear the powers that be. From our early hominid ancestors until about ten years ago, humans didn't leave behind an exhaust-trail of personally identifying information as they navigated the world -- Tor restores that balance. —CD

Planned Parenthood Because we deserve health care, including reproductive, gender, and sexual health care. Because access to birth control and safe abortion is a human right. Because Trump's regime wants to destroy all of this. —XJ

Software Freedom Conservancy Software Freedom Conservancy does the important, boring, esoteric work of keeping the internet from tearing itself to pieces, playing host organization to free software projects like Git, Selenium and Samba (to name just three). The Conservancy keeps these projects legally sound and gives them a scaffold to hang their institutional structures on them. Without the Conservancy, the software you love and depend on would be in dire peril.

Electronic Frontier Foundation I have been proudly associated with EFF for a decade an a half now and have watched, half-awed, as it grew from a scrappy, brilliant little organization to a powerhouse of enormous scale and power. Every cause, every fight enumerated on this page and in your life and mine will be lost or won on the internet. EFF is the best hope we have of keeping that internet free, fair and open. —CD, MF

Creative Commons Creative Commons is best known as a tool for sharing-friendly artists, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. Since the beginning, and all over the world, CC has provided governments, agencies, research and scholarly institutions and NGOs with the tools to easily share across borders and the bewildering array of copyright laws. We can't beat trumpism without collaboration tools, and that includes legal tools. —CD

Wikimedia Foundation (Wikipedia) For 16 years, Wikipedia has been figuring out how to negotiate truth among diverse and even warring points of view. It's not always pretty and it's not always nice, but no one's yet found a better way to let ideas bash against each other until something everyone agrees upon emerges. It's not pretty, but compared to our democracy, it's a beauty queen. —CD, KS

Human Rights Data Analysis Group For more than twenty-five years, the Human Rights Data Analysis Group (HRDAG) has used data and statistical analysis to hold accountable the perpetrators of war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide. HRDAG is a nonprofit, non-partisan organization that provides rigorous quantitative evidence for trials, truth commissions, UN Missions, and human rights monitors around the world. In 2019, HRDAG estimated the number of women held as sexual slaves by Japanese authorities in World War Two; the number of people disappeared in the final three days of the Sri Lankan civil war; and the number of people killed in drug-related violence by the police and other perpetrators in the Philippines. In the US, HRDAG critiqued the growing use of machine learning in the US criminal justice system, especially those used in place of bail to determine who should be released while awaiting trial. HRDAG's analysis has shown that machine learning can amplify biases in criminal justice data, for example by worsening racial disparities in policing. Other ongoing HRDAG projects include research on mass violence in the Philippines, Mexico, Sri Lanka, and several confidential projects in the US and abroad . —CD

Institute for the Future There are no facts about the future, only fictions. As we've learned in this crazy political season, nothing is certain about tomorrow. But even as our attention is captured by the present, we can begin to write the story to come. A place to start is the Institute for the Future's Future for Good fellowship. Institute for the Future, where Mark and David are researchers, is a 50-year-old nonprofit that helps the public think about the future to make better decisions in the present. The Fellowship directly supports inspiring social innovators who are working to make tomorrow a better place. You can help too. Make a donation of $100 and you’ll receive IFTF Distinguished Fellow Bob Johansen's new book "The New Leadership Literacies: Thriving in a Future of Extreme Disruption and Distributed Everything." —DP, MF

The National Wildlife Federation National Wildlife Federation is a voice for wildlife, dedicated to protecting wildlife and habitat and inspiring the future generation of conservationists. Now's the time: for the people currently in charge of U.S. policy, the cruelty is the point. —RB

The Marine Mammal Center When seals, sea lion, or many other sea going pals need help, if they get lucky, they may be taken to The Marine Mammal Center, a veterinary hospital just for them. Thousands of heartbreakingly cute, but very wild, animals are rescued, rehabilitated and released on an annual basis. I'm a volunteer. In addition to the hundreds of highly trained volunteers that make the hospital run, the center always needs cash for fish and medicine. —JW

Winn Feline Foundation The Winn Feline Foundation advances feline health by supporting research and education. Winn has funded over $6.4 million in health research for cats at more than 30 partner institutions worldwide. Current campaigns include funding for research on Chronic Kidney Disease, a condition estimated to affect more than 50% of senior cats. —KS

The Southern Poverty Law Center & the Anti-Defamation League The Southern Poverty Law Center and the Anti-Defemation League fight hate, teach tolerance, and help secure justice, and fair treatment for all. "There is no 'them' and 'us.' There is only us." --Greg Boyle —JW

Facing History and Ourselves Facing History and Ourselves is an international educational group that helps young people study issues around racism, antisemitism, and prejudice in history, from the Holocaust to today's immigrant experiences to the killing fields of Cambodia. Their aim is to teach young people "to think critically, to empathize, to recognize moral choices, to make their voices heard, we put in their hands the possibility--and the responsibility--to do the serious work demanded of us all as citizens." —DP

Free Software Foundation/Defective By Design The Free Software Foundation's principled litigation, license creation and campaigning is fierce, uncompromising and has changed the world. You interact with code that they made possible a million times a day, and they never stop working to make sure that the code stays free. —CD

Free Software Foundation Europe Software has eaten the world, and software freedom is increasingly synonymous with human freedom. In Europe, far-right parties and authoritarians are inheriting a constellation of gadgets and devices that are "defective by design," built to allow corporations spy on and control their owners -- and those thugs are contemplating how they can use those companies' extraordinary powers to put whole populations under their thumbs. Free software in Europe, free software everywhere! —CD

The Internet Archive: In an era where the control of information has been weaponized, the Internet Archive's mission -- universal access to all human knowledge -- is a revolutionary manifesto. The Archive has taken on a new mission: to re-decentralize the internet and restore it to its indie, distributed glory. —CD

Open Rights Group The UK's answer to Electronic Frontier Foundation, and never more badly needed than now, with authoritarianism on the rise and the constant battering of the electorate with political misadventures and grandstanding. Brexit could allow the UK to escape the oversight of the European courts, paving the way for even-more-extreme measures. —CD

Amnesty International I just looked up Amnesty's founding principles and found tears rolling down my cheeks: "Only when the last prisoner of conscience has been freed, when the last torture chamber has been closed, when the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights is a reality for the world’s people, will our work be done." These values need our support more than ever. —CD

ACLU On November 9, 2016 ACLU changed its homepage to a picture of Trump superimposed with the words SEE YOU IN COURT. ACLU's deep bench of kick-ass lawyers has been lately augmented by a much-needed group of freedom-fighting technologists, welded into the fighting force we'll need until the next election and beyond: from voter suppression to free speech, the ACLU is key to the fight. —CD, MF

Liberty With the UK plunging into surveillance dystopia where human rights are an afterthought and racial profiling is becoming official doctrine, it needs Liberty, an organisation with 80+ years' track record fighting for human rights in many incarnations of the British project. The Tories ran on a platform of repealing the Human Rights Act: when the government is officially anti "human rights," you need someone like Liberty to take the "pro" side. —CD

826 National Born in San Francisco’s Mission District in the back room of a pirate supply store, 826 National teaches young people the art and magic of creative writing through classes, DIY publishing projects, in-school programs, and drop-in tutoring at seven centers around the US. And it’s all free for the kids. Help open more 826 locations around the country! —DP

Fight for the Future Some of the Internet's savviest, hard-working-est activists. Fight for the Future has kept hope alive for Net Neutrality, leading the charge to use the Congressional Review Act to overturn the FCC's Neutrality-killing sneak attack. —CD

Demand Progress Aaron Swartz co-founded Demand Progress, and as you'd expect from that history, they're relentless in reinventing the activist playbook for the 21st century. —CD

MySociety Software in the public interest -- it's a damned good idea. MySociety produces software like Pledgebank ("I will risk arrest by refusing to register for a UK ID card if 100,000 other Britons will also do it") and TheyWorkForYou (every word and deed by every Member of Parliament). It's plumbing for activists and community organizers. —CD

https://boingboing.net/2019/12/03/charitablegivingguide2019.html

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