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orsino-the-enchanter · 4 years

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An excerpt from a fanfic I hereby declare CANON for my Inquisition verses.

((The fanfic is this one, if you want to read it in full, all credit goes to the AMAZING writer whose concepts i adore. ))

(....) As for finding the mages something to occupy their time, First Enchanter stand to his promise.

“What do you know of demons?” asked he in a clear voice of professional lector.

The lecture, that promised to enlighten the young mages, took place outside the castle, in the yard: part of it was enclosed, forming a perfect circle on the ground with its outlines buzzing and glowing lyrium blue. The mages, mostly young or barely of age, gathered in a small crowd in front of Orsino, who was standing near the enclosed area. Other interested people (namely the whole lot of Skyhold) watched from a distance.

Even lady Vivien stepped out at her balcony and Solas appeared at the side doors. Well, they were all promised something interesting, and Orsino was known as the best lecturer on demonology.

“They are oft-malicious spirits from the Fade,” said one girl, pulling a brave face.

Orsino nodded to her in encouragement, and other pupils grew braver too.

“They are but the first children of the Maker, who became envious of the living. They could not experience what the living had, and this blackest envy gave rise to the demons,” said a boy, who was clutching his fire staff like a demon could emerge any minute and take it away from him.

“They are the most dangerous and deadly dwellers of the Fade, who want to invade the real world,” said his neighbor.

“And to possess a mage,” added a very young boy, shivering.

“Demons are our enemies,” proclaimed a mage who was a bit older.

Orsino listened to everyone’s answers in silence, only nodding sometimes, as if in a deep thought. “I see, everyone knows the Chant of Light very well,” stated he afterwards. “You are all right, of course. You cite from very reputable sources, and point out exactly how the Chantry sees the demons – so many respectable people can’t be wrong, right? But we – we are not the clergymen. We are mages. So, I’d like to show you something. Please, don’t step inside the circle no matter what you see. Commander Cullen knows what to do if something goes wrong, and I trust him completely; I ask again, do not intervene, please. Well, let’s get started.”

Orsino took off his boots and stepped on the cold ground, barefoot. Today was a cool, windy day, but the enchanter’s clothes looked like he was preparing to spend his day in a hot desert: his plain tunic was too light even for a hardened warrior like Fenris, and he was a frail mage! The Grumpy Elf, who was watching the lecture from the castle wall, knit his brows gloomily: he should really talk to the enchanter about common sense and the importance of caring about one’s health.

Orsino stepped inside the enclosed area. The lyrium buzz became louder, and the outlining turned into a full veil, clear but strong, effectively cutting the mage from the others. The elf took off the ribbon that was holding his hair in a ponytail, and tied it in a blindfold; his mane, copper red with rare flaming red strands and a lot of silver, spilled over his shoulders (Fenris – and, as he guessed, a few others – caught his breath).

First Enchanter took a place exactly in the center of the enclosure and stood here. At first it looked like nothing was going on, but then the strange sounds appeared – they were like disjointed chords, as if someone was trying to make the right music out of them, but couldn’t. It was Orsino’s doing, no doubt: he was turning his head blindly to where the sounds were coming from and was waving his hands and gesturing to make the sounds louder or quieter, changing their tune.

At one moment the demons started to appear.

People startled and shrank back from the enclosure.

The Despair demon appeared first with a feeble, disgusting whistle. A huge Rage gathered itself from the ground and impended over the enchanter menacingly – but Orsino didn’t even bat an eyelid (partly because of the blindfold). Fenris threw a worried glance at Cullen – Commander looked tense, but he wasn’t in a hurry to interfere in whatever was going on.

The Rage opened his mouth wide, showing molten lava teeth, and closed it back. It stepped away from the enchanter, who was still busy with… whatever he was doing, and started to circle around him. Other demons joined. They were exactly like their pictures in old books – Desire, Sloth, Envy… And more: some demons looked strange and unfamiliar. One, who appeared along with the first ones, looked like a burlesque knight, weary and sorrowful: he watched the Despair with stern disapproval and tried to stay away from it. The demons circled in the enclosure like predators, but they still hadn’t touched the mage who was right there.

Suddenly Orsino raised his head, and they all could see his wide, mischievous smile.

He made a strange gesture, and the disjointed chords finally clicked together, and there was music – it sprang to life, unfolding and deepening, and the whole place started to vibrate with unfamiliar energy. Demons, as if the music was guiding them, changed the rhyme of their circling – as if they were trying to… dance?

Orsino too started to move.

He danced. It was a fascinating, but strange dance – it could be an Orlaisian waltz or Avvar tribal fling. It was all this and at the same time completely different, new and also familiar, like something you forgot you always knew. It was touching your soul in a way you couldn’t describe apart from… beautiful.

The demons started to change. Somehow, without appearing to do so, they changed their shapes and became more like transparent, blurry humans; they were really dancing now, with abandon and in unison, being led by Orsino. It was a beautiful, magnificent picture. Everyone’s eyes were upon it – no one could look away, when here, inside the enclosure, was something so glorious. It was like a harmony itself was dancing here.

Harmony, Yes, that’s what it was.

The dance didn’t last though: the final chords came, the dancers performed their last steps and vanished in the firework of sparks – all but Orsino, who just stopped, breathing heavily.

He peeled off his blindfold and gathered his hair back in a ponytail; afterwards he calmly walked away from the enclosure (the lyrium barrier buzzed loudly and lowered back on the ground).

“So… Remind me, what do you know about demons?” asked Orsino again.

A dumbstruck silence was his answer.

The enchanter smiled warmly and looked over the yard, at the stunned people. It was very clear that whatever they thought to see or hear at the lecture, it certainly wasn’t that.

“You’ve just witnessed a ritual called A Demon Round Dance. It was invented by the hermits of Alamar island: they studied the Fade and its dwellers, performed a lot of experiments and wrote many interesting books, most of which, unfortunately, were burned when the hermits were declared heretics and wiped from Thedas completely. Some bits and pieces of their knowledge, however, were preserved – this ritual, for example, that contradicts all we know about demons so far. It is, as most mages might understand it, completely pointless for both parties: there is nothing to gain neither for mages nor for demons. But for some reason demons always come to dance with the mage who he calls them.”

The enchanter leaned forward, and people followed his movement with their eyes with acute fascination. “You see,” continued he. “Demons and we don’t understand each other. At all. But we do have some common ground. For now dancing is the only safe way of communication with the Fade dwellers, flawed – because we ourselves don’t understand properly the language of the dance – crude and nearly useless. Maybe you’ll become the great scholars one day and discover a proper way to communicate with demons – and maybe even find what they really need from us. But enough for now. Those who are interested in demonology please come to Elana to sign up. The lessons will take place every day at nine a.m. in the library, at the southern wing.”

Young mages followed the enchanter with their eyes full of pure admiration; the intent of becoming the best demonologists was clearly written on their faces. As Orsino began to dismantle the lyrium enclosure, his future pupils were discussing the most fascinating theme: namely, how long would it take them to learn to dance like that? (...)

#all this is canon now #post-canon verse #post canon orsino #inquisition verse #advisor!orsino #gimme more long haired orsino #interesting take on demons #love it

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tytodreams · 6 years

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space to wonder, part one

summary: Hal Jordan comes to while drifting out in space in the middle of nowhere, and even though he’s accompanied by his fellow Green Lantern, Guy Gardner, things aren’t exactly looking good for either of them.

author’s note: this is part one of a two part (or maybe three part?) fanfic set in my DC headcanon verse. It’s from Hal’s perspective for a change. And yes, all of the unfamiliar space location names were pulled directly from my ass.

you can find part two here

The world is upside down.

Everything is a lazy swirl of shadow and his fingertips are so numb that he can scarcely even feel them. Hal isn’t sure if he knows where he is anymore. Space is black and endless and empty. And everything is so, so cold.

“......big bad dino......big bad dino ahead.......”

That’s Guy’s voice. He recognizes it immediately ― that’s Guy’s voice. That’s Guy’s nonsensical mutterings and that’s Guy’s limp body floating nearby. Hal blinks and tries to chase away the blurred pictures in his mind; the strange haze of light and color and darkness.

“......big bad di-no-saur ahead, yeeup. Big baddie dino with big bad teeth,” Guy’s head is tipped forward, chin resting against his chest as he blabbers on. Hal can see him properly now ― just a few feet away and outlined faintly in green.

“Di-no-saur! Yeeup, yeeup!” the ginger slurs again to no one in particular. His words are the only noise in the silent vacuum of space.

Big bad dinosaur.......big bad dinosaur? Hal can’t make sense of it. All he knows is that his head hurts and that it hurts bad. He winces, teeth grinding together, trying to bite down against the pain. It feels like there’s an iron spike being driven into the left side of his skull, over and over and over.......

Weakly, Hal lifts his fingers to his temple. Wet. There’s something wet against his skin. He pulls his hand away, narrows his eyes, and tries to get a better look at it. The more accustomed he becomes to being awake, the sharper his surroundings appear. They’re all beginning to look real now; like proper images instead of smears of color and light.

There’s blood on his fingers. He’s bleeding. Hal chokes slightly, takes a deep breath and pulls in air from nothing. There’s no oxygen in outer space. But somehow, he can take it from his shield ― from the green light surrounding him.

Hal groans and touches his head again. It’s still wet, but the bleeding has begun to slow down and the blood itself has started to harden around the edges of the wound. He guesses it to be some sort of cut across the left temple.

“.......di-no-saur......di-no-saur......di-no-saur.......” Guy remains close by, still lolling around on his back. But something doesn’t seem right when Hal looks at him this time around. Because this time his eyes are swollen shut by bruises; and his whole lower face and jaw is stained with blood. His neck is red and covered in marks. His limbs twitch.

It takes Hal a few moments, but finally the image registers and he jolts forward in surprise. Muscles tensed and eyes widening, he’s hit with a sudden wave of panic. Guy is injured. Oh fuck, Guy is injured, and he’s injured bad.

Despite the shooting pain in his temple, Hal starts glancing frantically about himself. Where are they? Where are they and how did they get here? What happened? His heart rate picks up. Hal’s body trembles and he parts his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He searches the empty star fields in vain. It feels like his mind is going at a million miles an hour. What’s happening? What’s happening? What’s happening?

Hal squeezes his eyes shut. No, stop. He clutches his head in his hands and barks angrily to himself, don’t panic. Don’t be afraid. You’re in space and you’re with Guy, and you’re both in bad shape but he’s worse off. But you’ll be okay ― you’ll both be okay. Call John. Call Kilowog.

He pulls his bloodied hands away and breathes in. The ring on his finger is burning cold. It reminds him of stepping into the shower when his feet are numb; the way that hot water feels as it washes over chilled skin. Hal’s whole body is tingling.

If he’s going to call for help, he’s going to have to tell the ring who to call. So, he focuses on John’s face. He tries to imagine the way his nose slopes and the exact hue of his irises. It’s a face that Hal knows well, so it shouldn’t be hard, now should it?

But when he thinks, he can’t think of John. And when he reaches out for a face and for a name, it isn’t John’s. It’s someone else’s. It’s someone the ring can’t call.

Barry. It’s Barry’s face. It’s his square jaw and round cheeks, and his short, golden hair. And when Hal tries to push the face and name away for Kilowog’s instead, it doesn’t go. He wants to show the ring a fellow Lantern he can call, but his mind isn’t listening. He can’t see John’s face and he can’t see Kilowog’s. The only name is Barry’s name. The only face is Barry’s face. His snub nose and big blue eyes. His easy, all-American smile.

There’s a stab of wistfulness in Hal’s chest. Something that he can’t really describe, some sort of sorrowful feeling that fills him with inexplicable joy. He’s seeing Barry’s face and he’s remembering something. A recent memory, but nothing all that important in the grand scheme of things. A memory.......

He was sitting in a red leather booth in some cheap diner in Missouri. It was a Saturday or maybe a Sunday; a day when Barry could get off work early if convinced. And Barry was sitting across from him, dressed in a blue argyle sweater vest and pleated long sleeves and khakis. And Barry was smiling too. And he was digging into his meal, and pensively tapping his foot against the tiled linoleum floors. He looked so handsome in those clothes. They fit him so well and the blue of the sweater brought out his eyes.

So naturally, Hal made a remark about him looking like a nerd. Barry rolled his eyes and ate a French fry. Then he pointed out a bruise on Hal’s cheek and started scolding him over it. And Hal tried to wave him off ― told him it was from a skirmish with Black Hand or some other earthbound baddie. But Barry knew better. He always seems to know better. And Barry stared at him for a moment, almost unnervingly serious, and then finally his face broke out into a wide grin.

“Liar!” he exposed Hal right away, “You and Oliver were being stupid and messing around again, weren’t you?” And Hal tried to act offended, tried to hide his embarrassment at Barry having so easily realized the truth. He’d been sparring with Ollie in the boxing ring at the Arrow hideout when Dinah had stopped by to watch. And when she’d leaned against the rails, the boys had started yapping their big mouths off; started teasing her as they mock-fought.

Not a good idea, naturally. Because then she’d jumped into the ring and kicked them both hard in their sorry rears. “And a kiss on the cheek each didn’t exactly make it any less painful, Di,” they’d have liked to say. And when Superman asked Ollie how he’d gotten a black eye, he’d panicked and claimed he’d walked into a door. He’d started blushing like a madman when Hal laughed, and Hal was the lucky one because he didn’t need an excuse. No matter what, it seemed like there was always some sort of scrape on him, so people had eventually just stopped asking. Except for Barry, of course.

And in that little Missouri diner, Hal had finally surrendered to Barry. He admitted that Dinah had “whooped his ass” and that “if we’re being honest, Ollie got it worse ‘cause he called her a ‘wannabe Joan Jett’ and that was just rude.” Still smiling, Barry shook his head and muttered a “knew it”, continued emptying another carton of fries. And Hal shrugged and leaned back in his seat. He knocked his knee against Barry’s, heard the speedster hum approvingly, and smiled back at him. Smiled when he sighed and said, “What am I going to do with you?”

But he’d also kept an eye on the other patrons too. Because as much as he hates to admit it, deep down, he’s always been rather self-conscious. And he didn’t exactly want to deal with anyone going on about stupid stuff then either. Not then, when Barry was sitting across from him, smiling like the sun and telling him all about his day. And he’d had a really good day, so Hal had wanted to hear all of it. The fingerprint analysis that Barry and his colleagues worked on that had helped solve a case down at the station. The two friendly border collies he’d met in the park during his morning run. The little girl he’d helped get her kite out of a tree and who’d given him a hug in thanks. And Hal sipped the strawberry milkshake he’d weaseled away from Barry and listened to him rave about the new materials the lab would be getting next week.

“And this microscope is so much more powerful than the one we have now. It has twenty different lenses, and you won’t believe how sleek it looked in the catalogue......”

“Hey! Di-no-saur! Di-no-saur! Bad, bad, bad!”

Hal tumbles back into the present. His eyes widen when Guy yells and the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He’s weightless. There’s nothing solid beneath him, no leather booth in Missouri or concrete sidewalk under his feet, only empty space, only distant lights scattered across eternal blackness. Only nothing.

The cut on his head doesn’t hurt anymore. When he touches it, the wound throbs gently, but any pain it gives off is so minor that he can barely feel it. Hal lurches forward and the blood drains from his face. Guy is unnaturally pale.

He’s still muttering nonsense and floating too far away from him for comfort. Hal settles his quaking limbs and looks his comrade over, trying to gauge the exact distance between them. Five and a half, six......? He propels himself forward a few feet and maneuvers around Guy as carefully as he can. He slips his hands under Guy’s arms and pulls him up against himself. Guy’s head is tilted back, chin pointed upwards and jaw twitching slightly as he rambles on. The faint green aura from his ring appears to be the only thing keeping him afloat.

Hal curses under his breath and tries to adjust his hold on the other Lantern. Guy may be a thousand times lighter in space, but whatever beating Hal received earlier isn’t exactly helping his arms stay steady. The wound on his head doesn’t hurt anymore, but the rest of his body sure aches like a son of a bitch.

What happened? He’s racking his brain, struggling to remember. Where are they? How the hell did this happen? How the hell did they end up here? How......?

“Dino......dino......” Guy sputters childishly, his shoulders knocking into Hal’s chest. The other man winces but doesn’t let go. His ribs must be bruised ― that would explain the tugging in his chest whenever he breathes. “Dino......dino......dino.......”

Then it hits him. Dinosaur. Hal remembers now, oh goddamn, he remembers now. Dinosaur. Atrocitus. The Red Lantern’s hulking form looms over Hal’s memory and he clutches onto Guy a little too tightly in response. He knows where they are, why they’re here, what happened, and everything else in between.

The Corps had gained intel on some recent Red Lantern sightings out in sector 2075 in the Oberix and Talmayn systems. The more the number of sightings increased, the more uneasy the Guardians became about the possibility of a reformation of the Red Lantern Corps ― a not at all unfounded concern. Especially considering the jailbreak incident roughly one Earth year back, and the fact that former Red Lantern general, Atrocitus, happened to be one of the escapees.

Salaak had sent Guy and Hal, by order of the Guardians, to do recon out in sector 2075. After all, word-of-mouth rumors don’t guarantee reality. In order to act, there needs to be confirmation. And it was their duty to deny or to confirm.

Well, Hal thinks to himself as he floats aimlessly about, Guy dangling in his arms, at least our suspicions have been confirmed. Joy.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have sent Hal Jordan on a Red Lantern reconnaissance mission, knowing that Atrocitus would almost certainly be involved. General Atrocitus, who happens to have a vendetta against plucky Green Lantern “captain” Hal Jordan. Because Hal Jordan was the one that foiled his grand invasion of Oa. He was the one that defeated him in battle in front of his own men and then imprisoned him in a science cell to rot for (hopefully) the rest of his life. Yes, that Hal Jordan.

If one thinks about it rationally, they might come to the conclusion that a mission tends to become a bit more dangerous when the enemy in question would like nothing more than to flay you alive. It’s just common sense, really.

Hal struggles to hold back his laughter. He’d rather not test the pain receptors in those bruised ribs of his with a verbal expression of self-loathing.

He and Guy had scoured the entire Oberix system without any luck, and by the time they’d reached the Talmayn and it’s yellow dwarf sun, they’d gotten a bit lazy. Instead of giving straight-backed salutes to the occupants of the mining operations and refueling stations they’d swung by, the two had plowed in with informal bursts of sardonic humor and good-natured jabs. Guy had accepted free drinks at a rest stop bar almost took quickly, and Hal had wowed a company of Yulqazz miners by breaking his record of consecutive backflips in space.

Thirty-seven, to be exact. The trick is to breathe deeply and consistently, and to focus on your core so you don’t get dizzy.

None of the locals in either solar system had much of anything to say about the supposed Red Lantern sightings. Most of them denied seeing anything at all, while the few that did couldn’t seem to place any specifics. As far as Guy and Hal were aware, there really wasn’t anything substantial this side of sector 2075. Maybe the Uhbeld system would’ve been a better place to check.

Whatever the answer was, the two of them had conceded that there was no point in staying there anymore. So, Hal recalls himself and Guy taking off from the docks of a refueling station, headed for the nearest long-jump portal back to Oa. They’d started talking ― of course, talking with Guy had always been a trip, and it is even more so now after his onslaught of head-related injuries.

Guy’s brain damage certainly causes him some issues. His memory, his speech patterns, and his ability to compartmentalize things are all pretty muddled. The past couple of years have been quite rough for him and he’s had to relearn a surprising amount of basic tasks. But, luckily for him, the medical expertise offered by the Green Lantern Corps is far more advanced than that on Earth. And even though Guy has never exactly been one to trust doctors or hospitals ― and Hal can’t blame him for that, seeing that he’s very much the same ― Guy has been remarkably lenient with what the Corps have provided.

That makes sense to Hal though. The Corps may not always know what they’re doing, but if he were given a chance to significantly fix the damage done to his brain, he would jump on it immediately as well. Thinking about that, Hal winces at all the brain cells that he’s probably lost to concussions and alcohol. It certainly isn’t a small amount.

Guy still sounds rather childish when he speaks sometimes. Not that he ever had a very sophisticated manner of speaking before, but Hal finds there’s still something notably immature in the way he talks. Maybe it’s how he sounds things out or the words he chooses to use ― again, Hal isn’t sure ― but there is a distinct difference in how he communicated before and how he communicates now.

He was calling Atrocitus a “big bad red dinosaur with a face full of warts” when they got ambushed. Ah, yes. They’d been ambushed. Hal remembers now, how they’d been joking amongst themselves when at least twenty Red Lanterns had shot out from behind a cluster of asteroids and taken them by surprise. And Atrocitus had happened to be one of them.

It was a miracle that Guy had managed to finish his sentence at all.

“......Hal? .......Hal?” speaking of the ginger brickhouse, he appears to have opened his eyes ― or at least tried to. With those nasty yellow-green bruises, it’s hard to tell.

Hal’s heart leaps in his chest at the sound of his own name, and he turns around to grab his comrade by the shoulders, “Guy! Oh god, Guy, you’re awake! Stay awake, okay?” He knows from experience that drifting off after a bad beating or a blow to the head is far from a good thing.

Guy tilts his head slightly, a look of confusion crossing his face. But he doesn’t say anything in return. He just blinks his eyes and then starts looking around slowly, as if he’s just woken up from a long nap. Hal isn’t sure if he can see out of such bloated eyes, but at least he can still feel things, because when Guy flexes his fingers, he winces and holds them still. He must have broken something or hurt the joints while throwing a punch.

Hal moves around him and tries to get a better view of his head. There doesn’t appear to be any serious damage to Guy’s cranium, which is good. He’s already gone through enough; another round of brain damage issues would just be cruel by this point. They’d probably make his current mood swings even worse.

After examining the other man’s head, Hal swings back around to face Guy and puts his hands firmly on his shoulders. They’re roughly an arm’s length apart and floating somewhere in the Talmayn solar system, in a sector that Hal knows fairly well. If he’s being honest with himself, it could be worse, and Hal is glad that it isn’t.

He draws one hand away from a still woozy guy and brings it up to his face, eyeing the green light. He needs to call for help and this time he can’t get distracted. There are Red Lanterns in sector 2075 and they are undeniably dangerous. They’re also still out here somewhere, and that doesn’t ease Hal’s nerves in the slightest.

Especially seeing that he and Guy are still alive. That’s the part that really worries him.

Why would Atrocitus and his men ambush him and another Green Lantern only to let them live? It would have made more sense to kill them for vengeance or to capture and imprison them to hold for ransom or to torture for information. So why beat them senseless and then leave them alive? Atrocitus was no idiot ― he wouldn’t have just assumed they were dead, he would have made sure. So why just leave them where he found them instead of taking them as prisoners if killing wasn’t his intent?

Hal doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this one bit. He has to call John and he has to call him now. Hal closes his eyes and conjures up the name and face he needs ― needs not wants ― he reminds himself bitterly. He needs someone like John, someone that can help him. He wanted Barry. But Barry can’t help him. Barry’s lightyears and lightyears away and even the fastest man alive can’t run across the stars.

Besides, it would be cruel to ask him to. Hal’s chest clenches at the thought of everything that Barry might do for him. Because Barry’s a good man, and even though it seems cliché to say it, Hal really can’t think of another way to explain it. He’s just a good man. And he believes that Hal is too. That Hal deserves to have someone who would leave the Milky Way for him. Who would leap over Orion’s Shield and dart across the Pillars of Creation.

Who would come to him galaxies away from Earth with hope in their eyes and tell him that everything will be alright.

And that thought is just too much. It makes Hal’s limbs weak again and it makes his grip on Guy’s shoulder go slack. Hopefully the other man is conscious enough to stay in the same orbit as him, because Hal really doesn’t know if he has the strength to pull him back in right now. He needs Barry to leave his mind. He needs to think with his head and not his heart.

John’s face comes into view of his mind’s eye. Strong cheekbones and broad nose, tight mouth and curious eyes. He’s as quiet and contemplative-looking as always and Hal can’t help but snicker a little. People always seem to imagine John as some sort of “deep-thinker” ― after all, he always looks so lost in thought, like one of those ancient Greek philosophers.

People always assume things.

Just last week, during the Justice League’s most recent meeting, John had given everyone in the room that deep-eyed look. He’d nodded thoughtfully and tilted his head in consideration each time someone spoke. And then, roughly half an hour in to yet another one of Batman’s monotonous and excruciatingly boring speeches, he’d leaned over in his seat and whispered to Hal, “I had to wake up real early on Oa, so I could get here on time and I’m damn sure that I accidentally put Katma’s ear lotion on my toothbrush. I can still taste it. Can you make some sort of distraction, so I can grab a cup of water? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past six hours.”

A real deep-thinker, alright. The next Socrates, for sure. Hal stops himself from trying to laugh at the memory ― his chest still hurts when he exerts it too much.

Instead he focuses on his ring. It’s begun to glow more brightly than before, as he draws in all the willpower he can. The low hum it gives off is reassuring, and if you listen closely enough, the ring sounds like it’s singing. Hal told Ollie about it once before, but he didn’t believe him. Even when Hal had put it up close to Ollie’s ear and let the ring settle into a harmony, Ollie said he still couldn’t hear a thing.

But Hal knows he can hear the ring. It sings to him because that’s how it communicates. He made Dinah and Barry listen to it too, and even Tom when he first realized that it could. Yet none of them heard it. So, he was anxious when he asked John if his ring sang to him too ― he hadn’t wanted to look stupid by asking Kilowog or Sinestro at the time when he was younger. He’d asked John if the ring sang to him and John looked at him as though the answer was obvious.

“Of course, it does.”

So, he asked Kilowog and Katma and Tomar Re too, and all their answers were the same: “What kind of question is that? Of course, the ring sings.” And that settled it then. Only ring-bearers can hear the ring. No one else can make sense of it ― all those melodies are just distant hums to them. They can’t hear the songs and they can’t feel the words that the songs embed into the ring-bearers’ minds. A shame, really......there’s nothing else in the universe like it.

“This is Green Lantern, John Stewart. Who is this?”

Hal hears that familiar voice and he feels like he could fly to the moon and back. Finally, John. Good old John. He tries to cry out the other man’s name in excitement, but he finds himself breathless and croaking out a weak, “Jo-hn” instead. Hal winces at the sound of it, yet still, he continues, “It’s Hal. I’m with Guy and we’re fucked, dude. We’re fucked up.”

“Hal?” John’s voice is warbled slightly by the ring, “......do you and Guy still have all your limbs?”

It’s a slightly ridiculous but understandable question. In fact, Hal takes a moment to glance over himself and then Guy again just in case, before replying, “Yeah. Everything’s still there. We got ambushed, John. There were Red Lanterns, ‘bout nineteen or twenty of them. And Atrocitus ― Atrocitus was there........”

He can hear a muffled, “shit......” from John’s end. “Where are you two?”

Floating around aimlessly, Hal struggles to gain his bearings. He searches the open space around them, the asteroid fields, the distant stars, the occasional planet as it falls into view. “We’re still in sector 2075,” he rasps, “somewhere near the Kylaaq Belt.........Talmayn System.......I, I think we might be near the planet......Givnuer? Terrestrial, no native life......yellow dwarf star. Talmayn’s the one with the yellow dwarf, Oberix is red.......”

Guy has started babbling incoherently again, his head lolling against Hal’s shoulder. He looks as if he may start drifting off into unconsciousness and that isn’t a good sign at all. Hal grunts and carefully pushes Guy about arm’s-length away from him. He shakes his shoulders a little, trying to keep him awake. The murmuring ceases and Guy blinks drowsily.

“How far?” John asks, and Hal thinks he can hear concern.

“Huh?” Hal looks back to his ring. He’s still in a bit of a daze himself.

“How far from Givnuer?”

Keeping his hold on Guy, Hal twists his head around as best he can and attempts to judge their distance from the planet. “Four......four AU.......maybe three?” He gives the area a quick scan with his ring and waits for the responding hum, “......yeah. Yeah, about four.”

“Okay,” John sounds relieved despite the vocal distortion the rings tend to cause, “If your rings are looking low on power, jettison over there immediately. Try to conserve energy. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.”

“Thanks, John,” Hal sighs, his shoulders sagging and his free hand dropping away from Guy’s arm.

John exhales, “Of course,” and then ends the call, already heading off to go fetch a proper rescue team. In the meantime, Hal turns his attention back to his less stable teammate. Guy is wobbling back and forth, still gazing blankly at the empty space around himself. The dried blood from his nose and jaw cover the entire lower half of his face, and it almost looks like some sort of patchy reddish-brown beard; not entirely unbelievable for the ginger to have.

“Hal.......” he murmurs, “Hal, I heard Johnny.......”

Hal steadies him with both hands again, “That was Johnny. I called him, he’s gonna come get us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Guy hums in consideration before slumping forward, resting his head against Hal’s shoulder, “Don’t feel good. Hope Johnny comes soon.”

“He will,” Hal accepts the weight and cocks his head to the left. He narrows his eyes in the direction of Givnuer. Would it be best for them to go there and rest like John suggested, or can they just wait it out......?

“Hal?”

He tears his eyes away from the distant planet and says to Guy, “Yeah? What is it?”

The concussed Green Lantern screws up his battered face, looking more like a curious child than a six foot four Baltimorean, “Were you scared?”

“......what?”

“Were you scared? When the dino showed up?”

“...........”

Hal doesn’t blink. He isn’t looking at Guy anymore though — his gaze is fixed on Givnuer again. It looks pale and reddish from a distance, reminding him vaguely of Mars. Mars; J’onn’s home planet, less than one Solar AU from Earth. And Earth, so far away from here........

“I was,” Guy says nonchalantly and (Hal wonders if even he knows it) with incredible irony, “I thought I wasn’t gonna make it back home. Were you thinkin’ ‘bout home, Hally?”

“......no.”

“Hhm......I was thinkin’ ‘bout home......I was thinkin’ ‘bout my Tora an’ ‘bout Bea too. An’ stupid Ted an’ Booster even......an’ I was thinkin’ ‘bout my old students......hell, my old woman an’ her husband too — even if they’re awful.......I was scared I wouldn’t see any of ‘em again......”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.......” it’s strange to hear Guy speak so softly; speak so calmly and in little more than a whisper, “......Hal? Were you thinkin’ ‘bout anyone?”

Hal throws Guy’s arm over his shoulder. He shifts around a bit, trying to support him in a half-carry before finally setting course for Givnuer, “I guess I was.”

Guy’s cheek is pressed against Hal’s shoulder. His swollen eyelids droop and he doesn’t look at the other man when he speaks. Like Hal’s are, Guy’s eyes are focused only on the approaching planet, “......your Barry?”

Though every nerve in his body is immediately struck with the desire to freeze, Hal presses onward instead. His skin is riddled with pinpricks and the green blaze of light around him takes on a wavering image. There’s something heavy stuck in his throat. Something heavy sliding slowly — so painfully slowly — and dropping down into his chest. There’s something heavy settling between his ribs. Something heavy trying to smother the delicate façade onto which his heart so desperately clings.

His Barry.........his Barry.

The two Lanterns fly on in silence. Hal gives no response and Guy doesn’t push him to. At one point, Hal worries that Guy has fallen asleep; but fortunately, the other man blinks through his bruises and manages to keep his chin up. He even musters enough strength to straighten out his back, easing some of the pressure off Hal. Roughly halfway to Givnuer, they both get a twenty percent warning from their rings and Hal speeds up a fraction or two.

Guy starts humming something under his breath. It’s some sort of song, maybe even a lullaby, but Hal doesn’t recognize it. Despite his exhaustion, the inky void of space still makes for a surprising comfort. The shivering stars and roving meteors seem to urge him forward as he pulls his comrade to safety. Hal tries not to think about Atrocitus or the Red Lanterns. He tries not to think about Earth and certainly not anyone on it. He tries not to think about.......Barry.

Guy stops humming as they reach the edges of Givnuer’s outer atmosphere. He gives a little burst from his own ring to aide Hal as the two of them prepare for entry. The world around them turns starkly rose-colored, and the burning green light of their shields become tipped with fuchsia. Guy and Hal descend softly into the afternoon sky, streaks of color trailing behind. Both men are as silent as the barren world below them.

They remain silent all the way there.

#¶ talk #dc #dc comics #green lantern #hal jordan #guy gardner #gl john stewart #halbarry #also #dailygreenlantern #I thought you guys might be interested #seeing that this is a green lantern story!#it's mainly just awkward bonding between guy and hal #with strongly implied halbarry #(despite barry not even being present)#also John and some alien lanterns #who are going to get proper screen time #in the second half

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wyrd-and-wonderful · 5 years

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Playing Dumb with ‘Assume Form’: A Word on Pitchfork’s Pettiness

What is it about James Blake’s latest album that’s forced music journalists to forget what song-writing is?

The pervasive criticism of Assume Form seems not to be of any technical shortcomings in the album or non-delivery in any discernible musical terms, but instead a criticism which derides Blake for writing songs with apparent confessional themes that are within easy-reach of his personal life and recent circumstances. Pitchfork pronounces a decidedly ambiguous verdict on Assume Form with little technical justification, calling it ‘aggressively pastel’. This lazy critical response has nothing to do with the substance of the album. The reviewers’ problem lies not in their ability to interpret the developed confessional nature of Blake’s song-writing, but rather in Blake’s public-facing persona which has challenged music journalism’s ‘toxic masculinity’ in relation to his music.

Pitchfork justifies its 5.8/10 rating for Assume Form by describing: ‘a suffocating seriousness that runs through the singer and producer’s fourth album, one that bogs down genuine moments of levity and love.’ (Note here: the description of Blake as ‘singer and producer’, rather than songwriter.) This seriousness, they seem to suggest, is at odds with ‘an album ostensibly all about the freedom to be oneself that love bestows’ – their criticism is one of perceived mood and emotion, failing even to notice that ‘freedom’ has to come from a constriction – from being ‘bogged down’ in some way in the first place. That Assume Form might in fact be the journey of the very transition they are describing seems to have escaped them. In any case, Blake doesn’t owe it to himself, the Industry, or the art of expression through music to focus wholly on ‘levity and love’.

Elsewhere, Crack Magazine supplies this justification for its 6/10 ruling: an ‘aesthetic tangle is the undoing of Assume Form, an album of gorgeous moments going nowhere in particular.’ (Though, exactly which elements are caught up in this aesthetic tangle is unclear from the article, and an outline of where the gorgeous moments are expected to go is explained nowhere.) Both critical opinions do pick up on a tension in Blake’s sound which has historically been critically celebrated; but now these two facets have suddenly become problematic for the review-sites. The two facets are Blake’s electronic dance-music heritage and 808 drum-palette, alongside his soulful lyric moments, and often delicate harmonics and chord progressions. Pitchfork goes on to suggest that Blake ‘sounds hamstrung by old habits’, supposedly ‘trapped in a musical cage of his own making’; though these habits are not described anywhere in the article.

But if Pitchfork, Crack, and other outlets are having problems reconciling the two aspects of Blake’s sound on Assume Form – the tender, lyrically lucid and confessional, and the ‘heavier’, club-friendly 808 dance-music styles – then such journalists should remind themselves of how they celebrated the union of these supposedly disparate aspects on Blake’s first album. On Limit To Your Love low-frequency dubstep-style oscillations rumbled below Blake’s soulful lyrical delivery: ‘There’s a limit to your love / like a map with no ocean.’ There were no complaints here surrounding the same dual-influence of Blake’s song-writing style. And Assume Form with all its guest features, Spanish-language singing, and rap verses is hardly recycling the same material or composition habits. So, what’s changed?

Stepping back a few months into May 2018: Pitchfork journalist Kevin Lozano calls Blake’s Don’t Miss It ‘sumptuous sad boy music’ – suggesting ‘maybe he [Blake] needs a night out’. This prompted Blake to issue a social-media response where he expressed his frustration with such ignorant and intolerant labels being attached to creative work which attempts to deal with issues of mental health, male suicide and expression.

As industry leaders, we should be safe to assume that Pitchfork employ highly-skilled writers who are attuned to all the resonances of the terms they apply to artists’ work. These journalists serve as first-response commentators on so many significant album releases. As such, they have a serious responsibility for which they are – presumably? – paid. So when these writers use an oxymoronic term like ‘aggressively pastel’ as an overall summation of Assume Form, we must assume that they are doing so knowing their words’ full resonances, and are intentionally invoking a tension which is fair to the album at hand. ‘Pastel’: a sense of soft, subtlety within the music (perhaps also referencing back to Blake’s previous album The Colour in Anything), but which is also a tenderness that, in their opinion, is ‘aggressive’ – suggestive of an excess, an overworked or forceful wishy-washy nonchalance in the music.

The intended tension in their ‘aggressively pastel’ labelling is indicative of what they deem to be problematic: an unsatisfactorily-resolved (5.8/10-worthy) tension in the album. That is to say: the tension between ‘aggressive’ (as in a kind of angry and direct forward force) and ‘pastel’ (as in a refusal to commit to anything solid) exemplifies these journalists’ problem with the album. More distressingly, it demonstrates a really reductive preschool-level preoccupation with two aspects of Blake’s sound that the same journalists have hitherto celebrated in previous releases. They suddenly find it banal or unsuccessful that a lyrical or harmonic tenderness can be combined with harder, club-music sensibilities; that, suddenly, the music must commit to a unified mood or uncomplicated emotional discourse. But the reason the dual-aspects of Blake’s sound have now become problematic for these journalists is not because of any technical, musical shortcomings in Assume Form – it’s problematic because Blake has addressed these journalists head-on for labelling him a ‘sad boy’. Shortly after its publication, Blake sent a tweet about Pitchfork’s review: ‘I think they’re still angry that I called them out for their toxic masculinity [kissing-face emoji]’. Something we can now see – to the detriment of both the industry and its supporting journalistic craft – is beyond doubt.

Perhaps Lozano could have had a point in one sense: Blake’s musical versatility has had a slightly preferentially divisive effect among fans; some preferring the softer side to his sound, others his weightier dance-music heritage on his earliest EPs. And we might sympathize with new, first-time, or late-coming listeners who have to reconcile the James Blake of early 140-bpm productions such as CMYK with the more lucid present-day song-writing of Don’t Miss It. But, any journalist worth their Pitchfork page-space would surely recognize (if they could not praise) this development as part of Blake’s song-writing growth – not least in the ambitious lyrical departures and achievements he makes on Assume Form.

While for the first time to such an extent on a James Blake album, the reviews are quoting and dissecting Blake’s lyrics (indicating a transition to newfound significance and lucidity in Blake’s lyric-writing), none of the recent reviews make mention of Assume Form’s comment on the effects of technology and its influences on the contemporary mind and emotions. It’s one of the album’s most important successes, especially when considered in relation to (but not necessarily as a representation of) Blake’s openness about his mental health. ‘Drop the pin on the mood that you’re in’ sings Blake in Power On. ‘Power on’ as in continue, keep going, but also turn on your device; become connected – a kind of semantic neighbour to switch off. The role of technology in relation to its user is constantly reinforced on the album, especially in Don’t Miss It. The video for the track is a real-time scrolling iPhone-note transcription of Blake’s lyrics as he sings them: bringing both the lyrical content and technology’s role in intimate thought-transcription to the foreground of the audience’s mind.

Furthermore, the long list of ‘When you…’ clauses in Don’t Miss It seems to have escaped the reviewers’ attention so far. These ‘when-you’ clauses resonate with a contemporary format for internet memes that the modern listener (and music journalist) instantly recognizes: e.g. When you … ‘do X,Y,Z’ + image. Blake uses and repeats this familiar internet idiom from everyday meme frameworks to make a serious, accumulating, and accessible commentary about issues of mental health – ‘When you stop being a ghost in the shell / And everyone keeps saying you look well’. By using the language construction of an exclusively technological medium (the meme) in Don’t Miss It, the album enters into contemporary dialectic (through a contemporary idiom and sound palette) with contemporary issues surrounding mental health – interrogating how technology can be used to variously exacerbate and assuage our concerns of self-worth (‘if there’s no need for the perfect image’). The Pitchfork journalists owe it to their readers and to anyone who’s ever acknowledged (or has yet still to acknowledge) difficulties with their mental health to properly confront these crucial themes on the album. And whilst Blake’s frank responses and interview comments to Pitchfork, Dazed, and other outlets may indicate a personal struggle in this area, we do not necessarily have to equate a song’s experience of mental health with Blake’s own.

This is because Assume Form will inevitably be more than a ‘loved-up’ confessional outpouring of Blake’s feelings – ‘peeling off the layers to bare all his innermost thoughts’ as Pitchfork will have us believe. As its title suggests, Assume Form also allows Blake (the artist and songwriter, rather than the LA-dwelling Londoner) to assume the form of a number of variously afflicted, contented, and obsessive personas. These personas might closely align with Blake’s own at times, but they are not wholly or necessarily Blake himself. A confessional song-writing mode does not necessarily represent the artist directly. Surely Pitchfork’s journalists are aware by now that a songwriter’s physical singing voice is distinct from the possible persona or character established by the lyrical content of a song. In fact, the Pitchfork reviewer almost comes close to completing this distinction – but his adverb (‘off-puttingly’) betrays the whole problem. The reviewer ‘can’t help but find something off-puttingly performative and voyeuristic in its [the track Can’t Believe The Way We Flow’s] romantic rapture’. But the romantic rapture isn’t Blake’s – it’s a character, or derivative persona of Blake’s creation and articulation. If the track and its refrain is sickening or off-putting then it is deliberately so, in order to embody an excess of a particular romantic emotion. If the journalist is ‘off-put’ it’s because of the ‘voyeuristic’ position the song establishes; it’s because Blake is being deliberately ‘performative’ –articulating excess and astonishment through a separate character.

A similar thing happens on I’ll Come Too – what could be a kind of modern-day poolside crooning is transformed into something yet more severe and sinister through the obsessive persona’s asides, making him even stalker-like at times. Blake sings ‘Oh you’re going to New York, I’m going there / Why don’t I come with you? / Oh, you’ve changed to LA / I’m going there, I could go there too’. Any tenderness or romance in the song’s mood which is established by the rich chords and vocal hums as Blake sings ‘I don’t wanna go home / Shall we drive from zone to zone’ is quickly undercut by the sinister suggestions of finality: ‘if it’s the last thing I do’; ‘I’ve got nothing to lose.’ Even if she’s ‘the reason this album exists’, Blake isn’t describing his courting process with Jameela Jamil here – he’s embodying a persona to explore an obsessive kind of love.

It’s worth saying that elsewhere, in cruder musical instances, Pitchfork seem capable of grasping this distinction. They can identify an artist inhabiting a different persona for a certain rhetorical effect. They don’t really think Tyler, the Creator is writing a song to consolidate his first-hand experience of murder when he delivers the lines on Garbage: ‘I got violent, long story short he's not breathing / For some reason I liked it and it was really exciting’. These journalists do not take it to be an autobiographical statement from Tyler himself; in fact, they are able to define it as: ‘a rap persona pitched between shock-riddled misanthropy and confessional reflection’. So why are they taking all of James Blake’s ‘confessional’ lyrics to be entirely autobiographical – and failing both their readers and their own appreciations in the process? The answer is simple: they just don’t want to make the effort. Blake has called them out and now they’re playing dumb with his album.

The world of music journalism moves fast. But saying something quickly is far less important than saying something accurate and considered. It’s why Assume Form will survive to be an important album and the quick-fire clickbait labels of Kevin Lozano & Co. will be proved careless, petty, and ill-conceived. More importantly, such comments will be quickly forgotten when listeners witness for themselves the stunning tensions and resolutions of an album that can be both ‘aggressive’ and ‘pastel’ simultaneously.

With that in mind, Lozano, I’ve got tickets for James Blake’s Assume Form live show. I’m going to stand in the front row – maybe I’ll dance, maybe I’ll cry. Maybe I’ll do both at once.

#james blake #assume form #pitchfork #journalism

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bharatiyamedia-blog · 5 years

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How a martial arts health club skilled me to construct an inclusive tradition – TechCrunch

http://tinyurl.com/y36o3bse Ken is an engineering supervisor at Airbnb constructing merchandise that allow entrepreneurs to offer hospitality on the platform. Exterior of labor he enjoys Muay Thai, Pekiti Tirsia Kali (Filipino sticks & knives preventing), cooking, and writing. A wave of unease instantly swept by way of my physique. Fixed puffing and growling echoed round me as heavily-tattooed fighters threw forceful punches into the heavy baggage. This was the scene I encountered once I stepped into Five Points Academy, a martial arts preventing health club in New York, for the primary time just a few years in the past. Having grown up in a sheltered setting — the final time I had gotten right into a battle was in kindergarten — I wasn’t positive I would slot in. Emily, one of many instructors, instantly launched herself and confirmed me some fundamental Muay Thai actions. The category centered on pad work, so college students paired up and held Thai pads for one another to apply their strikes. Emily rotated me by way of completely different companions in the course of the class, providing me a style of what it was wish to hit pads, and I used to be hooked. A yr in the past, my buddy, Diane Wu, wrote a wonderful post arguing that “inclusion is the trigger, and variety is the impact. When an inclusive mindset is in place, variety naturally follows.” My expertise at 5 Factors displays this sentiment. Regardless of being in a historically male-dominant area, roughly 40% of our instructors, half of our fighters, and half of our members are ladies. It’s not a coincidence that also they are broadly considered one of the crucial inclusive and least “bro-y” preventing gyms in New York. Tech has solely been male-dominant in the previous couple of a long time — the first coders in the 1940s were women — whereas martial arts has been male-dominant for the previous couple of millennia. If a martial arts health club can overcome systemic obstacles, we, in tech, can do higher. After interviewing the homeowners, coaches, fighters, and members of the health club, here’s what I realized about how they created an inclusive group. Tradition begins from the highest Studies have shown that tradition stems from management, and that is demonstrated by the three homeowners of 5 Factors, Steve, Simon, and Kevin. A number of members famous that Steve’s laid-back demeanor, Simon’s British humor, and Kevin’s always-friendly perspective have been an enormous a part of what made 5 Factors really feel like household. As Steve defined, “Individuals be taught higher when you’re encouraging versus intimidating.” This welcoming tradition from the highest actually inspired a wider vary of individuals to hitch and prosper, particularly amongst extra leisure fighters. Firms aren’t any completely different in relation to establishing cultures from the highest. If inclusivity is a precedence, executives should exhibit that. I’ve seen instances the place the CEO created a committee to collaborate on establishing core values for the corporate, solely to scrap that dialog and ship out a survey asking staff to price cultural values the CEO personally got here up with. Over time, individuals with completely different viewpoints left the corporate, and those who stayed have been predominantly from the identical backgrounds by way of work expertise, gender, and ethnicity. Finally, constructing a tradition of inclusion requires each govt buy-in and real follow-through actions, or else will probably be arduous to maintain. “Inclusion” contains everybody 5 Factors didn’t begin out aiming to realize gender parity or market to sure demographics. As an alternative, they centered on making a group the place everybody was welcomed. Simon summarized it properly, “An inclusive tradition contains everybody. By not having the fitting tradition, you would possibly flip away an individual — not simply ladies, but in addition different males — that may doubtlessly assist enhance your health club immediately.” He additional elaborated, “We don’t need an asshole tradition not simply because ladies may be turned off—however males would, too.” This is a crucial distinction. For instance, it’s tempting to generalize {that a} frat-house health club tradition may preserve ladies away. Nonetheless, many males dislike such a tradition as properly. As an alternative of lumping individuals into teams, we are able to take a look at every particular person and ask ourselves, “what setting could be welcoming for her or him?” For example, Kevin all the time makes positive to take time to know every potential new member, give them a tour of the services, and talk about how the academy may cater to their wants. We are able to prolong this concept additional: surface-level traits are sometimes instances only a proxy for deeper attributes, so why not go straight to the foundation? Once I took Muay Thai lessons at different gyms, the trainer would typically remind everybody, “Guys, in case you are paired with a woman, please go lighter.” This gender-based generalization is only a proxy for the foundation attribute: dimension. At 5 Factors, the trainer would as a substitute say, “Guys (and gals), in case you are paired with somebody lots smaller than you, please regulate your energy to maintain your accomplice protected.” Security is a priority for anybody dealing with a much bigger opponent, whatever the gender they establish themselves with. In tech, there was plenty of dialogue round making a extra inclusive setting for underrepresented demographics. I imagine we will be simpler by augmenting this effort. Along with asking “how can we make ladies really feel comfy contributing to conferences?”, we are able to additionally ask “how can we assist all staff really feel comfy contributing to conferences?”[1] Along with discussing “how can we offer help mechanisms for minorities?”, we are able to additionally talk about “how can we offer help mechanisms for workers who will not be well-versed in mainstream company America tradition?” I imagine this hybrid strategy can cowl extra floor and make sure that assistance is delivered to the individuals who want it most [2]. Deal with everybody equally A typical theme among the many feminine coaches and members I interviewed was that they felt that gender was one thing that didn’t cross their minds throughout class. A number of members have commented that the instructors handled everybody equally. For instance, when you have been late, unbiased of what demographic or talent degree you have been, you needed to do 30 pushups [3]. Giving everybody the identical requirements ensured that individuals couldn’t choose on others or make snide feedback resembling “Amy acquired off simpler as a result of she was a woman.” One of many guidelines throughout Muay Thai drills class is to decrease the facility degree and deal with method. One time, Steve took Emily’s Muay Thai drills class and hit his accomplice a bit too arduous. Emily instantly reminded Steve, “that was most likely a bit too arduous.” It didn’t matter that Steve was an proprietor and Emily was an worker — as the trainer of the category she made positive everybody adopted the identical guidelines. Likewise, treating everybody equally begins from the start: the candidate expertise. A typical query I get is “how can we enhance variety with out reducing the bar?” What I suggest is to outline a set of capabilities that every one candidates have to exhibit. For instance, if a productive software program engineer must be good at algorithms, system design, communication, teamwork, and breaking issues down, we must always consider every of the 5 areas pretty throughout recruiting. Sadly, many corporations solely take a look at the primary two, which not solely leads to a non-diverse group of staff, but in addition these with skillsets that don’t absolutely map to their jobs. By speaking the requirements transparently, we make sure that all staff perceive that they belong, and are equally part of the group. Take note of particulars Particulars typically mirror the thoughtfulness put in to making a tradition. Ting, a Kali (a weapons-based martial artwork) teacher and former fighter, defined, “Many martial arts health club are soiled and odor like sweat. 5 Factors pays consideration to particulars: there are hair ties and a number of hair dryers for ladies’s locker rooms. The mats are mopped each hour in between lessons. This removes one additional stress for lots of ladies who need to check out martial arts.” For sure, the eye to element applies to lessons as properly. A brand new member shared the next story with me: “As soon as I used to be on the point of do a personal session with Steve after Emily’s Muay Thai class. Emily went to Steve and stated ‘she wants extra work on her left roundhouse kick.’ After all Steve then made me do left roundhouses for 30 minutes straight.” Whereas the member was cursing inside, she was additionally grateful for the eye Emily paid to her. Sonya, a long-time Kali scholar, additionally recalled that Simon would typically discover when she’s flustered with a specific drill. Along with his basic British humor, he would comment “an excessive amount of water within the bucket?” earlier than continuing to interrupt down the drill additional to make sure she may take in the knowledge. There are various zero-cost issues corporations can do that might make the staff really feel taken care of. For instance, within the early days, Palantir, my former employer, would proactively provide staff the choice to early-exercise their inventory choices. In addition they introduced in tax accountants to clarify deal with the choice minimal tax (AMT). Nonetheless, I’ve additionally seen corporations with 60+ staff the place nobody was given the choice to early-exercise, though it financially prices the corporate virtually nothing. Be adaptive to alter and proactively enhance When 5 Factors first began, they adopted the Western boxing mindset the place members sparred arduous. The mentality was to establish fighters who have been robust and needed it so unhealthy they’d return after getting overwhelmed up. Over time, as Steve and Simon traveled to Thailand, they witnessed a distinct type of sparring, the place fighters sparred flippantly and centered on method and timing. They revamped their sparring lessons to “Thai Type Technical Sparring,” and had just a few designated “arduous sparring” lessons. Though just a few fighters have been upset, Steve and Simon have been satisfied that this was the fitting strategy. As Steve defined, “the outdated type may also help you discover robust individuals however not essentially the perfect individuals.” Moreover, the perfect fighter can are available all shapes, sizes, genders, and backgrounds, not essentially the “robust individual” who is available in day one eager to battle. This open mindset actually uncovered many nice fighters they wouldn’t have discovered in any other case, growing the range of the group. One in all their fighters, a former mannequin and actress, got here to 5 Factors by no means considering she would battle. The welcoming setting and emphasis on method throughout sparring made her really feel protected as she leveled up her abilities. Three years in, Steve requested her if she needed to do a battle. She ended up getting hooked and went on to win a number of US Kickboxing Affiliation Worldwide Championships. This adaptive mindset is relevant to different areas as properly. Once I interviewed at Google, one in all my interviewers informed me that for a very long time Google centered closely on brain-teasers and algorithmic puzzles. In consequence, throughout lunch along with his crew, the predominantly white and Asian male engineers with backgrounds in coding would talk about mind teasers and algorithmic puzzles. Over time, Google’s leadership realized that brain teasers and algorithmic puzzles have little correlation with one’s performance. They then restructured their interview course of, and the range of the crew improved. Clearly there are nonetheless areas for enchancment, however having the ability to acknowledge points and adapt to new findings is crucial to fostering an inclusive tradition. Implement the principles pretty when wanted The journey to constructing a various and inclusive martial arts group just isn’t with out the occasional bumps. As a group grows larger, there’ll inevitably be unhealthy actors, and the way a pacesetter responds to them will set the tone for the way the tradition develops. Emily has kicked college students out of her class just a few instances when a much bigger or extra skilled fighter beat up on a smaller or less-experienced scholar. It didn’t matter if the bully was extremely expert or fought for the health club — she enforced the principles pretty with everybody. Equally, after a 200+ lbs skilled man repeatedly beat up others throughout Muay Thai sparring and refused to let go on locks throughout Brazilian Jiu Jitsu lessons, Steve requested him to depart the health club. Quite the opposite, in a piece setting, I’ve witnessed conditions the place somebody would repeatedly yell at colleagues in entrance of everybody — together with executives — throughout conferences. It acquired so poisonous that 4 individuals from numerous departments requested to modify tasks as a result of they didn’t need to work with the individual anymore. Nonetheless, as a result of the worker was deemed necessary by executives, they continued to let him yell at others throughout conferences with no repercussions. Tradition is not only slogans held on the partitions of your convention rooms. UCSF Psychiatry professor Cameron Sepah says, “Your Company Culture is Who You Hire, Fire, and Promote.” One of many triggers for a latest worker walk-out at Google was as a result of the corporate paid ex-executives tens of thousands and thousands of {dollars} after discovering allegations of sexual misconduct. Making certain improper conduct is handled instantly and pretty is important to fostering an inclusive tradition. Success breeds success When an initiative has early traction, it’s a lot simpler to proceed the momentum. Tradition is similar means. When 5 Factors first began in 2002, they already had three high-level feminine fighters—one in all them, Emily, even went on to win the Muay Thai World Championships. Having variety early on helped present function fashions for members from underrepresented backgrounds who have been inquisitive about preventing. As soon as an inclusive tradition is established, the group members will proceed to be inclusive and others will need to be a part of. One of many coaches and fighters, Gianna, defined, “No person made me really feel like sh*t once I was new, so I need to ensure that different noobs don’t really feel that means both.” One other Kali scholar, Sonya, who describes herself as a “girly lady,” needed to work additional arduous honing her abilities as a result of she didn’t come from an athletic background like a lot of the different members. Nonetheless, Simon was all the time affected person together with her, frequently breaking down methods till she grasped them. Trying again, she is extraordinarily appreciative that Simon tried very arduous to make her really feel comfy, and now she recommends all her feminine pals to check out Kali. Her motivation? “I would like girly women to know that they’re welcome right here.” The identical applies to the tech trade. I’ve seen sequence A corporations with 50 staff wrestle to rent ladies as a result of their gender imbalance (15% feminine), solely to see the ratio additional lower as the corporate grows (10%). Alternatively, Flatiron Well being, additionally a former employer, centered on variety & inclusion from the get-go, together with hiring senior feminine leaders throughout all features early on. Once I was there, they’d roughly 50% feminine staff and 50% feminine managers. From inclusion to variety 5 Factors Academy by no means began with the intent of constructing a health club with 50% ladies and members from all completely different ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds. As an alternative, the homeowners merely needed to construct a health club the place anybody can belong, and anybody can get pleasure from being a part of the group. By beginning with inclusion, variety adopted. I’m not in any respect advocating for halting initiatives on variety. It will be important that we deal with variety, and lots of corporations are doing simply that. Nonetheless, similar to 5 Factors Academy, we additionally have to put money into constructing an inclusive tradition to assist individuals thrive and develop on the firm, which is able to additional entice extra various staff. Footnotes [1] Research have proven {that a} man’s concepts are sometimes taken extra critically than a girl’s. In consequence, many ladies select to not take part in conferences however ask a male colleague of theirs to current their concepts.[2] For instance, based on Ascend Analysis, Asians rating the bottom in govt parity index, doing worse than Blacks and Hispanics. Nonetheless, they aren’t thought of an “underrepresented minority,” so comparatively little has been executed to mentor younger Asian professionals on profession development.[3] In case you had bodily limitations, you could possibly substitute them with pushups on knees or one other train. 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