#((as opposed to mark simply wanting to take him back to civilization; an idea i NEVER jived with either!))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

The streets of New Orleans were so quiet and peaceful when Randall and Emily went on their evening walk: The autumn winds were pleasantly chilly, whistling between the branches of the trees and kicking up piles of leaves as they walked along the sidewalk hand-in-hand. Under the light of the moon, under the darkened skies, the world seemed so...quiet. Peaceful. No cars around, the only presence of others being the lights on in the houses they walked past.

It was funny to think about now, admittedly: While most people were winding down at this hour, getting ready to turn in for the night, his and Emily's "day" was only just beginning...!

"Evening!" a man greeted brightly as they walked by, taking Randall out of his thoughts-he smiled and bid the same to the passerby, catching sight of him as he did. A man about his age, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, looking very snappy in his autumn evening wear...

Something gave Randall pause. And if he were paying any attention, the man had paused two, both of them stopping where they stood on the sidewalk, having been struck by an intense feeling of deja vu. There was just something...awfully familiar about the other...!

"Randall?" the man called, a touch hesitantly, as if he were unsure of what his mind was telling him. Looking back to face him, Randall answered, "Dorian?"

With those confirmations, the two men laughed and embraced each other-it was as if no time at all had passed as they hugged, both of them talking a mile a minute, with Randall quick to introduce Emily to Dorian as his wife, something Dorian was extremely receptive of-in fact, he'd just gotten married too.

"Come to my house, I'll explain everything!" Dorian invited excitedly-he had a feeling both of them had some very long stories to tell...

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 3

Modern Royal King!Steve au

(Image from Pinterest)

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7k

Story masterlist

Sometimes Steven forgot that you weren’t that much younger than him. He forgot about a lot of things when it was only the two of you. You did that to him. You made him forget things that everyone else reminded him of constantly, intentional and not.

Early that morning was no different.

Long before his alarm went off, Steve found himself on his side watching you sleep. Feeling in every way equal to you, like there was not this huge ocean of things that he did not have in common with you, opposed to what the two of you shared.

Obviously, he was the son of kings and tyrants while you were the daughter of immigrants and a blue-collar family. You’d grown up in a house full of love and kindness and acceptance, he had not. You’d ended your teenage years going to college and then travelling and ending up here, where you chose to stay and work and travel and live a life that Steve could only dream of, his own had never been his own and never would be.

You had dreams and hopes, little things like aspirations. He didn’t.

Steve’s life was dictated by things like duty and obligations, expectations. Yours was not.

Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to you?

Compared to all the royals around Europe and titled individuals, politicians, even old families, none of them interested him even a fraction of the amount that you interested him. To Steve you were exotic. You were a fascinating creature who might as well have come from Mars.

He couldn’t even say what it was or why.

For so long it had felt right to be alone. Considering the blood of monsters ran through his veins, Steve had been uninterested in any sort of companionship more than a brief encounter at a private location.

For Christ’s sake, he refused to sleep in the bedroom that his father had slept in.

Upon assuming the throne, he’d selected to take up older quarters in an unused part of the palace living complex. As if to ensure he was as far away from the rooms that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had slept. Choosing to sleep in a bed untainted by any of those men, stored from when his land was ruled by an emperor. Hoping with the hopes of a young king that it would save him from their madness.

Beside him, you slept so peacefully, trustingly.

Steve had never brought anyone into his private apartment. Nor had his bed seen any carnal action since it’d gone into storage. Until you. He’d simply never been so inclined.

A rough sound from the growth on his cheek rubbing against his pillow. A pleasant reminder of that night that felt so long ago, yet also like only yesterday.

He’d had a beard back then he remembered.

A full bushy one.

One that had made you laugh softly at, roll your eyes and still manage to pull off an acceptable bow when you greeted him that late night.

“They beat Canada then Your Majesty?” You had inquired with good nature, setting down a whole stack of papers and folders onto the very modern conference table in a big room that could fit two dozen, more if the people were standing.

He’d beamed.

Steve remembered he’d been in a particularly good mood that night. Even if he was working late on the education push into the outer regions of his kingdom. A good amount was still very rural, many simple villages that lived as they had fifty or more years ago. Many parts of his kingdom were still deeply rooted in the past.

“Indeed. Eleven to four.”

He was beaming. Beaming! You were pretty sure you could see molars. It made you shake your head and begin to sort out all your work into piles to go over. Not that you’d ever admit to secretly being caught up in the hype of the team being so close to gold at the Winter Olympics. “So then the beard stays?”

“You of all people,” he admonished, coming over to help you. Picking up the well-marked up maps you’d spent hours annotating.

Making you roll your eyes.

On he went though, obviously needing to drive home the seriousness of this matter. “The beard stays until we win gold. Next we play Norway. I don’t think it needs to be said that we cannot risk it.”

He was serious. Really serious. If that full glorious beard was any indication.

More focused on the organizing task yourself.

Sorting your work by region, pile by pile, each had taken much work and effort and negotiation, endless phone calls and trips and emails to each area to get them to work not only with you, but one another. It was like herding cats. It had taken you months to get this all sorted out for Steve to see. His ideas weren’t even ready to be implemented. This was just the pre-gaming, the leadup, the work in preparation. You weren’t even on Step One. You were on Step Zero.

“Now that I know, I’ll be sure to grow a beard next Winter Olympics.”

And then you were rewarded with a rich hearty laugh from your king.

Well not your king, as you weren’t a citizen of this country. But you still liked to think of him as your king.

Watching you sleep was something he’d never tire of. Never get enough of. It was a luxury that he didn’t realize he wanted day in out.

The ability to wake up with you tangled up in blankets. Curled back against his front. Hogging pillows as you did. Allowing Steve to run his fingers up and down your bare thigh, along the curves of your body. Letting him lean forward to press his lips to your shoulder and see the peaceful rest of your face in his slowly lightening bedroom. Every last inch of you here for him.

Hungry.

That was what it was, he was hungry for you. Like a big bear that woke from hibernation after a long winter. At times he felt such a way. Never having felt this way about anyone prior.

In his own time, he slipped his fingers down along the round of your ass underneath the flesh of your hip. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Neither of you had left the bed since the late night bath in his tub.

Further down Steve allowed his fingers to trail.

Memorizing every last second to get him through his day. From how you felt pressed against the front of him, how your back moved against his chest with every steady breath you took. The way your legs tangled in his buttery sheets with his own, how the soft cheeks of your bottom pressed against his alert groin.

Most definitely though, how your skin tasted and felt beneath his mouth. Smelling like yourself from all your favorite bath products kept in his bathroom.

You’d smelled so good that night too.

You always smelled good.

It was something that he had noticed but hadn’t given any real thought to.

It seemed to be a mix of perfume and body lotion or cream. Cause Steve found the flowery smell would linger after you walked by in the way that perfume did, infusing the air and making his brain scream out that you were near. But also, when you shook his hand, it always had that sweet fresh clean smell afterwards.

Now, whenever Steve smelled it, all he could think about was you.

Those smells danced around him. Making the late hour bearable. Making the fact that the offices were empty but for the two of you, when you both should have been home in bed, not matter.

“Ok…” you were talking to him, pointing out places on the massive map that was his nation. Arms crossed. Legs spread. Standing beside you as you informed him with tones that indicated your happiness, your displeasure as well as your utter irritation. “…so I managed to get in touch with every Education Department in all nine of your territories.”

Though you were not looking at him, Steve nodded, laser focused on this project he’d tasked you with months ago.

“All of the department heads are on board with your desired overhaul to completely modernize the entire system. Unfortunately, they told me that I had to call all the district heads for all forty-six provinces to get their agreed participation too.”

Your tone went from pleased with yourself then skeptical and then annoyed.

You turned your head to look at him. “Which is what I spent the last three months doing. It was something of a thing.”

Steve could only imagine.

He was quiet though so you could go on. More than pleased with how well you worked in this position. He’d originally been skeptical with your being a foreigner. How dedicated would you be to a job in a country that was not your own? One hundred percent as it turned out.

Your hands flattened out dramatically on the table. Outrage surged from you. “I’m still waiting on two appointees because their predecessors apparently died during harvest season and no one could be bothered to replace the position. I literally had to fly out to the outer reaches of civilization to find this out. Cause all the government offices are closed during harvest season, fyi. But they’re literally filling the positions now.”

Such was the challenge of having a large kingdom with one foot in the future and one in the past. Such things led to the difficultly of keeping a Chief of Staff.

Steve’s previous Chief of Staff had come highly recommended and lasted a little over a month.

Whether it was from a lack of dedication, the obvious frustrations of the job or maybe he simply had not wanted to jump on a plane and fly six hours then ride by car five hours to remote areas in order to complete his work. Steve could not be sure. All he knew for sure was he’d keep you as long as humanly possible.

In his eyes, you were a saint.

“What’s with the question mark?”

Making you look to see which question mark you’d marked on the map full of stickers and marks and tabs. Hours had been spent working on the damn thing.

Seeing which question mark in question made your nose scrunch. “Oh…them, they refuse to even answer my calls until they are allowed to take their traditional name for their province. Which is way above my pay grade. Someone else is going to have to deal with them. I tried.”

Ah, Steve nodded, that was far from surprising. The far outer regions were notoriously independent or rebellious, depending on your stance.

He would deal with them accordingly. Not how his father did, but in his own way.

Steve’s attention was drawn to two nearby provinces. Each had a frowny face sticker. Without asking, he merely pointed.

A noise of pure disgusted frustration came from deep in your throat. Making you stand and look to him, brandishing your hands in all directions. “I tried my best with them. I really did. Both of those provinces absolutely refuse to take part in anything if the other is involved. Apparently, they’re still salty at one another over something that happened in fourteen-seventy-three and refer to me as the foreign she-devil. So…good luck with them Your Majesty.”

Soundly you slept.

Comfortable. Safe. At peace.

Making him feel like a true man. A provider able to care for you, protect you, satisfy you. As if he were stripped down to what nature intended. Instead of what society had dictated for you both.

Reaching down to that heavenly place between the V in your thighs, Steve pushed his fingers further to find your softness slippery, your skin slick with viscous arousal. In pushing his finger up further, running it around the edge of your slit to where the gateway to your body was hidden, he found you heavily aroused. Coating his fingers with a thick fluid that promised you would be able to take him now. Oozing into the cervices between his fingers and smearing thickly down his palm and over the back of his hand.

Unable to help himself, he brought his hand out from between your legs in order to look at your arousal. Merely the sight made his balls clench in eager anticipation. Tasting the bodily excretions had his hips moving against yours on their own.

A noise came from you. Though you were far from waking. Always one to enjoy your sleep.

On his tongue you were heady, ripe. Tasting like sin. Steve licked his fingers. Eyes closed so he could savor the taste, how you clung to his tongue and were thick, like a burst of brandy swirling with his saliva.

Awakened now from his deep sleep. Ravenous like a beast of the forest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. Making you mumble. Making you wiggle in your sleep, causing you to reach your arm out for a pillow to pull close. Hooking your leg up higher too. Becoming more comfortable in the bed in addition to opening yourself up more to your king. As if your body had connected to his on a level your mind was unaware and encouraged him to take you.

Down he peered. Strands of hair fell across his forehead at the harsh angle. A soft lightening of the sun through drapes he never closed last night allowed the sight of moisture. Folds of bare skin sheened up at him. Tempting him with that webbing of goo that promised him you were ready.

Taking himself in hand, he caught sight of your name curled over his side. Reminding him of your absolute possession over him. Sending his hand low to pull his foreskin back in order to feed this hunger of you that consumed him.

Your signature was all swoops and swirls.

Recognizable above anyone else’s writing he came across on a daily basis.

All over paper and on the maps. In little corners. Highlighted. In different color pens. On stickie notes. Written on napkins or on the back of random pieces of paper.

At the time, he’d had no idea how far gone he really was.

Not even when he watched you take note after note with a purple inked pen, your hand flowing across paper like a swimmer cutting through the water. Taking down his every word, every command.

A incredibly distinctive feeling of being full woke you up from your glorious sleep, in a very singular sort of way that could be from only one thing. Only one thing on earth felt like that when waking you up.

Pulling you out of a warm blissful sleep only to wake you with the exquisite feeling of being stretched open, pushed into, filled up. Making your fingers clench bedding or pillows or whatever they could grab.

A low breathy moan came from you in the time between you were woken and awake, your face burrowing in a pillow was followed by a soft profanity. Weight slowly covered you. Weight pinned you down to the bed a little at a time. Skin and sheets and soft dustings of hair rubbed against you.

Only when you had fully woken did you feel pubes brush against your cheeks. A light tap of scrotum bumped you too.

Long arms wrapped around you. Wet lips mouthed along the curve of your neck.

This was a far superior way to wake up. Compared to your apartment, in bed alone, to your neighbors loud shrilling alarm clock through your paper-thin wall.

Groaning out at the feel of His Majesty’s cock stuffed safely up in your secret garden. You found yourself whining at Steve at whatever time it was in the early morning. “…fuuuuck…what’d I say about doing that…” A swivel, nay, a swivel with a pop of his pelvis followed, making you see stars, gasp deeply as if you’d been stabbed in the lungs and then add on for God and Country. “…My King…shit, My King…oh shit, My King.”

Though it may have been said in jest, his tone was hot enough to scald. “If memory serves me correctly…” another deep push of thick hips shoved you forward into the pillows. “…you say, not in my ass unless I’m awake.”

Stars.

So many bright and colorful stars.

Mmm.

Yes, that was something you had told him on many occasions and it still held very true. If Steve was going to put anything in your ass, forget that thing he claimed was a dick, you needed to be fully awake so you could both physically and emotionally prepare yourself.

Nothing at all could have prepared you for the drastic turn your life was about to take that night.

Nothing.

Everything had been so normal. It was so regular. Like many a long night working late hours at the palace before. Hours had been spent going over all your hard work contacting each and every head in each education department per province, as well as per territory. In addition to the national department of education, preparing to prep them for what the king wanted.

Like any other late night, Steve helped you put all of your paperwork back in the correct order you had it in. Like every other time, he requested a palace car take you to your apartment. Granted the apartment you shared with your best friend was walking distance away. It was late and simply not safe and you found were touched that Steve would think about your well-being.

For a king, he wasn’t that bad. When it was the two of you anyway.

Looks aside, which he had in spades, he could be very funny in a sarcastic sort of way. He was very well read and intelligent, quick on his feet. Although people seemed to think of him a certain type of way based on his father and his own kingship at a young age, when he really was his own person.

You’d noticed he had a definite interest in the classical masters and had on rare occasion seen him sketch out something on a flight or during a less than stimulating event. He had an artistic ability that would never come to anything due to his role.

His strong sense of duty paired with a disgusting moral obligation pretty much guaranteed his life would be spent in service to his country. Period.

You could see why people thought he was hot. The man had been blessed by the genetic gods. Plus he was a king. Who didn’t grow up dreaming about being a princess? Or think about a literal Prince Charming from fairy tales?

Having now had the benefit of working in a real life palace. You knew the realities of that fantasy.

You had two pages of notes that could attest to the reality of your childhood Disney Princess movies.

Reality was always so different.

Not for the first time, you found yourself repeating yourself. “…and let me say one more time. Thank you so much for talking with my parents. I know it was only ten minutes, but, I know how busy you are and it just completely topped off their visit. My mother has been telling everyone about how she met the king. You even have my father cheering for the hockey team.”

A smile came over Steve’s face that was real.

It wasn’t one of his practiced smiles. It was an actual smile. You could tell because it reached his eyes.

“Well,” Steve answered you with a shrug, sounding genuinely pleased even if he also sounded tired and like he wanted nothing more than to go off to his living quarters in the palace and crash into bed, before he had to get up to start a new day. Helping you stack the last of your papers up. “Anything to convert a soul to hockey. Technically, it is his team too.” And because he could not help himself, Steve added on, “Even if his grandparents fled from here for a cushy life in the west.”

Up your hand flew to your chest.

Your jaw dropped in mock pain. “Ouch, Sir! That one was painful.”

His smile grew at your over-the-top reaction.

Still though, he dipped his head and you noticed there was a little blush on his cheeks above where that magnificent beard grew. Chagrined, he quickly followed up with, “I apologize. That was a cheap shot.”

In a physical sort of way that his people were known to interact, personal space be damned, Steve reached over to touch your arm apologetically. Not something he did frequently. Although he had done it a handful of times. The press of his mouth to your cheek was new. The little kiss was brand new. Steve’s lips were gentle on your skin. His beard tickled your face.

Never in your life had your heart pounded as violently in your chest as it did at that gesture. Quickly, your head turned. Though you did not move back or say anything. Instead, you found yourself staring at Steve. Looking into those pools of blue that were looking at you with the same amount of surprise that you felt. His lips were right there, right there.

Blood roared in your ears, your heart pounded faster and faster and faster.

He kissed you.

Did he really though?

Was it a kiss or was it a kiss?

For a moment in time, you leaned in. Leaned closer. Leaned till you almost touched him because that was what your body wanted to do. Until you remembered that Steve was a king. A KING. Remembering that made your head command your body to lean backwards a bit. Allowing you to see that he had leant in to meet you.

He’d leaned closer to kiss you.

What were you doing? What in the hell were you doing? You had no business doing this, no business at all messing around with Steve.

Fingers moved along your arm, tracing up the back of it softly. That simple touch made goosebumps break out over your skin. It made your breath hitch. Your hands began to shake so you grabbed the fabric of your skirt.

However, you made no move to step away from Steve. Nor did he make any sort of move to step away from you.

Another attempt at a kiss was not made.

Fingers touched your face instead. Steve was close enough to you that you felt his legs brush yours. You felt his breath against your face. Fingertips ran across the swell of your cheekbone, down over your lips, tracing the bridge of your nose in what felt like a desire to memorize your face.

Steve was gentle. His fingertips felt like feathers on your skin. He made you shake like a leaf in terror because you wanted him to touch you more. You wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel his hands on you and the soft glide of his thumb along the line of your jaw was painfully insufficient.

Without thinking, you reached up with your hands until you remembered that he was the king.

Were you allowed to touch the king? You weren’t sure. He was touching you and it was fabulous but were you allowed to do the same? You wanted to. You so deeply wanted to. You just were not sure what was allowed in this situation. It had not exactly been covered in the Royal Protocol Guidebook you had.

Then came Steve’s voice. Harsh. Gravelly. Desperate.

“Touch me. It’s ok. I want you to.”

For only a heartbeat or two you remained still, observing him, making sure. Only after that did you reach up with your hands to cover his wrists. Rub along the fabric of his button-up shirt. In doing so, you not only felt the strength in his well-muscled wrists, or how warm the silky fabric was, but, you could feel him tremble. He was shaking about as much as you were.

A rush of air surged from his lungs as if you had burnt him.

Curious, you turned your head so you could place a single kiss on the inside of his hand touching your face, right at the base of his thumb. In doing so, you ripped a noise from deep within him. A noise that was both pained while also infused with wanting.

“This is ok?”

“Yes,” he croaked out, as if he were terrified you would stop.

Never would you have ever imagined he would be so responsive. Almost touch starved it felt.

Sometimes, Steve still felt as if he were a little touch starved to you. Sometimes it felt like he’d gone his entire life without having that physical connection between two people. As complicated of a man as he was with as complicated of a life as he had, you at times forgot that he was still a human being with human being needs that were essential to thriving.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining.

Far from it.

Not after the orgasm you just had, not from on top of him either. Lounged across the front of him. Loose limbed. Languid down to your marrow. Peppering the damp skin of his neck with slow wet kisses and scrapes of teeth. Long drags of your tongue collected drops of salt that tasted of him. Lazily. Heart to heart. Stomach to stomach.

There really were worse ways to wake up.

Like, for instance, in your apartment taking cold showers cause the building’s water heater was ancient. That wasn’t fun at all and usually had you shivering and hurrying through an icy shower. Straight up not a good time.

This? This was soooo much better.

Feeling Steve’s long legs wrapped up in your own, paired with his softening member filling you by virtue of sheer size not letting himself just pop out…this was a much better way to wake up. Far superior in every way.

Not that you were willing to waste precious time like this luxuriating in post-coital bliss. No, no. A burning question was hot on your mind that kept popping up after last night. After all, you were a modern woman and this was a serious relationship. You had every right to ask this question at any time you wanted. Even now. As your boyfriend, the king, fondled your breasts in his hands with such intensity that you would have thought he’d just broken out of Alcatraz after a decade of no nookie. Not that you were in the least bit complaining. Not one bit.

“Am I going to have to quit my job?”

It was something of a concern.

You loved your job. You loved working with Steve. You loved your life as it was and a big part of you suspected becoming queen would mean big changes.

Not that you lifted your head from his neck, or ceased your trek down towards his collarbone. Trail of your kisses never slowing or stopping. No hint of any sort of disruption came. Not for a moment or two. Not till your ravenous boyfriend squeezed your breasts possessively. Thumbed your nipples and finally opened his eyes, as if it were the biggest chore on earth.

His voice was rough. His tone felt like hot gooey honey that just got everywhere. “No…not yet…”

Leading you to make a noise. A pop followed when your mouth left the dark spot you’d been sucking on nearly at his collarbone. What with your name already etched on him. What else could you leave in a display of ownership over him? “Nothing else to add My King?” For added emphasis, perhaps you gave you vaginal muscles a clench knowing what that did to him.

A grunt came from beneath you.

Wrapped up in yours, Steve’s legs clenched in response to what you did. White teeth sank into his upper lip and you absolutely thrived at the sight and feel of him arching up against you, shifting around beneath you at the way your body squeezed him.

Those hands left your breasts only to reach down, run over your waist as they had so many times before, leading you to grab them. Snatch then right up. Press them down into the mattress over Steve’s head. Since the man was far larger than you, this sent you leaning downwards and ever closer to his face. “Steve? I asked you a question.”

How easy it would have been for him to get free. Yet, he seemed content where he found himself. Still wedged within you. Warm in bed. Body a sea of a complex cocktail of chemicals after physically releasing into you. A far better way to wake up than alone in a massive bed. Or worse, to his mother jabbing at him to urgently tell him something that was not urgent at all.

Feeling your breasts press against his chest. Lightly brushing over his skin, your nipples little points that sparked a definite interest in his dick.

God did he want you to be his queen.

“Not yet,” Steve ground out, nearly close to being overwhelmed by you. Each and every word was enunciated to utter perfection, as if it took all of his concentration and effort to get them out. “I’ll have the palace leave your name out of the official statement today. We can go slow. Ease you into things…ease you out of your job…” and to reward him for such a thoughtful statement, you clenched around him once more.

However, it seemed, there was more and even though his eyes rolled up into his head at the feel of your core squeezing his not entirely soft organ, he pushed on with the determination of his ancestors. Grunting. Arching back into the bed as the pillows had all wound up on the floor. Perfect teeth clenched together. “M-my people…will…love you…too.”

So, it was entirely possible, that you were feeling all kinds of powerful watching him writhe beneath you. Knowing exactly what sort of repercussions this could have to your morning. Which was still progressing on time. It was entirely possible that you may have intentionally pushed your own pelvis against his to reseat yourself.

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure? You saw what happened with those two over in England. And that prince isn’t even next in line to the throne.”

Perhaps it was the seriousness of the direction in which your conversation had taken, Steve remained beneath you. Taking no action, even though you could quite literally feel his dick grow more interested in what your hips were doing.

A panted out, “…fuck…” escaped from him, before he opened his eyes to look at you seriously, if not also a little heatedly. “Quit obsessing over them. The King of Jordan married for love. Queen Rania was a commoner. If you must, focus on them.”

Sudden movement found you falling off Steve and onto the bed, shoved onto your back and in a flash, he was on top of you again. Over you. Hovering. Though he’d escaped out of your body, you could feel the king’s most delicious semi, slick from your previous copulation, squish between you both.

Admitting on an exhale, “Forgot about them.”

“Everyone does.” He agreed, surveying down, taking in the sight of you. “My country appreciates you. They’re fond of you. You’re in all the papers and they’ve given you a nickname.”

And that. That. Nearly killed the mood.

It sent your eyebrows together dubiously so.

Everytime you were in the press it was when your skirt had been blown up on a windy day, or if you’d accidentally gotten food on your shirt. Or that time a baby goat pooped on your shoes. Or when you’d tripped and fallen off a dock into a lake. Who could forget that time you’d accidentally called the Prime Minister of Canada a ‘moose fucking cannibal’ when you’d still been getting the hang of the language, your first year on the job?

You’d been affectionately dubbed, ‘the King’s Foreign Devil’ and it had stuck.

Hell, you still got asked about your thoughts on the Canadian Prime Minister whenever a member of the press was around.

“Most the time, you have a higher approval rating than I do,” he added. Much to the consternation of Maria Hill in PR. “Trust me. There is nothing my country loves more than a hard-working loyal servant of the people who talks shit about western leaders.”

Mood totally killed, you seethed and not for the first time, “That was an accident! I was trying to call him Canada’s Disney Prince.”

***

The note had been hand delivered to the palace and was now crumbled into a ball in the Queen Mother’s bedroom as she stormed off, once more, that early morning in a fury of rose satin and silk. Her perfume clouded around her, drifting behind her, much like the wake of a boat cutting through the water.

Thick carpets silenced her heels. Doors opened for her as she neared them, allowing her to not need to slow her step even for a second. Not a single moment wasted as she made her way through the private living quarters of the palace.

Down hallways and around corners, over to the rooms that her grown son had selected as his own.

It would have been so much easier if he would have just taken the rooms that his father had lived in.

Although, with the horrific memories attached to those rooms, how could she blame him when he elected not to? She had her own private rooms. The dead kings rooms were locked up tight and still not used. Abandoned like so much he’d done, started and accomplished in his life.

Upon coming to her only child’s rooms, those doors were held open for her and on she pressed on. Sailing through his rooms, one after another, until she got closer to his bedroom and could hear his shower which was the direction she headed.

A brief glance was made at the mess that was his bed.

A roll of her eyes was followed by a shake of her head.

Some things males never grew out of it seemed.

“Steven!” She called out in warning, should he be in the bathroom about to come out in the nude. Which was the last thing she wanted to see.

Not only was his bed a mess but his clothes from yesterday were all over the floor.

She had every intention of telling him that he needed to straighten up this mess before the cleaning staff came in his room. The last thing she wanted was for them to think he was messy and then tell their families and friends when they went home that the king had a messy bedroom and word would get out that her son was a slob. Ugh. No. She’d make sure that he straightened up.

Speaking of the devil.

As his shower ran, Steve peered out of the bathroom with a wet head. A midnight blue towel was wrapped around his waist. A toothbrush was in his hand. To Sarah, it was very clear that her grown son had not shaved yet either.

Seeing him in such a state that morning along with his messy room and the fact the shower was going wasting water. It did not make her mood any more agreeable.

Though her son was taller than her and considerably more muscular, she never feared him.

She knew he would never hurt her like his father had so many times. Towards the end, Steve had even defended her from his father’s physical attacks. Those days. They had been dark. Horrible. Terrible. When she noticed that her husband had begun to carry a knife to protect himself from his son. Well. What was she supposed to do?

Attacking her was one thing. Being violent towards her was one thing. There were some things that she learned to tolerate. It was unescapable. Their son though. To take a knife to their son? Her son? Sarah would never allow such a thing.

She was queen at the time.

It was not so difficult to get the drug that she put in her husband’s evening nightcap. She’d used all of it. Thrown the vial away the next day when she went to rouse the king as she did every morning, only to find him dead in his chair. Fireplace having long gone out. Slumped down. Cold. The coroner had said it was a heart attack. Exactly as she’d been told the drug would work. He’d been buried with no one the wiser. Not even Steve.

“Yes mother?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are not growing another beard. Last time you looked like some man that lives up in the mountains in a tiny shack.”

Just as her own father once did, Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise and question.

No. That was not why she was here.

Sarah had a higher calling that morning and straightening her slim shoulders, she so informed him. “Hope and Janet are here in the city. They’ve come for a surprise visit and will arrive at the palace within the hour.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her in response to her information.

It was horrifying. It was outrageous. It was not what he wanted to hear that morning one bit. Not at all. Not one single bit.

Hope and Janet?

Those were two names he never wanted to hear with the additional words being, ‘on their way’. No. Just no.

All he could say that was remotely civil, after what the then Princess Hope van Dyne had done, came out in something of a tone. “I don’t want to see either of them. If you want to see them, that’s your choice. Keep them away from me.”

Considering what the now Duchess Hope had spewed to every reporter, journalist and whomever with a platform…Sarah was a little surprised that Steve was being so kind.

She’d expected a bit more of a reaction from her son.

Could she be holding a bigger grudge against her one-time closest friend’s daughter? After what had happened, Queen Janet van Dyne had become somewhat distant. Which was not surprising. Hope had not broken the engagement gracefully. Nor had she been anything less than opinionated afterwards.

“I suspect she is in trouble,” Sarah confessed. “Why else would they come here? Considering everything that Hope has said over the years.”

Steam continued to seep through the cracked door.

Sarah was about to say something about the shower. Steve was wasting a considerable amount of hot water. She herself was leading the Go Green Initiative in the country and as she stated constantly, it all began at home.

“Mother, don’t take this the wrong way, but, I wouldn’t shit in Hope’s mouth if she was starving.”

Ah.

Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge Steve’s current opinion on the wayward duchess?

Pondering his statement, Sarah found herself looking for any way to come back with a counter when she noticed that the shower turned off. Which was odd. Shower’s didn’t turn themselves off.

What was even more peculiar, Steve reached back behind himself to shut his bathroom door.

It clicked.

Like a light going off.

How could she not have noticed? How could it not have been obvious?

Blue eyes that were a little softer than her son’s narrowed. “You aren’t alone.”

Silence.

Quiet.

Her pink lips opened in surprised. A question hovered on her tongue.

“No mother.”

“But…”

“Mother,” he implored as only a son could. “Not now. She would not want the first time she officially meets you to be when you’re dressed for the day and she is not.”

And though her son’s words were true. They were right. They were exactly what she would have wanted him to say and because she had raised him well, she was even proud that he had made such a quick decision. It wasn’t fair.

Sarah wanted to find out who you were. She wanted to meet the woman that her son was involved with. Was that so wrong? Sarah wanted to meet the woman that her son was considering marrying. There was so much she wanted to say to you, so much to teach you, so much she wanted to learn about you. Perhaps her desperation showed because her son reached out to place a hand on her elbow.

“If you can chase Hope and Janet away, we could have lunch together. The three of us. If not, dinner? Or even tomorrow. I’m not doing anything with Hope under this roof. Not after she referred to our country as a third world plus hellhole full of war criminals and superstitious backwoods heathens.”

Ah, so he did remember.

Those words had been seared into her memory as well. Sometimes Sarah wondered, as Steve had never really given much indication that he cared one way or the other what Hope had said. It was only after she began to speak unflatteringly about their people that he grew irritated, much like herself.

Although, what irritated Sarah more, was the quiet that came from the royal house of van Dyne and Pym a few countries over. Never once had Janet spoke up. Never had Janet said anything about her daughters outrageous remarks or behavior. Nor had she apologized.

Knowing her son, Sarah knew that he would never court anyone who was not kind or compassionate. Steve would never pick a Hope as his queen.

Up came a hand that bore a lovely ring decorated with fresh water pearls from their own waters. “I’ll have them gone before lunch and then we will all sit down together so I can finally meet her.”

[supernaturalnovelsandmore]

Supernatural Novel: The Unholy Cause

Welcome to my review of the fifth Supernatural novel, The Unholy Cause

Author: Joe Schreiber

Timeline: Set after Episode 5.08 Changing Channels but before Episode 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon

Location: Mission's Ridge, Georgia

Synopsis: As the pressure mounts for the upcoming apocalypse, Sam and Dean head to the historic town of Mission's Ridge, GA, where the Civil War is less about the past and more about the present. With interference from Castiel, demons, and Judas Iscariot himself, how can Sam and Dean prevent a major catastrophe from befalling this small town?

Review: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Warning: Spoilers abound!

After the last book, I was really hoping to see an improvement in this one, and boy did I! I've finally hit the Supernatural tie-in novel I was hoping to read from the beginning! It read like an actual episode, I could hear the actors speaking through the character's words, and I really couldn't find anything that contradicted canon.

In addition, the actual storyline was compelling and the side characters interesting. With the other novels I've reviewed, it's taken me most of the day to read them because I kept getting distracted. This one, I read straight through without stopping. I love reading a book like that!

Side note: This novel does dive in to Christian theology and the story of Judas Iscariot (who betrayed Jesus). If you are uncomfortable delving into that portion of Christianity, you may not want to read the book or this review (though my review notes about that will be minimal).

Now, since I don't have any canon vs. non-canon comparisons to make, today's review is simply going to be a list of my favorite scenes and how certain scenes relate to what's going on during this period in Season 5.

Cameo!

Sam and Dean are informed of the case by one Rufus Turner! He's only in it for a brief bit, but he's still funny as heck asking the police to pay his dry-cleaning bill.

We get a nice character introduction of enigmatic (clueless) Castiel who's trying to heal Civil War reenactors who are understandably frightened of him. He's still searching for God at this point, but we also get this nice character beat for him:

"I walked the battlefields of the South a hundred and sixty years ago," Castiel replied, a faraway look entering his eyes. "I moved among the men and brought their souls to glory. And now..." Something moved over his face for just an instant, so rare and brief that Dean almost didn't catch it; a flicker of hope. "And now," he repeated, "I'm healing again."

Of course, Dean has to explain that none of the reenactors actually need healing and he goes back to being determined to find a 'First-order witness' - someone who broke bread with Jesus Christ.

I found this part surprising within the book, but as I thought about it, it made more sense. The TV series has to tread a very careful line with Christianity so as not to offend a bunch of viewers, but the books have a much smaller audience and can take these liberties. Personally, I was fine with it. They didn't go too deep and stuck with the witness being Judas (who doesn't exactly have a great reputation to begin with).

There's a fantastic brotherly moment where Sam shares the sheriff's name (Jack Daniels) and they then go back and forth trying to guess what this Jack person is like i.e., fat vs. skinny, bald vs. hairy...

Dean: "Nam vet. Buford Pussar type. From Walking Tall." Sam: "Deliverance refugee. Civil citations all over his desk."

One of things I love about this book is the brother's relationship. This banter and other character beats really feel authentic as opposed to the prior novels. (I won't spoil what the sheriff is actually like - needless to say, they play a major role in the book.)

Just a few pages later from this great banter, we're back to the drama as Sam and Dean argue about a nightmare Sam had that he can't remember, but which could be relevant to the case.

"What's this about Dean?" Sam demanded, "Is it about you not trusting me? Because if it is, there's not a whole lot of places we can go from there." "Yeah, you're my brother," Dean said. "But you're also Lucifer's prom dress, and if he's seeding your dreams with hints about the master plan, then maybe it might be a good idea for you to look at 'em as close as possible. That's all I'm saying."

And of course, Dean gets concerned about Sam as they split up to cover more ground. It's music to my ears! There are a number of other conversations like this that really emphasize the strained relationship Sam and Dean display in Season 5.

Another surprising character beat is the influence of Lucifer on Sam because as he's doing research at the local historical society, Sam (and the historian) are surprised to find out he can read Coptic, an ancient Egyptian language. It startles Sam and once again emphasizes how different he is.

At a particularly gruesome crime scene (a mass grave), there's a brief moment with Dean that really shines as he looks down on the skeletons in the mass grave and finds a similarity to what he did in Hell:

Because that was what he did after spending years down there, doing what he'd done... Through sheer force of will, Dean shoved those notions aside...Now more than ever he didn't want that experience contaminating the way he looked at the world... not that he had a choice. Hell had been his Vietnam. It had stamped its mark on him for all eternity, and no amount of denial or self-imposed ignorance was going to change that.

There's an additional moment of traumatized Dean that I wish they could have shown in the tv series:

Sam: "Are those bloodhounds?" Dean didn't answer... When Sam finally caught a look at his brother's face, he saw that Dean's cheeks and forehead had gone absolutely white, as if every drop of blood had been sucked away... "They're not hellhounds, Dean, they're just dogs..." Dean didn't answer. He was still listening to the barking and howling noises coming closer, crashing through the undergrowth. He seemed paralyzed by the sounds.

There are more to these Dean passages, (too much to copy), but I really like that we see actual effects of past experiences.

There's also a nice scene with Sam and a young teenager that really highlights his ability to connect with kids around that age (of which we see later in the TV series):

"My brother and I grew up without a Mom, too," Sam said... "It wasn't always easy... Not everybody gets that." "I still dream about her sometimes, you know? Even though I was young when she... when it happened," Nate blinked at Sam. "Weird, huh?" "Are they good dreams?" "Yeah." "Then it's good. That's your way of remembering her."

The last third of the book is very action-oriented and has multiple instances of hurt Sam and hurt Dean, with the requisite caring from each brother.

Once again, I've gone on too long, but I'll end with a couple of favorites: Humor:

The sheriff glanced out the window, (referring to Baby) "And haul that piece of crap car to the impound lot. I don't want it cluttering up my street." "Woah!" Dean snapped, a sudden rush of anger rising in his face. "Watch your damn mouth. You can't just---"

Drama:

"This is blood money," Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the Shekel. "Bobby says the only way anybody gets their hand on this..." The rest of the sentence was getting stuck in his chest, and he made himself finish it, "is by betraying someone you love." Dean stared at him. "Dean..." "Look," Dean broke in. "Don't get too hung up on it, okay? It doesn't necessarily mean anything," he stood up and brushed off his jeans. "Whatever happens between us, we'll deal with it then..."

Thanks again for reading! I'll be back again next week with War of the Sons!

[pastelsandpining]

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus (Disguise)

The ninth prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​

Prompt List

Words: 1404

Summary: Link takes a small but much needed break, and Sheik takes Hylia’s Day as an opportunity to deliver a gift.

Ocarina of Time, in game

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist

The title of Hero of Time was a heavy one, but he was doing the best he could as fast as he could, because thousands of lives were depending on him—and most didn’t even know it. He didn’t take any of this lightly and swore over and over again that he would do whatever it took to pull Hyrule from the clutches of darkness.

But he was still only Hylian, whether he bore the Triforce of Courage or not. Sometimes, it was a little much. Sometimes, he wanted to return to his seven year slumber just so he didn’t have to think about the things he’d seen. Yet even as a child, he never turned away.

He still didn’t plan to. 

He just needed a little break, a little air, after his admittedly narrow victory in the Shadow Temple. He was told that the inhabitant of the well that burned through Kakariko and took up residence in the temple was a great evil, but Link didn’t know if he believed that. A place such as that had such a violent history, and whether Bongo Bongo was a manifestation of that darkness or not, he hadn’t felt right slaying it. He’d only done it because he had to. 

But he knew whatever answers he might’ve wanted, he would never hope to find. 

He’d taken up residence in one of the windmill’s large windows, where he could see the well but not the graveyard, and where he could watch the quiet town from above. For being the Hero of Time, he wasn’t aware of how long it’d been. A chill in the air told him it was winter, but he had no further indication. 

Link wouldn’t try to figure it out.

The Spirit Temple is all that remains, he thought as he twisted the Lens of Truth in his hand. Only one temple stood between him and Ganondorf’s grotesque castle. All of this could be over in a few days time, but he couldn’t bring himself to move on. Not yet.

Before, he’d never questioned a thing. Now, he was beginning to wonder what landed Hyrule in this situation to begin with. Most people weren’t evil without reason to be. 

A presence loomed from behind, and Link didn’t have to look to know who it was. There was only one person he knew who could appear and disappear at will.

“Do you remember much about the Celebration of the White Goddess?” Sheik asked. Link shrugged.

“Most just call it Hylia’s Day,” he replied. “Why?”

“Today marks the beginning of the celebration.”

“Not many are in the spirit, then,” Link said with a gesture to the motionless village below them.

“Seven years is a long time. Some no longer believe. Others think it safer to pray in the safety of their homes and speak her name as little as possible. They fear Ganon will overhear.”

“Let him overhear,” Link muttered bitterly. “Then he can face me himself.”

“Your courage, although admirable, is also foolish.”

He opted to shrug again in reply. Any lecture from Sheik was far better than the alternative—loneliness. It made him consider asking the Sheikah about the bloody temple tucked into the graveyard, or the amalgamation at the bottom of the well, or the hollow remains in the tomb of the royal family. 

Thinking of Princess Zelda being lowered into that vat of terror one day made him shudder, so he said nothing instead.

“Do you know the story behind Hylia’s Day?” Sheik asked as they lowered themselves to sit next to him.

“I suppose I should,” replied Link, considering those goddesses they all once believed in were playing puppet with his fate.

“It marks the day that Hylia descended to our world with the purpose of protecting the Triforce—so it’s said. But even a goddess couldn’t keep the power at bay. The Demon King Demise brought forth an army to try and pry it from her hands. Hylia was forced to send her people up to a civilization in the sky, then was tasked with fighting Demise with the aid of the very first of the heroes. Yet instead of her victory, we celebrate the very idea of her.”

“It’s easier to celebrate the idea of something,” Link said, turning his head to look at Sheik. “It feels further away, less real, when it’s just an idea.”

“Except there are those of us who know better.”

“I can’t say I’m in the mood to celebrate,” he admitted simply as he turned to face Sheik entirely, with his back leaning against the wall. 

“And for that I can’t blame you.”

Link studied the Sheikah for a moment, but there was nothing more he could see than what met the eye. He knew so little about this person, yet they’d traversed through all of Hyrule under the guise of helping the Hero of Time only to disappear as soon as they served their purpose. 

“Why now?” he asked, tilting his head. “You’ve never just… appeared to have a conversation.”

There was a twinkle in Sheik’s eye that suggested they were smiling, but he couldn’t see anything beneath the wrap, so he didn’t try. 

“I didn’t think the Hero of Time would oppose having a friend, but should he wish to be a lone wolf, I can go.”

Link almost cracked a smile. Something about the comfortable atmosphere, how familiar they were acting, unnerved him. But he trusted Sheik with his life, because they’d been the one consistent thing. He could trust them to be at every dungeon, ready to encourage him and teach him something new. 

“And I didn’t think the Sheikah did friends,” he replied simply. 

“I have a delivery,” Sheik clarified as they pulled a box out of thin air. After seeing the Sheikah do the same with themselves so many times, Link had stopped questioning it. “It’s from Princess Zelda.” 

Those words alone made him straighten, and so many emotions hit him at once that he wasn’t quite sure how to react. There were so many questions, too, but he could only ask one at a time.

“She’s alive?” His voice was quiet enough to be carried away on the winds, full of disbelief and perhaps even hope. “Is she safe?”

“She’s alive,” Sheik replied with a nod. They studied him for a moment, then spoke again: “And she’s as safe as she could possibly be. She’s in good hands.”

“Where is she? Can I see her?”

“No.” Their reply was a little too quick, and it made Link recoil. Their expression softened and they held the box towards him with a nod of encouragement. As he took it, they continued. “Not yet. If she came out of hiding too early and Ganondorf found her… but I promise you, she is closer than you think.”

For a moment, Link was torn between answering with a bitter, sarcastic laugh, and saying that the princess lied in his heart. Instead of speaking however, he settled on pulling the top of the box open. The crystal inside was not a new sight, glistening in the setting sun with a thousand colors, but for a moment, some stupid part of him believed there was a deeper meaning to this. Or maybe he just hoped that the heart container, which was really nothing more than a crystal full of protective magic, meant something instead of the very simple truth that it was another tool to help him in his quest to free Hyrule. 

But it gave him a sense of hope, a sense of happiness to know that Princess Zelda was safe. Regardless of what the heart container was supposed to be, it would forever serve as a piece of her--a reminder that there was reason to keep fighting. Maybe it was selfish to consider it a reason, instead of doing it to save all of Hyrule. But no hero was incapable of being selfish, and after such an adventure, if it could even be called one, all he wanted was to find comfort in the one person that could give it to him.

Link turned his head to thank the Sheikah, but they were gone. The only evidence of the conversation was the container in his hand. He was grateful, because far above the eyes of Kakariko village, during the hours of dusk, there was no one to see him bring the crystal to his lips.

[aion-rsa]

10 Injustice Characters the DC Animated Movie Needs to Get Right

https://ift.tt/3fCncB7

As we wait an announcement pertaining to the existence of NetherRealm Studios’ Injustice 3, we at least know that Warner Bros. is set to adapt the games into a DC animated movie.

Ever since its release in 2013, the Injustice franchise has not only become a staple of NetherRealm’s roster, but the comic spinoffs have made it a beloved part of the DC multiverse. The plot revolves around a reality where the Joker was able to mess with Superman so badly that the Man of Steel gradually became a mass-murdering dictator, with the support of several members of the Justice League. Left without any other option, Batman brought in counterparts of the Justice League from the “mainstream” universe to help him fight a civil war against his former friend. It was a story that merged the Justice Lords two-parter from the Justice League cartoon with Marvel’s original Squadron Supreme comic series.

A popular prequel series was released, mostly written by Tom Taylor, that explained the five years in-between Superman killing the Joker in cold blood and Batman’s last stand. Sometime later, the game’s story was adapted into the comic Injustice: Ground Zero. And the Injustice universe has only continued to grow since then.

As snazzy as NetherRealm’s story modes are, they are going to have to make some changes to the narrative for the animated movie. It’s not like every character is going to stumble into exactly four best-two-out-of-three fights in a row before someone else is the focus. Knowing that there will be alterations, some characters are really going to need some tender love and care.

Superman (Both of Them)

Injustice: Gods Among Us didn’t invent the idea of an evil Superman, but things are a bit over-saturated these days. Face it, “Dark Superman” has been done to death, what with Brightburn, The Boys, Invincible, and everything Zack Snyder intended with his Justice League movies.

It’s important that the animated movie really get into the WHY of what turned Superman evil instead of the Joker just getting a tragic win over him. The Injustice comic nudged him over and over again with multiple betrayals and manipulations before he finally snapped and angrily broke every bone in Green Arrow’s body. Hit all that, or at least enough of it.

More importantly, Injustice is a story of two different Supermen. The mainstream Superman has to ring true. He has to be the beacon of hope and positivity that pop culture has been missing for the past decade.

Ultimately, as long as they don’t do that minigame where Superman blows up cars and the people in them with his eye-lasers, we’re cool.

Batman

In this DC take of Marvel’s Civil War, Batman is by default the better person when compared to Superman. He has a line he won’t cross and that means no murder and no tyranny. That said, he still needs to be portrayed as a flawed hero. He may be competent, but he still behaves like a total douche at times and deserves to take one to the chin every now and then.

Being a paranoid futurist who buries himself in contingency plans means alienating allies, friends, and even family members. There’s a great moment in the Injustice comic where he reveals that he infected Cyborg with a virus within a week of meeting (you know, just in case), which Killer Croc says is outright sinister. It’s this kind of behavior that led to Superman’s fall to darkness, because even if Bruce wasn’t behind any of the horrors, he still chose coldness and paranoia over being there for a friend who was going through some serious shit.

Harley Quinn

A hype trailer for Harley painted her as a major protagonist in the first game but the game’s story mode just didn’t measure up. The comics did a better job and the Ground Zero volume was specifically about telling the game’s story from Harley’s perspective. I’m not saying that she should be joined by her team of BFF henchmen from Ground Zero, but she should definitely be a prominent hero.

Similar to the Mark Waid comic series Irredeemable and Incorruptible (also about an evil take on Superman), Harley’s turn to heroism is the universe’s response to Superman’s actions. She’s done some horrible things and may never make up for her actions under the Joker’s thumb, but she’ll keep fighting to stop Superman’s atrocities.

Wonder Woman

While Batman did a bad job trying to pull Superman from the darkness, Wonder Woman succeeded in pushing him in. It’s noted here and there, but this Wonder Woman was also altered by tragedy. In this timeline, Steve Trevor turned out to be a Nazi traitor. His betrayal left Diana feeling much less optimistic and hopeful than her mainstream self.

Wonder Woman’s villainy isn’t as pronounced as Superman’s, but she’s definitely the friendly face who eggs him on and wants him to stand over all mankind. As Superman uses her to fill the void left from Lois Lane’s death, the power couple become very good at bringing out the worst in each other.

Damian Wayne

The Injustice game did Damian a little dirty, revealing deep into the story that the Nightwing fighting on Superman’s side was not Dick Grayson, but Damian. According to Batman, Damian murdered Dick. The comics dove deeper into that and made it more of a freak accident brought on by Damian being an impulsive and angry child. Still, Bruce and his son were unable to make amends due to their shared lack of warmth.

Later stories, and even Injustice 2, added more depth to Damian. It always made sense that he’d join Superman’s Regime, but there was a soul in there who would eventually see that this wasn’t the right path. In the comic Injustice vs. Masters of the Universe, which was treated as a sequel to Injustice 2’s dark ending, Damian took up the mantle of Batman to oppose Superman and even grew a long-missing sense of humor in the process.

Lex Luthor

The great tragedy of the DC multiverse is that Superman and Lex Luthor just can’t get along. They will always be at odds no matter what Earth they come from. The Injustice universe was the one exception, as Luthor was portrayed as fairly warm and altruistic. Much like Batman, he has contingency plans up the wazoo, but they don’t come off as creepy.

Seeing him there as Superman’s longtime friend who sadly has to stab him in the back brings back that multiversal truth about the duo. Just because this is a world where Superman kills and things get very bleak doesn’t mean it’s the worst world and that it isn’t worth saving. The mainstream Cyborg is reluctant to come to terms with this heroic Luthor, but he ultimately accepts the miracle that this universe created a Luthor worth befriending and even looking up to.

Hal Jordan

Maybe it’s just me, but I was never a fan of how Geoff Johns retconned Hal’s past and gave him deniability for everything he did as Parallax. I liked that a boring hero dude like Hal snapped, did some bad stuff, and then had to accept his failures in an attempt to be better. With Injustice, they gave us that exact Hal.

Read more

Games

Injustice Beat Zack Snyder’s Justice League to the Punch

By Matthew Byrd

Comics

Injustice: Year Zero Brings the Justice Society to DC Alternate Universe

By Jim Dandy

Overflowing with willpower and being an otherwise competent space cop, Hal is still something of a dunce at times, and he’s susceptible to manipulation in the right situation. He’s already following Superman’s lead, but having Sinestro pop in to indoctrinate him into the Sinestro Corps makes him actually interesting. Let Hal be the worst version of himself here so he can double back on it in the sequel and beg Guy Gardner’s ghost for forgiveness.

Shazam

Injustice may be the B-side to Mortal Kombat, but the game itself is fairly tame on the violence. Joker’s death isn’t actually shown on screen, Luthor’s end is fairly clean, and Grodd taking a trident to the torso is relatively tame.

But what we absolutely, positively have to see in the animated movie is Shazam’s death scene to really give an idea of how far gone Superman is. It’s bloodless from our point of view, but it’s grisly as hell and made worse when you remember that Shazam is a literal child under all the mystical power.

Batgirl

The Barbara Gordon version of Batgirl was one of the first DLC characters added to Injustice, but it’s unfortunate that she’s not in the main story mode — something the animated movie could fix by giving her a more prominent role in the fight against the Regime. Her ending gives her a kickass backstory where she returns to the cowl after her father dies at Superman’s hands. The comics go deeper into this, even making it so that Superman doesn’t directly kill Commissioner Gordon.

In this continuity, she was already wheelchair-bound as Oracle. She had to go under a very dangerous procedure under Luthor’s care in order to walk again. This is one of the storylines that could make for a captivating arc in the movie.

Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred isn’t in either Injustice game. He’s already dead by the start of the first game. But I don’t care. Alfred needs to be in the animated movie because he is the heart and soul of the Injustice comics. While others bow to Superman, follow him, or even try to reason with him, Alfred Pennyworth doesn’t play those games. He will straight-up verbally clown Superman for his actions without flinching. He is not afraid of the Kryptonian, no matter how red his glowing eyes get.

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This comes to a head in the comics when Alfred takes a pill that gives him Kryptonian strength and he kicks the absolute shit out of Superman for ruining his family. I know I’m asking for a lot, but I simply need to see Alfred stomp a mudhole in Superman so hard that his own shoe explodes from the impact.

The post 10 Injustice Characters the DC Animated Movie Needs to Get Right appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3hIQH7h

[ireddeadredemption2pc-blog]

Red Dead Redemption 2 PC

Red Dead Redemption2 PC

The old west feels brand new again.

Oh Jesus Christ, what have you done? “Thomaschen 978 wants to know why a dozen carcasses and a couple of horse corpses are placed on rail tracks bordering the early industrial city and are the New Orleans stand-in St. Denis.” You killed half. village.” PC Games For Free

We are on round two of the recurring corpse pile. My poses got the idea to jump in front of the train after a few rounds of Lose Your Friends and Toss Them in the Sea in the Couple Friendly Strangers. Like GTA 5, Red Dead Redemption 2 has its own bowling minima, we explain to Chen in a roundabout way that provokes his fear. Die in the shared open world of Red Dead Redemption 2 and you’ll react fast enough to move your corpse around. Best RPGs games pc

The boy is in line with us. We should make it bigger. As the train comes around again, another pose tries to take us out. The chain defends us but does not bring it back to the tracks. He goes away screaming. Death of a true warrior.

Red Dead Redemption 2 could be the biggest, most humble videogame ball pit for an annoying story about impulsive children, the forced disintegration of the community, or simply a quiet and reflective hiking simulator. It’s just about what you need it to be, and it’s good at it.

Just hours before the corpse-bowling, I was alone through the icy forests, stepping into the long shadow cast across the snow by the rising moon. I heard a gunshot from a distance. The tracks of some wolves marked snow in the same direction. I saw them who won. Anytime I pay attention and look closely, RDR2 is the result of my curiosity. Best Racing games on pc

The mind-numbing expanse that makes up the vast world of RDR2 speaks to the creative force of a development team with an intense, obsessive dedication to realism (and all the money and time needed to do so). Like how my friends’ characters flare up when I fire a gun at them, how animal carcasses disintegrate over time, how NPCs react according to a sloppy or bloody outfit, how to stir through a doorway. Scares everyone everywhere.

It is hard to believe that RDR2 is so deep and wide and is also a harmonious, playable thing. I was already playing it for days worth the console version. This is why I am particularly disappointed that it ended up on the PC to some extent.

For every non-taught multiplayer adventure, disconnect or crash on the desktop, desktop. The rock star’s best storyline and character so far has been filmed through Frame Hutches’ slideshow and addressed over the launch weekend.

RDR2, one of the best Western games and one of the best open-world games I have ever released with enough stability issues, is recommended for the hard way until everything is completely smooth.

Morgan trail

EVERY PRETTY VISTA IS SOMETHING TO LOSE THROUGH ARTHUR’S EYES.

The story genre of Red Dead Redemption 2 follows the dying days of the Wild West. The sprawling industrial world faced the bandits and social downtrodden of Arthur Morgan’s small band, an imperfect but loyal, loving and self-reliant community.

Capitalism is reducing its value as resources to humans. Indigenous USA America is driven from the plains to make way for ‘civilization’ and commerce. The forests are brought down for timber, the hills are cut down for coal, and Morgan’s chosen family is caught in the middle, forced to flee, assimilate, or respond with violent protests is done. They do all three.

This is Rockstar’s most serious drama, and it’s really, really long. If you are running, the story ends after 40 to 50 hours and then continues for 10 to 15. The main story missions of Red Dead 2 feature distinctly rockstar fare: ride to a destination that is talking to everyone, tightly scripting though, entertaining things, riding, and chatting to the final destination.

Missions are often thrilling action sequences or artificially mundane pictures of wrench labor and trade, full of long-winded Bespoke animations, and outstanding performances. They are only hopelessly harsh, to the point where it feels like I am following the stage directions rather than playing the role of a vagabond in the Old West.

Step out of line in these campaigns and this is a failed situation. As opposed to Red Dead Online, there are very few of them that encourage players to think for themselves, each designed to advance the story. The RDR2 show is at least a spectacle of the slow pace of life in the Old West.

This is not the death and theatricality of a lifetime; My favorite missions include shoveling, drinking wine with a friend, proposing an old romance and riding a hot air balloon. Working through a greater rut, stricter tasks are considered meaningful in the end anyway, inspired by extraordinary, ambient world-building and characterization.

Side missions, minigames, small activities, and random world events — whether they hunt great guns, capture a play, or stumble upon a woman trapped under a horse — all set Arthur’s character and setting in subtle, rich ways. Please inform.

Nested in the third act of a fully animated and voice theatrical performance, something like 10 minutes, it is possible that the response button is pressed after an artist has included a telephone. Arthur would shout, “Hell with the telephone!” It is an optional activity, a long one, and an option is to react in that short window. I think most players will remember this, but this is Canad Response 1 through 3 because this is something Arthur would say, a rageless goofy set his way in the right way.

He would write complete, real diary entries about the 50-hour campaign, sketching memorable scenes and depicting the state of affairs of his chosen family, which people once knew changed their fortunes between hope and despair. It is meant to be a completely alternative reading, but a refreshingly intimate take on a masculine figure that unsettles many doubts and hopes as to the next person.

He sings himself on a lonely ride and lowers his old body in the mirror. He will have an exciting conversation with the horseshoe woman as he gives her a ride into town, both commenting on the troubles of working for wealthy, ungrateful men as a growing necessity. I feel it all. Best horror games on pc free

Hillbillies can capture him after making the camp, a couple may try to rob him after inviting him to dinner, a man with snakebite can come out of the forest by stumbling and tell him to suck venom is. These haphazard encounters portray brutal life on the fading frontier, as nature pushes back against inner poppers who want to change it. Arthur is the perfect vessel to see it

This is because Arthur Morgan is one of the darkest human characters I have played during a great turning point in American history, playing a playful, cruel and compassionate role according to differing theories.

The game world, beautiful as it is, is made more beautiful and tragic by how it is ready to play it on every occasion. Every beautiful vista has something to lose through Arthur’s eyes, power lines and train tracks, cut through the skies, and the rest of his life is slowly filling with factory smoke. Just about everyone sees a sad end in RDR2, too. This is a story that I might not sustain every moment, but I will not forget its brutal arc or the man in the middle of it all. God damn is it sad? An apocalypse that led to this.

Ren Der Reflection

Assuming that you are able to run it at high settings, the biggest strength of RDR2 is how it exquisitely renders the Old West setting on PC, drawing more attention to the nuanced details that make it. This is one of the best looking games I’ve seen and a rare experience that justifies a new GPU or CPU.

Better draw distance and a greater range of vegetation detail were added, making some vistas look photographic. Long shadows vary from walking or roaming between places to rides, to cute nature tours. Due to animal attacks, bullet holes, rain, mud, or rapid flow of blood, the markings on the clothes are caused by very high-resolution textures, which tell a very little story about your friends.

A new photo mode makes it easy to share those moments of amazement. The way the player rides on RDR2 for just sightseeing and sounds is an important feature. I am desperately trying to get an artistic portrait of my horse’s silhouette to sit against the moon, yet another self-proclaimed goal was tolerated by this ridiculously large complex game.

With 2080, i9-9900K and 32GB of RAM, I can run RDR2 mostly on ultra settings with some resource-intensive settings completely off or switched off. But some hardware combinations are proving troublesome for RDR2, leading to random crashes in some APIs and, more recently, to a hotfix, leading to hitching problems for some 4-core CPUs.

During the first weekend, I couldn’t spend more than an hour without crashing on the desktop, though Vulcan switched from DX12 (which gives me better framerates) back to static stuff. Sometimes the UI malfunctions and I cannot select a select or purchase option, the map fails to appear, or I get paged unexpectedly from game servers.

The graphics settings are almost too much as well, and probably confusing. In our test, only a handful of settings affected performance by more than 1-2 percent. Large residuals, the mapping between MSAA, volumetric lighting, and parallax occlusion, affect performance by 5 to 25 percent. Most of them don’t make a big visual difference anyway and are best left out.

The way the settings are presented is made to feel underdeveloped: a huge list with unclear presets that require tinkering to make RDR2 run in a satisfactory framerate. It is hard. The PC should be the best place to play, not the best place to play, after all, after a few patches. It’s a shame for a game to look good. upcoming pc games

Cowboy poetry Red Dead Redemption 2 PC

Like in singleplayer mode, in Red Dead Online I can make my goals reasonable and watch them. The problem is, it is basically hamstrung by a frustrating multiplayer leveling system that locks basic equipment and cosmetics behind long XP requirements that can meet hours, perhaps days,

The option is spending gold, premium currency, items and clothing to unlock them immediately. A fishing pole is not available until level 14. A damn fishing pole in an outdoor recreation game. This is not spectacular and is a terrible way to invest players.

out a basic suite of tools (fishing rod, bow, varmint rifle, nice hat, etc.), Red Dead Online opened up widely. I have largely ignored traditional matchmaking modes such as gunfights and horse races, cheap thrills, I will play much better versions in different games, to have fun. It led to the most inventive, serene, real, and sometimes buzzing echo I’ve ever had.

I once walked into the middle of a fire in Blackwater and took the player corpses one by one to the church cemetery. Some were captured and participated in the ‘burial’ of their friends. A corpse thanked me for the gesture. Later, in an extended streak of criminal activity, my pose and I caught another player and instead of killing them on the spot, we rode into the swamp and threw them into the garter infected waters. I got the idea to act like a friend. Best pc games 2017

On a less absurd note, I set myself a constant goal of earning strictly enough money from hunting to buy cool-weather gear and a fine rifle. I am going to hike in the mountains and find the best way to hide there, a wild mountain man adorned with animal skins, which almost touches the floor.

In the meantime, I’m stopping gunmen across the city by running through the streets and calling for a parley. I am participating in an eight-player ballroom. I am living the life of a normal cowboy in the best shepherd game. I hope it clears up soon.

RDR2 PC System Requirements

OS : Windows 7 SP1 64bit

Graphics   Nvidia GeForce GTX 770 2GB / AMD Radeon R9 280

Processor:   Intel Core i5-2500K / AMD FX-6300

Memory:    8 GB RAM

DirectX:   Version 11 Or 12 Support

Storage: 150 GB

[antheminmyheart]

Am I really sitting here, taking the time to write out a review for P.T. Barnum's autobiography? Why yes, yes I am. Now, P.T. Barnum was not a good man. We all know this, and if you let Hugh Jackman's portrayal of Barnum in "The Greatest Showman" take over your idea of what real Barnum was like, well, that's your own damn problem. That being said, I do love The Greatest Showman - can we say, favorite movie? - and, as I said above, it's your own fault if you can't do research for yourself. After watching the movie, I had a few dollars left on a Christmas gift card and Barnum's autobiography was less than $2 on Kindle. So I thought, what the hell. It took me a damn month to read it, but I did finally finish it and, hell, I'm glad I did. P.T. Barnum was an asshole, yes, and he did treat those with disabilities like shit, yes. That's all true. However, one thing I think we all need to remember is the time period in which he lived. Real Barnum was born in 1810 in Connecticut (his birthday is the day after America's Independence Day, actually) and died in 1891, aged 80, also in Connecticut. He sat down to write this autobiography in the 1850s - that's before the Civil War even happened! Put that into perspective. Yes, he was an asshole. Yes, he - along with 99% of the population - treated literally anyone with differences like they were freaks. He was literally known for it! But he, just like everybody else who lived then, was a product of his time. That's what's so important to remember. They were not NEARLY as tolerant then as we are now - hell, the South still had SLAVES when the autobiography was written. People were exploited for PROFIT because "normal" people were disgusted and/or fascinated by them. We cannot go back and change history, no, but people should not be crucified for finding interest in the... mindset of folks like Real Barnum (as opposed to Hugh Jackman's Barnum) back then. I've always been fascinated by history and the fact that we've come so far in a relatively short amount of time. Many, MANY historical events were harmful, yes. But there is no harm in wanting to simply learn more. Now, I'm saying that as a (at the time of this review) 19 year old who's been physically disabled - to the point of having needed a dozen surgeries over the first eight years of her life - her whole, entire life. Had it been possible for me to live back then (thank you, heckin medical advancements), I would have been a PERFECT example of a person Real Barnum would have wanted to use and abuse for his "shows" and "exhibits." But... that was then. This is now. Real Barnum has been dead for almost 130 years now, and his show - Barnum & Bailey - was shut down last year. It's a permanent mark in American history, and there is no longer any harm in wanting to learn more so long as you accept that people *aren't* and *can't be* treated like that any longer. I think the thing that fascinates me most about reading Real Barnum's autobiography is the fact that... he had a childhood. He was a child once, just like the rest of us, that he was fond of. He had a grandfather (*cough* who highkey looked like Elton John *cough*) that he was extremely fond of and close to, he had siblings - including a brother with whom he shared his bedroom, and who would try to catch him when he (PT Barnum) snuck out at night), and he was fond of pranks and practical jokes. Hell, there's an entire section of this book where Barnum details a prank war he had - as an adult - with a news reporter known as James Bennett. (No wonder movie-verse Bennett hated the circus so much)! And I think when somebody has a tainted reputation such as Barnum's, it's rather interesting - and totally mind-boggling - to read about them in their innocent moments. Especially when they're being written down and detailed by the man himself. Speaking of Real Barnum's word, there are several cases - such as the woman who claimed to be George Washington's slave - that are infamous in the case against Barnum that I found EXTREMELY interesting to read from his word - essentially getting the other side (no pun intended) of the story. In the case of the woman he claimed was George Washington's slave, for example, HE claims that SHE told him that she was a hundred and sixty (or however old the age was) when she was, in reality, something like seventy or eighty. According to his written word, he took her word for it (A+ background checks there, Mr. Barnum) and the truth of her age was never revealed until she died and they did an autopsy. I guess in an over century-year-old case of "he said, she said," we can never really 100% know the truth regarding who deceived who. But IF he's right in reporting that he truly did not know this woman's real age, then I find it absolutely fucking *hysterical* that the infamous conman himself got conned. I think that's all I, really, have to say on the matter, I think. Everyone has their own opinions on what sort of acknowledgment P.T. Barnum should receive and I prefer to stay out of that, for the most part, though I do love The Greatest Showman and am truly glad that I decided to pick up this read because of it. Though it did take me a month, the writing style actually was not hard to follow at ALL, which I find incredibly surprising. Though Barnum is a 19th century man, he has an almost... contemporary style of writing, with only slight language modifications from translators and historians. So, if you're into history like I am, I do genuinely recommend at least checking out this book. P.T. Barnum is, and was, an interesting man... that's for sure. (also, I find it HYSTERICAL that real Barnum was against alcohol and yet the film Greatest Showman featured Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron practically seducing each other in a bar. A+ work there, filmwriters)

5 Stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[aion-rsa]

Jupiter’s Legacy: Mark Millar on the Genesis of His Superhero Story

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Superheroes have a long history. After flying onto the scene more than eight decades ago, led by Superman, along with fellow octogenarians Batman, Wonder Woman, and Captain America, the pantheon of capes-and-tights characters has expanded to include countless more. And as legendary creators made their mark across decades, the origins and powers of these icons transformed almost as frequently as their costumes.

Meanwhile, the superhero team The Union, from the comic book saga Jupiter’s Legacy, have 90 years of consistent fictional history, with a singular overarching story, envisioned by one man: Mark Millar.

After discovering both Superman and Spider-Man comics the same day, at the age of four in Scotland (where he grew up), the now 51-year-old writer would go on to make a significant impact on the superpowered set. But he wanted his own pantheon.

And with Jupiter’s Legacy, Mark Millar has created a long history of superheroes of his own—now set to be adapted as a Netflix series.

“I wanted to do an epic,” he says. “Like The Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars… the ultimate superhero story.”

Co-created with artist Frank Quitely and published by Image Comics in 2013, Millar calls Jupiter’s Legacy his love letter to superheroes—and part of his own legacy.

The story begins in 1932 with a mysterious island that grants powers to a group of friends who then adopt the costumed monikers The Utopian, Lady Liberty, Brainwave, Skyfox, The Flare, and Blue Bolt. Told on a grand scale with cross-genre influences, the story spans three arcs: the prequel Jupiter’s Circle (with art by Wilfredo Torres), Jupiter’s Legacy, and the upcoming June 16, 2021 release Jupiter’s Legacy: Requiem (featuring art by Tommy Lee Edwards). With the May 7 debut of the Jupiter’s Legacy series on Netflix, the story will now also be told in live action.

Millar established himself in the comics industry in 1993 and crafted successful stories including Superman: Red Son, Wolverine: Old Man Logan, The Ultimates, and Marvel Comics’ Civil War—all of which have inspired adaptations and films, and led to him becoming a creative consultant at Fox Studios on its Marvel projects. His creator-owned titles Kingsman: The Secret Service, Kick-Ass, and Wanted, have likewise spawned hit movies.

But compared to Jupiter’s Legacy, none of those possessed such massive scope and aspiration as the story that explores the evolving ideologies of superpowered individuals, and how involved they should be when it comes to solving the world’s problems. Relationships are forged—and shattered by betrayal—with startling violence and titanic action sequences (both part of Millar’s signature style).

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“From Superman and the Justice League to Marvel to British comics—inspired by guys like Alan Moore, and so on, I’ve thrown it in there… it’s got a bit of everything,” he says.

That “everything” extends beyond comic books. Millar drew inspiration from King Kong’s Skull Island, and references the cosmic aesthetic of 2001: A Space Odyssey, which informed the “sci-fi stuff.” The writings of horror author H.P. Lovecraft “were a big thing for me,” when it came to The Island, created by aliens, “that existed before humanity, and that these people are drawn out towards where they get their superpowers.” The character Sheldon Sampson/The Utopian is a Clark Kent/Superman type, but his cohort George Hutchence/Skyfox is more than a millionaire playboy stand-in for Bruce Wayne. Rather, Millar based him on British actors from the 1960s—Peter O’Toole, Oliver Reed, Richard Burton, Richard Harris—who were suave rascals.

“I loved the idea of a superhero having a good time, getting on with girls, drinking whisky, smoking lots of cigarettes,” Millar said.

At the risk of sounding “so pretentious,” Millar jokes, he also pulled from Shakespeare. Indeed, the comics are as much a family saga as a superhero one (and written by the much younger brother of six whose parents died before he was 20). Utopian is a father to his own disappointing children, and a father of sorts to all heroes. He is Lear as much as he is Jupiter, the Roman god of gods. The end of his reign approaches, and various factions have their own appetite for power—such as his self-righteous brother who thinks he should be a leader, or Utopian’s son, born into the family business of being a hero, but who could never live up to his father’s expectations, or his daughter who is more interested in fame than heroism. 

He views Jupiter’s Legacy as more thoughtful than Kick-Ass, Kingsman, or Wanted. The plot’s driving action hinges on a debate about the superheroes’ philosophies and moral imperatives. It seeks to address a question Millar asked when he was a kid reading comics.

“Why doesn’t Superman solve the world’s problems?” he recalls thinking. “Why didn’t he interfere and stop wars from even existing?… Is it ethically wrong to stand aside and just maintain the status quo, especially when the status quo creates so many problems for a lot of people?”

On one side of the debate, Utopian believes interfering too much with society’s trajectory is a bad move. It’s not that he is cynical; quite the opposite. He thinks things are actually improving in the world. His viewpoint is there are less people hungry across the globe than ever before, and less people with disease. Millar describes Utopian as a “Truth, Justice, and the American Way” kind of hero, to borrow a phrase associated with Superman, and believes capitalism works. As his hero name suggests, Utopian thinks a better world is within reach, even if it takes generations, and encourages even the heroes to be patient and trust people to do the right thing because they are innately good.

“He says, if you look at the difference somebody like Bill Gates has made in Africa—just one guy—if you look at capitalism taken to the Nth degree, then it pulls everybody up, and poverty in places like India, is massively better just compared to a generation ago.”

Besides, as Utopian says to his impatient brother Walter/Brainwave, in Jupiter’s Legacy #1, being a caped hero doesn’t make them economists and, “Just because you can fly doesn’t mean you know how to balance a budget.” Plus, the notion of using psychic powers or brute force to simply make the world “better” is out of the question. Or is it?

The mainstream awareness of superheroes baked in from more than 80 years of stories, and the shorthand that especially comes with 13 years of the Marvel Cinematic Universe commercial juggernaut, has provided Millar with a set of archetypes to lean into. It was true of the hero proxies in the Jupiter’s Legacy books, and he says it’s true of the show. In fact, he says audiences are so sophisticated with regards to these types of characters they’ll be able to immediately slip into his universe, and that “a lot of the hard work has been done for us.” He adds that audience literacy with superhero tropes also provided him something to push against.

“The Marvel characters lock these guys up in prison at the end of these movies,” Millar says. “Everything’s tied up neatly with a bow, the rich are still the rich, the poor are still starving, and the superheroes aren’t really doing anything for the common man in any very global sense. These guys have just had enough of that.”

Millar’s comics technically kick off in 1932, when Sheldon first brings his friends on a journey to The Island, but his story goes back to 1929 when the stock market crashed, and the Great Depression began. This is likewise when the Netflix series will begin, and Millar says it’s because of the historic parallels between then and 2021.

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“We’ve been in a similar situation as we are now: there’s impending financial collapse coming out of a global pandemic,” he says. “The idea is that history continues and repeats itself, and people make the same mistakes over and over again, and the superheroes are saying, ‘Let’s actually fix everything.’”

Continuing the theme of parallels, when discussing the inception of Jupiter’s Legacy with Millar, The Godfather Part II comes up more than once because of the film’s dual storylines following Vito Corleone and son Michael, separated by decades. However, while the comics contain some flashbacks, the plot doesn’t unfold across different time periods simultaneously. But the Netflix series will shift between eras, with half of the show during the season taking place in 1929, for which Millar credits Steven S. DeKnight, who developed the series.

“The way Steven structured it was really brilliant, because I saw these taking place over two [different] years,” Millar says. “[But] The Godfather Part II track shows you the father and the son at the same age and juxtaposes their two lives.”

As a result, he says the series is a visual mash-up of genres that’s both classical and futuristic.

“It just feels like a beautiful period movie, then when it gets cosmic, and it gets to the superhero stuff, it’s a double wow… it’s like seeing Once Upon a Time in America suddenly directed by Stanley Kubrick doing 2001.”

This is a notable advantage to bringing the story to television, as opposed to making Jupiter’s Legacy three two-hour films as he originally planned with producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura in 2015. Millar says that to tell the Jupiter’s Legacy story properly on screen would require 40 hours, and with a series, what would have been a one-minute flashback in a movie can now be revealed in two hours of its own. 

It was another director who has since made a name adapting ambitious comic book properties that extolled to Millar the benefits of television: James Gunn. When Gunn (Guardians of the Galaxy, The Suicide Squad) had a chat with Millar about the project, Gunn said it could never be done as a movie. “The smartest guy in the world is James Gunn,” Millar says.

An exciting challenge of adapting his work for television is that the series will expand on the backstories and concepts of the books. For example when Sheldon Sampson and his friends head to The Island in the first issue, it takes up six pages. Within the series, half of the first season is that journey, and what happens when they arrive.

“Six issues of a graphic novel are roughly about an hour and 10 minutes of a movie; for something like an eight-part drama on TV, you really have to flesh it out,” he says. “It just goes a little deeper than what I had maybe two panels do.”

He emphasizes, however, that these flourishes won’t contradict the comics. Though he sold Millarworld to Netflix, he remains president so he can maintain control of his creations.

Overall the series has made the writer realize the value of television, and while a second season has not yet been confirmed, he’s already thinking about a third and fourth, and how it will dovetail with the upcoming Requiem. The story that began in 1929 continued through 2021, and collected in four volumes, will soon continue far into the future in the concluding two volumes.

“We saw the parents, then we have the present, and then we see their children in the next storyline,” he says. “That storyline goes way off into the future where we discover everything about humanity, superheroes, all these things. It’s a big, grand, high-concept, sci-fi thing beyond that.”

Listening to the jovial Millar discuss the scope of his Jupiter universe, which is imbued with optimism, one might not think this is the same person known for employing graphic violence in his works.

He thinks his films especially are violent yet hopeful, and fun. Kingsman is a rags-to-riches story, and “you feel great at the end of Kick-Ass, even though you’ve seen 200 people knifed in the face.” But he doesn’t consider his writing to fit under the dark-and-gritty label, and he’s not interested in angst, which he finds dull. With Jupiter’s Legacy, the comic and the show, he views the tone as complex but not “overtly dark.”

Additionally, Millar says he thinks society needs hopeful characters such as Captain America, Superman, and yes, The Utopian in 2021—as opposed to an ongoing genre trend of heroes drowning in pathos.

“The Superman-type characters are just now something from a pop culture, societal point of view, we need more than ever,” he says. “The last thing you want is seeing the world as dark, as something that makes you feel bad. Never forget Superman was created just before World War II in the midst of the economic depression by two Jewish kids who were just scraping a living together… I just think it’s so important when things are tough to have a character like that that makes you feel good.”

Even though Utopian suffers for his idealism in the comic, Millar says his ideas are passed on. This is The Utopian’s legacy. 

“Ultimately, he wins if you think about it,” ponders Millar.

After a successful career spent creating characters and re-shaping superheroes with 80 years of history, the new pantheon of Jupiter’s Legacy may become one of the defining and lasting features of Mark Millar’s own legacy. 

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Jupiter’s Legacy premieres on Netflix on May 7. Read more about the series in our special edition magazine!

The post Jupiter’s Legacy: Mark Millar on the Genesis of His Superhero Story appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[tamzaraaaa-blog]

Artifacts that show growth: Top 10 Blog posts and Top 5 blog post responses

 TOP 10 BLOG POSTS (DESCENDING ORDER)

Connecting the Dots: 

    This summer I read the book The souls of the black folk by W.E.B Dubois. It was a book that mainly one of the many problems of the 20th century; "the color-line". He writes from the perspective of an African American man struggling to earn his rights. He continuously expresses his views on living life at the mercy of your race. 

     He mostly focuses on the regressions caused by the emancipation proclamation especially in the south. He also writes about the establishment of Freedman's Bureau and its role in the reconstruction of the nation after the civil war. He centers his book around to themes; the idea of "double consciousness" and "the Veil". Double Consciousness refers to the idea that every African American must live with the struggle of balancing two inconsistent identities that can't be combined. They must balance their ideal "American identities" with the black experience that they inherited from the remnants of their ancestors who were born into slavery. This compliments the second theme of living under "the veil". He describes the theory of "the veil" in terms of living on the other side of the color line. He stresses he importance of the black experiences and how that experience can only be gained from living on the other side of the color line. 

    It was hard for me to find a connection with this book because I have never truly experienced what it's like to live on the other side of the color line. I do however, know the significance of the black experience and how it affected those who came before me. This book did not really challenge my beliefs but it did enhance them. One challenge narrated in this book was the struggle of balancing both identities and I was able to connect with that theory. Having to incorporate both the ideal American identity with the black experience in their daily lives is a struggle I can relate to even though they had to do it while under the prejudice of living behind the color line. From this book, I was able to learn what it truly means to earn the black experience and how difficult it was to live under "the veil" while still trying to achieve the ideal standards of an "American Identity".

Making Meaning from the News: 

This article was about a sexual harassment claim filed by Shailja Patel against Tony Mochama. Patel claimed that writer and journalist, Tony Mochama, had sexually assaulted her at an event. She quickly took to various social media platforms to tell her story and never shied from public bashing Mochama every chance she got. Soon after these allegations took to twitter and took a large toll on Mochama's career. He claims he lost scholarships, guest lectures, business opportunities, friends and many more. Due to the backlash he faced, Mochama decided to sue Patel for her "false allegations". He ended up wining the case in which Patel was forced to pay a 9 million shilling fine and officially apologize to Mochama. She refused to do and went into a self imposed exile claiming she would rather go into exile than apologize to Mochama.     Patel was very quick to take to social media to tell her story. She told majority of it on twitter. Along with Ms Wambui Mwangi, she took to twitter to publicly bash Mochama and ruin his otherwise perfect reputation. The only thing she failed to do was file an actual police report, reporting his actions. She never filed a case and never went to the police about it. There is currently an ongoing debate on whether Patel was telling the truth because if she should have gone to the police first. This issue arrived when he decided to sue her and even then she neglected to counter sue him.     The opposing side of this debate sympathizes with Patel and understands the struggle of coming forward about an assault. They argue that the act itself is hard enough on women, it is often even more traumatizing to be degraded in court. She also appealed o our sympathy when she claimed she would rather go into exile than have to apologize to Mochama for what he did to her.     As for my perspective, I want to believe that Patel is being honest. There have been a few other reports regarding Mochama's aggressive behavior towards women and a few of his friends have suggested that these allegations could be true about him. Even his wife left him after hearing all of this. The one thing I think she should have done differently is she should have gone directly to the police when it happened. Even if she delayed a bit on that she should have at least countersued him when he sued her. Overall I think Patel was telling the truth I just think she went about it the wrong way. 

Learning from Writing Mentors: 

   Stephen King starts of this book by explaining to us some of his earliest childhood memories. He makes it a point to focus on what he thought was his most painful childhood experience. He compares that single experience to many others and claims nothing came close in comparison to the pain he felt on that day. This is how he uses the rhetorical appeal of ethos. Rather than start the book off with facts and advice he chose to give us insight on what his childhood was like and how significant it was in his journey as a writer. He uses a very light hearted voice during the first couple chapters because this is when he is describing his childhood to us. 

   One very useful piece of advice he gave concerned the knowledge behind good story ideas. He said there were no short cuts to finding good story ideas. They seem to appear from void. It is not our job to create these "good story idea' but to recognize them when they show up. It's as if he is saying that we are constantly plagued with good story ideas but in order to become a decent writer, we have to recognize the good ideas when they come. This is a strategy I will definitely be incorporating into my writing. Conjuring up a good idea can be a challenge but when it hits you, it often hits ant the most random times. The challenge for me will be to wait until a good idea hits me. I'm a very fast-paced person and not a very patient one so he concept of awaiting a good idea is very foreign and quite simply unrealistic to me. It will be a very big challenge for me.

What's Education For? Education can be a very complex and sometimes prejudiced system of learning. As shown in the article "Best in Class" by Margaret Talbot, in education is what leads to a prosperous future but, at what cost? The idea that education is the only thing that leads to a prosperous future is an idea that has been stressed globally across multiple schools but success comes at a cost. As per my opinion, the problem with the education system is it has lost track of the true meaning of education. School has stopped becoming about learning. Students now focus their attention on passing instead of actively absorbing the materials taught. This is mainly a result of the common belief that success can only be achieved through a higher education. As shown in the documentary, school comes with a lot of academic stress and sometimes parental pressure. Idris' father was very hard on him when it came to his scholarly achievements and Seun had to leave Dalton after failing a class due to academic stress and a little prejudice. I think we need to work towards reforming the education system so that kids can once again feel the joy of learning. A lot of academic stress comes from the pressure of homework. I can understand why some teachers assign homework and why it can be essential to our education but an over supply of this becomes taxing and tedious. It would be beneficial to students if we did not receive as much work as we do now because, this results in students driving to complete their work rather than learn from it. It would also be beneficial to do more interactive activities within the classroom so that we can eliminate our workload after school and have more time in class to resolve any inquiries we may have.

News Evaluation 2: Shooting at South Carolina Bar leaves 2 dead and 8 wounded

The shooting happened early Saturday morning near Lancaster, South Carolina. The shooting occurred at around 2:45 am and it was said that the gunman was still at large. 10 people were shot. Two people were killed and 8 were injured in this tragic act of terrorism. The motive of the shooter was unclear but it was thought to have been a result of local conflict. The Sheriff declined to discuss the incident but, he said that one of the victims that was killed was involved in the local conflict that had been occurring for a couple of months. I think this is a horrible act of terrorism and no "local dispute" can excuse the act of intentionally harming nearly a dozen people. Of course, this goes back to the issue of gun laws in the U.S. I do believe stricter gun laws are what we need to keep situations like this from happening again. This is only one of multiple mass shootings that have occurred recently and the only solution I see is restricting the usage of guns. Unfortunately, I find that the reason stricter gun laws have not been incorporated into the legislature is because the republican party is largely funded by the National Riffle Association (NRA). Because of this, the government is hesitant to abolish the second amendment even if It means multiple losses of innocent lives. 

News Evaluation 3: Italy to lend Leonardo Da Vinci works to France in a Masterpiece Swap

Da Vinci's famous drawing Vitruvian man will soon be transported to Paris to participate in a block buster Leonardo da Vinci art exhibition at the Louvre. The Vitruvian man is a drawing that exhibits the study of the proportions of the human body. However, it is only one in a series of art works that museums in Italy are transporting over to the Louvre. This art show will mark the 500th anniversary of the Renaissance master's death. As part of the exchange, the Louvre has agreed to transfer over several masterpieces made by another Renaissance master; Raphael. These masterpieces include "Self Portrait with a friend" and "Portrait of Baldassarre Castiglione". Both parties treat this as a sort of exchange of cultures. At first, a diplomatic dispute broke out between the two countries over the issue of sending over multiple of Davinci's pieces during a major anniversary year. The Italian undersecretary for culture claimed "Leonardo was Italian and he only died in France." It wasn't until later that both countries cultural ministers began working towards reconciliation and claimed "Now more than ever , it is essential for culture to be at the heart of European policies both because it is a tool for creating a shared sense of citizenship, and because it is a great opportunity for economic growth." I agree with this statement. An exchange of paintings like this not only stimulates cultural and economic growth on both parties but it also helps honors the Renaissance artist for their marvelous work. An exchange such as this one should liberate the world of art and revere the creators of such beautiful masterpieces. Da Vinci may have only died in France but that connects him to the cultural world of France. Not only did Leonardo die in France but the Louvre in holds some of his finest and most recognizable work including the Mona Lisa and a portrait of a woman known as La Belle Ferrionnière. France was a major part of da Vinci's history as it was his final journey and resting place. Both France and Italy have chosen to honor that and in return, France agreed to send over some of Raphael's most exquisite pieces. I only wish I could be there to witness the 500th anniversary exhibit of Da Vinci.

Telling Stories: All the single Ladies In this article, the author describes her less than enjoyable experience at her best friends wedding. At the beginning, Doll describes to us the apprehension she felt when she heard a masculine voice say "All the single ladies to the dance floor". It was made clear in the next paragraph that she wasn't the only one with feelings of apprehension as her friend pulled her close and they devised a plan to go hide out in the washroom. Sadly it did not work. In the next couple of paragraphs she talks about her relationship with the bride and groom. The bride and her were apparently very close friends until she decided to marry a man that Doll simply could not approve of. She characterized her friends decision to get married by absolutely refusing to pick up the brides bouquet of flowers when it landed footsteps away from her during the bouquet toss. She saw it as an act of condoning and accepting the union of her best friend and this man and she simply could not do it. The structure of each paragraph in this article is very autonomous. Each paragraph describes different parts of the story while still providing us with the context we need to understand the article. This helps the article flow a bit more. As per her choice of word and her sentence structure it is clear she is using the rhetorical appeal of pathos to entice her readers. I feel like this, along with the independence of each paragraph, are what makes this article so captivating. The style of writing she uses reflects on how she wants us, as readers, to feel about her article.

Thank You For Arguing Reflection Throughout this chapter, and majority of this book, the author used a lot of pop cultural references as evidence to back up his claims. Particularly in chapters 12-13, Heinrich really goes in depth when describing useful argumentative tools. In these chapters he focused on learning and utilizing the skills of inductive and deductive logic. He successfully manages to explain to his readers the importance of beginning your argument with a very broad opening and then narrowing it down to specific facts (deductive logic) and beginning your argument with a very precise fact and then opening it up to a wider spectrum. However, the tool I found to be the most interesting while reading this book would be the art of finding a common place. Commonplaces are words and phrases that reflect the audience’s core values. This tool is crucial to arguments because it condenses a lot of complicated ideals into just a few seconds of material, enough to successfully gain the approval of your audience. Another interesting section of the book was in chapter 12 when the author listed several different approaches to an argument. Traditionally, the best way to defend an argument is through evidence. Unfortunately, I find some evidence is also really easy to counter-argue. If this is the cause you could always attempt to redefine the term and if that doesn't work, argue the importance of your opponents statements. So far, I have found that Thank You for Arguing is actually quite an enjoyable book. I a learning new tools and techniques to use not just in speech but also in my writing and overall, I am learning a lot more about argumentative tools and how to skillfully use them.

Is there a role for public shaming? Discuss. I absolutely do not agree with the concept of public shaming as a punishment. I agree, using a concept like public shaming as a method of punishment is actually a very effective punishment however, it does more harm both morally and socially than it does good. Take Monica Lewinsky for example. Shaming not only exposed what she did but it also made her vulnerable to various attacks online that diminished her sense of worth as a human being. As shown in the Scarlet Letter, both Dimmesdale and Hester experienced some form of shame. While Dimmesdale’s shame was mostly internal, Hester experienced full on public shaming in front of the whole town for her transgressions. Her punishment did not end there. After her release from prison, Hester was forced to bear the scarlet letter A on her dress so that everyone would know that she was an adulterer. In some sense, the punishment was successful but it was also a demoralizing and humiliating process that some people are not strong enough to handle. Yes, actions do have consequences and most of the time shaming is used as a ploy to keep people in check. However there must be a different way to achieve this goal without demoralizing anyone

TOP 5 COMMENTS

Connecting the dots: Hidden Figures

Having read this book before, I also loved their devotion to overcome racial and gender barriers. They were indeed very inspirational and worked tirelessly to ensure that women were never overlooked and were just as capable of achieving greatness as men were.

News Evaluation 2: Justin Trudeau: New video of Canada's PM in blackface

The act of blackface is horribly racist and very very offensive but I agree with you. Trudeau has changed and he has seen the errors of his ways. He has seen exactly how much of a bad decision he made doing this and acknowledged that rather than deny or try to defend his actions. Instead he took responsibility and apologized. Yes, blackface is a horribly racist act and should not go unpunished. He has already faced a lot of backlash from the media and his people and this has done quite a bit of damage to his campaign. I don't think we should dwell on something that happened so many years ago especially since he has acknowledged and apologized for his mistake.

News Evaluation 2: Ugandan President Museveni seeks mandatory death penalty for murders after nephew's slaying 

I admire how you sympathized with Museveni. The loss of a family member is incredibly painful and my own heart goes out to him. I agree with what you said about Museveni thinking with his heart not his head. When it comes to the death penalty I feel like we, as humans, shouldn't be the ones to decide who lives and who dies. If someone is convicted because of murder, we shouldn't decide whether or not to take their life. It's not humane.

Making meaning from the News: Liu Yifei: Mulan boycott urged after star backs Hong Kong police

The controversial debate on whether or not it is considered culturally respectful for Disney to portray Mulan the way the original movie did it is a huge one. A lot of fans would like to see the original Mulan movie but unfortunately it highlights a lot of China's ancient cultural aspect so its hard to do that while still being respectful.

Learning from Writing Mentors: Bird by Bird - Anne Lamott  I agree with the writers idea if abandoning perfectionism. I also struggle with this when it comes to my writing because I feel like everything I write has to live up to an unrealistic standard of perfection. I think its the same for most people. Perfection can be defined in multiple ways by multiple people so living up to this standard of perfection is basically impossible because everyones definition of perfection is different. We should just abandon it :)

EDUCATION TED TALK - SOAPSTONE ANALYSIS

Pathos - It is almost as if he tried to guilt us into believing his story/ sympathizing with his story

Ethos - In order to convince his audience he uses his personal experiences which makes him seem more knowledgable about the topic. 

S - Roy Bunker O - The speaker visited a village and decided to complete his schooling there. He speaks of his experiences and his accomplishments A - All viewers of the Ted Talk P - He spoke not only to educate us on the matter of quality education, but also to describe the importance/unimportance of it.  S - Education/various teaching methods/accomplishments are equally effective and higher education is meaningless if you don’t learn. Women have vast power in knowledge TONE -  His tone was very authoritative and informative. He wanted us to see the proper value of education and all of his points were focused around the notion of importance in education. 

[theconservativebrief]

Nike’s new ad campaign featuring Colin Kaepernick sparked outrage among his critics, several of whom demanded a boycott of the brand and took to social media to share pictures of themselves burning its products.

In 2016, Kaepernick, then a member of the San Francisco 49ers, kneeled during the national anthem to draw attention to police killings in communities of color, a protest that critics (including Donald Trump) claimed was unpatriotic. By featuring Kaepernick in its campaign, Nike has positioned itself as an ally to him and, by extension, to the Black Lives Matter movement that shares his stance on policing.

While overall the Kaepernick ad has been a success for Nike — sales jumped by 31 percent shortly after the new campaign debuted — some officials are taking their displeasure with it beyond sneaker burning, with troubling implications. Lawmakers and university officials in states like Louisiana, Tennessee, Georgia, and Missouri are trying to use their influence to get constituencies and colleges to sever ties with Nike. It’s a trend that has led to outcry from the public, civil liberties groups, and legislators with opposing viewpoints.

With the tagline “believe in something, even if it means sacrificing everything,” Nike’s latest ad campaign — marking the 30th anniversary of its “Just Do It” motto — came out on September 3. E. Ben Zahn III, the mayor of Kenner, Louisiana, wasted little time using his political power to retaliate against the company for using Kaepernick in the ad. Two days after the campaign’s release, Zahn issued a memorandum stating: “Under no circumstances will any Nike product or any product with the Nike logo be purchased for use or delivery at any city of Kenner recreational facility.”

Late Wednesday, Zahn rescinded the new rule after the American Civil Liberties Union warned him that it was unconstitutional — but not before his memo had been shared thousands of times on Twitter and sparked a public protest, in which members of the New Orleans Saints participated.

[embedded content]

“The policy violates the First Amendment’s prohibition against content and viewpoint discrimination because it prevents booster clubs and their members from purchasing … types of apparel that you have targeted as political expression,” an ACLU letter to Zahn explained. “Kenner booster clubs and their members have a protected right to exercise their freedom of expression by buying, and wearing, their chosen sportswear at Kenner facilities.”

Other Louisiana lawmakers criticized the policy as well. In a Facebook post, Kenner City Council member Gregory Carroll called Zahn’s memo “disturbing” and said the mayor issued it without his input. And in a statement rebuking the Nike ban, Democratic Louisiana Rep. Cedric Richmond noted that the company donated more than $10 million to the state after Hurricane Katrina and that Louisiana faces problems far more serious than Nike’s Kaepernick-led campaign, including one of the nation’s highest infant mortality rates and one of the poorest educational and health care systems.

“Using the current controversy surrounding Nike’s support of Colin Kaepernick as an excuse to rob resources from those who need it most in Kenner is a clear sign of Mayor Zahn’s pandering at the expense of the very children he is entrusted with guiding,” Richmond said. “… Instead of playing petty politics to score cheap points to the detriment of Little League players, Mayor Zahn should be working on behalf of his entire community.”

Christopher Gilbert, an ethics expert and author of There’s No Right Way to Do the Wrong Thing, said that he’s unsure what Zahn’s motives were, but if he made the decision solely based on his personal views, “it’s not the right answer,” he said. “It’s not ethical. If this person is operating for himself, then there are really questionable ethics here.”

Zahn isn’t the only politician attempting to flex his power to target Nike. Tennessee state Sen. Bo Watson (R) announced on Twitter Friday that he’s calling for the Tennessee Office of Legislative Budget Analysis to review all contracts Nike has with state-funded colleges and universities. At least a handful of such schools wear Nike apparel, and Watson says he simply wanted to know “what it’s costing taxpayers to do business with Nike.”

One Tennessee military veteran told a local TV station that although he doesn’t support Kaepernick, he doesn’t believe Tennessee schools should sever their contracts with Nike because of the company’s ad. But Watson has supporters, including fellow Republican state Sen. Todd Gardenhire, who speculated that the athletic wear company just might have to revise its agreements to maintain its contracts with Tennessee schools.

In their rush to undercut Nike in light of its support of Kaepernick, however, these legislators have seemingly overlooked that in 2015, the corporation opened its largest distribution center in Memphis.

Danny D. Glover, the senior political director of Nashville Mayor Karl Dean’s gubernatorial campaign, pointed out the fact in a viral tweet with the hashtag #YouAreHurtingTennesseans. The concern isn’t just that Nike employs thousands of Tennesseans but that these legislators are behaving as if all constituents share their views on Kaepernick.

“We’ve reached the point where the person’s opinion is the person. But conflict of opinions is the way to get to the truth.”

“We’ve reached the point where the person’s opinion is the person,” Gilbert said. “But conflict of opinions is the way to get to the truth. If we concentrate on Nike the personality or Kaepernick the personality, we miss asking what is that person trying to say. We could have a completely real conversation, and Nike has a chance to open the door.”

College campuses are often portrayed as places with a free exchange of ideas, but two private Christian colleges have taken actions that make it clear that they oppose not only Kaepernick’s viewpoints on police brutality but Nike for using him in its ad.

The College of the Ozarks in Point Lookout, Missouri, is removing all Nike logo uniforms. The move is consistent with the school’s announcement last year that it would refuse to play against teams with members who kneel, sit, or turn their backs as the national anthem plays.

“If Nike is ashamed of America, we are ashamed of them,” College of the Ozarks president Jerry C. Davis said in a statement. “We also believe that those who know what sacrifice is all about are more likely to be wearing a military uniform than an athletic uniform.”

Davis’s statement ignores that numerous service members have expressed support for Kaepernick and that some veterans have been killed by police. It also overlooks that freedom of expression, even expression one finds offensive, is one of the nation’s founding principles.

Another Christian school, Truett McConnell University in Cleveland, Georgia, announced plans to ban Nike products from the campus store because the administration considers Kaepernick to be “a person known for wearing pigs on his socks, mocking law enforcement, kneeling against our flag, and mocking our troops,” TMU president Emir Caner said in a statement. He noted that he and his family find Kaepernick “reprehensible.”

The college will sell all of its current Nike inventory and not restock it. Afterward, students and staffers who disagree with Caner must leave the TMU campus to buy Nike goods. While Caner surely has supporters, his detractors, including TMU students and alumni, have voiced their disapproval with his decision.

As an alumni and donor, you won’t be seeing anymore of my money. Not just because of this, but because you are stuck in 1940. So sorry to cut ties with a place I had so much fun of.

— Theme Park Beer Drinker (@ThemeParkBeer) September 7, 2018

Some have called Caner’s announcement a publicity stunt because the 2,600-student school had already signed a deal with Adidas. And others have said they simply support Nike and enjoy its products.

Caner has acknowledged that some TMU students disagree with him. But his comments on the controversy reveal that he’s yet to separate his personal views from TMU as a whole.

“As a university, I just can’t have a representation of someone that, in my mind, is as unpatriotic as it is,” he told Georgia news station NBC 11. “It’s not something that Truett McConnell University can stand for.”

Original Source -> Some lawmakers and school officials are trying to ban Nike after its Kaepernick ad 

via The Conservative Brief

[nicklennon-blog]

Jackie Robinson

Jackie Robinson was a pioneer of his time, changing the game of baseball, politics in the U.S., and racial segregation in America at the time. Born in 1919, Jackie Robinson had to struggle for everything he had, and has truly earned the reputation he is given today in the United States and elsewhere. Robinson was able to leave his mark in a game and in a country that did not want him at the time. He was able to create and perfect both himself, and his craft in the game of baseball at a very turbulent time for all African Americans, especially Jackie himself. Creating and perfecting yourself is something many people struggle to do, myself included, whether it be back in Robinson’s time or in our modern world. Being able to do this under the constant pressure and judgement of others shows Jackie Robinson’s true greatness and gives a perfect blueprint of how a person should be.

Jackie Robinson knew better than anyone that he had to be conscious and aware of his surroundings at all times. Breaking his way into the game of baseball, Robinson had to face the constant judgement and discrimination from his various caucasian teammates or opposing players. Being the only African American in a sport full of white people was a difficult task, and one that required Jackie Robinson to be aware of his situation and his surrounding environment. Robinson says, “I cannot salute the flag; I know that I am a black man in a white world. In 1972, in 1947, at my birth in 1919, I know that I never had it made.” In this quote Jackie explains his outlook on the world, knowing that the segregation and racial discrimination that he had faced in his life and in the game of baseball has been around since he was born. He is clearly fully aware of the world he is living in and his surrounding environment, saying that he is a black man in a world owned by white people. He is aware that nothing was ever given to him and that he never had it made, constantly feeling the pressure from his awareness of white people’s judgements. Personally, I do not know what this feels like as much as others in the world today and especially Jackie Robinson. Growing up in a middle class white family, I was always sheltered and protected from the judgements and discrimination that black people during Robinson’s time and today have to face. Because of this, I have always been given a free pass on being aware of my surrounding environment. I have never had to worry about constant judgment from others even by simply walking down the street. I was able to be ignorant of the people in my environment and live my life as I wanted to. This is something that Jackie and several other African Americans have to face, even today. They must live everyday knowing that the world is working against them, and being aware that they are seen as the outsider by many. Jackie Robinson faced this both in his personal life, and within the game of baseball. This illustrates his grit and toughness to be able to excel in what he does while carrying a burden that white people in the same sport did not have to carry.

Jackie Robinson did not follow the herd in terms of being a sheep. He made a tremendous impact on politics in America and was definitely a leader of a civil rights movement for African Americans, fighting for equality and inclusion throughout all assets of life. Jackie shows that he is most certainly not a sheep when he says, “Life is not a spectator sport. If you're going to spend your whole life in the grandstand just watching what goes on, in my opinion you're wasting your life.” Robinson shows here that he does not just sit back and watch the bad things that happen in the world like most do; instead he takes a stand and betters his life as well as others’. This goes back to Nietzsche’s philosophies about creating yourself instead of being a follower. Instead of following others and watching, create who you are and what you stand for as a person. I feel in my own life that while I have opinions on things, I often become a follower and do not do anything about those opinions. I usually do not take a stand and support a cause or movement; I become a sheep and watch while others to take the initiative. I experienced this recently with the marches and school walkouts for various school shootings that have happened across the country. While I do support this movement, I never backed this up by actually doing something and participating in any of the protests. Being from a big city like New York, I have always just anticipated that these movements and protests would be carried out and put into action by others in the eight million person population. This is something I have noticed myself falling victim to before, with New York City often having various protests recently about Trump, feminist movements, etc. Looking at Jackie Robinson’s life, it’s clear that the way a person should live is with action. Taking action and in turn realizing who you are and the causes you support is a vital component of how a person should be.

Jackie Robinson did not care about the opinions of others; he knew that in time, he would be able to prove his worth to everyone. This is clear about Robinson’s personalities in many ways, as he had to deal with various people around the country and in the game of baseball’s opinions. Living through this, Jackie was able to realize a lot about himself when he says, “I'm not concerned with your liking or disliking me... All I ask is that you respect me as a human being.” This quote is a concept that has been discussed in class several times. We have seen that the way to live and be as a person is to get rid of the idea of something or someone being likeable. Jackie Robinson clearly does not care about his likeability in the world. He simply just wants the respect and to be seen as equal in the world, regardless of what people think about him or his baseball prowess. This is one way how Robinson was able to stay composed and relaxed in the game of baseball, even with the constant pressure of others on his shoulders. This goes back to Robert Farris Thompson readings that we have had, in which he says that the way to be as a person is to complete difficult tasks while maintaining composure and being relaxed in all situations. Jackie Robinson is able to do this because he is able to throw his ideas of likeability out of the window and instead just play the game and conduct his civil rights movements in a way that he wanted, not a way that would be likeable and ‘good’ to others around him. This is a difficult idea to grasp at my age. I live a life in which the things I do must be good and likeable in some way for me to achieve the goals I want to. Myself and many of my classmates must deal with the day-to-day judgements and opinions of teachers, parents, or other family. The things we do for these people have to be good, otherwise they are not recognized, and consequently you are not recognized in the world. The question I find myself asking recently is how I can take the idea of likeability out of my head and instead try new things and create new ideas. This is clearly something Jackie Robinson was able to do and it is how he was able to make such an impact in various aspects of the world.

Jackie Robinson knew how a person should be much better than I do in my early life. He understood and had the ability to be aware of his surroundings and the people around him, he was a leader and never allowed himself to become a sheep, and he knew how to stay composed and calm in his work by getting rid of the idea of being likeable. These are all tasks that take many their whole lives to realize and accomplish, Robinson being able to figure these ideas out in his short yet impactful 53 year life. With much of his sport, his country, and the world against him, Robinson was still able to make his own legacy, regardless of what his opposers wanted it to be.

(Quotes from BrainyQuote - https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/jackie_robinson )

[newsnigeria]

Check out New Post published on Ọmọ Oòduà

New Post has been published on http://ooduarere.com/news-from-nigeria/world-news/bear-hubris-suicidal/

When dealing with a bear, hubris is suicidal

[This analysis was written for the Unz Review]

Assuming mankind finds a way not to destroy itself in the near future and assuming that there will still be historians in the 22nd or 23rd centuries, I bet you that they will look at the AngloZionist Empire and see the four following characteristics as some of its core features: lies, willful ignorance, hypocrisy, and hysterics. To illustrate my point I will use the recent “Skripal nerve-gas assassination” story as it really encompasses all of these characteristics.

I won’t even bother debunking the official nonsense here as others have done a very good job of pointing out the idiocy of the official narrative. If you are truly capable of believing that “Putin” (that is the current collective designator for the Evil Empire of Mordor currently threatening all of western civilization) would order the murder of a man whom a Russian military court sentenced to only 13 years in jail (as opposed to life or death) and who was subsequently released as part of a swap with the USA, you can stop reading right now and go back to watching TV. I personally have neither the energy nor the inclination to even discuss such a self-evidently absurd theory. No, what I do want to do is use this story as a perfect illustration of the kind of society we now all live in looked at from a moral point of view. I realize that we live in a largely value-free society where moral norms have been replaced by ideological orthodoxy, but that is just one more reason for me to write about what is taking place precisely focusing on the moral dimensions of current events.

Lies and the unapologetic denial of reality:

In a 2015 article entitled “A society of sexually frustrated Pinocchios” I wrote the following:

I see a direct cause and effect relationship between the denial of moral reality and the denial of physical reality. I can’t prove that, of course, but here is my thesis: Almost from day one, the early western civilization began by, shall we say, taking liberties with the truth, which it could bend, adapt, massage and repackage to serve the ideological agenda of the day. It was not quite the full-blown and unapologetic relativism of the 19th century yet, but it was an important first step. With “principles” such as the end justifies the means and the wholesale violation of the Ten Commandants all “for the greater glory of God” the western civilization got cozy with the idea that there was no real, objective truth, only the subjective perception or even representation each person might have thereof. Fast forward another 10 centuries or so and we end up with the modern “Gayropa” (as Europe is now often referred to in Russia): not only has God been declared ‘dead’ and all notions of right and wrong dismissed as “cultural”, but even objective reality has now been rendered contingent upon political expediency and ideological imperatives.

I went on to quote George Orwell by reminding how he defined “doublethink” in his book 1984:

“To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies, to hold simultaneously two opinions which canceled out, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them, to use logic against logic, to repudiate morality while laying claim to it (…) To tell deliberate lies while genuinely believing in them, to forget any fact that has become inconvenient, and then, when it becomes necessary again, to draw it back from oblivion for just as long as it is needed, to deny the existence of objective reality“

and I concluded by saying that “The necessary corollary from this state of mind is that only appearances matter, not reality”.

This is exactly what we are observing; not only in the silly Skripal nerve-gas assassination story but also in all the rest of the Russophobic nonsense produced by the AngloZionist propaganda machine including the “Litvinenko polonium murder” and the “Yushchenko dioxin poisoning“. The fact that neither nerve-gas, nor polonium nor dioxin are in any way effective murder weapons does not matter in the least: a simple drive-by shooting, street-stabbing or, better, any “accident” is both easier to arrange and impossible to trace. Fancy assassination methods are used when access to the target is very hard or impossible (as was the case with Ibn al-Khattab, whose assassination the Russians were more than happy to take credit for; this might also have been the case with the death of Yasser Arafat). But the best way of murdering somebody is to simply make the body disappear, making any subsequent investigation almost impossible. Finally, you can always subcontract the assassination to somebody else like, for example, when the CIA tried and failed, to murder Grand Ayatollah Mohammad Hussain Fadlallah by subcontracting his bombing to its local “Christian” allies, killing over 80 innocent people in the process. There is plenty of common crime in the UK and to get somebody to rob and stab Skripal would have probably been the easiest version. That’s assuming that the Russians had any reason to want him dead, which they self-evidently didn’t.

But here is the important thing: every single criminal or intelligence specialist in the West understands all of the above. But that does not stop the Ziomedia from publishing articles like this one “A Brief History of Attempted Russian Assassinations by Poison” which also lists people poisoned by Russians:

Skripal by nerve gas

Litvinenko by polonium

Kara-Murza poisoned not once, but TWICE, by an unknown poison, he survived!

Markov poisoned by ricin and the Bulgarians with “speculated KGB assistance”

Khattab by sarin or a sarin-derivative

Yushchenko by dioxin

Perepilichny by “a rare, toxic flower, gelsemium” (I kid you not, check the article!)

Moskalenko by mercury

Politkovskaya who was shot, but who once felt “ill after drinking some tea that she believed contained poison”

The only possible conclusion from this list is this: there is some kind of secret lab in Russia where completely incompetent chemists try every poison known to man, not on rats or on mice, but on high profile AngloZionist-supported political activists, preferably before an important political event.

Right.

By the way, the gas allegedly used in the attack, “Novichok”, was manufactured in Uzbekistan and the cleanup of the factory producing it was made by, you guessed it, a US company. Just saying…

In any halfway honest and halfway educated society, those kind of articles should result in the idiot writing it being summarily fired for gross incompetence and the paper/journal posting it being discredited forever. But in our world, the clown who wrote that nonsense (Elias Groll, a Harvard graduate and – listen to this – a specialist of “cyberspace and its conflicts and controversies” (sic)) is a staff writer of the award-winning Foreign Policy magazine.

So what does it tell us, and future historians, when this kind of crap is written by a staff writer of an “award winning” media outlet? Does it not show that our society has now reached a stage in its decay (I can’t call that “development”) where lies become the norm? Not only are even grotesque and prima facie absurd lies accepted, they are expected (if only because they reinforce the current ideological Zeitgeist. The result? Our society is now packed with first, zombified ideological drones who actually believe any type of officially proclaimed of nonsense and, second, by cowards who lack the basic courage to denounce even that which they themselves know to be false.

Lies, however ridiculous and self-evidently stupid, have become the main ingredient of the modern political discourse. Everybody knows this and nobody cares. When challenged on this, the typical defense used is always the same: “you are the only person saying this – I sure ever heard this before!”.

Willful ignorance as a universal cop-out

We all know the type. You tell somebody that his/her theory makes absolutely no sense or is not supported by facts and the reply you get is some vaguely worded refusal to engage in an disputation. Initially, you might be tempted to believe that, indeed, your interlocutor is not too bright and not too well read, but eventually you realize that there is something very different happening: the modern man actually makes a very determined effort not to be capable of logical thought and not to be informed of the basic facts of the case. And what is true for specific individuals is even more true of our society as a whole. Let’s take one simple example: Operation Gladio:

“Gladio” is really an open secret by now. Excellent books and videos have been written about this and even the BBC has made a two and a half hour long video about it. There is even an entire website dedicated to the story of this huge, continent-wide, terrorist organization specializing in false flag operations. That’s right: a NATO-run terrorist network in western Europe involved in false flag massacres like the infamous Bologna train station bombing. No, not the Soviet KGB backing the Baader-Meinhof Red Army Faction or the Red Brigades in Italy. No, the USA and West European governments organizing, funding and operating a terrorist network directed at the people of Western, not Eastern, Europe. Yes, at their own people! In theory, everybody should know about this, the information is available everywhere, even on the hyper-politically correct Wikipedia. But, again, nobody cares.

The end of the Cold War was marked by a seemingly endless series of events which all provided a pretext for AngloZionist interventions (from the Markale massacres in Bosnia, to the Srebrenica “genocide”, to the Racak massacre Kosovo, to the “best” and biggest one of them all, 9/11 of course). Yet almost nobody wondered if the same people or, at least, the same kind of people who committed all the Gladio crimes might be involved. Quite the opposite: each one of these events was accompanied by a huge propaganda campaign mindlessly endorsing and even promoting the official narrative, even when it self-evidently made no sense whatsoever (like 2 aircraft burning down 3 steel towers). As for Gladio, it was conveniently “forgotten”.

There is a simple principle in psychology, including, and especially in criminal psychology which I would like to prominently restate here:

The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior

Every criminalist knows that and this is why criminal investigators place so much importance on the “modus operandi”, i.e. the particular way or method a suspect or a criminal chooses in the course of the execution of his/her crimes. That is also something which everybody knows. So let’s summarize this in a simple thesis:

Western regimes have a long and well-established track record of regularly executing bloody false-flag operations in pursuit of political objectives, especially those providing them with a pretext to justify an illegal military aggression.

Frankly, I submit that the thesis above is really established not only by a preponderance of evidence but beyond a reasonable doubt. Right?

Maybe. But that is also completely irrelevant because nobody gives a damn! Not the reporters who lie for a living nor, even less so, the brainwashed zombies who read their nonsense and take it seriously. The CIA tried to kill Fidel Castro over 600 times – who cares?! All we know is that the good folks at Langley would never, ever, kill a Russian in the UK, out of respect for international law, probably…

That willful ignorance easily defeats history, facts or logic.

Here is a simple question a journalist could ask: “would the type of people who had no problems blowing up an large train station, or bringing down three buildings in downtown New York, have any hesitation in using a goofy method to try kill a useless Russian ex-spy if that could justify further hostile actions against a country which they desperately need to demonize to justify and preserve the current AngloZionist world order?”. The answer I think is self-evident. The question shall therefore not be asked. Instead, soy-boys from Foreign Policy mag will tell us about how the Russians use exotic flowers to kill high visibility opponents whose death would serve no conceivable political goal.

Hypocrisy as a core attribute of the modern man

Willful ignorance is important, of course, but it is not enough. For one thing, being ignorant, while useful to dismiss a fact-based and/or logical argument, is not something useful to establish your moral superiority or the legality of your actions. Empire requires much more than just obedience from its subject: what is also absolutely indispensable is a very strong sense of superiority which can be relied upon when committing a hostile action against the other guy. And nothing is as solid a foundation for a sense of superiority than the unapologetic reliance on brazen hypocrisy. Let’s take a fresh example: the latest US threats to attack Syria (again).

Irrespective of the fact that the USA themselves have certified Syria free of chemical weapons and irrespective of the fact that US officials are still saying that they have no evidence that the Syrian government was involved in any chemical attack on Khan Shaykhun, the USA is now preparing to strike Syria again in “response” to future chemical attacks! Yes, you read that right. The AngloZionists are now announcing their false flags in advance! In fact, by the time this analysis is published the attack will probably already have occurred. The “best” part of this all is that Nikki Haley has now announced to the UN Security Council that the US will act without any UN Security Councilapproval. What the USA is declaring is this: “we reserve the right to violate international law at any time and for any reason we deem sufficient”. In the very same statement, Nikki Haley also called the Syrian government an “outlaw regime”. This is not a joke, check it out for yourself. The reaction in “democratic” Europe: declaring that *Russia* (not the US) is a rogue state. QED.

This entire circus is only made possible by the fact that the western elites have all turned into “great supine protoplasmic invertebrate jellies” (to use the wonderful words of Boris Johnson) and that absolutely nobody has the courage, or decency, to call all this what it really is: an obscene display of total hypocrisy and wholesale violation of all norms of international law. The French philosopher Alain Soral is quite right when he says that modern “journalists are either unemployed or prostitutes” (he spoke about the French media – un journaliste français c’est soit une pute soit un chômeur – but this fully applies to all the western media). Except that I would extend it to the entire Western Establishment.

I would further argue that foreign aggression and hypocrisy have become the two essential pillars for the survival of the AngloZionist empire: the first one being an economic and political imperative, the 2nd one being the prerequisite for the public justification of the first one. But sometimes even that is not enough, especially when the lies are self-evidently absurd. Then the final, quasi-miraculous element is always brought in: hysterics.

Hysteria as the highest form of (pseudo-)liberalism

I don’t particularly care for the distinction usually made between liberals and conservatives, at least not unless the context and these terms is carefully and accurately defined. I certainly don’t place myself on that continuum nor do find it analytically helpful.

The theoretical meaning of these concepts is, however, quite different from what is mostly understood under these labels, especially when people use them to identify themselves. That is to say that while I am not at all sure that those who think of themselves as, say, liberals are in any way truly liberal, I do think that people who would identify themselves as “liberals” often (mostly?) share a number of characteristics, the foremost of which is a very strong propensity to function at, and engage in, an hysterical mode of discourse and action.

The Google definition of hysteria is “exaggerated or uncontrollable emotion or excitement, especially among a group of people (…) whose symptoms include conversion of psychological stress into physical symptoms (somatization), selective amnesia, shallow volatile emotions, and overdramatic or attention-seeking behavior”. Is that not a perfect description of US politicians, especially the (putatively) “liberal” ones? Just think of the way US Democrats have capitalized on such (non-)issues as “Russian interference” (externally) or “gun control” (internally) and you will see that the so-called “liberals” never get off a high-emotional pitch. The best example of all, really, is their reaction to the election of Donald Trump instead of their cult-leader Hillary: it has been over a year since Trump has been elected and yet the liberal ziomedia and its consumers are still in full-blown hysteria mode (with “pussyhats”, “sky-screams” and all). In a conversation you can literally drown such a liberal with facts, statistics, expert testimonies, etc. and achieve absolutely no result whatsoever because the liberal lives in an ideological comfort zone which he/she is categorically unwilling and, in fact, unable, to abandon, even temporarily. This is what makes liberals such a *perfect* audience for false-flag operations: they simply won’t process the narrative presented to them in a logical manner but will immediately react to it in a strongly emotional manner, usually with the urge to immediately “do something”.

That “do something” is usually expressed in the application of violence (externally) and the imposition of bans/restrictions/regulations (internally). You can try to explain to that liberal that the very last thing the Russians would ever want to do is to use a stupid method to try to kill a person who is of absolutely no interest to them, or to explain to that liberal that the very last thing the Syrian government would ever do in the course of its successful liberation of its national territory from “good terrorists” would be to use chemical weapons of any kind – but you would never achieve anything: Trump must be impeached, the Russians sanctioned and the Syrians bombed, end of argument.

I am quite aware that there are a lot of self-described “conservatives” who have fully joined this chorus of hysterical liberals in all their demands, but these “conservatives” are not only acting out of character, they are simply caving in to the social pressure of the day, being the “great supine protoplasmic invertebrate jellies” mentioned above. Again, I am not discussing real liberals or real conservatives here (regardless of what these terms really mean), I am talking about those who, for whatever reason, chose to place that label upon themselves even if they personally have only a very vague idea of what this label is supposed to mean.

So there we have it: an Empire built (and maintained) on lies, accepted on the basis ignorance, justified by hypocrisy and energized by hysterics. This is what the “Western world” stands for nowadays. And while there is definitely a vocal minority of “resisters” (from the Left and the Right – also two categories I don’t find analytically helpful – and from many other schools of political thought), the sad reality is that the vast majority of people around us accept this and see no reason to denounce it, nevermind doing something about it. That is why “they” got away with 9/11 and why “they” will continue to get away with future false-flags because the people lied to, realize, at least on some level, that they are being lied to and yet they simply don’t care. Truly, the Orwellian slogans of 1984 “war is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength” perfectly fit our world. However, when dealing with the proverbial Russian bear, there is one lesson of history which western leaders really should never forget and which they should also turn into a slogan: when dealing with a bear, hubris is suicidal.

The Saker

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During the political chaos of the last year, one American institution has emerged stronger than ever. As its revenues soared, Amazon’s stock price has steadily ascended, cresting $1,500 and beyond. Jeff Bezos, the company’s founder and CEO, has experienced what The New York Times described as “what could be the most rapid personal-wealth surge in history.” His net worth hovers somewhere around $130 billion. His 400,000 acres in land holdings — much of it in west Texas, where Blue Origin, his space company, is based — makes him the 28th largest landowner in the country, according to the magazine The Land Report. By any standard, Bezos is one of the richest people to have ever lived, while Amazon exerts an impossible-to-overstate influence on a range of fields, from retail to publishing to cloud computing. As part of the highly touted HQ2 contest, twenty North American cities — finalists winnowed from a list of hundreds of applicants — are falling over themselves to offer tax breaks and other inducements so that Amazon will choose their municipality for its next headquarters. The power of Bezos and Amazon seems unbridled.

Reckoning with Bezos’s influence means approaching Amazon and its “notoriously confrontational” culture, as Brad Stone described it in The Everything Store, with a critical eye. Paging through Stone’s 2013 book on the e-commerce giant and its founder, and watching the many Bezos interviews available on YouTube, yields a picture of a smart, cunning, singularly driven executive with total confidence in his vision. Amazon is run on lean budgets, almost like a startup, in an atmosphere of high expectations and continual performance assessments that cause some employees to “live in perpetual fear.” Stone explains that if you’re seeking the source of this tense, high-achieving environment, you should look to the founder: “All of this comes from Bezos himself. Amazon’s values are his business principles, molded through two decades of surviving in the thin atmosphere of low-profit margins and fierce skepticism from the outside world.”

Indeed, it’s almost impossible to disentangle Bezos-the-man from Amazon itself. The company runs on his mantras, known internally as “Jeffisms” and presented to the public, on Amazon’s website, as a list of 14 principles, like “Customer Obsession,” “Bias for Action,” and “Have Backbone; Disagree and Commit.” Customer obsession may be the most important of this bunch. In practice, it translates, as Bezos noted in a recent conference appearance, with three elements: low prices, convenient shipping, and unlimited selection. But it also has a metaphysical character, undergirding Bezos’s own sense of what Amazon should be: it exists to satisfy the whims of its customers, to make retail cheap and frictionless.

For customers, this might seem like a late capitalist fever dream — just say what you want and your Alexa will bring it to you — but for the hundreds of thousands of people who work in Amazon’s fulfillment centers and deliver its packages, it means something far more menacing. Tales are legion of the immiserated state of Amazon’s blue-collar workforce, who, it’s widely acknowledged, exist as a kind of stopgap, to be eventually replaced by machines. In the meantime, workers are expected to act like machines, as software guides them almost inch-by-inch through Amazon’s warehouses, commanding them to pluck objects from their shelves and send them onto the next step in the shipping queue. (As if this pitiless surveillance were not enough, not long ago, Amazon filed a patent for a device that tracks the hand movements of warehouse workers.)

The condition of Amazon’s warehouse workers stands in remarkable contrast to the treatment afforded to its customers. In placing their desires first and foremost, Bezos pleads a kind of humanitarian intent toward his customers: he wants the humble (paying) masses to get whatever they want. Who could oppose this? With its infinite reach and hundreds of billions in revenue, what’s good for Amazon must be good for America. In his campaign for HQ2, Bezos has promised to bring 50,000 well-paying high tech jobs to a metropolis near you. Little mention is made of Amazon’s far larger reserve army of temporary warehouse workers or that the company’s fulfillment centers — as these enormous facilities are termed — tend to drive down wages and don’t bring the permanent, decently paying jobs needed in blighted areas. Rather than strengthen communities and fill municipal coffers, Amazon’s new headquarters, like its fulfillment centers, will stretch local services and boost competition for housing. Customers may benefit from a few cents saved here and there, but the public will not.

It remains unclear whether Bezos recognizes the vast disconnect between the well-being of his customers, those who serve them, and their larger communities. The CEO is no stranger to public appearances but tends to be questioned by favorable interlocutors (his brother Mark feted him on-stage at one recent ideas festival). Self-doubt, much less healthy skepticism, doesn’t seem to be part of Bezos’s mental toolkit. Since the company’s early days, when all employees helped package customer orders, Bezos has expected unstinting enthusiasm for the Amazon mission. Early employees Susan and Eric Benson told Stone nobody would even take a weekend off. Eric also explained that “there were deadlines and death marches.” As Bezos told one all-hands meeting, “You should wake up worried, terrified every morning” about pleasing customers.

Bezos’s temper isn’t as explosive as some of his contemporaries, but he is known for pushing employees beyond their limits. As one anonymous employee told Stone, “If you’re not good, Jeff will chew you up and spit you out. And if you’re good, he will jump on your back and ride you into the ground.” For this behavior, he, like his fellow industry moguls, is feted as a savvy executive who treats workers as “expendable resources” while emphasizing hyper-rational thinking, efficiency, and the promotion of the company’s performance at all costs.

Advancing Amazon’s interests has meant, since day one, having a skeptical attitude toward taxation. Simply put, the company has a long history of tax evasion; it guided much of its early history, including the placement of fulfillment centers, during a period when the company was still years away from making profits. While Amazon has since come to agreements with many states about paying sales tax, Bezos has long viewed it as an unnecessary tariff. “We’re not actually benefiting from any services that those states provide locally,” he said during a 2008 shareholders meeting, “so it’s not fair that we should be obligated to be their tax collection agent.” Of course, Amazon’s fulfillment centers — the company’s lifeblood and circulatory network — depend on electricity, roads, and other essential services underwritten by sales tax. And its competitors, from Walmart to local small businesses, both collect sales tax and rely on the services it helps furnish.

But all this, perhaps, is to be expected. A billionaire’s relationship with taxes is about that of a vampire’s with daylight. And now that Bezos has won the game of life, he has an opportunity to dispense with his fortune in ritualistic fashion, donating it to a range of civically minded nonprofits — tax-free, naturally — and earning the plaudits of an admiring public. Like fellow billionaires Zuckerberg, Gates, and Buffett, it is time for Bezos to prostrate himself and claim that years of cutthroat capitalism were all leading to this moment where he might shovel his billions into the coal furnace of philanthropy and emerge cleansed. Or at least, that’s the comforting narrative arc that’s been devised for today’s billionaires, particularly in tech.

In truth, Jeff Bezos has shown little interest in putting his billions toward the common good. (If he had, perhaps paying taxes would have been a good starting point.) He has repeatedly expressed an intention to help save the world but claims, with a tech mogul’s typical messianism, that he will do it through building great companies. Obsessed with rockets and space since he was a child, Bezos sees Blue Origin, his rocketry firm, as the key to cementing his legacy. As he’s explained, “our vision is millions of people living and working in space.” He believes that it’s only by getting off the planet that we can save this one. “We need to go into space if we want to continue to have a growing civilization.” According to Bezos’s plan, all heavy industry will one day move into space, leaving Earth with a pristine environment. While he is working, like Elon Musk, to create reusable rockets, Bezos disagrees with the notion that humanity’s future will be on Mars or some other planet. “I don’t like the Plan B idea, that we want to go into space to have some sort of backup planet,” he said. “Believe me, this is the best planet. There is no doubt: this is the one you want to protect, This is the jewel.”

That Bezos will look to space, with its futuristic time horizon, is consistent with his character. He has frequently emphasized long-term thinking, and it has been credited with his stewardship of Amazon through years of losses and skeptical analyst reports. Whereas other companies think quarter by quarter, Bezos says, he is planning years ahead. One of his most famous projects is an investment in a strange, complex clock meant to last 10,000 years, which is being built on Bezos’s property in Texas. The clock, devised in part by Stewart Brand, a kind of counter-cultural guru for tech elites, is meant to be nothing more than a symbol emphasizing long-term thinking.

Yet if Bezos is obsessed with the long-term — not surprising, perhaps, in a field where some of his contemporaries are actually researching how to live forever — he can occasionally show curiosity in the here-and-now. Last summer, Bezos turned to Twitter to solicit suggestions for charity work, explaining that he’d like to see results “at the intersection of urgent need and lasting impact.” It was a rare public expression of philanthropic interest for the world’s richest man, and he received thousands of responses about public health, refugees, climate change, and other issues. Bezos’s previous contributions to charity had been relatively paltry, amounting to about $100 million to Princeton (Bezos’s alma mater), a museum in Seattle, and other entities. Since his public solicitation, Bezos has remained fairly quiet, save a $33 million gift to a college fund for Dreamers. (The Bezos Family Foundation, which Jeff Bezos sits on the board of, is largely funded and run by Bezos’s parents.)

Bezos’s Dreamers donation harkens back to when Mark Zuckerberg, in September 2010, donated $100 million to Newark’s school system. The gift was in many ways generous and extravagant while doing little to tackle underlying structural issues. Much of Zuckerberg’s donation, which amounted to about a tenth of the school system’s annual budget, went to expensive educational consultants and charter schools. As Dale Russakoff later wrote in The New Yorker, “decades of research have shown that experiences at home and in neighborhoods have far more influence on children’s academic achievement than classroom instruction,” so Zuckerberg would have helped Newark’s students more by lobbying for universal health care, publicly funded daycare, infrastructure investment, or an end to the drug war. Or he might have directly contributed to health clinics, daycare centers, food banks, and civil rights activists.

But these ideas — raising taxes, viewing the government as responsible to its people, engaging in overtly partisan issues — violate the modern plutocrat’s creed. Today’s moguls are charitable but “results-driven.” They speak of leaning in but not, in any meaningful sense, of social justice. Believing existing political institutions to be clumsy and inefficient, they dispense vast sums of money toward “innovative” solutions that invariably devolve public services into private companies (Amazon, for instance, sponsors a homeless shelter in Seattle). What they cannot abide, or simply don’t know, is that many of the answers to our problems were discovered by post-war social democracies seventy-plus years ago: rights to public transport, education, healthcare, housing, and employment.

Perhaps it’s mere coincidence that those countries, while prosperous, are not home to people like Jeff Bezos. They have not been blessed, to the extent, we are in the U.S., with the dizzying highs and lows of unfettered capitalism. But if you view private wealth and the public good as tradeoffs, then Bezos’s $130 billion fortune is an obscenity. Having built his business by robbing the government till, Bezos will be twice praised for his entrepreneurial brio and for his magnanimity in giving away, well, whatever he decides to. Like 19th-century robber barons, today’s tech titans atone their excesses by offering handouts to a public torn between admiration and resentment, between capitalist striving and the daily grind of precarity. But having grown up in an era in which our institutions seem rickety at best, in which government has failed time and again to maintain the trust of its constituents, our economic overlords might be excused for not creating libraries and universities, as Vanderbilt, Carnegie, and others did. Amidst the dubious triumph of neoliberalism, the welfare state was not the only casualty — a commitment to building and maintaining the public sphere was also lost. A broken society has forgotten how to repair itself. This generalized sense of crisis, it seems, has yet to provoke the political consciousness of the ultra-rich. Instead, Bezos and company offer only fantasies of space travel, along with rote tales of the greed and ruthlessness that follow their achievements.

The Billionaire Philanthropist During the political chaos of the last year, one American institution has emerged stronger than ever. As its revenues soared, Amazon’s stock price has steadily ascended, cresting $1,500 and beyond.