#Note that those photos are in universe in character so I will state otherwise when I’m actually taking not Kirby
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Magia Record: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story, DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics), Young Justice (Comics), Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Kyubey (PMMM), Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Selina Kyle
Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Alternate Universe - Madoka Magica Fusion, Soul Gems (Madoka Magica), Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Magical Boys, Origin Story, No Beta We Die Like Mami, Don't Have to Know Madoka Magica Canon, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent
Series: Part 1 of Eques Magi: Originem - Magicka Knights: Origin
Summary:
"The Labyrinths of Gotham City are so tightly concentrated, no human born here can escape the influence of at least one or two Witches, if not more. Despite the aura of despair and the constant work of the Witches' various Familiars, there are still those souls who persist in clinging to hope and will do whatever they can to try and make this city a better place, even though all their efforts will ultimately fail in the end.
"It's the perfect environment to find a new Magicka Knight."
---
"Have you ever seen an albino cat?"
Catwoman, aka Selina Kyle, glanced over at Batman's newest Robin curiously. She hadn't been expecting to cross paths with him, but since it was obvious the Big Bad Bat was out of town and Nightwing hadn't shown up at all in the past week, she decided to keep an eye on the new kid for at least the evening. He certainly wasn't like the previous Robin. This thirteen-year-old boy was quiet and thoughtful, which had been quite a change from the previous brash impulsive kid Batman had been mentoring a little over a year ago before they were murdered by the Joker.
She also noticed that this Robin was glancing over his shoulder at something on the rooftop on the other side of the street. "An albino, huh?" she said as she tried to follow his gaze. However, despite using her binoculars to zoom in on the far rooftop, she couldn't see any sign of any animal, feline, albino, or otherwise. "I've heard of them, but never seen one in person," Selina admitted casually as she put away her binoculars. "They are extremely rare." She smiled at Robin. "Have you seen one around town?"
Robin leaned against his bo staff thoughtfully. "I think so, but I'm not really sure."
"Not sure?"
The boy looked up at Selina earnestly. "Y'know how a cat has two pointed ears about here?" Amusingly to the professional cat burglar, Robin made a vague pair of cat-ear shapes with his hand at the top of his head. She smiled affectionately.
"Yeah. It's kind of a defining cat trait, having pointy ears."
Robin pouted slightly at the teasing tone he caught in Catwoman's voice. Then he continued. "Well... This cat I've been seeing... It looks like they have a second set of ears too."
"A second set?"
He nodded. He made a motion with his hands that seemed to make another vague shape that started at the base of where the cat's ears ought to be and downward along either side of its head. "Yeah. They kinda start out here and go all the way down there."
"Are you sure what you're looking at is an albino 'cat'? That kinda sounds more like a white rabbit to me."
"But it has pointy ears like a cat," Robin argued. "And its got a long fluffy tail, and its legs are like a cat's." The young teenager frowned slightly. "It's really weird looking."
"Well it does sound like a unique creature, whatever it is," Selina said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's some sort of cryptid or mutant? This is Gotham after all." She smiled at Robin. "Tell ya what. If you can catch a photo of the critter, I promise I'll take a good hard look and let you know if it's a cat, a rabbit, or something completely different." Then she gave him an almost stern maternal look. "But be careful. Don't get too close. If it does turn out to be something 'not normal', it could be dangerous."
"Okay."
---
It was two nights later and Tim Drake, fully decked out as Robin for another solo patrol, had just finished trussing up a pair of would-be carjackers. As soon as he placed the anon call to the Gotham PD for pickup, he glanced up to fire his grapple gun and froze.
There, on the rooftop above him, was a familiar white shape with two sets of ears and red eyes. The "cat" was peering down. He could see the animal's long fluffy tail swishing this way and that. Tim's breath caught in his throat. This was the closest he'd ever seen the animal come to him before. Rather than risk his grapple gun startling the animal and scaring it away, the young vigilante quickly indulged in some impromptu parkour up a garbage bin and a chain link fence to reach the metal fire escape attached to the side of the building.
When he pulled himself on the rooftop, Tim was disappointed to find that it appeared to be empty. Not a trace of red eyes or white fur anywhere. He walked across the roof slowly, scanning the area for any sign of the small creature as he pulled out a small portable camera from his utility belt. "Hey there," he whispered softly. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty. I'm not going to hurt you. C'mon out please. I just wanna take a picture."
When no one came out of hiding, Tim tried a different tactic. He reached into another pouch on his belt and pulled out a small package of beef jerky. He shook the bag temptingly before opening it and setting it on the ground before stepping away from it. "Got some food here if you want. All for you."
"Thank you, but no. I'm not hungry."
Tim froze. Then he glanced around himself as quickly as he could before zeroing in on the form of the albino "cat" sitting on top of a large A/C unit just a few yards away from him, its white body practically glowing against the cloudy night sky of Gotham City. This close, Tim could see this was not a normal "cat". It did appear to have two sets of ears, but the two longer rabbit-like ones had golden rings attached to them and were tipped in pink with red spots. Its tail also appeared to be unnaturally long as it swished back and forth casually.
"Did you... just... talk?"
The cat-like creature flicked its smaller pointy ears. "Of course I did!" it said in a childlike voice without moving its mouth at all. Its long white tail finally stopped swishing and settled into a question mark shape behind it. "How else am I supposed to introduce myself?"
---
Tim Drake gave up caffeine for the rest of the week. When the boy returned to the Cave from patrol and declared that he was quitting cold turkey, Alfred asked about it curiously. All the old butler got from the thirteen year old was a confusingly vague answer about talking albino cats with pink ears and clearly not enough sleep with too much stress before marching himself into the showers before he would make his eventual way back to his bedroom.
---
Unfortunately for Tim, giving up his favorite sodas, teas, and coffee did not stop the appearances of the strange cat-like hallucination that had introduced itself as "Kyubey" and seemed hell bent on following him and talking to him both day and night, in and out of uniform.
"You think I'm a figment of your imagination?"
Tim sighed as he reached over the creature sitting in his high school locker in order to grab his workbooks for math and english. "I'm not talking to you here," he whispered as he slammed the locker door in hopes of locking the hallucination behind it.
"It's probably better that you don't, at least not out loud," Kyubey agreed, after reappearing on the top of the locker to look down on Tim. "If people catch you talking to something they can't see, they might think you're losing your mind."
Somehow, Tim managed to choke down the near hysterical giggle that wanted to bubble up at that matter-of-fact remark. Kyubey had made it quite clear that night on the rooftop that no one else could see them except Tim.
"Besides, why waste your breath?" Kyubey said as they trotted along the top of the lockers, keeping pace with Tim as he walked to his next class. "We can speak telepathically just fine."
Tim paused at the end of the lockers and glanced at Kyubey. "Telepathically?" he asked experimentally without voicing the word.
"See! Easy!"
"Oh my god, I AM losing my mind," he thought with a grimace before sighing and stepping into the classroom and tried to ignore Kyubey as best he could for the rest of his school day.
---
"So why are you here?" Tim finally asked Kyubey after tossing down his pencil and finally giving up on trying to concentrate on his homework. "What is my subconscious trying to tell me?"
"I'm not your subconscious, and I'm not a hallucination. I'm a messenger of magic."
Tim raised his eyebrows at Kyubey as he echoed incredulously, "A messenger of magic?"
The cat-like creature made themself comfortable on Tim's bed. "That's right."
The teen noted with a slight measure of concern that he could see the disturbance Kyubey's form made on his pillow and blanket, proving that, at least right now, they had a solid physical state. Still, he was not about to reach out and try to touch the creature. "I'm probably going to regret asking this, but why is a 'messenger of magic' in Gotham City, and why am I the only one who can see and speak with you?"
"I'm on a mission to find people with the potential to become Magicka Knights to fight Witches and save the Universe, and you have that potential."
"Seriously? Magical knights? Actual witches?" Tim shook his head as he scoffed lightly. "This sounds like the plot of some generic magical girl anime."
Kyubey titled their head to one side. "And you and your mentor go out at night in masks to fight criminals who can control plants, have freeze guns, are living clay, and are occasionally half reptiles. How is that more believable than Magicka Knights and Witches?"
Tim snickered awkwardly. "I guess I'm in no position to throw stones in glass houses."
"You really aren't."
---
Finally! Bruce was back from his Justice League mission and he was going to go out on patrol with Tim. Batman and Robin flying through Gotham City for the first time in over two weeks.
At least that was the plan until a call came through from Oracle barely an hour into their patrol.
"A report of potential Joker gas exposure has been put out by the GCPD in Chinatown near the Dragon's Den."
Batman and Robin paused on the roof of St. Peter's Cathedral. Tim felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach as he took in the tightness of his mentor's jawline. He knew what was coming next.
"Go home, Robin."
"But B--"
"It's the Joker. I need to handle this alone."
"You don't have to. I can stay out of the way and watch your back. Make sure no one gets the drop on you."
Batman shook his head. "Head back to the Cave, Robin."
The leather of Robin's gloves creaked a little as he clenched his hand into a fist and turned away from his mentor. "Fine."
Without even looking, Tim could tell when he was left alone on the cathedral's roof with just the gargoyles for company.
Then, he wasn't alone.
"He doesn't trust you?"
Tim looked up to see Kyubey sitting on the head of a nearby gargoyle. He sighed. "It's not like that," he said telepathically. No need to risk Oracle or Agent A overhearing him talking to Kyubey. Not like the mic would pick up the magical creature's voice anyways. Still, better safe than sorry. "The Joker is really dangerous. He killed the Robin who came before me. B just doesn't want to risk me being anywhere near him."
Suddenly, Tim heard a pinging from his comm link, a sign that Oracle was attempting to signal him. "Yes O?"
"I know B ordered you home, but do you think you could swing by Amusement Mile along the way? I got a report on a Mad Hatter sighting there."
Tim brightened visibly at the prospect. "Sure!" He reached for his grapple gun and loaded a cartridge. "Any idea what he's up to?"
"There have been earlier reports over the last few months of missing girls fitting the Hatter's preferred victim profile. Children with long blond hair under the age of twelve. But since the children are usually street kids or runaways, most attempts to investigate by the police have been half-hearted at best. Those that have tried haven't found anything but dead ends."
"Well, that's going to come to a stop tonight." Tim declared confidently.
"Be careful Robin," Oracle warned. "Focus on recon tonight. Don't engage Hatter unless absolutely necessary."
"Understood!"
---
"What's this?"
At Amusement Mile, Tim was just in time to stop a kidnapping in progress. While the sudden appearance of Robin was enough to send the Mad Hatter scurrying away into the shadows, the young vigilante reluctantly let him go in favor of caring for the victim, a child of eight or nine who appeared to be in a catatonic state.
However, nothing Tim did seemed to be able to wake her up. He was about to notify O to call an ambulance when he noticed a small red mark, like a tattoo, on the girl's neck, right above her pulse point. It was about the size of a quarter and looked like the symbol used in chess to designate the Queen piece.
"Hey O. I found a weird tattoo on the girl. Sending you a pic now." Tim quickly snapped a photo and sent it electronically to Oracle. A moment later, he got a response.
"Are you sure you sent me the right photo?"
"What do you mean?"
"There's no tattoo in the pic. All I see is a bare neck."
Tim opened the monitor of his camera and his eyes went wide. Even on the camera, the girl's neck had no tattoo. He took several more pics to be sure, but despite being able to see the crown icon with his own eyes, they defied being photographed.
"Not sure what's going on, but I can't take a pic of it," he told Oracle. "Maybe it's some sort of weird ink that comes up invisible on cameras?"
"That's not it."
Tim glanced at Kyubey, who was sitting beside the girl. The white creature sniffed at the tattoo. "That's a Witch's Kiss."
He felt his chest tighten a bit at Kyubey's words. Tim carefully masked the sudden nervousness he felt in his voice. "Can you call an ambulance to pick up the girl? I'm going to investigate the area and try to find out where Hatter ran off to."
"Will do. Be careful."
Once the comm was silenced again and after the EMTs came to pick up the rescued child, Robin backed into a secluded alleyway and hid within the shadows before addressing Kyubey telepathically.
"What's a Witch's Kiss?"
"It's a mark used by Witches and familiars to control the minds of their prey."
Tim felt a shiver run down his spine. Still he continued. "Is... the Mad Hatter a Witch?"
Kyubey tilted their head thoughtfully before shaking in the negative. "No. I think he's just a familiar being used to bring humans to a Witch's Labyrinth."
"Why? Why would a Witch want a human child?"
Kyubey sighed. "A Witch is a creature that feeds on misery and sadness," they said very matter-of-factly. "What could be more delicious to a Witch than the grief and fear of a kidnapped child? At least this one seems to prefer the despair of children in particular."
A sudden sensation of dread settled over Tim. "That's.... That's horrible! We can't let this continue!"
"But you can't stop them."
"Why not?" Tim's righteous indignation flared up. "Batman's stopped the Mad Hatter dozens of times. Why can't I?"
"Most likely it's because your mentor has never captured him near his Witch, and never within an actual Labyrinth." Kyubey stared at Tim with their round red eyes, their stoic tone never wavering. "You're just a human being, and so is he under all that armor. Even with all your training, there's no way your frail human bodies can endure the strain of fighting a Witch and their familiars in their own Labyrinth. If you get trapped in a Labyrinth, there's no way out until either the Witch is dead or you are."
Tim watched the retreating lights of the ambulance carrying the nearly kidnapped child away. Then he took a deep breath and released it slowly.
"Can you help me find the Witch's Labyrinth?"
"I can."
---
He was going to die.
Tim leaned against the wall and watched helplessly as his blood flowed freely from beneath and between his fingers to pool on the floor under him despite the pressure he tried to keep on the wound in his stomach. The Witch's familiars, not just the Mad Hatter, but a March Hare and other fictional characters pulled straight from the story Alice in Wonderland, had been too numerous and too merciless for him to fight off alone.
The Witch herself, in the guise of a twisted Queen of Hearts, shrieked for his head through the twists and turns of her Labyrinth.
͙̹̫ͪ̆̏͝ "̶͚̜̪̣̬͇ͭ͑ͅOͩͫ̄͏̬͖̳ Ḟ̖̝̟̜͖̭͑͢ F̡̜̼̰͓͍̟͎͇̆̾̐ ̨͚̫̗ͮ̚ͅ W̐ͧ̑͏͍͎͍̖̤̥ͅI͓͙̤͔̺̦͌̓̌̍͠T̖͍͒͛͢H̡̳̪̭̹̺̒̓̿ ̹̥͉̟͙̝͓̅ͫ͝H̸̝̬̘͕̩͙̤͇̾ͥ͂Į̯͔̦͖̳̣ͥ̌͆̂S͆̑ͪ͏̦̥̭̺̞̳̪͔ ͙̪̯͗̑͞Hͧ͏̤̯̪̩ E̶̯̣̰͌̆ͨͯ A̬̦̻͍͒͝ͅD̖̹͂͒͟ !ͫͯ́͆҉̺̦̩̹̺
̠͓͈͎ͧͨ͡Ō̵̪̻̭̩̯F̣͙̲̖̈́̋͝ F̌̅̾̓͏̭̺̰͉̹̖̯ ̡̮͔͇͚̬͎̝͊̆ͪͅŴ͙̠̽ I̘̬͇̖͑͂̏̂͞ T̨̗̫̜͙̩̖̮͒ H̴̙̝̀ͥͣ̚ ̘̯̮̺̥ͣ̑̄H̻̭͇̮̮͕͗͗ͬ̊͠ͅ Iͮͪ͋͏̬̺̖̝̥̭̘ͅ S̵̝̖̙̿ ̛̬̳̠̪̰̑͗̽ H̸͙̟̱̝̳̰̄͑̃̊ Ě̳͓̝̗͎͟ A̴̤͖̬̖͓͇̖͗̆ͫ́Ḋ̜͚̬̐̋͟!̨͇͚̞̩͚̗̣̿
Ơ͚̹̜̥ͮͥ͑̏F̴̯̤̮͉̰ͫF͈̱͍̌ͩͥ̍̕ͅ ̧͎͕̱͚͍̥͔̐W̩̦̯̹̏͊̏̌̕I͐҉͕̪͔̥̞̭͈̲T̖̝̖̪̑̿̓͢H̤̠͍̣̻̠͚ͧ̍̐̿͢ ̴̲̖̫̫̺ͭH̗̤̒̆͆͡Î̤͓̭̻̝Ș̵͉͔͙̗̝̌̍̍ͬͅ ͎̫͉̞̲͆͡Ḫ̨̪̅ͧ̏E̵̮̲̩̤͓̱̙ͦÁ̻̦̘̜̂ͩ͝D̸̯͖̦͔̲͕̠̜̓̓̆̚!̨͖̓̐̈́ͪ̏ͅ҉̬͉̰̫"̙̺̬̯̹̦͖͛͗͘
Her magic.. too powerful.
His… everything... too weak.
Trapped in this magical Labyrinth that resembled a scene from Wonderland, he couldn't even get a signal out to call for a rescue. He'd tried early on to call Oracle... Nightwing... Agent A... Batman... But the only thing he got for his troubles was static.
Tim felt tears flow down his cheeks as his vision became dark and hazy around the edges and his limbs began to grow numb. He could hear the sounds of his pursuers coming closer, searching for him, and he just didn't have the strength anymore to run. All he could do was hide and wait for the inevitable.
Batman was going to lose another Robin.
Dick was going to lose another little brother.
Jack Drake was going to lose his only son.
He was going to die.
"Oh dear. I was almost too late."
A set of dainty white paws walked into his sight line, contrasting starkly against the pool of crimson blood on the floor. Weakly, Tim lifted his gaze.
"Kyubey?"
The magical creature stepped closer to the fallen teenager and took a seat in front of him. They tilted their head slightly. "I tried to warn you. A normal human isn't able to fight a Witch. Only a Magicka Knight has the power to defend against a Witch's curses and attack them in kind."
"I know," Tim whispered. "I should've listened to you."
Kyubey titled their head to the other side. "It's not too late. You can still listen to me."
Despite the cold feeling in his limbs and the shadows in his vision, Tim did his level best to keep his gaze locked on Kyubey, on the one bright spot in his dying world.
"If you enter a contract with me, you can become a Magicka Knight." Kyubey explained. "You'd be duty bound to fight Witches, but in return I can grant you one wish. Anything in the world your heart desires."
"If I become a Magicka Knight, I'll have to fight this Witch right away, right?"
"I'm afraid so. It's the only way to escape her Labyrinth."
"And there's no guarantee I'll win?"
"I won't lie to you. Turning you into a Magicka Knight is not a promise of victory. But at least you'll have a fighting chance."
Tim closed his eyes and smiled sadly. "Then I want to make a wish that can outlive me, in case I die." When he opened his eyes, tears slipped down his cheeks again. "I wish Bruce Wayne's son, Jason Todd, was alive."
Kyubey's round red eyes seemed to shimmer in the darkness, and the twin gold rings that encircled their longer set of ears started to glow brightly even as Tim's vision finally faded into blackness. As his consciousness slipped away, he heard Kyubey's voice, as if it was very far away.
"As you wish."
---
"Dinner was great, Alfred. Thank you." Tim set down his fork and watched as the kind old butler retrieved his dirty dishes.
"Will you be heading out with Master Bruce this evening?"
Tim got to his feet and placed the cloth napkin that had been on his lap onto the table, though he fidgeted with it a little before finally letting it go. "'Fraid not. B wants me to stay in and 'do my homework'."
Alfred gave him a knowing compassionate look. "I see. Well, if you want to take your dessert upstairs to have while you work on your homework, I'll allow it for tonight. If you need anything else, I'll be in the Cave on comms tonight..
"Thanks Alfred," Tim said with a smile and a quick side-hug. "You're the best!"
Tim made his way upstairs with a small plate of cheesecake topped with strawberries. Once in his bedroom, he closed the door behind him with a sigh.
"Bruce isn't letting you patrol again tonight?"
The teenager glanced over and watched as Kyubey unwound itself from the fluffy white ball it normally curled into while it napped on Tim's pillow. Tim couldn't help the fond smile as his little friend stretched leisurely and indulged in a wide mouthed yawn.
"Nope. He's still got his cape in a twist over Jason's whole empty grave thing." Tim shook his head before making his way to the window seat and making himself comfortable. "I think he just wants to make sure I don't wander off either, but it's still annoying! It's been nearly a month and B still won't let me go on any solo patrols."
"Well, look at the bright side. Now you can get a full night of sleep and wake up early to go Witch hunting before school."
"I suppose."
Tim and his sullen mood weren't alone for long at the window before Kyubey leapt gracefully from the bed to his shoulder. The startled expression on Tim's face lasted only a second before it melted into one of amusement as Kyubey headbutted him affectionately against the cheek. Once they'd managed to wring a chuckle out of the boy, Kyubey hopped down to the window seat where Tim had placed the cheesecake and began sniffing at the selection. Tim watched as his friend picked up the reddest strawberry it could find and popped that into its mouth first, eating it with obvious relish. Then he looked out the window and thought back about the night he became a Magicka Knight, about the moment he set foot back in the cave after defeating his first Witch and claiming his first Grief Seed.
---
"Where have you been?!"
Batman had stormed up to him the moment Robin pulled up on his motorcycle into the Cave. Tim froze the moment he saw his mentor barrelling toward him. "You're back already?"
"The Joker gas was a false alarm," Bruce said as he pushed back his cowl and grabbed Tim by his upper arms, Tim was startled by the frantic way Bruce's eyes were darting over him. "Where were you?! Barbara sent you to investigate a Hatter sighting, then you didn't check in for hours! It's nearly sunrise. Where have you been?!"
Tim swallowed hard. "I... I got lured into a maze trap by Hatter," he admitted quietly. "The place had some weird interference so my comms were scrambled. Hatter got away and it took me forever to find my way out. I'm sorry."
"Are you hurt?"
Tim shook his head. "I'm fine B. Just... tired. It... was a really long night."
After another long moment of Bruce looking over him, the older man finally seemed to relax. He released his hold on Tim's arms and raked his fingers through his cowl-mussed hair. "Please don't go running off like that ever again, Tim. If anything had happened to you--"
"I know," Tim murmured, his eyes focused on the floor even as he wrapped his arms about himself tightly. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Master Bruce?"
Both Bruce and TIm turned to see a shaken Alfred coming toward them with a phone in hand.
"What's wrong?"
"Commissioner Gordon is on the line."
Bruce and Tim shared a confused look. "Why is he calling at this hour?"
Alfred swallowed hard. "He needs 'Bruce Wayne' to come to the precinct as soon as possible. There's been a robbery."
"I don't under--"
"Someone broke into Gotham Cemetery tonight. They stole Master Jason's body."
As Bruce immediately went after Alfred as the old man gave him the phone, Tim stood in the Cave in shock before daring to glance at Kyubey, who had materialized at his heels.
"My wish... It really came true?"
Kyubey curled their tail around Tim's legs in a comforting gesture. "Of course it did. We made a contract."
---
"I wonder where Jason is," Tim mused aloud as he continued to stare out the window. "I thought he would've come straight home. Bruce has looked everywhere. I've looked everywhere..." He looked at Kyubey who had taken a delicate bite of the cheesecake itself. "Do you have any idea where he went after I made my wish?"
Kyubey looked up at Tim, a curious tilt to their head as they stared back at him with their round red eyes. "I was with you in the Labyrinth when the wish was made," they said matter-of-factly.
Tim shrugged. "Yeah. I know... I guess I was just hoping... Well, I hope he's alright, wherever he is."
Quietly, Tim studied the new silver ring encircling the ring finger of his right hand as well as the green alchemical symbol of Mercury that was now on his fingernail. The small emerald gem inlaid within the ring itself shimmered with magic. With a smooth motion, Tim turned his palm up and the ring morphed before his eyes into a brilliant green gem encased in an intricate cage of gold, just like a faberge egg.
His Soul Gem. The source of his power as a Magicka Knight.
For several minutes there was nothing but a comfortable silence as Tim watched the swirling glow of his Soul Gem and Kyubey ate their fill. Once the plate was empty and their paws and muzzle were thoroughly cleaned, Kyubey trotted onto Tim's lap and laid down comfortably. Unconsciously, Tim began to stroke Kyubey's soft whilte fur with his free hand.
"I just hope Jason comes home soon," Tim said as he finally put his Soul Gem away, turning it back into his ring. "That way, he and Bruce can reunite, they can be a family again, and I can step away from being Robin so I can devote myself to being a Magicka Knight instead."
"In the meantime, it's not so bad for you to be both Robin and a Magicka Knight," Kyubey mused. When Tim glanced down at them, they continued. "You have to admit that nearly every night you go out on patrol as Robin, you stumble upon one or two Labyrinths. Even if we can't get to them immediately to flush out the Witch, at least we know where they are for later!"
Tim grinned. "Yeah. I guess there is a silver lining there." Impulsively, he picked up Kyubey and gathered them into a gentle hug. "Thanks for staying with me."
Kyubey nuzzled the underside of Tim's jawline. "Of course I'm staying with you. You're my Magicka Knight. We're in this together." Kyubey flicked their short pointy ears cutely. "Besides, it's not like Bruce or anyone else can separate us. You're the only one here that can see and hear me."
"I'm glad," Tim said. "It's nice to not be alone all the time." He smiled gratefully at Kyubey. "And it makes being grounded by Bruce easier to swallow when I've got you for company."
Then he glanced back out the window at the dark outlines of Gotham City's skyline when the appearance of the Bat-signal lit up the night sky above it. "Still--" he mused. "I really hope Jason shows up soon. I can't wait to meet him."
#au: kcmk#kyubey cursed magicka knights AU#fanfiction#crossover/fusion#pmmm au#dcu au#tim drake#kyubey#batfamily#batfam#batfam fanfic
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Posting this for @pilotkinkade in response to their recent post made here, regarding concerns about VLD and how it includes white savior complex or potentially smears Allura’s character with that complex. I’m not reblogging directly because this is a long response lol. Thank you pilotkinkade for chatting earlier; I hope you find this post interesting at least and would be curious of your thoughts in return!
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I do agree with your general sentiments, that VLD takes on a disquieting savior complex throughout a good portion of the show, even more so than in previous Voltron iterations. For me, it feels most apparent in the way that Voltron as an all-powerful machine in VLD is piloted by its second generation.
To compare: In the original OG alliance (Alfor, Zarkon, Trigel, Gyrgan, and Blaytz), multiple major races were represented, functioning as one to save their own collective galaxy from threats. So even among the OG paladins, there were checks and balances (maybe Zarkon had the strongest military skills personally, but Alfor had the alchemy, etc.), with mass racial diversity. This seemed like a pretty innovative and cool addition to the Voltron franchise. The s3 finale also clarifies that, unlike VLD’s second-generation, all of these paladins were leaders of their people. This meant they had political and legal authority/experience that an average warrior or citizen wouldn’t.
By removing that whole structure and retrofitting Voltron with (mostly) a group of unprepared teenagers from a single planet entirely uninvolved in the universal conflict, it created a lot of strange hierarchies...
We see much of the known universe raise up people who had zero prior experience with war, and little to no military or diplomatic training, as well as very little awareness of the traumas or people groups involved in this war. (Shiro is possibly the exception here.) But suddenly, all of these paladins also had unfettered, largely unquestioned access to ultimate power to carry out whatever vision they felt was right in the moment. Because simply “might is right,” we see even highly experienced commanders like Kolivan become castrated in authority compared to Team Voltron. Various alien groups express upset or side-eye Team Voltron’s well-meaning actions but obvious insensitivity to/ignorance of their problems or fears. Even at the paladin-level, a princess trained to fight and lead is subordinated to a boy with zero leadership training whatsoever (which is very different from previous iterations where Keith was actually very competent, more experienced, and wanted to be a leader).
And when Voltron plays the unchecked judge, jury, and executioner across the entire universe, the new paladins as a whole also do not have the political or legal authority the OG pallies did in the boundaries of their own galaxy. The second-gen paladins are not authorities of their people or representative of the people groups affected in the war they’re now leading. The OG pallies built the actual legend of Voltron in less than 28 decaphoebs, clearly going beyond their 5 nations to help others suffering from natural disasters or unknown needs, which might raise some eyebrows perhaps because we don’t know what all that entailed. But while we see that the Voltron machine eventually got celebrated, the OG pallies are never shown personally soaking in some kind of savior celebration…
(Photo ID: Alfor says, “Why I joined up this band of scoundrels, I’ll never know.” Trigel responds, “Because we’re the only band of scoundrels that would have you.” Third screenshot is of the paladins celebrating their alliance win by themselves.)
…compared to second-gen paladins (or some anyway) who pretty clearly soak in the love and prestige they’ve received based off the historical and legendary precedence of the OG alliance’s work:
(Photo IDs: Lance taking selfies with aliens excited to be around paladins. A second screenshot of Lance daydreaming about being a universal savior, stomping on Zarkon, planting a flag to mark ownership, and having Allura stare up at him in worship.)
In fact, a lot of the pro-Voltron war propaganda relies heavily more on recreating the legend already built for them, than on the actual competency or experience of the current paladins:
(Photo ID: Pidge complains about the war propaganda scripts, “This isn’t even factually accurate.” Coran replies, “Well, this is the Legend of Voltron, not the documentary of Voltron.”)
On that note, we even see the scripts reverse who is actually the most competent or capable of performing.
(Photo ID: Coran says, “Ladies and gentle-aliens, bear witness as the Paladins of Voltron attack Zarkon’s base to save the helpless Princess Allura!”)
Coran’s script, however well-meant, pretty massively infantilizes Allura as someone who needs to be saved by an external force, rather than mentioning her as someone who is an active and critical ally of the Voltron paladins in this war.
Unlike Coran’s script, Princess Allura isn’t helpless. In terms of the second-generation paladins, she’s has the most war-time experience, and is also the one that the paladins lean on constantly to create a meaningful connection with other people groups who are otherwise hesitant about Voltron.
(Photo ID: Allura speaks to the Balmeran people, “Balmerans, this is Princess Allura. You don’t know me, but I am here to help. I know what it’s like to watch your home planet die.”)
Allura is the successor to the Altean monarchy and a direct victim of the OG galaxy wars. So unlike other second-gen paladins, she has some semblance of legal/political authority that she was actively trained for, as well as personal skin in the game. She is ultimately the only paladin who has experienced a mass omnicide of her home and people, similar to other victims of the Galra regime. She also still accepts the authority of her father, whose AI tells her in season 1 to be prepared to sacrifice everything to undo his mistakes.
We see Allura from that point onward functioning under that directive from her father and king—to sacrifice everything she has to end Zarkon’s regime. One could potentially make the argument that, within this structure, Allura might suffer from a certain subset of “white knight syndrome,” in which one feels they’re worthless if they’re not sacrificing for others. If I have my facts right, it’s a different psychological state from white savior complex (in which I define white savior complex as “when someone outside the issue at hand barges in to make a change that may or may not benefit the recipient, simply to make themselves feel better or appear useful, without regard to the recipient’s wishes or real needs”). But I feel even the comparison of “white knight syndrome” gets dicey. Because Allura is shown as acting happy without necessarily sacrificing things (in fact, she acts progressively depressed s7-s8, the more she has to give up intrinsic things about herself or her identity). But when Allura chooses to assist or sacrifice, the sacrifice she makes has a very relevant and functional impact for the people she helps.
In season 1, she chooses to sacrifice herself to save Shiro. Shiro was, at that time, the Black Paladin and leader of Voltron, so Allura saw herself as functionally the less important of the two to save since she did not pilot the universe’s only weapon against Zarkon.
With the Balmera, she similarly chooses to act because the Balmerans themselves acknowledge they are entirely out of options, and also because the Balmerans (and the Balmera itself) accept her help she offers. At this point in time, she has already established a deep personal connection with them by virtue of their shared trauma of losing their home planets.
(Photo IDs: Shay says, “We’re lost! All are trapped with no chance for escape!” Allura says, “We can’t give up.” Shay responds, “But what can be done?” The group realizes the Balmera is regenerating beneath the ship, and Shay wonders why. Allura says, “The Castle!”)
Here, Allura assumes that the Castle—which is powered by a Balmeran crystal itself—could be regenerating the Balmera. But a Balmeran elder corrects her:
(Photo ID: A Balmeran elder says, “Not just the Castle, but you, as well.”)
So Allura did not even recognize at first that she was in any way a part of the solution to the Balmera regenerating.
Regarding the Balmera act itself, I’m not sure it satisfies the conditions for a white savior complex? I’m curious about your thoughts here, because I guess I saw it happening differently, from a witchcraft perspective...
We know from both Coran and Shay that originally, Alteans were one of the historical races who sacrificed some of their own energy to replenish the Balmera when seeking a crystal:
(Photo ID: Coran saying, “In the days of old, when Alteans were given the gift of crystals from a Balmera, we would repay its sacrifice by performing a ceremony. A sacred Altean would re-infuse the Balmera with quintessence. In this way, we had a symbiotic relationship.”)
We see that Balmerans were a voluntary part of this energy exchange by virtue of their unique connective powers (which is likely why we see them kneeling and activating said powers during these ceremonies).
Shay herself seems to indicate she is highly aware of these old ceremonies:
(Photo ID: Rax says, “Everyone comes to Balmera and takes, but gives nothing in return!” Shay says, “In the past, those who took the Balmera’s crystals would replenish her with energy. It was an equal exchange.”)
Shay agrees that the ceremony itself involves a sacred exchange of life force.
So I would argue that in this case, the Balmerans are not kneeling to Allura specifically or worshiping someone—it seems to be just the imagery associated with magical spells/magical transfers (where one object in the middle is the main conduit/focal point, and the other objects surrounding help to create and sustain the spell/protective barrier, etc).
One of the basic practices in real-world witchcraft is casting a magic/ritual circle. The circle creates a space where the spell, ritual, or form of protection can be performed. Forgive the stock image, but here’s just a super basic example:
(Photo ID: A magic circle in the form of a pentagram, with a candle in the middle, compared to a screenshot of 5 Balmerans surrounding Allura in the form of a pentacle, creating a sacred space with Allura glowing in the center.)
The five points in particular mimic standard pentacle-based ritual circles designed to create a sacred space of some kind. We do see various configurations of witchcraft imagery used in other instances throughout the show, such as when the druids have to help Haggar sustain her spells:
(Photo ID: Haggar centered in a magic circle, surrounded by druids helping her complete the ritual. Haggar kneels against the glowing symbols to complete the ritual.)
I think, similar to the druids that Haggar relied upon to help her complete a spell, it can be argued that the Balmerans were an active part of the regeneration spell with Allura. We see across the entire Balmera that they magically connect to help sustain the energy transfer, because it’s a planet-wide, massive undertaking:
(Photo ID: Balmerans activating their connection to the Balmera in the middle of the sacred ceremony to regenerate the Balmera.)
To me, it felt like the Balmerans were necessary to complete this ceremony--without their agreement to this energy exchange, and without them connecting to the Balmera to assist the transfer, Allura might not have been able to connect her life force and transfer power to the whole planet.
And to complete the ceremony, Allura herself kneels as well, just as Haggar did and just as the Balmerans around her do, in connection with the Balmera:
(Photo ID: Allura kneeling alongside Balmerans to complete the ritual.)
(Which means she’s technically kneeling to at least three other Balmerans in front of her.)
So I think the kneeling imagery would not correlate to some white savior complex event as suggested.
One other thought I had is that I feel help from a “white savior” is often haphazard and pushed onto recipients regardless of their thoughts or real needs. In comparison, we know that the Balmerans were willing to try this spell with Allura and accepted her idea of attempting the ancient ceremony. The only person who expressed hesitancy is Coran, who warns Allura that this attempt could kill her.
(Photo ID: Coran warns Allura, “To heal an entire planet, it could take more energy than you possess.”)
I do think it could again be argued that Allura seriously undermines her own value and worth in an attempt to help everyone, no matter the cost, which potentially gets more into white knight syndrome born out of trauma than white savior complex born out of privilege. She snaps back at Coran for being concerned about her well-being, and then she proceeds to enact the ceremony, not knowing for sure whether she’d live or die. But Allura also knows that her life force is uniquely tied to Voltron and that she is the only one with this kind of connection to the Castle ship’s battle-class Balmera crystal—all of this makes her a very powerful capacitor in a lot of ways. Which is why she looks like this after the ceremony:
(Photo ID: Allura having collapsed in Shay’s arms after regenerating the Balmera, but her physical features are not otherwise affected.)
And not like this:
(Photo ID: A screenshot of an Altean named Petrulius from season 6, whose features are distorted after having had the life/quintessence sucked out of him.)
So to me, it seemed that Allura was enacting an ages-old, magical ceremony approved by and wanted by the Balmerans—simply on a scale that no one had ever before attempted. And it’s likely that no one else would or could attempt it, because Allura is the single character in the entire universe whose personal life force is tied to Voltron’s regenerative energy (by virtue of Alfor’s alchemy on her as mentioned in episode 1). It’s an even deeper tie to the whole machine than the transient bond between paladin and lion. No other Balmeran or Galran or Altean had that kind of tie in their life force. Likely, even Alfor would have died if he’d attempted this act himself without being connected to an infinite power source.
And after Allura saves the Balmera with assistance from Balmerans, we also do not see her like this with the Balmeran people:
(Photo ID: Lance soaking up a savior fantasy as previously mentioned in this meta.)
Instead, post-Balmera resurrection, we see it’s actually not even the Balmerans themselves who thank Allura. The Balmerans simply convey the will of the Balmera, which Allura cannot hear:
(Photo ID: A Balmeran says to Allura, “Yes. The Balmera lives. It thanks you.”)
So backing up for a second, I do think there are much larger issues happening in the narrative with Voltron itself, with the unequal power dynamics of having young, inexperienced people from a single planet make and enact all the big universal decisions. But in the instance with the Balmera, it seemed like Allura was openly welcomed to help save the planet, using magical ceremonies as approved by the Balmerans themselves for millennia, and that the Balmerans were not passive in those ceremonies but a necessary part of their success.
In general, Allura doesn’t seem to embody the “white savior complex” vibe at all to me, unlike some others in the show. Even in season 8, when Allura planned to make The Really Big Sacrifice, she asked her team to keep her actions a secret. She literally didn’t care for any respect or acknowledgment or prestige in exchange for sacrificing her life. She was doing what needed to be done because she was, once again, one of the few who could even perform at that level:
(Photo ID: Shiro says to Allura, “Most of them won’t know the sacrifice you made so they could live.” Allura replies, “And they’ll never need to.”)
(As an aside, I would argue that it was entirely unnecessary that the narrative would demand Allura sacrifice herself at all when she was literally standing in the universe’s seat of power alongside other powerful beings like her own father or the billions of other magic-wielding dead people, because apparently the lines between life and death blur in that space.)
(I also think there are some questionable “master race” vibes in the VLD universe in general, given that it forcefully pushes, even against the wishes of Alteans themselves, that Alteans are the only ones who can wield the big power to do big things. It’s clear that other groups and beings can wield magical abilities, but the larger narrative very oddly pins the “purest quintessence/bluest blood” back on Alteans time and time again in later seasons, leaving Allura in basically a no-win, no-help-available situation until other Alteans come along.)
So yeah, I hope something in this meta might help settle some concerns about Allura as a representation of white savior complex? Or at least that this would open conversation for further discussion about what could be done in future iterations to avoid that messaging. Because yeah, I agree with you that the unquestioned savior complexes in this show are a topic that can and should be discussed! And also that, despite early world-building to suggest otherwise, the narrative especially in s6-s8 pushes that Alteans have a “purer/more alive” life force compared to any other race or form. Which is just…hm. Like, the master race vibes of all that are weird and definitely not even inherent to the Voltron franchise. (In previous iterations, humans, Galrans/Drule, and Alteans could all perform incredible levels of magic. For example, in Dynamite Voltron, Keith, Lotor, and Lotor’s siblings had all been taught magic.)
There’s definitely some weird images and unnatural power dynamics in VLD at times. It seems like more often than not, the narrative does strive to make Allura sacrificing something the only viable resort for anyone ever. In those circumstances, I’m just not convinced that she herself functions as an embodiment of white savior complex, by virtue of her behavior in those instances. But it’s definitely weird that the narrative places so much weight on her when the larger Team Voltron narrative is supposed to be about found family and strength in unity.
(If you read this far, thank you! Sorry I’m not succinct.)
#Voltron#Voltron meta#Voltron critical in ways#Allura#Balmera episode#discussions of white savior complex#I ultimately state that Allura doesn't seem to meet the basic behaviors for that#but the show does get into some strange master race stuff in terms of abilities#and we do see several iimages of white savior complex throughout the show by virtue of some other characters#which idk why that got dropped in without at least a reflection on it#like I can handle problematic stories but prefer it when they know they're problematic lol#in VLD it felt like I was supposed to be cheering for those issues#that I wasn't supposed to question it or that I was supposed to actually connect with that fantasy#I feel like this is a really interesting topic because in other iterations there were other Voltrons#as in more people had similar machines#which I feel like helped to control the savior complex inherent in manning a powerful weapon#and in fact one iteration goes as far to say that voltron ISN'T special at all#which surprises various characters#Just a very different vibe from VLD entirely#I'm really fascinated by that#Anyway thanks for reading my rambles!
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What do you mean by “more focused on general TRAOD lore than in Kurtis as character which doesn't surprise me anymore given what we know” - what is it given we know?
Hi, you’ve sent this question concerning my tags in the last post about Kurtis’ journal as merchandise from The Dark Angel project - just stating it for the readers that might be confused about what you’re asking about.
When I say “what we know” I refer mostly to all those - rather scarce - TRAOD/TR fans who have bothered to read every detail about TRAOD’s lore, every making off video and documentary concerning this game, every interview and beta/hidden/deleted/unused content related to all this universe - which I did. I also refer to those who have discussed all of it in this Tumblr over the past years - and honestly if you don’t know what I’m talking about it’s because, perhaps, you’re not totally up to date about it.
I would recommend to catch up - and those are long hours of reading - with all this content so you can have the whole picture of what I’m talking about, but just to reduce it to the point that concerns us now, it’s not surprising Kurtis’ journal was gonna end being just a TRAOD lore concept art compendium than a Kurtis focused item as character because:
1. It was always announced and marketed like that. Murti Schofield has always stated the journal was gonna be a compendium of fresh TRAOD concept art - it’s not old, the old one you can find it in the notes I pledged for in the Kickstarter - more focused on Konstantin Heissturm - Kurtis’ father - character than in Kurtis himself.
2. Murti also said there’s no content related to the game itself, but a collection of data and lore prior to the events of the game.
3. He also said there was not gonna be big notes or textes or written lore, mostly concept art, maps and short data file about some characters he didn’t have space to develop more in the final version of the game, such as the Cleaner.
4. Finally, that most of the present lore belonged to Konstantin Heissturm and not Kurtis Trent. The journal belongs to his father in origin and he receives it from him.
Now with all of this is not surprising the journal has turned out like this, but to be fair I must admit I, myself, was expecting a bit more because, after all, it’s called Kurtis’ journal, not Konstantin’s journal. I wanted it to look more rough, used, and worn out fitting not only Kurtis’ hazardous lifestyle - as it was marketed - but also Konstantin’s himself. But it’s Murti doing it, and Murti Schofield is extremely delicate and polished in his calligraphy and design. So in the end it’s more a Murti’s journal containing lore of the game than some item in-character. For me, it looks like more like an add-on to the old notes I pledged for than a whole new product.
Again, though I’m a bit disappointed - because I wanted to see more of KURTIS himself in here, not Murti/Konstantin - I am not surprised of the result and here’s the point you’re asking about: Murti was never that interested in releasing more lore concerning Kurtis himself. If you’ve paid attention to all of his interviews, statements, and the way he sees the whole TRAOD project itself - I am now talking about the game released in 2003, not the Dark Angel music project - which I did because I’ve been in some contact with him recently and also following his activity due to my backing of the project, Murti wasn’t the only creator of the story, neither he was of the characters, Kurtis included.
In fact, the final version of the story we see in the game has much more to do with Adrian Smith and Richard Morton’s involvement and creative decisions than with Murti as storywriter. Soon you realize he cares much more about Konstantin - a character that barely appears in the game because he’s already deceased, not even his name’s mentioned - than about Kurtis. That doesn’t mean he isn’t involved in his bio and lore and other details, because he absolutely was, I just mean that the final version of what we saw is a teamwork, not just Murti’s ideas. Even Murti is not at all behind the dynamic between Lara and Kurtis - the delicious dynamic we all know about - this being a product of the creative ideas and process of Morton rather than Murti.
From the moment only Murti Schofield was involved in TR Dark Angel project and not other Core Design members, I’ve had very clear in my mind than only a part of the final lore of the game was gonna be present at the project. And it’s fine, I don’t mind, it’s amazing they gave me the chance to meet this fantastic writer. But as I’ve been following all the content related with the project and the game I realized he doesn’t know everything or could answer to everything he was asked, because, naturally, he could only respond to the parts he was involved with - and that’s perfectly fine, and he had no problem to admit it, and nothing otherwise was expected!
This means many details about what Kurtis is, looks, and we enjoy about him were born by Richard Morton’s decision. So I knew this part was not gonna be present in the journal. Also, if you explore Murti’s activity and statements, he’s been recently working more on the past lore of the game. He’s been talking and headcanoning more about Konstantin than Kurtis, he’s been talking about more of the Nephilim, the Lux Veritatis, and producing content for Morgau and Eckhardt rather than for Kurtis and Lara at all. And it’s because he handles the part in which he was involved, the lore of the game, not the game content itself. For that, they should have included Morton or Smith, as far as I’ve found out.
This means Lara was never gonna be present at the journal, neither Kurtis as personality, because it was Richard Morton who created this personality - he chose the final name, I think, after all! Murti wanted him to be called Vance Renner - and of course Murti has been more seduced and interested recently in Konstantin as character than in Kurtis himself. And more invested in describing artefacts, power devices and other lore definitely not present in the final version of the game because he left the team before the game was released, since his task had been concluded: giving lore and plot.
As you can see, this way, it is not surprising the journal is not a piece of merchandise that responds 100% to the final version you saw of what Kurtis is in the game, nor I expected it, but rather a recently crafted product that reflects more of the immediate past of the game’s universe, than the game plot itself. I would say it looks, at most, as if Kurtis has just gotten this diary from his father and the blank pages are still to be filled by him.
Which again, despite it was noted in advance, and we all could see photos of the inside pages, and nothing that wasn’t marketed was delivered, I still would have preferred it to look like a Kurtis’ journal, not a TRAOD lore concept art compendium whose pages don’t even look aged. But yet again, if you’ve been digging and listening to Murti’s part in the whole project, it was expectable in a way. And all of this I am not saying in a derogatory manner. It’s natural. TRAOD was the result of a teamwork, not just one single man. This one single man, thus, gives you his part in the story, but not the whole picture at all.
I hope I’ve made myself clear with this. Sorry for the long post, and I recommend you to read the whole content around this game, because it’s worth the time if you care about such things.
#tomb raider#lara croft#kurtis trent#traod#trdarkangel#kurtis' journal#murti schofield#richard morton#my answers#traod lore#but not all murti's lore was meant to be included
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So @i-swear-this-is-for-homework asked if I could elaborate on my ideas about the TMA universe and how technology is affected by the Dread Powers.
From the beginning we learn that the Statements have trouble recording on more modern equipment:
The Archivist: Elias, hopefully if you hear this it means I’ve found a way to record those ‘difficult’ statements I was telling you about.
...
The Archivist (Con’t): As you know, I’ve been going through trying to digitise and record audio versions but I’ve been having trouble with a few of the more… bizarre statements. There have been sufficient distortions as to make them utterly unintelligible.
We also hear more to the effect in Episode 13, Alone.
Naomi: Really? Does that thing even work? It must be thirty years old.
The Archivist: I know, but we have previously had some success using it to record statements that our… digital recording software struggles with.
Jon finally states in Episode 39, Infestation:
Sasha: Jon, what did you mean by “real statements”?
The Archivist: You know what I mean. The ones that have weird wrinkles, or that just seem to have something solid to them. They all have one thing in common.
Sasha: They don’t record digitally.
The Archivist: And we have to use the tape recorder. At this stage, if it records to my laptop I almost don’t bother. I don’t -
So it’s very established that the statements don’t record to computers well. They can be written down, spoken verbally and recorded on tape.
In Binary (EP 65) we get a bit more about technology from Tessa:
Jon: I’m not sure what this has to do with my tape recorder
Tessa: Magnetic tape. Everyone thinks it’s analog, but it’s digital. A lower-tech version than what we use now, but people forget that it was used to store computerized data for decades. Maybe it reminds people of a film reel, or, or maybe nostalgia turns everything analog.
Note: I bolded film reel here because it becomes relevant later.
So we learn magnetic tape is digital in itself, just older which is why we still get static on the recordings when people like Peter Lukas or the Distortion show up. They’re degrading the quality, like holding a magnet to a computer. In real life (and I know this is obvious) we wouldn’t hear any static, but we might feel a deep feeling of dread standing near a being like that. Martin instantly knows that there’s something wrong with Peter Lukas as soon as he steps into view and we the audience know there’s something wrong with Lukas because of the static. When Jon compels people they say there’s a tingle or pull. This is sort of beside the point, but the soundscaping of Magnus Archives does an amazing job of creating the dread the characters might be feeling through using static to tip us off that something is not right.
So then we move on to the Stranger which is our next big amount of information concerning the powers and technology. The Stranger can rewrite themselves into someone’s lives entirely with the exception of tape recordings. I mistakenly thought that they didn’t affect old cameras as well, but it seems that there’s no stated reason why two of the photos in Episode 78, Distant Cousin, are different.
But we learn in Episode 77, A Kind of Mother that her mother’s voice is still on tapes which means it isn’t only archive tapes that work on the stranger. it’s all tapes, so it isn’t that Jon’s tape recorders are somehow magical. There’s something about them that doesn’t corrupt them as badly as digital but allows them to imprint information that can’t be effected by the supernatural.
Okay so. Tape recorders can capture the supernatural. What else does?
Digital cameras (really badly): Melanie captures an image of not only Jude but also a Ghost that she couldn’t physically see, but it was basically useless like the statements taken on computers.
Phone Camera (Really badly): In Angler Fish Sasha has to up the resolution and really work at it to get the outline of a hand.
Film (assuming, but probably well): The Web are tight with the movie industry. They even have physical watchable copies in artifact storage now, but it isn’t digital film. In episode 110, Creature feature the statement giver says:
He had insisted on using old equipment, and avoided digital almost entirely, to the point where several of the crew were using pieces of kit they’d never even seen before. This meant that a work print had to be made manually for the dailies, something he refused to let anyone else do.
So the Web is using analogue too. Probably VHS. What do tape and VHS have in common? Magnets.
And another instance where old filming equipment is used?
Episode 148, Extended Surveillance is a Beholding episode.
Statement Giver: There was only one piece of equipment that seemed to give him any trouble. It was this old Tecton multicamera recorder from the late 80s, managed the feeds for one of the various budget shoe shops that lined the promenade.
Now, to be fair I don’t really know much about how these technologies work so if I’m wrong feel free to tell me. But from everything we have it seems to me that Digital recordings get super corrupted. Things like film is chemicals so can be easily manipulated, but old Tapes and VHS rely on magnets and the dread powers have some sort of of field (Magnetic or otherwise) that kills newer digital technology, maybe because that sort of tech sends out signals whereas the older stuff is self contained. I do not really understand all of what makes digital digital and analogue analogue. Maybe it’s a Goldilocks situation of Just Right for magnetic tape.
The only newer devices picking up supernatural occurrences in good quality is a computer (Binary) and an Ipod (Decrypted), but both of those are (arguably) Extinction statements. It would make sense that The Extinction can use and send signals through newer technologies.
So what does all this even mean? Well I don’t know. It makes me think that the dread powers have something to do with magnetic fields which is sort of weird. But there is consistency that older (magnetic based?) recording technology is able to pick up statements while not completely corrupted or able to be manipulated.
Anyway please feel free to add or correct stuff.
#tma#the magnus archives#theories#i ended up changing my opinion on some things in this I didn't square in on magnetic tape before
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Wammy’s Lore
The house appears in several forms both in the manga, anime, movies, novels, and games. Obviously, these aren’t intended to function together. However, they do have characters and events in common that form Wammy’s Lore.
The Beginning: L comes to Wammy’s at a time when the world is on the brink of WWIII (DNAN, 164-jp; 170-en), when he is around 8.
Note: the English edition will say this event is after the war but the original says L prevented the war.
L was already present in Wammy’s House before L became a famous detective - in “File. 15″ - Chapter 0, Wammy’s House/Day One:
During this time, L solves a case that involves a bomb making facility within Winchester. (DNAN)
I s W a m m y ’s U n i q u e?
Probably the greatest source of Wammy’s Lore is the novel, L: Change the World [013];
“The Wammy's Foundation established many orphanages around the world through funding of the renowned inventor, Quillish Wammy.
Only one serving a purpose above all others, gathering particularly intelligent children regardless of nationality, race, or gender... The Wammy's House.
Not serving as a formal academic institution, Wammy's House invites professors, researchers, and specialists from around the world to give the children instruction befitting their abilities and potential.
The ultimate purpose of these children is to serve as safeguards for the world.”
This tells us:
Many orphanages but only 1 Wammy’s
The children are safegaurds
They are selected for their intelligence
The purpose is to hone their particular abilities
Later, it establishes:
Only 26 letters max per generation [176]
Teachers are selected by L or Watari
The only mentioned former professor is Dr. Nikaido (Immunologist)
Q is the creator of the “delete all data” button that Watari presses in main story.
N o N a m e s / ‘L e t t e r s’ ?
How to you go from an orphanage for smart kids to one where they have no identities?
Keep in mind that they didn’t know B’s name, “… Wammy’s House only knew him as B - they did not know his real name…” [117]
In the manga, Aizawa and Matsuda describe that among the children, few were selected to be L’s successors and no one knew their true names.
We know that A and B are the first children of this successorship experiment. (DNAN) If a few are selected from the group but no one knows their true names, this probably means they were brought in under the alisas from the beginning (otherwise people would easily recall their identities).
This may be why the kids have 2 - their letter and a name (e.g. N, Near). This probably means B was known as Backup before becoming B.
L i f e b e f o r e L e t t e r s:
One child we know of before becoming a letter is K.
K was working with terrorist cases when she was 16 years old. At this time, she had not earned her letter. She remotely headed a rescue mission that ended in tragedy, a bomb strapped to the rescue victim detonated once in the rescuer’s camp...
K was so mortified by her failure, she ran away.
She becomes a part of a criminal organization and is later confronted by L in person. K must have been using an alias while in the house because he does not recognize her name (which she has begun using while outside Wammy’s). It is only in her lack of faith in people that he identifies her as the rogue successor ‘K’.
Earning a letter means you are changing the world and that is how you earn your letter, through Wammy. It is also a mark of Graduation. [LCtW:176]
K is arrested but still holds the letter as long as she is alive, a promise made to her by L -- This may mean you retain that letter for life
J is the only letter to have been held by 2; However, “L: Change the World” is credited to M which may mean that someone succeeded Mello.
P h o t o s o f L e t t e r s:
--- K’s case is before the Kira case, which is probably why K has in her possession, 1 photo of her parents and herself.
This would matter because it brings into question if the children were allowed to keep photos of themselves prior to the emergence of Kira. If they were allowed photographs, this might explain why there is picture of Mello and on Roger’s desk there are pictures of Wammy, what looks to be an event involving robed individuals. Mello is of the 4th generation, so any authorized process of photographing the children would have been established.
-- Is Mello’s photo a school picture?
Mello appears to be looking straight in the camera, wearing his signature outfit and isn’t that much younger than we see him in the house. Is it safe to assume this was taken at Wammy’s, even if the addition of Dear Mello at the back is added later.
The light source is emanating from above him, which makes this being professional photo unlikely. Most photographers will have the light source in front to prevent the sinister shadows that will appear under the eyes. It does appear to be outdoors and it is possible that someone took this picture without the house authorizing it. It is worth noting that there are no other photos of successors similar to this that ever come up. If it is not a school photo but one someone took when they weren’t allowed to, this may explain why Near and Matt do not have this problem. The Dear Mello written on the back is strange.. whoever took this must have been fond of him. Was this a photo taken by a friend and was it a prohibited? It’s unknowable.
But, this does bring up the question.. Why didn’t they know B’s face?
This might be excused by B applying makeup
With or without a photo of him, -- Roger and other residents would have surely seen him in person.
It doesn’t give an exact year that B disappears in May but we can assume not that many have passed, not enough for B to have aged that much.
If we assume that Wammy’s doesn’t take school photos, this would explain why Roger only has 1 group photo, while there have been 3 previous gens.
The group photo may be of his old classmates. But, if that is the case... Would those two photos be in black and white?
The photos do not appear in the anime, only the center one of Watari, which is in color
The photos do appear in the colored manga
The pair on the left seem to have grey hair
The group on the right is colored
It is possible that in the DN universe, they had color photos before our own but these could also be of a reunion event.
... It is interesting that a person of Roger’s age has no photos of his past, if we assume they would be in black and white. It is also possible that after the deaths/arrests of A, B, F, K, J, A, X, Y, Z, R, T, & V ... Roger thought it was inappropriate to have their photos up. Since, Mello seems ignorant of B up until L tells him the story of his case, they probably do not have photos of previous gens.
Additionally, Mello doesn’t even have a notion of A’s gender, he probably has never seen A. (the original does not designate a gender for A)
A f t e r G r a d u a t i o n :
F is the true wild card. F as a character appears in at least 2 places, (1) the film (LCtW) and (2) the game “L: Prologue to Death Note”. Which in both, he specializes in the infiltration of dangerous places.
His letter is followed by numbers much like the FBI agent in the “L: Change the World” (novel) and he doesn’t appear in the Wammy’s contact index (the film) :
But, F at the time of this email is not within Wammy’s and is deceased.
K is also not in Wammy’s. K does not run away from the house in the film -- instead begins working under Dr. Nikaido (Immunologist), the only known former professor at the house (he is also mentioned in the novel).
Due to L being suspicious of K, it is safe to assume she had been involved in some incident before she went to work under a former processor -- in another country.
This does appear to be the full list because when L sends this email, he only clicks 6 times (the 7th in the list being L, himself), for 6 recipients.
H communicates with Watari and is not on this list either, but is probably Roger, it may stand for HeadQuarters (Wammy’s House). H tells Watari that F has died during the investigation.
Other things of note:
B has passed away at the time of K’s story (L: Change the World).
K is stated to be the first K, so she is possibly a part of the first gen.
Q is alive and had created both the “delete-all” system for Wammy and the security of K’s lab.
X, Y, and Z should be on this list (if they are alive), they were part of L obtaining the detective codes of Eraldo Coil and Danuve.. (before 2002)
J would have been arrested at this point (L: Prologue to DN)
It may be that as letter’s graduate, they become agents to assist Wammy’s and the world.
This may mean that they they stay within Wammy’s system, unless they branch out as F, K, J, and Q have.
F has Wammy’s phone number, which is unique. There is no other letter I’m aware of that has it.
C o n c l u s i o n:
Ultimately, the successorship experiment to create a backup-L was inspired because L prevented the 3rd World War. This is why the letters are safeguards.
... However, with J nearly creating a civil war, B becoming a serial killer, and K nearly bringing an apocalyptic epidemic, their purpose is more complicated than simply safeguards for the planet.
The existence of Wammy’s children, necessitizes the existence of Wammy’s children…
But, why is A missing?
Why are X, Y, and Z missing, when they played an important role in L becoming who he is?
Can we make the Lore make sense?
A modest hypothesis:
B is a part of the list because it started after the incidences of A, X, Y, Z, & J.
This explains why, at the end of J’s case, J is so honored that L has communicated with him that J concludes the crime was worth it in the end. (螺旋の罠 コミュニケーター)
X, Y & Z died in the detective wars, which is why Mello heard this story from L himself and none of these old residents of the 1st gen. (DNAN 170)
Why L would choose to create a list at this point in time is worth pondering...
Perhaps, after the deaths, L comes to see that communicating with successors remotely is important - even if he doesn’t meet them face to face.
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Image Captioning/Alt Text Tips
I've noticed providing image captions has started to take off, and this is fabulous. Internet accessibility is an important issue (and a pet peeve of mine) and it's not talked about enough. So please understand that this comes from a place of utmost love and support when I say:
You need to make your descriptions much shorter.
It's recommended that you limit descriptions to 280 characters (not words, characters). This is the same length as a single tweet. Obviously there are exceptions - if you are transcribing a screencap with a lot of text, you need to include all of it, and long comics or collections of many images may require more text - but otherwise, try to stick to this rule and only include the bare minimum.
Drawings/Comics
For most images, you should just state the name of the character(s), their expressions, their actions, and any dialogue or text. This shouldn’t be more than a sentence or two. For multiple images you can give one sentence each, and for comics preface each description with a panel number.
Please don't describe what the character looks like unless it is directly relevant to the purpose of the image. Not only is it a waste of your audience's time, it's distracting, which makes the caption less helpful. I don't need to know that Lup has short blonde hair with red highlights unless the post is about her haircut, and including extraneous information makes the caption harder to understand.
I know the impulse is to make it so that the reader can imagine the image 100% correctly (especially in a fandom where characters' physical appearances are up for interpretation), but captions are not meant to be an exercise in visualization for the audience. They're there so that people who can't see the image can still understand the post.
If you're having trouble figuring out what's relevant information, try imagining that your friend in the other room asked what you're looking at. How would you summarize it? You probably wouldn't go into detail about what everyone's wearing, the background, etc. It's also good to keep in mind how people typically browse tumblr. Your audience is probably scrolling through relatively quickly, looking for posts that interest them, not stopping on any post for more than a few seconds. They shouldn't have to spend more time reading a caption than they would spend looking at the picture.
Memes
If you're posting a meme, you should put the common name of the meme, and then the text and/or any edits made. Ideally, googling the name you provide should provide the correct meme in the first result, so people who are unfamiliar with the meme can find it. For example:
[ID: Drake Like/Dislike Meme.
Drake dislikes: "Multiple paragraphs of captioning"
Drake likes: "Short, concise descriptions"]
[ID: Screencap of the results for a Google search of "drake like/dislike meme". The first result is "Images for drake like/dislike meme" followed by a dozen example images of the meme.]
If you don't know the name of a meme, or there are multiple similarly-named memes, just provide a brief description. Ex:
[ID: Photo of a smiling woman feeding spaghetti to an excited-looking cat. The woman's face has been replaced with my(@akrona’s) avatar. The cat is labelled "You". The spaghetti is labelled "Image Captioning Wisdom".]
Other Notes:
If it's a fandom image, please include the fandom, especially if the characters do not have unique names. I am literally in three different fandoms with a character named John, please tell me which John it is. Besides, I follow plenty of people who post content for fandoms I don't care about, and it's nice to know to skip these posts right away.
Please never use Zalgo or any of the other 'fonts' you can get from generators (like this one). Not only are they completely unintelligible to screen readers, when trying to read it screen readers will start spouting a bunch of gibberish that can last several minutes.
If you post a screencap of a tweet or website, please include a link to the source. This is not only useful for screen reading (the website of origin is often more friendly to accessibility tools) but also a polite thing to do. Don't steal people's tweets for notes! It's rude!
For further reading, here are some sources:
WebAIM Alternative Text Techniques
Harvard University Online Accessibility
How to Set Up and Use Screen Readers *
*I would highly recommend trying out a screen reader just to see what it’s like. But I do want to remind you that captions are not just for screen readers. They’re also good for those who use larger text sizes, need different fonts (either for dyslexia or light sensitivity), or have a bad internet connection and cant load images. Describing the expression of a character can also be helpful for people who have difficulty reading facial expressions.
#accessibility#image captioning#alt text#the adventure zone#taz#i'm so sorry for my ugly memes. i never make memes. i just needed examples
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16 Awesome Queer Sports Books: Books with LGBTQIA+ Athlete Representation
Image: Daniela Porcelli/Getty Images.
In some ways, the last few years has been a golden time for LGBTQIA+ athletes. The 2019 Women’s World Cup was a record tournament for LGBTQ+ visibility, with at least five players on the U.S. women’s national soccer team being openly queer (Ali Krieger and her now-wife Ashlyn Harris, Megan Rapinoe, A.D. Franch, and Tierna Davidson), as well as coach Jill Ellis, and another player coming out in the moment captured in the photo above, kissing her girlfriend in celebration. Rapinoe’s girlfriend, Sue Bird, another out lesbian athlete who plays in the WNBA, wrote an open letter to the President of the United States. A blockbuster movie told the story of iconic out lesbian tennis star Billie Jean King. Jason Paul Collins came out in 2013 (but retired the following year). Michael Sam was the first openly gay man to be drafted into the NFL in 2014 (but he has since retired).
But, according to the Human Rights Campaign, 70% of LGBTQIA+ people don’t come out to their teammates while still playing a sport, and 82% of athletes have witnessed homophobic and/or transphobic language in their sport. It is still more common, especially for male athletes, to come out after they have already left their sport (TW for homophobic slurs/statements and suicidal ideation), and many athletes who are still playing face backlash (TW for misgendering & general transphobia).
These books, from memoirs by professional queer athletes to YA romances with LGBTQIA+ athlete protagonists, explore these issues and more.
Books are YA fiction unless otherwise noted.
Spinning, by Tillie Walden (graphic memoir)
This beautiful graphic novel memoir captures Tillie’s experience with figure skating and why she eventually decided to give it up. Full review here.
Girl Crushed, by Katie Heaney
Quinn thought her senior year would be perfect: college scouts recruiting her to her dream school for D1 soccer and her best-friend-turned-girlfriend at her side. But then Jamie dumps her, a month before the school year begins, and it’s getting a little late to have heard back from schools, if she’s going to end up on one of the top teams. Over the course of the school year, Quinn learns that her binary black-and-white, gay-and-straight, success-and-failure ways of seeing her world could stand to be a little more complicated. This book is about identity, self-esteem, friendship, crushes, and soccer. There are also many fun USWNT references! TW for some (challenged) bisexual erasure.
The Reappearing Act: Coming Out on a College Basketball Team Led by Born-Again Christians, by Kate Fagan (adult memoir)
Kate was thrilled to be playing basketball for a nationally-ranked school and to have a close-knit group of teammates. Her best friends were part of Colorado’s Fellowship of Christian Athletes, and she tried to join them and learn about their church, but she started to realize that she might be one of those people whose “sinful lifestyles” they talked about. She had to figure out how to come out without losing her friends, and her team.
Check, Please! Volume 1, by Ngozi Ukazu (graphic novel)
This adorable graphic novel (which was originally published as a popular webcomic) follows Bitty, a former junior figure skating champion and enthusiastic baker, who somehow ended up on the Samwell University hockey team. He’s terrified of checking (what if he gets hurt??), trying to figure out if he can win over the guys with pies, and also feeling some kind of way about the hot but grumpy captain.
Keeper of the Dawn, by Dianna Gunn
Lai wants to become a priestess, like her mother and grandmother were before her, but first she must prove herself in the trials she’s been training for her whole life. Nothing goes according to plan, but she can still depend on herself and her skill as a fighter and a horseback rider and take matters into her own hands. This fantasy novel features an asexual protagonist and a f/f romance.
The Passing Playbook, by Isaac Fitzsimmons (2020/2021 release)
This book hasn’t been released yet, but there are so few (if any) own voices YA sports books with trans characters that I decided to include it anyway. A queer, biracial, trans soccer player is benched, and has to decide whether to fight the ruling, even though that would mean coming out to everyone…including the Christian teammate he’s falling for.
Running with Lions, by Julian Winters
This coming-of-age novel follows Sebastian, a bisexual rising senior who’s excited for his last summer at soccer camp, where his teammates are great and the coach doesn’t expect anyone to stay in the closet. But then Emir Shah, a Muslim British-Pakistani new recruit, shows up. He also happens to be Sebastian’s former best friend, and they left things on pretty bad terms. So why is he finding himself attracted to Emir all of the sudden?
None of the Above, by I.W. Gregorio
I am hesitant to recommend this non-ownvoices intersex representation, but it’s the only book I know of about an intersex teen athlete, and, while it is imperfect and seems geared towards a non-intersex audience, there are certainly some good things to be said about it. It is informative, well-researched, and moving. Kristin, a homecoming queen and champion hurdler with a cute boyfriend, seems to be having a great high school experience. But a doctor’s visit reveals that she’s intersex, and, while she’s still coming to terms with what that might mean for her and her identity, her diagnosis is leaked to the whole school. TW for transphobic/anti-intersex slurs and bullying.
Forward: My Story, Young Readers’ Edition, by Abby Wambach (memoir)
U.S. Women’s National Team soccer star Abby Wambach tells her story with honesty and vulnerability, sharing how she came to lead her team to a World Cup win in 2015. She is open about her sexuality and romantic life (including a named mention of a certain pink-haired teammate, who also happens to be her ex-girlfriend) and how it affected her career.
We Ride Upon Sticks, by Quan Barry (adult fiction, with teen protagonists)
The 1989 Danvers high field hockey team finds themselves winning…a lot. Is it because they all wrote their names in a mysterious notebook with Emilio Estevez on the cover, and pledged themselves to dark forces so they could make the state championships? This darkly funny story explores friendship, sportsmanship, and what means to find power and sense of self as a teen girl.
Beautiful on the Outside, by Adam Rippon (adult non-fiction)
In his comedic memoir, Olympic figure skater Adam Rippon shares his journey from poverty and uncertainty to success and becoming a self-professed American sweetheart. He opens up about anxiety attacks, coming to terms with his sexuality and coming out, and some enjoyable behind-the-scenes gossip. He also narrates the audiobook.
Ana on the Edge, by A.J. Sass (middle-grade, fall 2020 release)
Twelve-year-old Ana-Marie is the reigning U.S. Juvenile figure skating champion, but that doesn’t mean everything feels easy or figured out. When Ana meets Hayden, a transgender boy, at the rink, Hayden mistakes Ana for a boy…and Ana doesn’t bother to correct him. In fact, it feels good to be seen as a boy. Now Ana must decide which identity feels the most right, in time for a big competition coming up. This book isn’t out yet, but it’s due to be released in fall 2020, and it is written by a non-binary (and autistic) author, who is also a figure skater.
Heartstopper, Volume 1, by Alice Oseman (graphic novel)
Charlie is neurotic and openly gay (after he was outed last year and bullied for months), and hoping that Year 10 at the British all-boys grammar school will be better. He meets Nick, an upbeat, sweet rugby player, and they become friends. Soon he finds himself hoping that their friendship turns into something more.
Fearless: Portraits of LGBT Student Athletes, by Jeff Sheng (non-fiction)
This is a memoir of an American artist who uses his story as a closeted high school athlete in the 1990s as a jumping-off-point to depict hundreds of photos of other LGBTQ+ high school and college athletes in the U.S. and Canada between 2003 and 2015.
Amateur, by Thomas McBee (adult memoir/non-fiction)
In this memoir, Thomas McBee describes grappling with the meaning of masculinity, violence, and sports. As a trans man, he has noticed since his transition that the world treats him completely differently and expects different things from him. But what does he want, and how does he want to define masculinity and strength for himself? He decides to train for a charity boxing match at Madison Square Garden as a way to find out.
Dryland, by Sara Jaffe
Julie is a cynical teen in Portland at the height of the grunge movement, struggling to define herself and her sexuality. No one in her family is willing to talk about her older brother, who at one point seemed destined for the Olympics but then fell off the map. Julie has never considered swimming herself, but then the swim team captain convinces her to join. Is this what she’s been looking for -- a way to get closer to her brother and maybe herself?
[All book covers belong to their respective publishers].
#books#yabooks#sportsbooks#booksaboutsports#sports#queer books#queerathletes#lgbtqia#gay athletes#gay books#lesbian athletes#wlw books#intersex athletes#trans athletes#asexual#comics#graphic novels
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Sun Ra
Who: Le Sony'r Ra (born Herman Poole Blount)
What: Musician and Composer
Where: American (active largely in US)
When: May 22, 1914 - May 30, 1993
(Image Description: a black and white photo of Sun Ra from 1979. He is standing in front of a brick wall that has words spray painted on it, partially blocked by his body. Legible is the word "Sunshine" in huge letters, the "I" dotted with a character or starburst. It is written in such big letters the last few have to be reduced to keep them from running over onto the door. Also legible are the letters "L, A" but the rest of that word is behind Ra. Ra himself is a stern looking, dark-skinned black man, shown here from the chest up. He has a longish face, a smallish mouth and eyes, a broad nose, and a cleft chin. He has a very serious expression. He is wearing a wool cap, dark on top with a paler ring at the hem. On top of the hat is a huge 3D sun, about the size of his face. Poking out of the sun are a bunch of shiny wires ending on either small stars or pingpong ball sized planets. On his body Ra wears a cape and below that a robe. The robe is made of two distinct materials, mostly something wrinkled or rough, but in the center over his chest is smooth black fabric with white polka dots on which a sun and the planet Saturn have been painted. End ID.)
He said he was born on Saturn. He wore bright robes and elaborate hats. He was a creature of Ancient Egypt and the unknown future. He never wanted to sleep and never drank. He said his biography was a mystery. He was very fond of mysteries.
Sun Ra was also a jazz pianist, composer, and the leader of the Sun Ra Arkestra, a free-jazz big-band. He is also one of the fathers of Afrofuturism, but given the themes he embraced, the outfit, and the Saturn thing you may have guessed that.
Ra became well known for his musical innovation and uniqueness of instrumentation as well as the drama that characterized his music and persona both on and off the stage. He was active in the jazz scene for roughly forty years from the late 1940s to the early 1990s and he always seemed to be at least a decade ahead in his trends.
Ra was always creating pieces that defied the common and brought together his many complexities of style. In the 1950s, when he first became a band leader, he began incorporating electric piano (his instrument of choice), tympani, and flute, instruments then unheard of in jazz bands. He later would be among the first, if not the first, to introduce the synthesizer. In the 1960s he began incorporating improvisation into his compositions and became well known for his strange solos. And in the 1980s he integrated earlier works into his performances.
His flair for the dramatic was at its highest on stage where combining Ancient Egyptian and sci-fi themes in sets, dance, and costumes. His performances were huge and eclectic and energetic. As much a spectacle for the eyes as the ears.
His best loved albums include SuperSonic Jazz (1957), Cosmic Tones for Mental Therapy (1963), The Magic City (1966), Atlantis (1969), Astro Black (1972), Space is the Place (1973), Lanquidity (1978), Disco 3000 (1978), Sleeping Beauty (1979), Nuclear War (1982), and The Sun Ra Arkestra Meets Salah Ragab in Egypt (1983). There are best of albums like Sun Ra: Singles 1952-1991 (2016) and In the Orbit of Ra (2014). I don't know anything about jazz (free or otherwise) but I did like listening to his stuff, it is very cool and weird.
His personality was as exciting and strange as his music. He had an "equation" rather than a philosophy. Whatever he called it, his thinking was a very New Age, UFO Religion mindset although he was getting into these themes in the 1950s, well before those were popular. His personal equation combined many different sources with his own thoughts to find the path that, one biographer states, "leads beyond the stars." He drew heavily on Ancient Egyptian mythology and mysticism, channeling, black nationalism, Rosicrucianism, Kabbalah, Zen Buddhism, with a very heavy lean into Gnosticism. He frowned on most organized religions but was a highly spiritual being. He was very much pro-civil rights but became disillusioned with the movement. Perhaps the most important things to him were outer space and music. He was always looking both to the distant past and far future.
His theories and equations were his own and explanations never gave a full picture. He took the role of eccentric teacher and apparently played the part well. He had many followers, especially among musicians. Overall, it seems, he embraced the strange and unknown and wore his identity with pride. He was queer and contentedly so.
He would not have been out of place today. Maybe he was from Saturn, but he could have easily been from the future.
(Image Description: the album art for Atlantis. It is all in yellows and purples. It says "An Intergalactic Space Travel in Sound" on the top of the cover. Below that and on the left it says "Sun Ra and his Astro Infinity Arkestra". To the right it says "Atlantis". Below that is shows an amorphous blob of eyeballs and flame. End ID)
Probable Orientation: Aroace
He is another one that aphobes say cannot be ace because they like him too much. They like and respect him so he cannot be sexually abnormal. They can accept him as queer, but aroace is too far. There are many who now accept him to be asexual, but many others who hold fast to their aphobia. Those people constantly claim that he was a sexual entity of some kind despite Ra's own profession to being "nonsexual.".
His queerness was noted before his persona was formed. In 1943 after having a nervous breakdown his doctor accused him of being "psychopathic" and "sexually perverted" because of his being queer. The same doctor also professed Ra (then Blount) was "a well-educated colored intellectual," evidence that his "psychopathy" and "perversion" were rooted in queerness, not something actually wrong with his mental health.
Over the years he had close confidants among his Arkestra musicians and other musical professionals. These were some of the people he was closest to in the world and all of these relationships were platonic, seemingly none I would classify as queerplatonic. All of these confidants noted there was never any romantic or sexual partners they knew of in his life but some have asserted either he was too busy, he just never talked about it/told them (unlikely because he was willing to discuss just about anything which will be highlighted in the quotes), or this was part of his self-denial (he never did drugs or drank and liked to Go Without). Some people in his life assumed Ra as gay (and allo). He was more interested in music than relationships and role as teacher rather than as sexual/romantic partner.
But most of his time was spent with music. His music involved a lot of talk of love but it was always a larger concept than romantic love. Brotherhood, universal acceptance, things like that.
But this should not be debate. Again, he basically said he was asexual in that he literally said he was "nonsexual.".
(Image Description: a color photo of Sun Ra in his costume from Space is the Place. He stands tall with his head tipped up, again serious faced. He has his arms crossed over his chest like a mummy. He is wearing red robes with yellow sleeves that go to the floor. He wears bracelets, rings, and gold shoulder pads. On his head he wears a huge tall headdress. It looks very similar to a pharaoh's crown. Part looks like the lower part of an Egyptian headdress, like the thing the Sphinx wears, and it is striped shiny gold and black. Sitting high on his forehead is a gold and jeweled crown piece and on top of that going probably two feet or so above his head is a gold pronged structure with a gold orb in the middle of the prongs. End ID)
“I don’t believe that something like that [asexuality] exists. Everybody has his or her sexual orientation, be it secret or open ... I don’t think I ever talked about his sex life, but I am pretty sure that he knew Fernando [Vargas, a sound engineer] and I were a gay couple. It made no difference for him, so he was not like a religious fundamentalist who would object to work with people like us, you know. He was just the kind of a guy, if Fernando was drinking wine, he wouldn’t have wine. I heard that none of the guys was ever using drugs. At least they didn’t do it in the studio, but we did have them sleeping overnight. He seemed to be with a pretty clean group.”
-Warren Allen Smith, studio owner and friend of Sun Ra's. (Despite not believing in it Smith basically points out that Ra could have been asexual. He never talked about his sex life, spent the night in a platonic group, Smith also mentioned in the same interview that Vargas and Ra would spend long nights alone just talking about music, that seemed to be what Ra wanted to do. To talk and philosophize. It seems his sexlessness was not about being straight edge.)
"[Vargas was] a good gossip [who would] tell stories about the pope’s testicles."
-Warren Allen Smith (he also describes Vargas as being "outgoing" and "unreservedly gay". The point here is that these men were close friends of Ra's. And Ra was perfectly into this kind of discussion. Indeed he told Vargas and Smith about his own testicles, one of which was undescended. He was not afraid to be completely open about himself and his body. He did not shy away from sex or sexuality, he just wasn't interested in it. It would be out of character for him to avoid talk about his sex life or bring around a romantic partner.)
"Sun Ra abolished sleep from his 'so-called life,' just as he had come to do without the distractions of drugs, alcohol, tobacco, women [sex]."
-John Szwed (Ra biographer in his book Space Is the Place: The Lives and Times of Sun Ra)
"I have heard from Damon Choice and others that Sun Ra used to turn to his Arkestra and declare: Leaders will ask you to give up your lives for them, I ask only if you’ll give up your Death for me? Nothing that is essentially incorporated into human being – not sex, not Death, not religion, or money – nothing that we are or have been is beyond evaporation as our ontology catches up with our time."
-Thomas Stanley (biographer in his book The Execution of Sun Ra) (In other words Ra saw sex as inessential to human nature)
"A gimmick."
-Sun Ra on sexual intercourse
“I have never been able to think of sex as a part of my life though I have tried to but just wasn’t interested.”
-Sun Ra (Nuff said)
(Image Description: a photo of Sun Ra at his keyboard. He is wearing a beaded headdress and shiny rainbow robes. He has his eyes shut, he looks calm, and he has his keyboard at a strange angle as he plays. End ID)
#queer#lgbtq#asexual#ace#aromantic#aro#history#20th century#american#usa#musicians#north america#bio#Sun Ra
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I'M GONNA DO IT TO EM' ALL ASKS THAT YOU REBLOG TONIGHT TILL 10 AM TOMORROW.... DO THEM!!!!
Hey, you had to do it to ‘em! Here they are starting with the most recent.
“Weird asks that say a lot”
1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?
Coffee mugs because you can use them for everything. Teacups are too small for a proper cuppa.
2. chocolate bars or lollipops?
Chocolate bars always.
3. bubblegum or cotton candy?
Bubblegum, which I miss so much. I haven’t had it in over 2 years bc of my braces
4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?
I didn’t go to public school but all the adults who dealt with me said I was sociable and tried to get everyone to do the group projects but no one listened so I ended up sitting alone reading and quietly doing the project.
5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?
Glass BOTTLES make it taste superior.
6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?
Pastel boho preppy goth best describes my style.
7. earbuds or headphones?
Earbuds, but only rubber tipped ones. The plastic ones never fit in my ears. Also headphones never cover my whole ear right. :/
8. movies or tv shows?
TV shows keep my attention span better.
9. favorite smell in the summer?
Brewing thunderstorms.
10. game you were best at in p.e.?
None. But trampoline if I had to pick.
11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?
Scrambled eggs, peanut butter toast, and some kind of fruit.
12. name of your favorite playlist?
My main one is Things You Love. My one for writing is Queen And Country, and my other two favorites are Summer Songs and A Queen Knows How To Fight A War.
13. lanyard or key ring?
Key ring, lanyards get in the way.
14. favorite non-chocolate candy?
Swedish Fish or Sour Patch Kids.
15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?
OH MAN. To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Fahrenheit 451, The Grapes Of Wrath, and The Handmaid’s Tale were definitely my top 5 in English class.
16. most comfortable position to sit in?
Curled up sideways in an armchair with my legs slung over the arm. Sitting normally sucks.
17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?
Either pair of my black boots, or my pink floral Skechers that I wear to work.
18. ideal weather?
60 degrees, cloudy, windy, with a chance of rain.
19. sleeping position?
On my right side, arms around a fluffy pillow, one leg out straight and the other drawn up with my knee to my chest.
20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?
Laptop. I’m trying to exercise my hand and wrist so I don’t tire as quick of notebook writing, though.
21. obsession from childhood?
History, Nancy Drew books, Harry Potter, and ghost stories.
22. role model?
The person I am but don’t think I am.
23. strange habits?
Pulling my shirt collar up over my nose and mouth/putting it in my mouth and chewing on it.
24. favorite crystal?
Amethyst, my birthstone! Close second is blue goldstone. (Have you ever seen it? It looks like the universe. I have a worrystone made of blue goldstone and it’s one of my prized possessions.)
25. first song you remember hearing?
Something from church probably. Outside of church probably one of these: If I Had A Hammer // Peter, Paul and Mary, Puff The Magic Dragon // Peter, Paul and Mary, Scarborough Fair // Simon & Garfunkel, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald // Gordon Lightfoot.
26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?
Sit in the shade.
27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?
Drink tea, read, and play either Pokemon or Nancy Drew and the Clue Benders Society on my 3DS.
28. five songs to describe you?
The Pines // Roses & Revolutions, I Am Here // Pink, Walk Me Home // Pink, Call Home // Heathers (not the musical), Traveler’s Song // Aviators
29. best way to bond with you?
Talk to me about history, crime, musicals, books, or tv shows
30. places that you find sacred?
Natural swamps. Libraries. Old, overgrown gardens. Anywhere historic. Pine forests at dusk. Anywhere under a clear night sky.
31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?
A plaid shirt, black leggings, and black boots with dark neutral lipstick and a black choker.
32. top five favorite vines?
Fre she vocado, BENTLEY NOOOOO, uhhh I sure hope it does, the one of Lin Manuel-Miranda trying to brainstorm, and this bitch empty YEEt
33. most used phrase in your phone?
Idk how to find this out
34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?
Idk if this is just a local thing here but WOW ITS NATURESTONE
35. average time you fall asleep?
12-1 nowadays.
36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?
I can haz cheezburger
37. suitcase or duffel bag?
Depends. Suitcase for things like my laptop that are better protected than in a duffel bag, but duffel bag otherwise because they’re easier to carry.
38. lemonade or tea?
TEAAAAA
39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?
Both please
40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?
My house? We had a safe word when we did math. It was “quokka.” If we got overwhelmed we’d say it and then stop and look at pictures of quokkas.
41. last person you texted?
My friend and coworker.
42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?
Jacket pockets.
43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?
Cardigan or hoodie
44. favorite scent for soap?
Lavender
45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?
Fantasy. It takes me a bit to get into fantasy books usually, but sci-fi is hard to follow and superhero is mostly predictable.
46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?
Fuzzy pants and a t shirt
47. favorite type of cheese?
Muenster, parmesan, or goat cheese
48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?
Raspberry
49. what saying or quote do you live by?
“I have no country to fight for. My country is the earth, and I am a citizen of this world.” - Eugene V. Debs
50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?
A weird local political ad a couple years back.
51. current stresses?
My recent breakup, an overnight shift I work on Wednesday night, and trying to find time to go out to a corn maze with my friend.
52. favorite font?
Baskerville or Georgia.
53. what is the current state of your hands?
Covered in small cuts and scrapes from work, nails picked short, black nail polish mostly peeled off.
54. what did you learn from your first job?
babysitting job: Kids suck never have more than one. Retail job: being on your fee it hardddd
55. favorite fairy tale?
Beauty and the Beast or Rapunzel
56. favorite tradition?
Looking at Halloween decorations
57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?
Cutting, being manipulated by my dad, and letting other people make me believe I wasn’t good enough (still working on that one)
58. four talents you’re proud of having?
Writing, puzzle-solving, singing, and calligraphy
59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?
“Oh shit waddup”
60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?
One of those preppy gothic private school animes with a dark secret lurking around the corner
61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?
Book: “Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance. You have to work at it.” - The Handmaid’s Tale. Movie: “It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.” - Wonder Woman. TV Show: “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself.” - Doctor Who.
62. seven characters you relate to?
Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin, Richard Gansey III, Blue Sargent, Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury.
63. five songs that would play in your club?
Same five that I said describe me.
64. favorite website from your childhood?
Webkinz and the old American Girl site circa 2009.
65. any permanent scars?
One down my chest from heart surgery as a baby, lots from self harm on my arms/legs, some on my left knee from falling as a kid, and one on the back of my right heel from being pecked by a goose at the fair when I was 11.
66. favorite flower(s)?
Sunflowers, roses, and dahlias.
67. good luck charms?
Myself.
68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?
Ranch anything.
69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?
Jellyfish have no brains and no heart.
70. left or right handed?
I’m third generation left handed!
71. least favorite pattern?
Vertical stripes.
72. worst subject?
Math.
73. favorite weird flavor combo?
Wendy’s fries and chocolate frosty.
74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?
7. Usually I just ignore it because I have a “high pain tolerance” (which means I like to put myself through minor pains because I think I deserve it)
75. when did you lose your first tooth?
Age 5. I was trying to blow up an inflatable ball and it came out.
76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?
ALL POTATOES EXCEPT POTATO SALAD
77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?
Violets.
78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?
Neither, both suck equally.
79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?
Never had a school id so I guess the license
80. earth tones or jewel tones?
Earth tones for me
81. fireflies or lightning bugs?
...They are literally the same thing
82. pc or console?
PC
83. writing or drawing?
Writing. I absolutely cannot draw.
84. podcasts or talk radio?
Podcasts, talk radio is so obnoxious.
84. barbie or polly pocket?
Barbie. The clothes are easier to take on and off. I used to accidentally rip polly pocket clothes all the time.
85. fairy tales or mythology?
Mythology. I like it because it explains things, it’s creation stories, its origins. Fairy tales are just fantasies or cautionary tales.
86. cookies or cupcakes?
Cookies.
87. your greatest fear?
Rejection, drowning, and clowns.
88. your greatest wish?
To be a semi-successful author and historian.
89. who would you put before everyone else?
My mom.
90. luckiest mistake?
Not succeeding in killing myself!
91. boxes or bags?
Bags.
92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?
Dim lamps if they have yellow bulbs. I hate white lights. And also fairy lights yes please.
93. nicknames?
Ellie, Ell, Little Lion, Lioness.
94. favorite season?
FALLLLL
95. favorite app on your phone?
Tumblr, Spotify, or Instagram.
96. desktop background?
97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?
6.
98. favorite historical era?
Revolutionary War-era America or late Victorian England.
THIS GOT REALLY LONG AND I DONT WANNA HIT THE TEXT BLOCK LIMIT SO IMMA DO ALL THE HALLOWEEN ONES SEPARATELY, MAYBE IN THE MORNING.
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Twelve Hours [Ch. 3]
Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou has dealt with a lot since he was eighteen, each year bringing the same depressing challenges on the same depressing night. He expects this time to be no different, but the universe is trying desperately to prove him wrong in the most bizarre ways imaginable. So screw it, Kuroo’s only choice is to buckle in and hope he doesn’t die. Easy enough. And hey, with some new allies at his side, maybe he has a chance. Who knows? At least Kuroo is sure of one thing in life when it comes to March 15th, and he stands by this unwritten law, no matter what happens:
If you try to kill pizza delivery boys on Purge Night, you’re irrevocably a bitch.
Rating: T
Tags: Purge AU, mentions of violence but nothing graphic or too bad, no character deaths here okay, this is borderline crack and idk what I was thinking, first meetings, other characters, shenanigans and just…a lot of fun (it seems angsty but its not)
Note: Woohoo I remembered to post this today lol. I’m excited for this chapter and the next because the plot is really starting to pick up, so I hope you all enjoy! Thanks to @emeraldwaves for reading this over!
AO3
The first thing Kuroo noticed about Tsukishima's home was the sheer number of books he had. The walls were lined with towering shelves, volumes upon volumes staring Kuroo down. Some were flimsy with unreadable spines, while others sparkled with an untouched gleam. He wondered how many of these the blond had actually read, or if maybe he could borrow a few sometime.
However, the books were pretty much the only personalized aspect of the home. No pictures on the walls, no posters, nothing but frames with generic stock photos of fancy cars placed in them. It didn't fit Tsukishima's vibe at all, and Kuroo squinted at the unfitting splashes of color as he peered around the home. He was satisfied to find a disorganized and impressive collection of DVDs though. Guess he's not a robot...
Not that Kuroo expected that.
"Your curiosity is burning holes in the wall," Tsukishima's voice floated from the kitchen, and Kuroo was greeted with a sight much too casual for such a grim day. Tsukishima sat atop the counter, despite the barstools nearby, munching on his second piece of pizza.
Kuroo laughed, sheepish at the thought of being watched. Where were his manners? His mother had raised him better...
"Sorry, but, I kinda don't get it," Kuroo said, gesturing to the second floor. By his count, the home had at least three bedrooms, probably spacious too. Hell, the living room was the size of his apartment. The kitchen shined from a fresh polishing, adorned with granite countertops and all the latest kitchen appliances.
It was a family's dream home. Anyone's dream home. So...
"You don't get why I'm here alone," Tsukishima stated, picking at a piece of burnt crust with his finely trimmed nails. Kuroo winced. There went any hopes for manners...
But they were kind of breaking a lot of rules already. Why not cut the crap?
"Uh, is the rest of your family...hiding?" Kuroo asked. And if so, why weren't you?
"I live here by myself, no one's hiding, no one's out of town. It's just me." Tsukishima took a bite of his pizza, staring resolutely at the dark wood floor.
Kuroo wondered if he should change the topic. It wasn't his business to pry, and if Tsukishima wasn't going to willingly offer up more information then--
"My parents and brother used to live here, but they moved away when the Purge started," Tsukishima said, shrugging. Noting Kuroo’s intense stare, Tsukishima squinted, debating on how many personal facts to give away. In the end, he must’ve decided he didn’t care. "I think mom and dad still live in Japan, but my brother and I don't talk to them anymore. Things...went sour."
Oh.
Kuroo didn't have anything to say to that, for fear that he'd end up word vomiting questions at the blond. He'd always been a bit of a gossip, unable to resist knowing every little thing he could. This felt calmer somehow, less urgent. His curiosity was still present, but he figured Tsukishima would give him the answers on his own.
Kuroo could play it cool, one small question at a time.
"It's a beautiful house," Kuroo told him, chuckling at the way Tsukishima frowned to himself. Or maybe not. Homes were only as good as the memories made in them. "What about your brother?"
Caught off guard by the mundane question, Tsukishima sat up, finally blessing Kuroo with a glimpse of those bewitching eyes. Much better.
Hopefully Kuroo hadn't stepped on a landmine.
"...Europe," Tsukishima answered after a beat of silence, his shoulders relaxing. Kuroo took the opportunity to cross the gap, taking a seat in one of the barstools next to where Tsukishima perched. "There's a good hospital there he likes, and his wife is there. Since he's in a wheelchair now, he needs all the peace he can get."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Kuroo said, biting his tongue.
"Don't be," Tsukishima said, his smile soft, directed in the distance. "He's happy there. No more Purge, no more problems."
"Ah, I love that song!" Kuroo exclaimed, helping himself to pizza. After all, he'd risked his life to deliver it. He was entitled to a slice.
Plus, it helped to keep his mouth shut. Tsukishima rolled his eyes, but the smile didn't fade, and they ate in comfortable silence.
Kuroo kept looking around the house, his enthusiasm falling from seeing the bare walls, the lack of possessions. If Tsukishima's family no longer lived here, the rooms must've been empty too...
The poetic, nerdy side of him wanted to make some metaphor to the Purge, but he didn't have it in him. When the night was over, maybe he'd come back and help Tsukishima paint a wall or two.
Also to nag him, because wow.
"I don't care what you say, living in this huge house all alone makes you the biggest target," Kuroo said, gesturing wildly to the large space. Tsukishima's rottweilers raised their heads at the sound, before deciding they didn't care enough to rise from their beds. "How are you not dead yet?"
"I told you, I'm prepared." Tsukishima waved his hand at nothing in particular, not at all quelling Kuroo's anxiety. "Not just the dogs, or the metal detector. There's cameras, there's weapons...and other things I’m not going to disclose to a stranger. Relax. Besides, it's a wasteland out here, nothing has happened since year one."
Huh, that was interesting. But Kuroo supposed rich people would try anything once.
"Oh? What makes you think it won't happen again," Kuroo said, chewing on his second slice. He glanced around the home suspiciously, wondering where Tsukishima hid the weapons. Surely, there must be some downstairs in the event of an attack.
Tsukishima went quiet, and the silence settled in the air like lead, weighing it down. Kuroo turned back to see the blond staring at him impassively, but with eyes that screamed a thousand words. "Because the perpetrators are gone. I told you, my parents moved away, didn't I?"
It made Kuroo nearly choke from swallowing too fast, the chill of the words shocking him into newfound sorrow.
Guess avoiding landmines wasn't his forte in the end.
"I'm, I didn't mean--"
"I know, I don't mind," Tsukishima said, carrying on like nothing was wrong. Worrisome. But Kuroo knew better than to trust Tsukishima’s facade, because that was a play straight out of his own book. "It happened a long time ago. We're safe now."
Kuroo didn't know if he was referring to themselves or Tsukishima and his brother, but either way, he accepted it.
And anyways, it wasn't his turn to ask a question now.
"No offense, but I never expected you to be delivering pizzas on Purge night," Tsukishima said a minute later, not sorry at all. "You were top of the class. At the start, anyways. I expected you to be a lawyer or an accountant. Although, your hair kinda ruins the image."
Oh, so you've got jokes now.
Kuroo poked Tsukishima's thigh enough to make him jump. Little shit. "Hey, this hair is a winner. And I've got time. I'm trying to make a little extra money is all."
He didn't go into his crippling doubts and unrealized dreams, or the fact that the year in question was the last time he'd been top of the class ever, but the blond didn’t have to know that.
"You must be desperate then," Tsukishima said with a smug smile, though it was ruined by the red stain of pizza sauce. It was less desperation and more...something Kuroo wouldn't think about, mostly because he wasn't 100% sure.
"Says the one who would try to fend off an attack by themselves," Kuroo shot back. "Well, and with the boys over there."
The rottweilers 'boofed' at the attention, but otherwise, they stayed put. At least they'd probably defend their master to the end.
"You don't know anything about how I purge." Tsukishima hopped off the counter, disposing of his trash in one of the bins. Kuroo followed suit, but didn't take his eyes off the blond. The subject was...a dicey one, but...
"You purge?"
Just the inquiry itself made Kuroo sick. He wanted to like Tsukishima, already did, but...Kuroo hated the Purge, hated anyone who thought it was okay. It brought nothing but strife and death, and he didn't care if people were working out excess energy or desires, they were part of the issue. Kuroo never purged willingly unless it was self-defense.
He watched Tsukishima as he walked over to one of the shitty car paintings, his nose scrunching up at the gaudy orange color. Yeah, same.
"Once, only once," Tsukishima said after an eternity. His voice was barely audible despite the emptiness of the home, but Kuroo was determined to hear every word. "I don't...I didn't want to. I wouldn't do it again."
Tsukishima turned away, facing the wall, but Kuroo could hear the guilt, saw how his shoulders tensed up. The relief was back, along with the new need to comfort the blond in any way, shape, or form.
"The first year?" Kuroo asked, assuming. After all...if that was when his parents...yeah.
Tsukishima shook his head. "Year two."
And well, Kuroo could tell the conversation was over after that.
--
They ended up watching Jeopardy reruns, and for the first time in a while, Kuroo felt smart.
"I don't understand how you possibly know this much about chemistry and math formulas," Tsukishima said, digging a spoon into a tub of ice cream. Kuroo noticed the other hadn't stopped eating the whole time he'd been there. Maybe it was a nervous tick...a Purge ritual, in his own way.
But yeah, Kuroo was kicking ass.
"Guess my brain remembers more than I thought," he said triumphantly. "You smashed the romantic literature category too, so I had to fight back."
Now all the books made so much sense...
"Also," Kuroo began, eyeing Tsukishima with fake suspicion. "Should I be concerned about how well you answered the 'you call that a knife' category?"
And he at last managed to get a full, genuine laugh out of Tsukishima. Much better than the gunshots and explosions outside.
"I told you, I'm prepared," Tsukishima said with a hum, scooping at the last bite of cookie dough ice cream. Kuroo followed the way his lips pressed against the spoon, suddenly craving the sweetness himself.
A few seconds passed however, and Tsukishima's neutral frown had returned, bleak as ever. It didn't matter what they did, Kuroo could tell the guilt from earlier had remained in Tsukishima's mind, as well as the reminder that it was the worst night of the year. Kuroo may not have known anything about Tsukishima’s own experience with it, but he wanted to help.
Even if it meant bringing up things he wanted to forget.
Ironically enough, the new category on screen was 'live long.'
Ha. He could dream.
"You know, it's okay if you've hurt people," Kuroo said. "I think we all have. Don't get me wrong, I hate the Purge, but sometimes you can't avoid it."
He let the words sit in the air, hoping they didn't anger Tsukishima. Kuroo wasn't trying to baby him or anything, it was how he truly felt about the situation. It pissed him off, but it wasn't totally useless advice.
This might've been too much for two strangers. We're not exactly strangers though, right?
Kuroo didn't want to be.
A few seconds later, he heard Tsukishima exhale, as if he hadn't breathed in hours. "I know. I don't regret what I did. More that I had to do it at all."
Yeah, if that wasn't a mood. Kuroo could've done so much more with his life if he'd just been free of this stupid holiday. It forced him into corners and boxes, ones he'd rather not inhabit. He understood. Regardless, he couldn't shake the intensity of Tsukishima's secret, if it could be called that...
So, he did what he did best. He asked.
"What did you do? If you don't mind me asking," Kuroo said, voice dropping to a whisper. Oof, alright, coulda done that better. It made him sound like he would cut and run at any moment.
Sensing their master's tension, Tsukishima's dogs hopped onto the couch, nuzzling them both. Kuroo needed to look into a therapy dog himself. Tsukishima smiled as he massaged one of the dogs’ heads, mulling over his answer while Kuroo tried to remember how to breathe.
"Nothing like murder, sorry to disappoint you," Tsukishima revealed. Disappoint? That's the biggest relief in the world. The air blew out of him, and Tsukishima snorted, but fuck it, Kuroo didn't have time to be embarrassed.
"I robbed someone. Someones. And it was a lot of money," Tsukishima said. "My brother needed surgery, I needed a way to get away from mom and dad. Back then, it made sense. Now I'm not sure, but it's done."
It was like he’d read it from a book or something, emotion detached, but Kuroo figured that was another form of coping. Tsukishima glared at the television, burying his face in the nearest pillow. He huddled in on himself, the sign of reservation and hesitance. Not used to sharing then huh...
Kuroo guessed he was the same. No one really talked about the Purge. The last time he'd brought it up had been.... he couldn't remember.
Wow.
Sighing to himself, Kuroo smiled, because there didn't seem to be a proper expression for such a feeling. But Tsukishima, who didn't give off the most open of vibes, had opened up to him. So, he was happy. As happy as he could be.
"Thank you," Kuroo said, smile growing at the sudden shock on Tsukishima's face. The blond turned so fast it had probably hurt his neck. "For telling me I mean! I don't think you should feel bad though, at least you did it for the right reasons. That's more than most can say."
Seriously...
Not that most others would care. Kuroo allowed himself to indulge in the small fantasy he'd created in Tsukishima's home though. That it was a normal, quiet night, and they were just hanging out. The weight of his weapons blurred the illusion a bit, but it would have to do.
Tsukishima stared at him, eyes glimmering, until he slowly nodded and turned away.
Kuroo watched the reflection of the bright blue Jeopardy screen bounce off the contours of Tsukishima's face as he sat, the cogs in his mind clearly working.
Tsukishima never seemed to stop thinking. Kuroo knew firsthand how it was as much a curse as a blessing.
But eventually, Tsukishima must've reached a conclusion. And oh, what a conclusion it was.
"You're kind of a disaster," the blond said a moment later, and Kuroo laughed so loud it concerned him. If a murderer had been in the house, they'd have been found in no time.
Well then. Here I was, trying to be nice....
"Oh? Never heard it said that easily before," Kuroo said, in between breathless gasps. "I was only trying to help."
"I wasn't finished," Tsukishima said, but his smirk told Kuroo the pause had been deliberate. Bringing his legs down from his chest, Tsukishima turned towards Kuroo, inviting, and Kuroo mirrored him. "You're a disaster, but..."
Kuroo arched a brow, intrigued by the light blush on Tsukishima's face that the television's glow couldn't hide.
Tsukishima sighed. "I guess, I wish I had talked to you sooner."
It took a moment for Kuroo to understand, but when he did, he felt the guilt creep up again. This time he wouldn't forget Tsukishima.
Yeah, me too.
And with any luck, he'd leave a good impression.
Smiling at each other, the moment seemed too perfect. Like some missing piece, Kuroo had at last reconnected with someone he didn't know he'd lost track of. It stumped him, but he felt like pieces remained missing, like he'd overlooked some things. They both had.
They could figure it out another time. For now, Kuroo wanted to sit in this moment, and pretend he didn't ever have to leave.
But, such was wishful thinking.
A crash rattled the whole house, breaking the moment like glass, and the alarms in his head began to sound like war sirens. Tsukishima reacted instantly, no time for shock. They were off the couch just like that, and Tsukishima's dogs were peeling off in the direction of the crash.
It didn't take much organization after that. There was no time for any other thought except survival. He exchanged a look with Tsukishima, and the blond nodded, wasting no time in pulling up the floorboards below them.
Oh, so that's where he hid them. Clever.
He'd admire later.
He took the machete handed to him, his mind racing with escape routes and strategies. He wondered what the best course of action was, if people could be waiting outside, how fast they could get to his car, everything.
Tsukishima's choice of weapon managed to break him out of his Terminator Mode™ because what the fuck is that?
"Is that a fucking flamethrower? That's not an authorized weapon," Kuroo sputtered, earning him a scathing glare as Tsukishima picked up the heavy artillery with ease.
Tsukishima paused, giving Kuroo a look that was equal parts hot and infuriating. "What are you a boy scout now? If I'm trying not to die, I'm going to use whatever the fuck I want."
"That violates so many laws."
"This whole night violates laws, like my right to living," Tsukishima said, standing up and marching in the direction of the crash, no signs of escaping. And uh....yeah, Kuroo couldn't argue with that. He followed Tsukishima, watching his back, and despite the tension he could hear the blond's irritated mumbling.
"The first night in over four years...coming into my damn house...it's the shittiest house on the block..."
If Kuroo had not been in full battle mode, he might've found it cute, but they had more pressing matters.
Like the huge hole where one of Tsukishima's bay windows used to be.
"Oh shit," Kuroo said, his footsteps slowing as they entered the room. He moved to face the hallway, in the event someone had already snuck in, which was more than likely considering the new entrance. The window, which had taken up a good half of the wall, had been obliterated, leaving chunks of glass littered around the hardwood, and on the grass outside. From where they stood, Kuroo could see the rest of the cul-de-sac, leaving them completely exposed. Fuck.
Okay, so he took back what he’d said about the flamethrower.
"That was bullet proof glass...how," Tsukishima mumbled, eyeing the shards on the floor with disbelief. It was then they both noticed the tire marks leading into the home, the black streaks staining the floor.
Not car proof though.
The fact someone was crazy enough to ram the side of the house with a car made Kuroo all the more worried. They were committed. Kuroo didn't dare walk outside to see if a car was there though, he wasn't that stupid.
The room had been barren aside from some dusty boxes, the remnants of what used to be a formal family dining room.
As if reading Kuroo's mind, Tsukishima huffed humorlessly. "At least this room's not important."
"We should get to my car," Kuroo whispered, and Tsukishima thankfully agreed. As equipped as they were, a fight wasn't preferred. Regardless of if no one had gotten inside, now anyone could. There were nine hours left in the Purge, and Kuroo didn't want to tempt fate.
"Let's go," Tsukishima said, forgoing any shoes as the reality of their situation set in.
If only they'd left right away.
"Wait," Tsukishima said, eyes darting down the hallway. "Where are my dogs?"
They both froze, listening for any barks or the patter of paws on wood. Nothing. In fact, with horror, they both realized they hadn’t heard anything in several minutes.
Silence meant death on a night like tonight.
Oh no.
"Don't worry," a voice said, coming from the direction of the garage just around the corner. And in that brief second, Kuroo knew they'd lost. He caught Tsukishima’s frustrated expression as the blond closed his eyes, cursing their foolishness.
"I took care of them for you," the voice continued, and Tsukishima stepped in front of Kuroo with trembling shoulders. Not from fear, but pure, limitless anger.
He may have hated this house, but goddammit, it was still his house. The notion became crystal clear to Kuroo, given how Tsukishima was prepared to take the first shot.
The garage door opened, and they both tightened their holds on the weapons. They were exposed from three angles now. The garage, the front of the house, and the side. Kuroo only hoped no one had snuck into the living room. The garage, and his car along with it, were now non-options. It would take a miracle now, or in less naive terms, it would probably take Tsukishima's damn flamethrower.
Kuroo definitely took back what he said earlier.
Either way, his chances of making it out alive now were slim, but hey? The night hadn't been as awful as he would've thought.
If anything, Kuroo was glad Tsukishima didn't have to face this alone, that he'd decided to stay.
He needed more time to come to terms with the rest of his regrets, but he wasn't given that luxury, because the next thing he knew, a group of masked men flooded the hallway, guns armed and ready.
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short trip home (part 2—west of the divide & back)
Two famous movies produced before Technicolor became standard, when it remained costly and labor-intensive—The Wizard of Oz (1939) and The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)—still made strategic limited use of it: in Oz (at length) as the vivid dyes rendering Dorothy’s polychrome dreamland; in Gray as the jolt bringing us face-to-face with Dorian’s corruption and cruelty.
Audiovisual entertainments are now so immersive and realistic that it’s hard to gauge what impact the selective use of color once may have had on movie audiences familiar only with black-and-white. Yet both films’ technique came to mind as I drove from east to west over Rogers Pass—from dry, late icebound winter into full-blown mountain spring. I weighed switching to color for the second half of this post.
That would have strained an already slight parallel. But the greens of the meadows and forest floors along the Blackfoot Valley did rival the John-Deere-tractor hue of the Wicked Witch of the West’s face. And the unidentifiable roadkill emerging here and there from the ditches’ receding snows could have resembled (since it was already on my mind) Dorian’s vile portrait-corpse.
The Blackfoot Valley has less idiosyncratic ties to cinema with Robert Redford’s A River Runs Through It (1992), the movie based on the title novella of an autobiographical collection by Norman Maclean, a retired Shakespeare professor from the University of Chicago, who had grown up in Missoula. The film doesn’t come close to conveying the story’s wonder and laconic pathos, I’ve always thought. The collection, never promoted, and published by an academic press since no commercial publisher would touch it, was in my teens a dog-eared parable passed around among fly-fishing family and friends, who took it to heart before it grew widely famous (although my paternal grandfather, an ardent fly-fisherman and churchgoer, like the author’s father, found it scandalous).
The Big Blackfoot River comprises the healing waters that course through the story, though other streams make appearances too. The Blackfoot is “multitudinous,” “gossamer,” “electrically charged,” and above all “beautiful”: a bestower of glory and haloes; a shadow-maze, an oracle, a cipher. It’s the timeless current that recalls for Maclean his brother, Paul, and helps him come to terms, imperfectly, with Paul’s bewildering character and at last his murder.
The North Fork of the Blackfoot River (web photo)
In July and August, the Blackfoot pours like molten crystal through long, at times suddenly sharp, curves, tinged emerald in its channels and holes. But in mid-May this year it raged down in such muddy volume that its rapids’ usual din fell to a whisper—an unnerving sign of power and mass—and it flooded flatter parts of the valley floor in shining swaths. I wondered how the fabled trout within it were surviving such forces.
At various points, Highway 200 and the river diverge, to cross again miles further down. At each successive crossing that day its torrent seemed doubled. Near the sawmill and railroad town of Bonner, where the Blackfoot joins with the Clark Fork River, it ran as wild and full as I could have imagined possible for the river I had known since childhood.
A few miles yet further down, in Missoula, the Clark Fork surged too. As its banks bloomed obliviously with lilac and chokecherry, the river smashed through town at 100-year flood levels, completely drowning Brennan’s Wave, the white-water hydraulic there beloved of kaykers and river surfers. Norman Maclean’s Blackfoot had here become T.S. Eliot’s strong brown god —“sullen, untamed, and intractable.”
The Clark Fork River in Missoula May 2018
Brennan’s Wave in May a few years ago
Most of the city itself hadn’t flooded, though, and bustled with the business of graduation, taking note of the Clark Fork’s maelstrom from its bridges but preoccupied with its own rhythms and rituals.
Indeed nearly all weekend the weather and setting were paradisal. The crabapples’ white profusion disappeared here and there into the snows of the Missoula Valley’s five surrounding mountain ranges. Lawns and trees pulsed green in long spring light. There were parties for the graduates and their families, smiles and toasts and a palpable sense of relief. The student house where my nephew lived stood just a block west of the campus, a neighborhood that includes beautiful yards and small mansions of various architectural inspiration.
Charles C. Brothers Residence under restoration
Missoula embraces its identity as a political and civic oasis in a deep red state, still retaining some air of the working-class progressivism forged through its early ties to the railroads, timber industry, and Forest Service. The university, of course, has long reinforced this culture on its own terms, as do Patagonia-wearing millionaires who’ve moved there for close access to wilderness. The city itself has bucked the regressive zoning and land-use trends elsewhere in Montana to restrict sprawl and keep the bare foothills cradling it mostly development-free. Those foothills constantly draw the gaze upward and shift with clouds and light; from the busy center of town their emptiness somehow calms the heart.
Alley art downtown
Alchemy along the walls at Butterfly Herbs
In Missoula, on the south bank of the Clark Fork
Missoula cherishes its oddities, too, human and otherwise—probably none moreso than the dramatis personae haunting the Smead-Simons building, Montana’s first skyscraper, known as the Wilma. Standing tall on the downtown-side bank of the Clark Fork, the building’s early history (available in various accounts) revolves mainly around its opulent movie theater and the Crystal Plunge, an indoor Olympic-size pool (another Montana first). Through the years chapters featuring a perfumed fountain, Mahalia Jackson, ornithomania, and David Lynch were added. Its apotheosis was the Chapel of the Dove, a shrine assembled in its basement to venerate Korro Hatto, the beloved pet pigeon of longtime Wilma owner Eddie Sharp.
Though openly gay (when being so in the American West carried serious risk) and half her age, Sharp had married Edna Simons (née Wilma), the widow of the the Wilma’s founding owner and a former Vaudeville singer. Sharp revered and dearly loved her. According to Missoulians I know, but no written account I could find, Sharp came recognize Korro Hatto as Edna Simons-Sharp’s reincarnation at some point after her death in 1954; the chapel was an exact replica of chapel where they had married four years earlier in New York City. Korro Hatto, Sharp’s constant shoulder-perching companion, lived to the age of twenty, and they are interred together, along with Sharp’s subsequent partner of forty years, Robert Sias, in Missoula City Cemetery.
Missoula is now home to several start-up breweries and distilleries, but still hosts a number of its original taverns, most notable (to me, anyway), the Oxford—”the Ox”—whose blackjack tables never close and which used to serve brains and eggs as part of its 24-hour breakfast menu. The poet Richard Hugo, perhaps besides Maclean the most famous literary figure who lived and taught in Missoula, drank and socialized here and in the town’s numerous other “cavelike, majestically slow-moving Western barrooms.”
Stars are not in reach. We touch each other
by forgetting stars in taverns, and we know
the next man when we overhear his grief. Call the heavens
cancerous for laughs, and pterodactyls clown
deep in that fragmented blue. In that red heart
a world is beating counter to the world.
Soon enough, It was time to drive back, to cross the Divide again in my rental car (which my youngest nephews, twins, relentlessly deemed “gutless”)—this time from west to east. The flight home to Minnesota would depart the next morning at a harsh pre-dawn hour.
After goodbyes, we headed out in a caravan. I did so with a heavy heart—the weekend had been too short, the family time joyous but jumbled, the fragrant sliver of springtime achingly perfect.
The road from Missoula to Great Falls is still beautiful, though the views eventually resolve, once over Rogers Pass, into the forlornness of eastern Montana. The late afternoon sun, falling behind us, kept out of our eyes and lit the shifting landscapes ahead. The Blackfork River dwindled as we climbed, at first only slightly, but by Lincoln decidedly. The snows on pass had mostly melted away.
We sped through Lewis and Clark and Cascade counties, past ranches and windbreaks and homemade antigovernment signs nailed to fenceposts, anxious for our destination. At Vaughn, though, rather than taking the interstate where it crosses highway 200, we cut off on the road leading to First People’s Buffalo Jump State Park, or the Ulm pishkun as it’s locally known. The twilit hills and coulees glowed pink and gold. We stopped and got out of the car at the turnoff to McIver Road just to take in the sunset for a few minutes, then got back in and drove the rest of the way to my brother’s house before dark.
#montana#norman maclean#eastern montana#missoula#lewis and clark#brennans wave#A River Runs Through It#first peoples buffalo jump#richard hugo#charles c brothers residence#the wizard of oz#dorian gray
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the in-between place || 03/26/2021 (nine years)
The other day I woke up in a haze. You know, that in-between place, where you’re not technically sleeping, but you’re otherwise in a dreamlike state? Anyway, I woke up, took my morning cocktail of pain medication, and picked up my phone. All of that has become reflexive upon waking up. The pain medication is never far from my reach, and my phone has always lived under my pillow -- yeah, yeah I know it’s bad for me. I took a sip of water, hoping to rid myself of the feeling that my meds had become traffic-jammed in my throat. I looked down at my phone, and gaped at the screen. Somewhere in those reflexive, every day, new normal actions, I had done something I don’t think I’d ever done before. Google search results stared back at me: “Sania Wali UNMC” More to the point, an image result. There she was. It’s a criminally low quality photo, but there is no mistaking her. A beaming smile, periwinkle sweater, and painfully 90s leather jacket, standing at a 2002 Holiday Tea at the Med Center. I had never seen that photo before. I had seen that building -- UNMC was like a second home growing up. I had seen her don periwinkle, her favorite color, many times. I wish I didn’t know that jacket so well (sorry, mom). But I’d never seen this photo. Among a myriad of thoughts flowing through my mind as I smiled back at her face, her vibrance palpable despite low pixels, one thought rang out clearer than the others: She was real. Then waves of relief. Then waves of heartache and recognition that for so long now she has felt like a fictional character. A figment of my imagination. A piece of folklore. I wouldn’t change anything about being the only child of my single mother. But the very things that made our us-against-the-world love and bond so strong, made the loss uniquely devastating, now make me feel like I’m losing my mind. It feels like no one else remembers. Sometimes it feels like I don’t remember, either.
I kept clicking links. There weren’t many, and the evidence of her life was small within them. But it was something. Someone’s CV came up in the Google search, so I clicked and scrolled. He was on the judging panel for my mom when she defended her thesis. “Wali, Sania. The Effect of Prenatal Exposure to Lorazepam on Adult Rat Offspring Behavior, 1994, University of Nebraska Medical Center, M.S. “ I already knew I could cry over citations, thanks to Bluebooking in law school, but not like this. And as someone with a legitimate phobia of rats, it also wasn’t new for the thought of them to push me to tears. But, again, not like this. If I think about this discovery for too long, I feel the white-hot anger within me transform from its ever-present hum to a screeching alarm demanding attention. The CV in question is long, reflecting a medical career full of accomplishments and spanning many decades. My mom should have had that. And here she is reduced to a citation on someone else’s. Still, my tears were as happy as they were mournful, equally proud and indignant. It’s something. She was real. Other people knew her, learned from her, and loved her. I simply can’t do justice to how it felt. To learn a new fact about her, to find a photo I hadn’t already pored over, I didn’t think I would ever experience that again.
At the risk of alarming you, It’s hard to explain how uninspired I feel to be an active participant in my own life since being discharged from the hospital. I keep trying to express why to my therapist and to loved ones who want to know how my recovery is going, and all I’ve come up with is, “I don’t feel like myself.” And that’s mostly true. I don’t feel like a 25-year-old. I don’t feel like a law student. I don’t feel like a friend. I don’t feel like an aspiring-lawyer. But I also feel exactly like myself: sad, lonely, mourning the loss of someone (my mom) or something (a chunk of lung, my perceived healthiness, the loss of normalcy in already bizarre times).
When I was in the hospital, it was easy to feel unmoored from reality. From myself. Some of it was probably the pain meds. A lot of it was looking at my surroundings and seeing nothing of mine. No friends, no family. Nothing familiar. And, yet, something. When they brought out the scalpel to insert my chest tube, I thought of the way my mom’s reputation preceded her as a surgeon in the refugee camp: “If someone really needed help, you called Sania. She could cut as fast with her left hand as her right.” I felt it in the ease with which I understood my medical team’s terminology as they discussed amongst themselves, and in their surprised amusement when I asked follow-up questions that made my understanding obvious. (“I thought you were in law school.”) The hospital’s visual resemblance to UNMC mercifully dug up memories of accompanying my mom to work and not visiting her there as a patient. In spite of how miserable I was, I was also at peace in a way I haven’t been in almost a decade. Content, in a twisted way. There was so much of her to be found everywhere I looked. So coming home has been hard. In the ways you would expect, and in ways you wouldn’t. In ways I didn’t.
In the past few weeks, my mom has become the chief consideration in everyday decisions. Perfume with cardamom base notes, because I know she would like the smell. Mom jeans that, aptly-named, look like something I would’ve rolled my eyes at her for wearing. Earrings reminiscent of her favorite gold hoops. Celine Dion’s compilation album from 1999. Taylor Swift’s first three albums. Anything starring Denzel Washington. Sports highlights from the 2010 Lakers-Celtics NBA finals. I’ve come to realize that I’m desperate to make the world around me one that would be familiar to her, the way the hospital felt bizarrely familiar to me. A world she would recognize, and recognize me in. I know it’s in vain. She never met Nick. I don’t know if she ever visited Washington DC. We never discussed law as a career path. Enrique Iglesias has not released an album anywhere near as good as Escape. The Huskers suck at football. We’re in a pandemic. Life is nothing like it was when she was here, but it’s hard not to wish it was so. And it’s really hard not to feel resentful toward the obvious markers that life has changed, even when those markers are things and people I love.
So I don’t feel like Leemah, the resilient advocate, soon-to-be lawyer, and unparalleled social butterfly. (And so humble, too!) I feel Leemah, the little girl whose whole world is her mother and who likes it that way. And I don’t know how to convince myself that it’s worth getting back to myself. I like it here. In this place of make-believe, where it feels like at any moment she might walk in to ask if I want chai. I know that I am deluding myself, but I also know that I’m remembering more. Yesterday, unprompted, our first phone number sprang to mind with such clarity. Today I can picture an old favorite skirt of hers that I’d forgotten. Black with white and red flowers. And some distant tomorrow I know that I will have to rejoin my life. I have a degree to finish. Friends to reconnect with. Nice days to enjoy. Reality to acknowledge. And I know that the longer I put it off, the worse it will eventually feel. But the cruelty of my medical trauma coinciding with what is already the hardest time of year for me is a lot for one person to confront, and I can only handle so much pain and healing at once. So, I think I’m just going to live here for now. In this in-between place, where she feels familiar and close by and real.
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Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 6
Title: Heroes and Thieves
Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback
Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.
Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.
Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 3,791
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Also on ff.net and AO3.
In which Dick is surprisingly racist towards clones.
Two birds on a wire
One says "come on" and the other says "I'm tired"
The sky is overcast and I'm sorry
One more or one less
Nobody's worried
-Regina Spektor, "Two Birds"
Then.
Once their guest had left, Tim turned to Dick with a wounded air.
“How about giving me some warning next time before someone shows up, huh? A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”
Dick’s smile didn’t falter.
“What, did she catch you doing something embarrassing?”
Tim skewered him a look of disgust.
“Do you have to make everything sound dirty?”
“Sorry, sorry. …I’m surprised you’re still doing ‘that’ after all these years though.”
Tim shrugged with a heavy sigh. “Was just testing to see if I still could, I guess. I messed up on the landing anyway.”
“You probably just need to work on your form some more. It has been a while since I last saw you brush up on any techniques, they’re bound to get a bit rusty. If you want, I can still coach you…”
Tim’s lips tightened.
“Forget it. It’s not worth it.”
“Are you sure? That girl seemed pretty impressed by it. She’s the one you were talking about earlier, right?” Dick nodded in sage observation. “She’s cute; nice face, decent rack- ow!” He rubbed his arm as it was abruptly met with an annoyed punch. “Hey, it was a compliment.���
“…Didn’t sound like one.”
“Would you prefer I said she has a mighty fine ass?” He waggled his brows and grinned provocatively, despite wincing from the pain. Kid could still hit pretty hard when he wanted to. “Not as fine as mine though.”
“Shut up before I shove a dumbbell up there.”
Dick clutched his behind in mock dread at the threat.
“Seriously though, she’s obviously into you.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “The way I see it, from where I’m standing, she’s more into you.”
“Oh ho, do I detect a note of jealousy?”
“No,” Tim denied hotly, though his cheeks told a different story. “It’s just that you’re being super-gross about it. You know you’re acting like Bruce by coming onto every giddy schoolgirl and her mom who walks in through the door.”
Dick’s smirk jerked slightly.
“Wow, okay dude, we’re really going there.” It was his turn to be hurt by insensitivity. “You didn’t need to go that far. I’ll have you know this and that are completely different.”
“How so?”
“I approach these things from a sole marketing perspective. Purely professional. It’s called ‘show business’, bro.”
“Uh-huh. This coming from the guy who just lied about his scars to make himself look good. I suppose ‘that’s’ also part of your advertising strategy?”
“Hey, it’s not like it was a total lie. That really did happen, you know – minus the ‘falling debris’ part. …Besides, what else would you have me say?”
Tim shook his head, keeping his voice low. “…I don’t know.”
Dick seized on the telling silence. “You are attracted to her, aren’t you?”
“I am not.”
“It’s okay, I can see why. It’s all right to admit these things, you know. You don’t have to hide it.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
The firm, yet flustered defiance only further confirmed Dick’s suspicion.
“Heh heh, little Timmy’s got a crush~”
He tousled Tim’s hair teasingly, to which the boy scowled.
“I do not.” He pushed the invading hand away in indignation. “Will you cut that out already? I’m not a kid anymore.”
Dick lowered his limb in disappointment.
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Despite insistence otherwise, it delighted Dick that Tim was finally exhibiting some of the youthful desire – if not exuberance – he’d missed out on through his teenage years. “Trust me though, I have no interest in someone her age. She’s all yours.”
“Look, will you just drop it?” Tim snapped bluntly. “It’s none of your freakin’ business.”
Dick exhaled, clicking his tongue. If only Tim could be more honest with his feelings, true to himself – though he was painfully aware of how excruciatingly difficult that must be, what with everything the boy had been through. To be fair, he had his own troubles genuinely opening his heart to others, after all the times it had been broken and betrayed before. …He could only imagine how terrifying it must be for Tim, to allow someone else – a complete and total stranger – to get close by entering into his currently (semi-)stable and secure – if supremely secluded life, experience that kind of risky emotion again. Breach the many walls and defensive barriers he had set up around himself, upset the plainly precarious balance that was still a struggle to barely maintain. So as much as he wanted to continue coaxing and clowning – kidding around, he agreed to leave it alone for now, raising both palms in admitted defeat.
“Okay, I get it. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”
The subject successfully dismissed, Tim attuned towards the boxes in the back.
“So did you want me to help with moving this stuff or what?”
“Yeah, I needed to clear out some old things to make space for new equipment. Trying to tidy up the place more, getting rid of useless junk and whatnot. …Although most of it’s probably going up to the storeroom in the attic anyway. Sorry to bother you for this; I’d do all the lifting myself, but with my back…”
“Don’t mention it, it’s the least I can do to repay you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Tim knelt by one of the cartons as Dick set to work sifting and sorting, organizing according to some arbitrary system that ostensibly only made sense to him.
“Christ, how much crap do you have here? Seriously, what even is half this junk? I knew you had all kinds of odd ends lying around, but I didn’t realize it amounted to this much. Do you ever throw anything away?”
Dick shrugged.
“What can I say, I’m a hoarder by nature. Keeping keepsakes is my hobby. …Well, more like a habit, I guess. Why do you think we had a trophy room in the basement? It wasn’t originally Bruce’s idea, I can tell you that.”
Tim remained quiet as he poked through a large collection of CDs, containing a few recognizable but mostly random titles by various indie bands and artists he’d never heard of.
“Man, you’ve got weird taste in music.”
“Hey, don’t knock the classics. Those are precious goods, be careful with those.”
In spite of his scoffing, Tim picked up one of the discs that appealed to him, and was almost about to subconsciously slip the item under his oversized hoodie – an old, old habit of his own – before remembering he didn’t have to resort to sneaking or stealing when he could just ask.
“Can I borrow this?”
Dick didn’t even twist to look, implicitly trusting in his little brother’s judgment. “Yeah sure, go ahead.”
Tim breathed out in relief as he pocketed the prize with permission. That was a close call. Borderline kleptomaniac compulsions hadn’t surfaced like that in a long time, but then, it was only another minor checkbox on the extensive, exhaustive list of psychotic symptoms he was suffering from today.
There was another entry that caught his eye, different from the others. It had no hard case or album cover; just a plain, simple jacket labeled with marker:
For Babs.
Tim wondered if it was a mix tape – surely Dick wouldn’t have tried to record something himself? He couldn’t tell whether it was a gift Dick planned to give but never worked up the courage to – or something Barbara sent back after (one of numerous) breakup(s).
…Maybe Joker was right. Being in love with someone seemed like way more hassle than it was worth. Hell, just watching those two go back and forth between affection and anger even back then was tiring. Aggravating.
At any rate, he left burning curiosity alone, not wanting to intrude too much on Dick’s privacy (years ago he would’ve taunted his brother with the juicy bit of exposing bait himself, but that was then, when he was less mature and still found amusement in such things), and moved on to another container. As soon as he saw the contents inside, he balked a bit, heartbeat spiking. Aching. It was a family photo album, full of fond memories from the Flying Graysons’ circus days. His hands trembled as he flipped tentatively through the pages, unable to tear away even though it made him uncomfortable for a number of reasons. Paranoid of polaroids. Anything involving camerawork tended to make him queasy, though he could typically tolerate homages to others at least. These were different from the blown-up, polished posters on the wall though; the images portrayed within were more intimate, unscripted. Candid, captured moments of a close-knit clan, happy as a clam – treasured remnants of childhood innocence and bliss combined with parental pampering.
“This must have been such a cool place to grow up.”
“…It was.”
Glancing back at the receptacle, buried at the bottom was another set of snapshots: a framed photograph of Dick and Barbara together (him smiling smugly straight at her in puppy-like adoration while she beamed brightly at the viewer instead), and a worn print of the former in graduation garb next to Bruce, who had his paw wrapped proudly on the other’s shoulder. Scrawled on the top left-hand corner in Bruce’s surprisingly haphazard handwriting was a short congratulatory message:
Good luck at college, Dick.
Tim recalled how Dick told him the story of Bruce missing his graduation from Gotham State University, shortly before the two split up as Batman and Robin. (…The old man never even bothered to come to his own high school ceremony – not that Tim was expecting him to – although Dick and Barbara both did attend at least, albeit sitting at opposite ends of the auditorium.)
“It was building for a long time. I realize that now. …It was never really right. I mean, this isn’t exactly a normal childhood.”
He hadn’t really comprehended the notion then, but Tim understood now what those words meant – unfortunately all too well.
Tim sensed a shadow behind him, and for a brief instant, he half-envisioned it being Bruce from the way it loomed – but of course when he revolved around it was only Dick instead.
“Yo, you all right? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tim looked down at the scrapbook in his lap, a wistful mist in his eyes. “I was just… thinking I don’t really have any pictures of my folks. At least none where we’re all together.” Or that isn’t a mugshot, he thought sullenly to himself. “I never saw my dad keep any mementos of Mom after she died. To be honest, I’m not sure I even still remember what she looks like.”
Dick plopped down on the ground next to him, resting a hand on the boy’s sagged shoulder.
“Listen, I hope you know: No matter what, you can always think of the two of us as family at least. I know I haven’t exactly been that much of a great guardian myself, that I could never replace what you lost either… But you are still a brother to me. Hell, I consider you the closest thing to a real relative I’ve had since then.”
Tim simply nodded, swallowing a lump in his gorge. Dick patted his back with a thump.
“Us guys, we gotta stick together, right? Through thick and thin.”
“Yeah.” Tim ducked his neck towards his collar, surreptitiously drying ducts on his sweatshirt. “…Thanks, you know, for letting me stay here so long. Roy and Conner too.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” A pause. “…How’s Conner doing by the way?”
Tim snorted, the caution in the other’s tone not escaping his notice. “What do you care? You never liked him anyway.”
“That’s not true. It’s just… The whole idea of cloning someone kinda wigs me out, okay? I dunno, imagining there being a duplicate copy of you running around is freaky enough, but one of Superman? It still doesn’t sit well with me to leave him loose like that, after all the underhanded crap Cadmus has pulled. Something about it just doesn’t seem right. Who’s to say he doesn’t have some secret kill switch that’ll make him go rogue like Supergirl’s doppelganger? Gotham may be full of crazies and creeps, but at least we never really had to deal with stuff of metahuman caliber aside from Ivy and Clayface, or Kirk when he took the serum.” Dick intentionally didn’t include Killer Croc on the atypical rogues roster; guy was too dumb a criminal to count. “We’re on the high end of the ‘weird’ scale, sure, but not even Batman’s equipped to take down a serious superpowered menace alone.”
Tim glared at him in disbelief.
“Is that you talking, or the old man?”
“…Maybe a bit of both,” Dick willingly conceded. “Look, I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“Yeah well, don’t be. I’ve got Mr. Kent on speed-dial, and Kon gave me his full consent to use the Kryptonite at my discretion as part of our ‘roommate agreement’. If anything happens, he told me himself he wants me to hit him with it as hard as I can.” …Even if it meant killing him – although Tim knew he could never go through with that. Not again. “Besides, it’s not him you’re actually worried about, is it?”
“Tim…”
“No, you know what this is?” Tim clenched his fist, drawing away from contact again. “You look at him with the same way you do me – like some ticking time bomb about to explode. I’m getting real sick and tired of it.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Sure it isn’t. Look, for your information, Conner’s doing fine. Hell, he pretty much behaves just like you; he’s probably getting wasted and chasing after chicks at some mixer right now. …That’s what you call a ‘normal college life’, isn’t it?”
Dick cleared his throat, aversely acknowledging hypocrisy.
“…What about you? How is school going? Do you like it there?”
Tim shrugged.
“It’s okay.”
“You know you didn’t have to just stick locally around here. If you wanted to go someplace else I would’ve sponsored you. I mean, I chose to stay close to Gotham because of that… ‘part-time job’ stuff, but you’re smart, you could’ve gone anywhere better.”
“I told you, I’m fine with this.”
“What about taking that girl’s suggestion at least? Life doesn’t just have to be about books and studying for tests all the time either, you know. Look at it this way: You’ve got the time and opportunity now to be a part of after-class club activities that I never had. Why not take advantage of it, get out there and socialize. Enjoy the excitement of your youth and all that.”
Tim stared, trying unsuccessfully to read the other’s expression. He couldn’t deduce whether the dude was just being humorously sarcastic, or genuinely envious and attempting to live vicariously through him. Either way, he wasn’t falling for it.
“I said forget it.”
Dick kept pressing despite disengagement, earnest in his endeavor to tempt Tim to pursue what used to fill the boy with fervent passion, desperately hoping to rekindle some kind of joyful spark.
“Come on, I’m sure it’ll be fun. I bet I could even still teach you to do a quadruple somersault if you’re interested.”
“Why? I suck at it.”
“You just need more practice. …Besides, it’d be kind of a shame to let a legacy die out without passing it on to at least one person.”
Tim wavered at the sincere, if somewhat scheming statement.
“I don’t know…”
“Trust me, it’s easy once you get the hang of it.”
“Maybe for you.” He bitterly bit his tongue under his breath. “I’d like to see you try to concentrate on keeping your balance with the Joker as a peanut gallery.”
“What was that?”
“…Nothing.”
Dick held his gaze for a second.
“Tim, I didn’t want to bring this up, but… Conner called me the other day. He told me, about the lab incident. He says you haven’t been sleeping or eating much either.”
Tim grit his jaw, feeling like a dagger had just been thrust in his gut. He couldn’t believe his best (perhaps only) bud in the world would betray him like that.
“Damnit, Kon.”
“Don’t blame him, he’s just worried about you too. I told you: You don’t need to keep hiding things from us. We’re here to help if you need anything. Babs too. If something’s troubling you, you can talk to us.”
“It’s fine, I’m handling it.”
Dick wouldn’t desist, determined to get the truth out of him.
“Tim, I heard you yelling earlier. …He’s back again, isn’t he?”
The boy sighed in surrender, eyes slanting stage right. “…To your left, making faces.”
His partner fixed him with stern concern.
“Are you off your meds again?”
“They don’t work. Not as well as they used to.”
“That doesn’t mean you should just stop taking them.”
“For what? So I can only experience the side effects?”
“So talk to Leslie. Ask her to adjust the dosage.”
Tim made a hollow noise. “I’m already on the highest strength that’s considered ‘safe’ for human consumption.”
Dick pulled out his phone anyway and began dialing her number.
“I’m contacting her. There must be at least something else we can try.”
“Not Dr. Thompkins,” Tim whined, as if a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“Look, either you call to make an appointment, or I will.”
Tim seethed, grinding his teeth. “All right, fine. Jeeze. God, you and Barbara still both treat me like a fucking child.”
“Yeah well, maybe if you stop acting like one.”
“Whatever. Just hand me the phone. I’ll talk to her.”
Dick extended the cell towards Tim, who took it with all the enthusiasm of accepting a dirty sock.
“It’s ringing.”
He listened closely in on the conversation to confirm a meeting time was set up, before Tim returned the receiver.
“Here. She wants to talk to you.”
Dick lifted the mobile to his ear.
“Hey, doc.”
“Hello, Richard. It’s good to hear from you boys. How’s the back treating you?”
“Fine.” He didn’t want to dwell too much on his own health status, so he moved on to the matter at hand. “Is there anything we can do to help Tim?”
“In such a rare and unusual case as this, it’s hard to say. It’d be beneficial to start by identifying the root of his relapse. Once we pinpoint that, it’ll be easier to formulate a treatment plan. It’s possible it could just be due to the stress of moving to a new environment. It’s good that you’ve been able to help support him through high school, but now that he’s becoming independent it may be triggering a stronger separation anxiety response in him. Even if consciously he rejects it, the Joker ingrained himself as a parental figure in Tim’s mind. Essentially, he equates that kind of attention with the nurturing love and protection he never properly received growing up. It’s common for child victims of abuse to form a disorganized attachment to the caregiver, especially when the caregiver behaves in an inconsistent manner. The conflict of the caregiver being both a source of comfort and distress can cause the child to display contradictory patterns when faced with a stressful situation; instinct tells him to simultaneously avoid and approach the one who is mistreating him. In the absence of a familiar atmosphere he’s accustomed to, he’s likely seeking alternate methods of coping as a survival mechanism. Has he been under any kind of particular pressure lately?”
Dick relayed the events leading up to the fainting spell, with little input from Tim beyond affirmative nods.
“I see. It’s certainly a sign of progress that he’s trying to face his fears, but a heads-on approach might not be the best tactic.”
“I tried to tell him that. He won’t listen.”
“I’ll have a chat with him about it when I see him, hopefully we can find a way for him to succeed in his studies without compromising his sense of safety. One more question, this is important: Has he tried to harm himself?”
“I… don’t think so. I’ll check, and let you know.”
“Please do.”
As Dick temporarily terminated the exchange, he rotated to see Tim had stood up and was headed towards the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out for a smoke – walk – whatever. Just text me when you need me.”
“Hold it.” The harsh bark arrested the boy before he was halfway to the exit. “Wrists.”
Tim swiveled with a sour countenance.
“Seriously? Do we really have to do this?”
“Show me.”
He hissed, but obediently rolled up his sleeves, revealing bare but apparently unmarked skin.
“Satisfied?”
Dick advanced and examined him all over anyway, before nodding.
“All right. Now empty your pockets.”
Tim tsked, feeling as violated as when the staff at the detention center frisked him on admittance for any concealed contraband. He dug through his possessions, retrieving objects one by one: phone, wallet, CD player, lighter, cigarettes, and finally – under Dick’s demanding eye – the hidden pocketblade.
“Give me the knife.”
He hesitated.
“Don’t make me wrestle it from you.”
Relinquishing, he slapped the weapon into Dick’s grip without a word.
“Thank you. You can go, but try to keep near.”
“Sure thing, Mom.”
Dick deliberately chose to ignore the sardonic retort, used to receiving attitude by now. (For a fleeting moment, he mused if he ever gave Bruce this much frustration, although no doubt Alfred would certainly attest to it.)
After Tim left, Dick hit redial to reassuringly inform Leslie on the observed lack of self-inflicted damage to the patient’s physical condition at least – and preemptive confiscation of means just to be safe – before bidding goodbye with a final beep. He sighed as he rubbed his neck, hoping his “tough love” hadn’t come off as too deterring. He really wasn’t good with this whole “parenting” thing, considering the primary role model he had for nearly half of his life after early adolescence.
As he picked up the memoir from the floor, he caressed his fingers feather-light over the cover, brushing off collected dust and disenchantment before delicately placing it on a shelf for easy viewing access. The rest he unceremoniously dumped in the “to toss” pile, purposefully cramming as much trash as he could on top. …After a few minutes though he fished them out again, rescuing from the base of the rubbish heap with ambivalent reluctance, restoring to the original package and sealing tightly with tape. They could remain upstairs for now at least – like his ruined Nightwing costume – evidence of old wounds and shattered bonds shuttered behind closed panel; tucked away in the dark recesses of his conscience, lurking and lingering deep in the shadows off-screen.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Two birds of a feather
Say that they're always gonna stay together
But one's never going to let go of that wire
He says that he will
But he's just a liar
#TimSteph#Tim Drake#Timmy Todd#Stephanie Brown#Dick Grayson#Batman the Animated Series#Batman Beyond#DCAU#Return of the Joker#fanfiction#starstories#Ironically Dick later gets a clone himself in the 'Hush Beyond' comic story arc#which is a mess in all sorts of ways but I'm considering canon for the sake of keeping 'continuity'#on the subject of the tie in comics though one thing I love about Gotham Adventures is how they highlight Dick's fondness for music#wherein his musical knowledge actually comes in handy to help solve a couple cases#if you haven't read the series I highly recommend doing so for a lot more extra character development and wonderful BatFam interactions <3#also FYI all the photographs appeared in the show at some point#cookie to whoever guesses which ep each is from ;O#P.S. Happy Father's Day
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Tableau 2:
Link to film:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTfx74bAoJ4&feature=youtu.be
youtube
Pre Production:
For our second Tableau film, our brief was to make a 2 minute long, single shot film. Unlike the previous Tableau film, this one was allowed sound, which meant using the sound equipment for the first time, and more than one camera movement. Again, it was up to us to assign roles, and my roles were: location scout, camera assistant, actor and editor.
Initially, we considered some new ideas for our film, but were advised to choose one of the scripts we had written ourselves, as we had already been given feedback on those scripts.
We settled on the script “The Bike Ride”, which Lucy Gilmour had written. The script followed two friends: Andy (played by myself) and Sarah (played by Caitlin Gallon-Young). Andy is a young man still traumatised by a bike accident which occurred in his youth, and is helped by his friend Sarah to learn how to ride a bike again.
The film was initially more serious, but was reworked to be of a more comedic nature. For example, the original script implied Andy’s actions had led to the death of another person, whereas the revised one stated that he had killed a squirrel. And the ending was changed from Andy learning to ride a bike again, and walking away with Sarah in a happy mood (despite the bike getting stolen), to Andy learning to ride a bike, thanking Sarah and then killing another squirrel in a twist final scene. Despite the comedic nature, it was largely played straight, to highlight the humorous, strange nature of the situation.
Finding the location:
As location scout for “The Bike Ride”, I had to find a park which suited the action and tone of the film.
I considered several options, but decided on the Meadows due to how wide and open the area was, as opposed to others spots where there were buildings fairly nearby that could give the film a more oppressive, bleak feel. By contrast, the Meadows is a very wide, peaceful area, which in addition to being aesthetically pleasing, reflects the calmingly mood that Sarah has on Andy, and the hopeful tone of the film, which is about friendship and overcoming trauma. (While the film's theme largely stayed the same, it is worth noting when I chose this location it was under the pretence this would be a more serious film than it ended up being).
Additionally, it is a much wider area, meaning we were less likely to get interrupted by other people. While this may have happened, the Meadows is big enough we could have moved to another spot, although we went early enough this wasn't too big an issue. The other parks were smaller and near to some play parks, which meant we couldn’t change spots if we came across a problem, and the play parks meant extra noise that could ruin the audio, in addition to not being an ideal place to film. While there were other locations that were closer to get to (for most of us) than the Meadows, the Meadows was still fairly nearby, making it a convenient choice.
Recce Photos:
These two images were taken in Merchiston park. The location is fairly peaceful, and the path makes for some nice leading lines, but it doesn't have the same calming and expansive feel that the Meadows does.
This image was taken at Harrison Park. As you can see, the park is surrounded by oppressive grey buildings, which does not suit the hopeful tone of the real.
These two images were taken at The Meadows. The Meadows is a nice, wide, open area, which is ideal for our film, as it creates a calming, peaceful mood.
Filming:
We had two filming days - a test shoot on Wednesday the 25th of November and a final shoot Friday the 27th of November. Prior to filming, I had to secure a permit for filming in the Meadows, by emailing [email protected] and [email protected] with our risk assessment, public liability insurance and a completed form detailing what would be involved in the shoot.
There were some issues on our test shoot. Due to the bright light, the exposure was very bright even on the lowest settings, and we had no filters to combat this issue. We used some sunglasses as a makeshift lens, with the intention of properly solving the issue for the final shoot. Additionally, a nearby drummer, while not extremely loud, could be clearly heard in the audio. Otherwise, the shoot went well.
We were unable to get any filters for the final shoot, since they had all been taken out, but Olivia had a lens of her own which we managed to attach to the camera. Luckily, the weather wasn't as bright, and the drummer wasn't there again. The shoot went well, and everyone performed their jobs well.
We had to make some changes on the fly to get the length down from 2.5-3 minutes to 2 minutes. Originally, after his crash, Andy walks back over to Sarah, drops the bike on her and walks as if to go past the camera, before Sarah yells at him. This was changed so Andy doesn't walk back over to Sarah after crashing (instead yelling at her before starting to walk away). Additionally, at the end, Andy originally stopped to properly thank Srah before cycling off and killing the squirrel. This was changed so Andy thanks Sarah whilst still cycling instead of coming to a stop. Ultimately, these helped bring the film down to the required length.
Editing:
For this film, I was in charge of editing. I selected the second last clip for the final shoot due to the performances, which I felt were best in that take, and the length (it was one of only two clips that was no longer than two minutes). I later realised the boom mike is briefly visible in the shot, but still felt this was the best take. In the future, I could probably crop the shot, so as to still have the best performances and have no technical issues.
Initially, I only used the sound from the TASCAM recorder. This meant you could hear everything the characters were saying very clearly, but there was no background noise, and so the audio was almost too perfect and consequently the scene felt unnatural. I then added in some of the audio from the Black Magic camera itself, which captured more of the background noise, to give the scene a more realistic feeling. I played that sound at a lower sound level then the dialogue, so it was noticeable but didn't detract from the scene.
Initially the crash into the tree had no sound effect, but this didn't feel right. I looked at other takes for a crash sound effect, but either there wasn't one or Caitlin was speaking as the sound happened, which meant it couldn't be used. Eventually, I settled on a crashing sound effect taken from another movie of mine. While it worked well enough, it felt a little clunky, like it didn't truly belong.
Feedback:
Feedback for the film was generally positive. The framing, sound, script and acting were generally well received.
An issue raised with the performances is that they were mismatched. The character of Andy is a very reserved person whereas Sarah is a more bubbly, extroverted character. This issue could just be the way the script is, as the two characters are meant to be very different, or it could be due to the differing performance styles. I feel the characters are meant to be at least somewhat different but Caitlin and I could perhaps have tried to have a slightly more similar energy.
The sound was generally clear, although some of the sound effects were clunky. The sound effect for the first crash was criticised, as was the lack of one for the final crash offscreen as the scene felt odd without it. Someone also said the sound was “echo-y” in places.
Some issues were taken with the script. Some people took issue with how Sarah flips out on Andy after he tries to walk off: while I understand it may look like a jarring change of character for the formerly very supportive friend, the film does establish this is not the first time Andy has done this, so the reaction isn't completely unreasonable. Some people also felt the ending was overly dramatic. While I think it was an amusing twist (that felt tonally in line with the character being traumatised over killing a squirrel of all things), it could have been more satisfying for Andy to thank Sarah, and then have the two of them walk happily away.
The composition was well received, although some people would have liked it if the focus had changed to have Andy in focus when he goes off into the distance, and have the wheel in focus at the end. The wheel not being in focus was an issue of not knowing precisely where it was going to end up, and not wanting to drag out the run time by spending too long pulling focus, but I would agree that both are valid points.
Some people stated it might have been better to have the first fall happen off-screen, as the fall supposedly seemed forced. While I think it's possible you could have gotten the fall right, I will say it can be difficult and having it happen off-screen would make that easier, and avoid any continuity errors by keeping my jacket clear.
Another issue was how Andy starts to walk off with Sarah's bike. While the in-university explanation could be Andy wasn't thinking straight and was very emotional, the real reason was he was meant to bring it back to Sarah but for timing this was removed.
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New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/a-twitter-for-conservatives-parler-surges-amid-election-misinformation-crackdown/
A Twitter for conservatives? Parler surges amid election misinformation crackdown
As Twitter labeled tweet after tweet from President Donald Trump in recent days, some conservatives decided they’d had enough.
“TRUMP NEEDS TO GET ACTIVE ON PARLER, THEY WONT CENSOR HIM THERE,” one user wrote.
“So long Twitter friends~exiting all big techs & switching to PARLER!” wrote another.
And there were plenty more. Distrust of the major social media platforms among some Trump supporters came to a boil around the election as Twitter and Facebook — already the target of complaints about liberal bias — began to take swift and severe action on election-related misinformation. More than a few Republican politicians echoed the sentiments.
And so, many of them joined Parler, a Twitter-like social media platform that has for two years been a minor destination for conservative politicians and media figures. Like other social media apps, Parler has a feed of posts to scroll through. Posts can be up to 1,000 characters and can include links and photos. Users can follow one another, as well as explore a “discovery news” tab that, on Tuesday, was dominated by allegations of election fraud. Its community guidelines fit onto a few pages and address the most basic content problems: criminal activity and spam.
Now, Parler is surging. It sits atop the charts of app stores, boosted in large part by Trump supporters who agree with his decision to continue fighting the results of the election — in the courts, and on the internet. Twitter declined to comment on the growth at Parler.
And while Parler is far from the first social media platform to cater to users who feel that policies regulating hate speech, harassment and disinformation have gone too far, its embrace by prominent conservatives and its sudden influx hint at a once informal online dynamic that has recently become more official: the blue internet and the red internet.
“In the same way that Fox News found there was a market for journalism with a particular political view, Parler may find that there’s particular value for where it is right now,” Josh Pasek, an associate professor of political communication at the University of Michigan, said.
And while social media companies have traditionally boasted about growth, the emergence of an alternate platform like Parler comes at what might be considered an opportune time for the platforms it’s meant to replace.
Antitrust enforcers have been scrutinizing Facebook’s dominance and whether it has been stifling competition in social media, while lawmakers and the Federal Communications Commission are considering revisions to the legal shield tech companies enjoy from many lawsuits including for defamation.
Parler has been No. 1 over the past few days on the app stores of both Apple and Google, a rare accomplishment for any app, let alone one that’s trying to compete with social media’s established companies. MeWe, another upstart social media app, was also ranked highly on both app stores in recent days.
Parler, based in Nevada, said Tuesday that the number of users had nearly doubled in the past week, from 4.5 million to 8 million. It said the number of active users has grown from 500,000 two weeks ago to more than 4 million.
That’s a rapid rate of growth, though still far behind Twitter and Facebook in absolute numbers. Twitter has 187 million daily users while Facebook has 1.8 billion.
On the app, users have noted that Parler is slow and keeps crashing, and Parler CEO John Matze has been reassuring them they’ll be able to scale up. Twitter had similar issues when it first started, with its infamous “fail whale” now a part of internet lore.
“We are prepared for this mostly, however not everything is predictable,” Matze replied to one user on Parler.
Parler’s success comes as most social media companies have steadily beefed up their speech policies. Not only Facebook and Twitter but also other sites such as YouTube, Reddit, Pinterest and TikTok have stepped up enforcement of their rulebooks this year to try to stem content that would cause interference in the election or promote conspiracy theories. Reddit, once a bastion of the anything-goes internet, banned hundreds of subgroups in June for hate speech, including a popular pro-Trump one.
And while some fringe message boards and services have sprung up to cater to conservatives, few have amassed the kind of user base that Parler now boasts, complete with many powerful Republicans who turned what they called internet censorship by social media companies into a mainstream political issue. It offers an unabashedly conservative tilt, recommending that new users follow Fox News host Sean Hannity and Sen. Ted Cruz, R-Texas. And it’s getting a boost from conservative celebrities including the actor Scott Baio, who on Monday urged his Twitter followers to switch to the startup.
Other users include people who have been banned from Twitter such as David Duke, the white supremacist and former Ku Klux Klan grand wizard. Last week, an Arkansas police chief resigned after he used Parler to threaten death to Democrats.
“They are growing because Facebook and Twitter are finally getting their act together a little bit,” said Hany Farid, a professor and computer scientist at the University of California, Berkeley, who studies extremism online.
The difference in how Parler handles its platform is most pressing around the spread of false claims of election interference. While misinformation about the election continues to spread on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, the results of the presidential election are clear: Democrat Joe Biden is the projected winner and president-elect. The companies have said so directly based on authoritative news sources, and any post claiming otherwise is at risk of being fact-checked.
But on Parler, influential users have regularly posted unfounded claims about Biden stealing votes, attracting legions of new, conservative users who aren’t happy with how established apps have given weight to traditional news outlets the past several weeks.
Matze has played up the app’s hands-off approach to post-election disputes over ballots, pledging that unlike Facebook and Twitter, he would not try to assess baseless statements from Trump or his supporters that he defeated Biden.
“Anybody that’s fact-checking any statement about whether or not a president or presidential candidate has won any state right now is speaking prematurely,” Matze told the news outlet Cheddar in an interview Monday.
“We believe in people and their ability to solve these things on their own without our heavy hand,” he said.
Jeffrey Wernick, Parler’s chief operating officer, said Tuesday that the app was benefiting from the way users have been treated by competitors such as Twitter and Facebook. He said people had been turned off by Facebook’s mishandling of personal data and use of algorithms to manipulate people, and by Twitter’s opaque process for enforcing rules.
“Our growth is not attributable to any one person or group, but rather to Parler’s efforts to earn our community’s trust, both by protecting their privacy, and being transparent about the way in which their content is handled on our platform,” Wernick said in a statement.
Trump isn’t on Parler yet, sticking instead with Twitter where he has more than 88 million followers. Trump’s re=election campaign has a Parler account with 2 million followers.
Parler is unusual as a tech startup in that it hasn’t received any public investment from known venture capital firms. Matze said in a recent Parler post that the ownership structure is “myself, a small group of close friends and employees,” along with two additional investors: Dan Bongino, a conservative commentator who runs one of the most popular pages on Facebook, and Wernick, the chief operating officer.
Francesca Goerg, a spokesperson for Parler, said she had no additional information to share about Parler’s funding beyond Matze’s post.
Potential hurdles for the app abound, including whether it can maintain distribution. Gab, an earlier go-to social network for the alt-right, lost its access to the Apple and Google app stores in 2017 after the two companies said it failed to take down hate speech on its service. And Parler’s lax enforcement puts it at risk of becoming a premier haven for racists or others who threaten violence. It’s also unclear how the company is making money given the lack of advertising or other known revenue.
The rules for the Google app store, for example, spell out that the company will remove apps that promote hate speech or that do not have “robust, effective and ongoing” moderation of user-generated content. Likewise, Apple requires apps with user-generated content to include a method for filtering objectionable material.
Google and Apple each declined to comment on whether Parler was following the rules for their app stores.
That’s not to say that some experts think there isn’t some upside to having services like Parler that offer a different experience. Farid said it’s possible Parler members mixing in a smaller pool will reinforce one another’s radical views and push each other to be even more extreme, though he said much of that was already happening anyway on Facebook and Twitter because of how those sites’ algorithms push certain content.
“These guys were already living in their own little echo chamber,” Farid said. “There’s a benefit to peeling off some of the most vitriolic, hateful, racist people into their own ecosystem, because I think it cleans up some of the most mainstream sites.”
Some conservatives, though, such as commentator Benny Johnson, have proclaimed they were switching from Twitter to Parler only to keep on tweeting.
Generating revenue could pose another challenge, though it’s unclear if Parler would need additional cash anytime soon. Corporate advertisers have typically had little interest in buying ads that could run adjacent to controversial material, and subscription models for social media apps haven’t worked out in the past.
Farid said that an app like Parler risks alienating vendors who provide basic business services, such as cybersecurity vendors or credit card processors, if it gets a reputation as a gathering place for white supremacists. He noted that MasterCard, American Express and Visa have used their clout before to hobble websites they thought were too risky.
“Economic pressure can come in different ways from companies that believe these are problematic sites,” he said.
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1994 Interview All About Garak & Andrew Robinson
I’ve seen this great interview posted a bunch of times online, but it’s alway seems to be as graphic scans, which I have a hard time reading, so when I actually got my hands on DS9 magazine Vol. 9, 1994, I was psyched. I could read it AND I could scan it! So here it is, with all the text, plus photos. I’ll be posting the photos all separately afterward, including a few that don’t fit. Enjoy!
I love Garak and Andy so much. Also, I love that this interview is all after Season 2 (and I believe before Season 3 aired), so you have Robinson saying things like “I wish I’d get to do more plots with Rene and Avery!” and “It’s going to really interesting when Garak’s secrets come out!” He he. It’s really zero surprise he wound up writing a book. Or that the book would be well written -- he uses great words in the interview, just popping in stuff like “apotheosis.”
-Wendy
According to his former superior in the Obsidian Order, Garak has a "rare talent for obfuscation." The same, fortunately, cannot be said of the man who plays him, Andrew Robinson. Given the chance, he willingly expounds upon the delights of playing this charming, yet devious, Cardassian.
"This role has been quite surprising and wonderful," Robinson says. "The way the character is progressing is a delight for me. When I auditioned and got the part, I had no idea that it was going to be a recurring character. They've been writing really interesting things for Garak; each time that he appears, there's something more to play."
What first attracted him to the role was "the mystery about the character. At the same time, there was also this wonderfully refined and urbane intelligence about Garak. Not only did he have a secret, but his secrets were very deep and potentially very interesting. I don't know where it's going from here, but I look forward to the day --- if the day ever does come -- when the truth about Garak emerges. I have a feeling that the secrets he has are going to be a great deal of fun to play."
Because he didn't receive any back ground from the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine writers or producers, "I just created my own, so I had something to work from," says Robinson. "I went for the approach of something that was reptilian, someone with cold blood, who would have that same deliberate, measured style. In terms of mystery, I played 'I've got a secret.' The writers and producers have been taking what I'm doing and building from that, as well as whatever they have in mind for Garak, which really is the best. Very few shows do this.
Very few."
Not surprisingly, Robinson's least favorite aspect of this role is enduring the makeup. "That's the worst part of it. Garak is a three-and-a-half hour makeup job. Sometimes I'll have a 2 or 3 a.m. call! There are seven prosthetic appliances that they put on, including the neck. It teaches you a lot of patience," he admits. "Once I'm in it -- and these are long days I put in on the set, 14 to 16-hour days sometimes --- I just have to 'Zen' out. Otherwise, if I start getting cranky, then I'm done; I can't act or do anything. I really have to move into an almost beatific state. I have lost weight, though; that's one good thing!" he adds, laughing, before relating a more serious makeup-related tale.
"When the earthquake hit in January, it was 4:30 a.m. in Los Angeles, and I was already in the makeup chair, along with Armin Shimerman [Quark] and a couple other actors. It was pretty bizarre: this earthquake hits, all the power goes out, and all these aliens in varying stages of makeup are milling about in the darkness! People like Armin and Ed Wiley, who was playing this Cardassian, couldn't get through on the phone to their families, so they just jumped into their cars -- Armin in his Quark makeup and Ed with his Cardassian makeup on -- and drove through the pre-dawn streets of Los Angeles. I can only imagine what the other motorists saw -- I think that would be more bracing than a cup of coffee!"
Robinson made his Deep Space Nine debut in the series' second-to-air episode, "Past Prologue." There, "plain and simple Garak" made first contact with Dr. Bashir (who immediately suspected him of being a Cardassian spy) and helped foil a fanatical Bajoran terrorist's plot. Interacting with the Klingon sisters Lursa (Barbara March) and B'Etor (Gwynyth Walsh) proved to be some of Robinson's favorite moments. "That was just a gas!" he exclaims. "We had a great time doing those scenes; I hope we can do that again."
Garak next appeared in "Cardassians," where he was instrumental in uncovering a scandal concerning the abandonment of Cardassian orphans on Bajor after the war. "The best thing about that was the scene where he and Bashir go to Bajor and run into the orphans. We learned a little more about their culture, that children without parents have no status in Cardassian society, so they just abandoned them. The fact that Garak was faced with this, and realized that there is something very basically wrong about it, was great."
Although both Bashir and viewers alike still wonder which side (if any) Garak owes his allegiances to, Robinson thinks that "Garak's a good guy," and cites the second season episode "Profit & Loss" as "the turning point. When I got that script, I thought, 'Oh, I guess this is the end of Garak,' as I was reading. Then, I got to the end and he decides, no, he's not going to kill Professor Lang and her student dissidents, nor turn them in. He has the change of heart and lets them go. He was faced with that moral dilemma, and for most Cardassians, there would have been no dilemma; they would have just done what they were expected to do." The actor hastens to add, however, "That's not to say that the man doesn't have an... ambiguous past. He's very complicated, very ambiguous, and there's no doubt that there are things in his past that aren't very nice. He is, after all, Cardassian!"
One of Robinson's greatest pleasures on Deep Space Nine, he says, has been working with Siddig El Fadil, who plays Dr. Bashir. "Siddig and I get along so well, and we have become very good friends from this show. The chemistry works out beautifully, where you have this older, reptilian mystery man who isn't what he seems to be, and this young innocent. It's easy to see what Bashir's getting from Garak: a political education. He's learning about the byzantine, labyrinthine subtleties and intricacies that go on in the station.
"It's less clear, but equally strong, to see what Garak is getting from Bashir," he continues. "Bashir is a very decent person, a veru moral man, a responsible scientist with a soul. I think Garak is learning some of this, becoming socialized. I don't mean 'humanized,' because that would be a 'specist' thing to say. He's gaining a certain sense of compassion, a certain morality and that's very touching-that's what I love about the relationship."
That being said, Robinson would also like to see Garak interact more with the rest of the Deep Space Nine crew. "It's a great company! I would love to do more with Rene Auberjonois; he and I have known each other forever. I think they'll have me do more with Quark this season, because we had some really nice scenes together in 'Profit & Loss.' Armin and I worked together just before DS9, in a production of Richard II. Also, I would love to do much more with Avery Brooks. He's a very powerful actor who has a lot of wonderful inner strength."
Garak's next two appearances, "Crossover" and "The Wire," showed two very different sides of the Cardassian. In the Mirror Universe, lntendent Kira Nerys rules Deep Space Nine, with Garak as her menacing second in command. "That wasn't hard to do," Robin.son says, "but that was interesting because I found the negative image to Garak: that Nazi, that typical Cardassian persona of the oppressor, the fascist, the totalitarian. There are no secrets to this man -- and no hiding any from him; he's just into sheer power. [The real] Garak is not into pure power at all; that's not his agenda! Now when I come back to Garak, I have more information about him, and he will be a deeper character as a result."
Robinson's favorite episode to date, "The Wire" raised many questions about Garak's past and provided very few concrete answers. When an endorphin-releasing implant in Garak's brain begins malfunctioning, Dr. Bashir goes to great lengths to save his friend, ultimately discovering that Garak, among other things, used to be part of the Obsidian Order, a secret information-gathering Cardassian police force renowned for their brutal tactics. "'The Wire' was a dream," Robinson notes, "the type of episode I would like to do -- well, not all the time, because I would die! -- but frequently. That's the kind of episode that does indeed stretch my 'acting muscles,' because it demanded that I go inside myself and pull things out that perhaps didn't want to come willingly."
Originally a New England native, this "man behind the mask" recalls that "as long as I can remember, I wanted to be an actor. Not necessarily as a profession, but I always wanted to act. When I was 10, I went to this school in Rhode Island that had a wonderful drama program. It was run by a man who became my mentor. He was very supportive and helpful, and I just did plays and plays and plays."
Robinson describes his college days similarly. "I had an art history teacher who encouraged me to apply for a Fulbright Scholarship to study acting in London. I did, and I got it against all odds," he explains. "When I was studying at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art, I was doing a student production of Anton Chekhov's The Seagull; I was playing Constantine, this young man with a lot of troubles, and I had -- I can only call it an apotheosis -- this very deep emotional experience. That's when I decided I would act for a living."
This led to several years of stage acting until Robinson landed his first movie role as the Scorpio Killer in Dirty Harry. "I liked Clint Eastwood," he says, "but for me, the excitement was working with the director, Don Siegel. He was an amazing man, the best director I've ever worked with. Basically, he taught me whatever I now know about filmmaking. The character I played was very underwritten and very under-realized in the original script; it was only because Don Siegel was the kind of director he was that he hired me and said, 'OK, give me the character.' At the time, I had no idea the kind of chance he was taking. It just blows my mind!"
With his film career established, Robinson appeared in all manner of movies, TV shows and plays. One of his most visible roles came in an ABC TV movie, Liberace. Portraying the flamboyant entertainer, Robinson says, "was a great experience. It ended up being one of the best things I've ever done. You see, the art of acting, for me, is quite liberating. There's a lot of freedom have when you're behaving in the skin of another person, so to speak. That, to me, is the most interesting thing about being an actor . Also, I never wanted a nine-to-five job, and I'm grateful for the fact that I've been able to fashion a career where I work at jobs and a job doesn't work me."
Robinson first attracted the notice of SF and horror aficionados with his work in Clive Barker's debut film, Hellraiser. "That was a wonderful experience," he says fondly. "For one thing, the character chance to play two characters, basically, the good and evil sides of the same person, was a thrill. The good brother, Larry, was quite repressed, and behind that repression was his evil brother Frank.
"Also, working with Clive Barker -- who's a genuinely mad, eccentric genius ---was a lot of fun. It was his first film; he really didn't know much about filmmaking, so he really had to rely on people around him who had more experience, and he was open to that. It became a genuinely collaborative experience, and there was a lot of creativity flowing on the set, which doesn’t always happen.”
His next genre appearance came in Child's Play 3, in which the evil doll Chucky arrives at a military school and terrorizes the cadets. Robinson played the sadistic barber, Sergeant Botnick, who gets a fatal shave from the diminutive killer. "A friend of mine, Jack Bender, was directing it and asked me to come in and do this character," Robinson remembers. "Jack's a very bright guy, and he saw something that I couldn't see at first reading. Then, we got working on it, and what happened was one of those fortuitous occasions when I made something really interesting, a character who was like nothing I had ever seen or done before. Sergeant Botnick the barber usually goes totally unnoticed, but it’s a piece of work that I'm very proud of."
Similar circumstances led him to Trancers Ill as Colonel Daddy Muther . "Again, it was a friend of mine, Courtney Joyner, who wrote and directed it. I did it because he asked me to. He had written the part for me, and because he was a friend, we were able to create the character as we were shooting it. Unfortunately, the shooting circumstances were very pressured because resources were very limited. It was an extremely low-budget film, and also Courtney's first ." Robinson got along very well with his fellow cast, however. "Tim Thomerson, who played the lead, is terrific, a very funny, lovely guy. I enjoyed working with him a lot."
While lately he has been appearing in projects with a definite SF slant, Robinson says he doesn’t have any one favorite genre of acting . "One of the things I appreciate about myself -- if I may say that -- is the range I have. It's something I've developed consciously, because I really love playing different kinds of characters. For example, in this British farce by Alan Bennett called Habeas Corpus, I played a guy who sells and adjusts false breasts! It was a funny, crazy role, just knock-down British humor. And in the middle of it, I went back to Rhode Island to do my one-man show, which is a very serious meditation based on if Jesus had kept a diary. This person/actor finds the diary, shares it with the audience, and ends up portraying different aspects of Jesus and His life. It's that kind of contrast that turns me on as an actor."
To Robinson, the most enjoyable aspect of playing a recurring character like Garak is the chance "to explore the character from various angles, so that you go from 'plain and simple Garak' to an episode like 'The Wire,' which goes into a very deep, personal story about the man. You get the kind of information about a character that you rarely ever get in a single episode, or indeed a single film. The writers don't sit down with us and say, 'OK, this is where your character is going,' and I rather like that . It's a surprise every time I get a script!"
In future episodes of Deep Space Nine, Andrew Robinson feels that viewers will eventually learn the truth about Garak. "Right now, all we do know is that he's in exile and he misses his homeland very much," he notes. "I know the producers have really become attached to the character, which means more and more of a commitment to me. For instance, this season I will be on the show several times. I think eventually, by the time the show ends, we will know where Garak is coming from. Perhaps we won't understand him completely in terms of his motives, or the 'why' of Garak, but I certainly think we will understand the 'what' of Garak, what he's doing on the station."
Was this not an awesome article and interview, or what??? -Wendy
#andrew robinson#elim garak#ds9#deep space nine#star trek ds9#star trek#star trek interview#ds9 magazine#andy robinson
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