#Frank's recruitment efforts are fascinating | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tamyrawilliams · 4 years ago

Photo

After everything that happened on the day/night of the gloom, Tamyra invites @aureliemarchand and @akbartheolder along to an attempt to get to the South Beach and get some answers. The expedition turns south quickly, though, (pun intended), and Tamyra’s desperation has a price.

The determination to get to the South Beach was just as strong inside Tamyra right now as it usually was to get out of the island. She knew, however, that getting to the South Beach wasn't going to be a joy ride. The water was without a doubt the safest way and after dragging a boat across half the island and recruitment done, Tamyra was leading Aurélie and Emre towards the fishing boat she deemed the best chance for this endeavor.

"I figured somebody could paddle, somebody could use the water to help with speed." There was a reason she asked two other fellow water attuned members. "We could take turns, one resting at all times so we can keep our energy. And then once we arrive to the other shore, we figure out the rest."

________

"Wasn't this yours and Frank's boat-tingie - " Emre started to ask, but then shook his head. "Actually never mind, I don't really care." He really shouldn't have agreed to this expedition to begin with, considering all the work that had to be done after all that fog and mess and...the rest of it. But by that same token, he had made promises to Tamyra - and the hope of getting Iyaz off the island was too tempting, wooed as Emre was by Tam's determination.

The fact that Aurélie was a part of this only gave Emre further incentive. It was so good to see everything again clearly, without fog and dark. He eyed Aurélie, trying to gauge her reasons for joining Tamyra on this goose chase.

“Not really sure I'd be much good at using water for speed. Still haven't gotten the hang of all that water...moving." Emre reached for one of the oars. "I'll go with this, yeah. I'm good at brute strength."

________

It’s simple: she needs something to do. After weeks of being holed up thanks to head injury followed by days clouded by grief for one of her oldest friends, Aurélie cannot sit still anymore. What’s more, she wants answers. If this is her home, the place she has accepted as her life, she needs to learn the ins and outs of living in it. What she wants, really, is answers: for the fog, for the memories she’d been faced to witness again. For Matthew.

But she’ll take the South Beach for now.

“You mean to tell me that you dragged a fishing boat all this way?” Aurélie has been quiet, mostly, mulling over her stormy feelings and the likely inevitable reactions she’ll receive for taking part of this scheme. But something impressed creeps into her tone now. “It is a sound plan,” she shrugs in response to Tamyra’s orders of operation. “But I do think perhaps some more of the rest should be figured out, hm? Like what you intend to do on the South Beach when we reach it.” If they reach it.

________

"Yeah, I did," Tamyra nodded at Aurélie's question. "I had to work off some... frustrations." That fateful day was a lot for her, and despite her hiding away on the jag, she was not at all back to normal or back to alright, and the boat presented the perfect opportunity to not have to think about it, just curse her way here with the boat.

"Alright, so Emre, you'll be on oar duty, we will handle the water moving," Tamyra nodded, ready to get going right away when Aurélie suggested some more planning should be done. "I would love to, Rélie. Trust me, I would be the happiest if we could prepare for everything, but we have no idea what awaits us there, how can we prepare for that? There could be people there, or just a completely empty beach." There had to be a catch, if it was the latter, she was sure of that, but that wasn't really the point now.

"Unless you have something you think we can do? Either of you, really. Any ideas or suggestions are welcomed." Part of the reason she asked for their help was the fact that both of them were comfortable in the water and got things done, but also because they were such different people and had such different way of thinking. Maybe they could think of something she couldn't.

________

Emre shook his head at Tamyra's question. "No. Not much in the mood for wowing anyone with my usual brilliance," he stated mildly, glancing between the two women. The both of them so much older than him, on this island for so much longer. One aftereffect of Matthew's demise, was that Emre was humbled. He intimately knew death and the unpredictability thereof - not just in the outside world, but on the island.

But...Matthew.

His murder was a strong reminder of the chaotic nature of death. Age and experience meant as much as it did in the outside world: nothing. Everyone could be killed, even these two ladies here with him. He motioned for them to hop into the boat. He'd push it into the waves and jump in after.

"So long as we all have weapons, yeah." Emre pat his cutlass. "Other than water-magic, since you lot'll be knackered after sailing, and I'm only partially useful in the magic department innit." He smiled wanly at Aurélie. "I miss guns."

________

No plan, no prospects, no ideas. Aurélie feels her lips press together, gaze darting back in the direction from whence they’d come. “It is for the best that none of us can drown.” Aurélie simply concludes, trying to ignore her gut feeling to turn back. This is helpful. This could be a boost in morale, which everyone on the island is in dire need of nowadays.

Or it could be their demise.

After raking her hand back through her hair, Aurélie sighs and shifts her bag of supplies between shoulders and boards the boat, prompted by Emre’s gesture. She’s quiet, mulling — it’s been a pattern over the last couple of weeks. There’s little that feels worth saying. Still, Aurélie manages a wry smile at Emre’s comment, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, her short nod.

Aurélie sits once they’ve pushed off — being closer to the water has always been best for her — and keeps her gaze on the island as they take to the sea. “We likely should not stray far from shore. Not so close as to run aground, bien sûr, but... for the sake of caution.” If there’s room for that here anymore. She tries to keep that thought at bay, curling her palm to shift the water and set them on a reliable course.

________

"My club is already in the boat." Might have not seemed too much, but a directed attack at the lower regions could do more harm than a lot of other weapons. "But I do hope it's not going to come that. I know, I know, it's hopefuly thinking but... we deserve a win, right?" It felt like all they did was lose these day without ever realizing they were even playing. And Matthew's death coming after a day like that one...

Tamyra shook her head and took a seat in the boat herself after Aurélie and while she took to directing the water, Tamyra watched and made sure they weren't running onto any rocks and help the other two navigate. "That sounds like a good plan. It's gonna take longer than straight there, but we want to actually get there." She looked over at Aurélie, "Tell me when you are getting tired and we can switch."

She turned back to the water, one hand in it herself just to feel the waves around them, give her some comfort. She wasn't in the best shape after everything, to say the least, but she doubted any of them were. "Were you guys... there? When they found him?" she asked, still watching the water.

________

'We deserve a win' sounded so American to Emre. Tamyra thought 'deserve' factored into things; though maybe she was being sardonic. Like preparing to fail, not hoping to win. Emre just gave her a smoky smile, curling and slow to dissipate.

"Oh, I can still deffo drown," Emre volunteered, not caring about admitting his own weaknesses. He was fascinated, watching Tamyra and Aurélie operatin together. Both very much A-type personalities, although Lielie was more subtle about it. Emre wouldn't annoy them by proclaiming it aloud, but he was a little thrilled to be included in this expedition. "But Tamzy's got me well learned on swimming, innit. Tops instructor, that one."

He winked at Aurélie, but his cheekiness faded when Tamyra asked that question. Matthew. Emre redoubled his efforts with the oars, acting too busy to say anything. Besides, he had the least to say. He only nodded and then after Aurélie spoke, he eventually added, "No one's come forward, no one wants to admit what they did. Either by accident or..." he glanced at Aurélie. "On purpose."

________

"I do not know that Meridium cares much for what we deserve." Snappish, perhaps, especially coming from a woman so resolute in staying here. But seeing your age-old friend's bloodied form lying on the sand will do that to anyone. Aurélie lets it rest, looking out at the horizon, away from the island at last.

Emre reminds her, however unintentionally, of his age – or lack thereof. Aurélie can't help her scolding look, though perhaps it should be directed more toward Tamyra, wrangling this young thing into an expedition such as this. "Hm." Aurélie simply says, not greeting the wink with her usual smile, plunging her hand into the water further and feeling the tide respond. They curve around an outcropping of rocks before she responds to the next part. "Yes. Many people were. Esther began to scream, and... people responded, je suppose."

Emre begins theorizing and Aurélie exhales noisily. She's not sure what to make of the theories – like Seamus (for once), she wants answers. But she's also been accompanied by Joaquin, who has been made all the more troubled by the bubbling accusations. "I just hope that Matthew is at peace." She finally offers, then stands suddenly, pointing out, back toward the shore, where there's a flurry of movement. She squints against the sun. "What is that?"

________

Esther being the one who found Matthew felt the cruelest twist of fate towards the woman there could be. Part of Tamyra was extremely glad she wasn't there, didn't hear the cries and wasn't there for the chaos that ensued. It was still shocking to find out about it the way she did, but hearing Esther's painful scream... Yeah, she could live without that one haunting her.

"Yeah, hopefully he is at peace," Tamyra echoed Aurélie's words and didn't add that otherwise, they might actually meet him again one day. She absolutely did not want to meet a ghost Matthew, reliving his last memories. Though on the other hands, that might answer the most important question.

She didn't have time to dwell on it, though (probably for the better), because suddenly Aurélie was up and pointing towards the shore next to them and Tamyra whipped her head there. She couldn't see the movement anymore, but there was a set of rocks there now. "Those weren't there before," she said with a sinking feeling in her stomach. "I know we said that we need to keep close to the shorelines but maybe we should get a little further out. Just to make sure one doesn't suddenly appear right in front of us."

________

Aurélie's clipped answer spoke volumes about her feelings at the moment. Terse, still grieving in her own way about the First. Tamyra seemed a bit more distant to it all - bothered, but without Aurélie's quiet acidity. Anything Emre said at this point would feel inauthentic. He simply didn't have enough time spent with the Golden Trio, as either woman did.

"Think they'll find out?" Emre asked, still treading along the path of 'whodunit'. He didn't need closure personally, but he had a cool curiousity. Was solving the mystery a priority? Would there be any formal investigation? If the killer was identified, would there be any recourse? Questions that would only frustrate others, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

He twisted, to try and spot what the women noticed. "What? What're we looking at?" he asked. "Them rocks - what - earth magic?"

________

Emre is steadfast in his course, hypothetical inquiries that she, yet again, has no answers to. "I know that Seamus wants answers." Aurélie responds plainly, for once understanding the point of view of the man she's so often gone nose to nose with. "Will he find answers? That is not for me to say. Esther... I do not know how much she cares for such a thing. I have not asked." There's a pointed hint in that last part: you should refrain from asking as well.

Luckily, curiosity tucks her grief aside and Aurélie cranes her neck, putting her hand on her brow to block the sun. She's quiet for another moment, contemplative, then providing: "I do wonder about what Tomas' wife said. Of the jungle, and its changes. I have seen such things myself in there. But I wonder... does it ever seep out? The tendency for change?" And then, catching herself in the theories, she shrugs and sits back down. "Or perhaps you are right and it is just the work of the earth attuned."

Back to work. "Further out, then." Aurélie murmurs, nodding to Emre to guide the oars as she does the same for the tides. It takes some focus, enough for her to close her eyes. They remain closed as she poses a question: "Did you mention this to anyone besides the two of us, Tamyra? This... plan?" Without a plan. But she won't bother with that. It's something to do, at least.

________

Tamyra remained silent while Aurélie gave her assessment of the situation. She didn't talk to either of the two, so she couldn't tell how either of them were handling it, but she hoped that maybe whatever they'd find on the South Beach would be enough of a distraction from they felt right now. Or at least for Esther, she didn't really feel either way about Seamus.

All of which the appearing rocks made Tamyra forget about. A cold, worried chill ran down her spine as she stared at the rocks that weren't there for a few moments and then she was scouting the jungle on the shoreline and looking back to where they left off, but nothing. There was nobody visible she could see. "I've seen the jungle change once, not so long ago," Tamyra said thinking back to when she tried to help Frank not so long ago, "but I don't think anyone's ever really seen it happen outside of the jungle."

This time Tamyra herself helped with the water, wanting to get a good distance between their boat and those rocks. "No, I didn't tell anyone. And I didn't see anyone on the shorelines," not that that would mean anything, not if they were good. "You don't think anyone would actually-- try to stop us, do you?" Then again, nobody thought Matthew could die and here they were, so everything was out of the window now.

"Not that the island shifting around us is that much be..." A huge wave rocked their boat and Tamyra could have sworn something shifted, something grew under the water near them. "This is going to be a bumpy ride." They were far enough out now that Tamyra wasn't sure anyone else was and if the island was going to fight back... well, fuck the island, they would get to the South Beach either way. "I think we should try to speed up, too. The less time we spend on the water, the better."

________

How could someone who loved Matthew, not care? But Emre focused on rowing. "Like a bloody regatta, should've brought Yaz along," he muttered, pausing to drain a bottle of water.

"I've seen the jungle move too. During the jinn - erm, the ghosts." Emre mentioned. "And fog happened. So why wouldn't the whole island start shifting all sorts to fuc--" he was cut off when the boat jolted, the hull creaking ominously when the wave slapped it.

Emre twisted, gripping the side on the starboard stern. "Hold onto me," Emre instructed Aurélie, as Tamyra took over water-magic. He folded over and peered at the hull, running a hand on the surface to check its integrity. As he did so, his hand smacked hard against an underwater rock and Emre fell back into the boat, cussing.

"Fucking hell - " his little finger's nail was half-torn off. Emre sucked the blood off. "No - don't speed up, Tamz, no - big rocks'm right under us!" he called out to Tamyra urgently, where she was positioned at the bow like a ship's figurehead.

________

“Nom de Dieu,” Aurélie hisses through her teeth as the boat lurches over a wave, sending her moving with it. It’s something physical, at least. Less theorizing, more doing, which has always been more her speed.

So she nods diligently at Emre’s command, standing, planting her heels, and serving as an anchor. Or as much of one as she can be, considering Emre jerks suddenly back, sending them both tumbling.

Tamyra is talking about going full speed ahead, Emre is cussing, and Aurélie is blinking, feeling her gut tie in tighter knots at the realization that she’s hit her head. After blinking once, twice, she realizes: she’s still whole.

Back onto her feet, then. No more games. “Toward the horizon!” She barks then, holding her palms out but not sticking them in the water, hoping to avoid a bloody fate for her fingers whilst still changing the tides. “I did not realize the terrain, and if we are to avoid the rocks, deeper water—“ A horrible scraping noise cuts her off.

________

Emre's warning came just when Tamyra's hand hit a rock as well and she snatched her hand out of the water immediately, looking around and deeper into the water. They were in clear water not so long ago, and yet now they had rocks all around them, which had to be the island. There was no way it was somebody else doing it.

Well, fuck the island.

Aurélie was much better at controlling the water - she could do it without actually having to reach into it, but the best she could do without actually being in contact with it was forming recognizable shapes, which was not helpful in this situation at all, so Tamyra carefully lowered her hand again, only to the surface of the water this time so she could help Aurélie as much as she could.

A scraping voice stopped Aurélie and Tamyra snapped her head towards the other side of the boat where it was coming from. "Hold on for a moment, I can push us away and then we can continue," Tamyra shifted to the other side of the boat, but before she could reach the edge of the boat, there was another lurch and then another followed right after, this time they were bigger, and this time she couldn't actually keep her balance even though she tried grabbing for the side of the boat, and instead she was falling face first into the water --and the rock.

________

"Alright Lielie?" Emre asked, given the dazed look on her face - but it only lasted a second before she was up again, hands outstretched Water-magic, powerful and strong. Emre bit back his own suggestion: pull to a halt, bob towards the shore rather than further out to sea. If the boat was compromised then they should scuttle it, strengthen the hull before setting off again.

"Alright Tamz?" Emre said when she pulled her hand back. Emre stared to the shore, scanning the land. It all looked new - but of course it would, from this perspective. The jungle gave way to dense mangroves, trees pluming out of the water's edge, rocks sloping in between and out into the water in bumps and swells. And beyond that...Emre squinted. What was that ...?

The boat rocked again, and Emre turned just in time to see Tamyra toppling over the portside edge.

"TAMZ!!" Emre yelled and leapt for her. He only managed to grasp her calves, but she slipped out like a fish, water pulling her overboard. Emre grabbed an oar, stretching it out towards her. "Grab it!!" The water around her swirled with red - her blood. Emre grabbed for Tamyra, though it felt like the boat was falling apart under his feet.

"Liels we've got to land. I got her - I got Tam." Barely. He wasn't even sure if she was conscious, her face covered in blood.

________

If this day has proven anything, it's that they aren't sailors. Or perhaps even more so that the island does not intend for them to be. Aurélie has always stymied her superstitions in regards to Meridium. Though others theorize, she has simply tried to take things as they come in regard to the island.

But such things are not easy when the jungle transforms before your eyes. When ghosts greet you, taunt you, nearly drown you. When fog transforms your world. And now, when the island transforms itself, in front of their very eyes. Or maybe she just wasn't fast enough, didn't pay enough attention – whatever the cause, there is suddenly a dark form of rocks beneath them that Aurélie is sure she hadn't glimpsed earlier. But before she can do anything to address it, Tamyra is striding forward. Taking initiative, which Aurélie can't help but feel a flash of pride toward. That is until it goes south.

She's scrambling forward, hold on the tide lost as Emre tries to get a hold of Tamyra. "D'accord. Okay. You have her?" She wants – needs to hear it again, before she can focus on anything else. "Good. Good. Water, Emre, use water – it will clean it but also begin to heal, tu sais? Water to her face, gently." She's commanding, chopped and short, trying despite her instincts to keep her focus on the water. To guide them to a shuddering halt upon a sandbank – it may be temporary, once the tides come in, but it's something. "Ici, here, let me help."

As they hoist Tamyra onto solid ground, Aurélie can't help but think how sick she is of having blood on her hands. "Tamyra? Tamyra. Can you hear me?" All the while, she's cupping her palm – not to scoop up the water and deposit it herself, but to conjure small waves, depositing them upon her friend. Gentle. Healing, she hopes.

________

It was strange, the first few moments the pain didn't even register for her. Tamyra hit the water and there were the rocks under her somehow. She was dizzy and her sight was blurry and there was something... was that red floating around her? How was anything floating around her? Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was wrong--

And then finally the pain hit and it somehow snapped her out of her haze just enough so that she understood that she was in trouble. In trouble and in excrutiating pain on her face. And there was shouting around her, though she couldn't distinguish the voices around her. She wasn't sure if she intentionally grabbed onto the oar or if it was by accident, but she certainly wasn't aware of it happening, just that somebody was hoisting out of the water and there had to be something wrong with her face because it kept burning, burning, burning.

She was aware of the energy around her, even recognized Emre as he was trying to help her, and then after who knows how long, Aurélie appeared in front of her blurry vision as well, both of them scooping water onto her face and that's when she realized that she got hurt on her face. On her face. Weirdly she wasn't panicking until then, but she certainly started panicking now.

"I can-- I can hear you, yeah," she croaked belatedly at the question. "I can fix this. I can-- I can fix it, and then we can go on," she added, her mom's voice ringing in her ears as she told Tamyra that she couldn't fix it anymore. She could, though, she could. She just needed to focus. Which somehow in the mids of all the pain, she managed to pull herself together enough to focus on the source of the pain and the blood. If she could just focus and fix this, use the moving on the blood to fix her injury, they could continue on.

Instead of helping, however, all she managed to do was cause the blood to flow faster and make everything even worse.

________

Tamyra's face was sheeted with red - dark and juicy like a ripe jeweled fruit. If the situation wasn't so alarming and dire, Emre might've even admired the sight of her, in a perverse, ghoulish way. She was stunning, even now. Aurélie managed to scuttle the boat, and just in time. As Emre lifted Tamyra out, the poor hull seemed to sigh behind him. Emre didn't look back; he carefully got Tamyra onto the sand, and let Aurélie take over.

Lielie knew what to do, she knew how to look after Tamyra. Emre turned his attention back to the boat, dragging it to shore it better, so it wouldn't get carried off in pieces by the rough tide. He could see the ocean rocks well from this vantage point - or maybe the rocks had grown out of the water, like warning spikes. Daring them to return. See what happened if they tried to do something the island did not want them to do.

Emre then inspected the boat itself. Part of the bottom on the starboard had been scraped of, splintered and close to shattering under one more buffet; the portside still held, but the ropes were shredded. Emre realized then: Aurélie hadn't just been parting the sea and changing the currents, she prevented water from breaching the hull as well. Magnificent and multi-purpose...but only enough to get them back to shore. There was no way they could return to sea in this vessel.

He grabbed what supplies he could from the boat, and returned to the two women. Tamyra's injury washed and clean but...the healing? Emre made eye contact with Aurélie, a silent communication: This won't heal properly.

"We're going to have to walk back north. Boat's done. And ocean won't have us, yeah. It's made its stance pretty fucking clear."

________

"No one is asking you to fix anything – arrête ça, Tamyra, stop that!" Aurélie orders as the younger woman insists that she has the solutions. "You can fix it by staying still–" She's barking with less care than she usually manages, but this isn't the time for grace. Especially not when the blood begins pouring all the faster thanks to Tamyra's conjuring.

After giving a firm smack of Tamyra's hand to ward it away (again, not so graceful, but necessary), Aurélie tries to get a handle on things. "Do not make a scene of this," she commands, arguably unnecessarily, toward Emre before peeling her shirt off and using it to keep pressure on the wound on Tamyra's face. Tugging her bra strap up on her shoulder leaves a smear of blood behind on Aurélie's tanned skin, and she swallows hard. The glance she shares with Emre then holds one easily interpreted meaning: This won't heal properly.

So after taking a shuddering breath to redeem her typical level of maternal care, Aurélie maintains the pressure on Tamyra's wound and murmurs with gentleness: "There will be no going on. I will not. Emre will not." She doesn't even glance at him to confirm. He'll agree, if asked. Since it came from her. "You should not. It is over, mon amie. I am sorry, but it is done. We must get you home." And perhaps Tamyra will even refute that, the notion that Meridium is home, but Aurélie has no time for such technicalities.

Instead, she removes the now stained shirt from Tamyra's wound and blesses it once more with the water. "This is no place to heal. Come, now. It is time to go home." And then she nods to Emre, indicating that he should get under one of Tamyra's shoulders. They'll get her back there. One way or another.

________

If Tamyra was in better shape, she would have argued back with Aurélie, but her attempts to "fix it" only drained her of her energy and made her feel even woozier in the head. Everything was red and hurt and spinning. And yet she still tried, still had to try. "Pl--please, no, I can rest. And then we can con-- we can go." There was absolutely no way that could have happened, though, not like this, no matter how much Tamyra was trying to fight it.

She didn't realize what Emre was doing in scouting out the area and assessing the boat, or Aurélie using her shirt to put pressure on her wound, she just felt the press of something on her face and then she heard Aurélie's refusal again to go on. The woman's last words, one specific word exactly - home -, was what really set her off, though. It was all jumbled up in her head at that point, but she could understand that one word crystal clear and she could feel her tears burning as they started rolling down her cheek.

"I want to go home." Not the same home as Aurélie talked about, not at all. In her mind she could see her own house that was most likely not even hers anymore, and her parents and the streets of Los Angeles as she remembered and not here, not here, not here. This was supposed to work. Figure out the secrets of the island, then use it to get out. She was supposed to fix it all, she was supposed to get home.

She attempted to fight the two hoisting her up, but it was a pointless effort that took a lot more effort out of her than what actually showed outside for the other two. "Don't let-- p-- see me like this. Please."

________

It was disappointing. Not personally, not for himself, but Tamyra's convictions were addictively strong. For a few blessed moments while they were on the boat, all working together, Emre actually bought into the Yank 'we deserve a win' mantra. Like some sort of karmic tally, made off-balance by losing Matthew. They - Tamyra - deserved a reward for all her determination.

Now look what happened. It wouldn't be so sad, if she hadn't been so fucking determined. A heroine, the star of an epic journey-adventure film. Oscar-worthy performance, this. Her efforts punished.

She pleaded for home, like the girl in Oz, in that old film. "Water first," Emre said, unloading bottles from the supplies he toted. He gave one to Aurélie, and carefully tried to feed some to Tamyra. He drank as well. Then Emre did as Aurélie said (she was very right, in how loyal he'd become to her) and helped Tamyra up to standing.

"Alright, Lielie?" he asked her, as they began to carry Tamyra up the shore, northbound once more. He knew she was eyeing all the supplies he carried like a small camel, and he said, "Don't even think of it. Out of the three of us right now, I'm the strongest and youngest, yeah? Trust."

Tam pleaded something, and Emre frowned and looked at Aurélie as they slowly walked. "Don't let what see her like what? What's she on about? Tam, what you mean then?"

________

The water helps. Not just the water she lightly pours into Tamyra, but the sort that Emre hands to her, making Aurélie let out a steadying exhale. "Thank you." She murmurs, nodding at the instruction without inhibition, allowing Emre to tend to Tamyra for a moment as she gets her bearings together.

And then they get Tamyra up, on her feet. "Yes, that is right," Aurélie consoles. "Home. We will get your home now." Of course it doesn't add up, to Aurélie. Meridium is home – and besides, how could Tamyra possibly be still fawning over her days of celebrity at a time like this?

How little she knows.

But there's no time for fussing, though Aurélie contemplates it, realizing how much Emre is carrying. They've spent too much time together, she realizes almost bitterly as Emre reads her thoughts like an open book. "Well, if you need a rest, let me know." She murmurs, pressing the t-shirt to Tamyra's wound again instead of taking on the baggage.

Tamyra is murmuring something, pleading, and Aurélie wants to admonish her for her ego. But it may be more than that. A fear of a display of vulnerability rather than just vanity. So Aurélie turns to Emre. "She wishes not to be seen by... the population. In general, I think. Emre, your home – it is among the trees, is it not? Perhaps it will offer more concealed ground than the farm..." She doesn't know, of course, of those particular toils of the fog. And with another glance at Tamyra, it hardly matters, anyway. "No, no, ignore me. We have to get her to care. No matter who may see."

________

Tamyra didn't realize just how much she needed the water until Emre slowly started to feed it to her. But even swallowing was hard and her face was burning up from the pain from everywhere, really. It felt like everything hurt and it took so much energy to keep everything straight, to focus long enough to be able to even swallow those few sips of water that Emre gave her. "Thank-- you."

She was in and out, not really understanding what Emre and Aurélie were talking about while they were discussing who carried their resources and bags, she only understoof Aurélie pressing some kind of cloth against her face again, hissing as the pain stroke through her all over again. She wanted it to stop, she needed it to stop. If the pain could stop, she could convince them to turn around.

(Tamyra was so far gone at that point, she couldn't even fully grasp the seriousness of the situation, everything just jumbled together for her and she wished once, just once, things would go better, as planned on this hellhole of a place.)

She was eternally grateful that Aurélie understood what she meant, that she didn't want people to see her like this. (Both because of her vanity, but also because she had too much pride to let others see her in such a vulnerable situation.) "Yeah, other-- don't let others see me," she mumbled and tried to remember where Emre had his home set up. She wasn't sure if she's ever been to it, probably not. "No, no-- where are you-- taking me?"

________

"Yes, Mademoiselle," Emre replied, just shy of being cheeky to Aurélie. Considering the severity of their situation as Emre gauged it. All they had was a direction to go in: north. But other than that, Emre had no idea where they were, how far south they'd sailed. How bloody long was this bloody island, how far and wide did it go.

How did it reshape itself, was perhaps the better question.

So who knew what terrain they'd encounter on their way back 'home', as Aurélie kept calling it. "We might have to make camp, depending on how long it takes. And Tamzy's not looking too hot," Emre spoke over Tamyra's head, but ducked to get Tamyra's attention too. "Alright luv? Not gonna pass out, are we?"

Don't let others see her. Emre wasn't sure they could accomplish that, but at least they had a while before they encountered anyone. "We're taking you to your dressing room trailer, luv. Great bit of acting in the last shoot, but you took a bit of a tumble. Should've let the stunt double handle it. Allow that, yeah? We'll get it next time."

Emre looked over at Aurélie, giving her a nose-wrinkle. Let Tamyra have this, he figured.

________

It's a brilliant idea. One that will soothe Tamyra, anyway, as she's still fussing over where she's being taken. As if it matters, when the only thing that matters is that she gets to safety. But she persists, and so Aurélie looks to Emre with a flicker of admiration at his inventive persuasion.

The sort she quickly realizes she can't quite follow suit in. Hard to be acquainted with film lingo when you've only ever seen one. "Ah, yes, the... shooting will continue later. No need worry." She gives a grimacing look toward Emre, sure she bungled the language, but that's not a concern.

Not as Tamyra keeps bleeding and as a rustling sound catches Aurélie's eye. Her head snaps to the side, following the sound and catching a sight: a practical tunnel, right through the trees. So long that Aurélie must squint to see the end of it, and even then, she struggles... yet there seems to be light.

As if the island itself is making the path away from the South Beach far easier to trek than the one toward it.

With a dubious look toward Emre, but knowing they don't have much time to spare, Aurélie turns toward it. "Shall we?"

________

Emre's plan worked perfectly. As soon as he started talking about dressing room and acting and shooting, Tamyra's brain immediately jumped to the conclusion that she must be home. Must be working on a movie and everything else at the back of her mind was nothing more than a loud noise of a bad nightmare. Nothing real. None of it actually happening. Just the movie and the accident.

Her body sagged, some of the tension leaving her body. She felt like she could breathe again which made no sense to her, somebody would have to explain to her what kind of accident she had, but she felt lighter and that was good, right? That meant that her injury wasn't as bad as the pain felt.

"Did you-- did they get some good shots at least?" she asked, needing to make sure not all of the work (both hers and the rest of the crew's) was to waste. "We can continue in-- in a couple of hours. I just-- I need to sleep. I feel so tired." She was mumbling, barely audible already. "Tired and-- thirsty. Any of you have-- water?" She wasn't even sure who were helping her to her trailer. In her dream it was two people from the island, but that was just her imagination, so it must have been two crew members, right? She'd ask about it when she felt better.

________

It wouldn't be good, when Tamyra's haze cleared, and she made sense of what he'd done to trick her. But then Aurélie piled on the fibbing too, and Emre was wretchedly grateful to have her cosigning the fantasy. He still smarted inside, for hurting Madi, for fucking up Frank, tangled in lies. But if Aurélie joined in, then it was the right option to take, right?

Tamyra would be devastated afterwards, he was sure of it. But she'd be more devastated at Aurélie her old friend, than Emre the stupid newb. And Aurélie liked burdening herself with the responsibilities of others, so....right.

"Oh it were great, man. Really dramatic shot. No film wasted," Emre said, ignorant of the advent of digital film himself. "We'll just get the medic on you and you'll be right as rain, my luv. Director's still raving to the crew innit. That's what a good actor is, he said. That's Tamyra Williams. "

Pausing to fetch more water, Emre looked up at Aurélie's sharp intake of breath - the tunnel cutting through the trees, inviting them down a lit path, practically. Emre stared, fascinated, as he looked at Aurélie, then down the rocky stretch of beach.

"If we get swallowed up by the jungle, at least I'll be with you. And Tamzy. Pretty peng, that," Emre assessed, humour grim and deadpan. He fed Tamyra more water. "I'll be a bloody legend. Right. Off we go then."

In through the curved trees, Emre had never seen a straighter path. It was nerve-wracking how...accommodating the jungle was. "This island....have you always known that it thinks, Lielie?"

________

"What is the phrase?" Aurélie frowns, still looking at their path, its glimmering and golden light. "In English. Something foolish... do not look a gift horse in the... eye?" She shakes her head. Linguistics aren't the priority. "Whatever it may be: I think that is what we are experiencing now. So let us not waste time. Allons-y."

The path is straight and narrow and hard to waver from. All the harder to turn back. Aurélie realizes that as she looks over her shoulder at another rustling, a shift in the shadows. The leaves are closing behind them. Slowly, but markedly. There will be no more heading south for them. The island has made its decision.

"No." She answers plainly, frowning all the more now. "At least not so... evidently." Not liking how it feels, especially as she contemplates her own time trapped in a cave or thinks about the poor castaways and their inescapable years in the jungle, Aurélie sighs. "Meridium helps only when and where it wants to, I suppose."

Is she imagining, or is her comment responded to by a lilting breeze? No time for that. Not as they trek on, the path growing shorter and shorter as it closes behind them – and leads them directly to the farm, at the foot of the hill her house sits upon. "I cannot believe..." She murmurs, glancing back at the jungle only for a second. But the path is gone. There is no sign of it at all. And no time to waste.

"To your trailer, then, Ms. Williams." She says curtly, nodding her chin in the direction of her house. "There are some supplies there," she murmurs to Emre. "Left over from... well. And less eyes, I think."

It's only when they've gotten Tamyra to a final resting place upon the cot in Aurélie's house that she voices the nagging feeling: "Why is it always the two of us left to face these island mysteries, Emre?" A contemplation – frivolous, perhaps, so she adds on: "Could you get your brother? To tend to Tamyra."

________

Allons-y was such an Aurélie thing to say, but Aurélie only existed in her nightmares, did she not? Tamyra met her on the island but the island wasn't real, she was shooting. It was just a long, never ending nightmare that the head injury conjured up, right? It was all very muffled and confusing and she wasn't even sure if she heard it or if her brain made up the voice and Aurélie herself at this point.

She was in and out by that point, slowly slipping away while she was trying to hold on. Somebody told her to keep awake, she was sure of it, but was it in her head or was it one of the crew members? And why did it take this long to get to her trailers? It didn't really make sense but her head was also not really making connections too well at this point and maybe it would all clear out if the pain would just fucking stop. She needed the pain to stop.

She heard Aurélie tell her something about her trailer so they must have been close, and she intended to keep awake for that, but she used too much energy at that point, and she slipped into the quiet darkness of unconsciousness before Aurélie and Emre could reach Aurélie's hut with her.

________

"In the arse," Emre supplied helpfully, tone bland. If only so one day, he could hear Aurélie say 'do not look a gift horse in ze arse', and no other reason. He took his entertainment on the island where he could.

Carrying Tamyra along with Aurélie now that poor Tam had become docile, wasn't so difficult. In part because the island, it seemed, made it easy for them. Where Aurélie looked behind where they'd tread, Emre carried forward. He didn't want to see the way the jungle closed up behind him. It was enough to suspect, and see Lielie's reaction in his periphery.

They got up to Aurélie's beautiful little hut, and Tamyra was put to rest in the cot, like a swooning princess. "There we are, luv," he said softly, but by now, Tamyra had passed out. He glanced at Aurélie, and replied: "Maybe the island knows we do a good team". A subtle reminder that their threads were slowly but surely becoming intertwined. Tangled, even. Exactly what Emre hoped for.

With a nod, Emre hopped out of the hut, leaving the two women in the cool shelter as he went in search of his brother.

#emre #emre 006 #aurelie #aurelie 006 #interlude 3 #blood in the water #thank you guys for this #this was really really fun <3 #blood tw #injury tw

8 notes · View notes

militant-holy-knight · 5 years ago

Link

Antagonism between Greek- and Latin-speaking peoples can be traced back well before the Middle Ages, but historians have highlighted how the crusading era witnessed a significant deterioration in relations between the two, as best reflected in the often-hostile views between Eastern Byzantine Christians and Latin Christians from western Europe. While each side envisioned the other through stereotypes that were meant to diminish the other side culturally, one of the more curious charges made by Latin Christian authors against the Byzantines was that of the “effeminate Greek.”

Although relations between Eastern and Western Christians had deteriorated by the mid-eleventh century, resulting in a schism in 1054, things began to change in a significant way after the Turkish defeat of the Byzantines at Manzikert in 1071. In the years that immediately followed, the Turks pushed into Asia Minor, conquering Christian lands, and the Byzantines actively sought aid from Western Christians. By 1074, Pope Gregory VII even called for up to 50,000 Western knights to go to the aid of Eastern Christians, whom he described quite sympathetically as suffering under Turkish rule. Although Gregory’s efforts never came to pass, due to his dealing with political conflicts at home, the Byzantines continued to lobby both secular and religious Western rulers for military aid, describing their plight in emotionally charged terms that emphasized Christian unity and were meant to win Western sympathy. Such efforts proved successful during the reign of Pope Urban II, who, once he settled into his role in Rome, turned his attention to the East. In calling for the First Crusade in 1095 at Clermont, Urban sympathetically emphasized the suffering of Eastern Christians, apparently to great effect, in his efforts to recruit Western knights. Once the crusaders arrived in the East, high-minded ideals of Christian brotherhood and unity quickly dissipated, as both sides viewed each other as representatives of alien and inferior cultures. Indeed, as soon as the earliest crusaders arrived in Constantinople on their way to the Holy Land, disdain and mistrust on both sides dominated their relations with each other and continued throughout the crusading era, reaching a high point with the sack of Constantinople by the crusaders in 1204.

In the case of the crusaders’ view of the Byzantines, scholar Marc Carrier argued that Western views of Byzantine men as being effeminate resulted from the seeming incompatibility of Byzantine norms with the values of knights. Knightly masculinity in the twelfth century was grounded in Germanic traditions that held that men should be brave and loyal and demonstrate feats of martial prowess. Such an understanding of honor was believed to be at odds with Byzantine norms of honor, which were influenced by Roman traditions that alternatively emphasized intellectual feats and hierarchical structures. Thus, the reduced Byzantine emphasis on martial valor was seen by Western knights as not being representative of true masculinity. Additionally, a long tradition, dating back to the Romans and continuing in the medieval Latin West of criticizing Greek customs and cultural norms provided a foundation on which the criticisms of Westerners in the twelfth century rested. This was particularly the case in an age during which Westerners came to view Byzantine diplomacy with suspicion and mistrust.

One of the earliest representative examples in crusade sources of reference to the Byzantines as effeminate comes from the Gesta Francorum at Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum (The Deeds of the Franks and the Other Pilgrims to Jerusalem). The anonymous author of the Gesta, believed to have been a knight who participated in the First Crusade, re-created a conversation between Christian envoys and the Muslim ruler Kerbogha. At one point, Kerbogha boasted to the envoys of having previously conquered the lands they were fighting over from “an effeminate people,” by which he was referring to the Byzantines. It is theoretically possible that the author of the Gesta, who was present in the crusaders’ camps, could have been given this story from a Christian envoy who attended the meeting, but it is more likely, due to the transcript-like level of detail, that much of the conversation was simply imagined in ways that aligned with the pre-existing values and views of the crusaders.

Byzantine court ceremony was a significant target of the crusaders’ attacks on Byzantine masculinity, as it involved the use of eunuchs and flamboyant colors in clothing and decorations, which, when combined with the Western view of Byzantines as excessively lazy and decadent led to significant criticism. Many crusaders witnessed eunuchs for the first time as they entered Constantinople, finding the phenomenon both fascinating and disturbing. The French cleric Fulcher of Chartres claimed that Constantinople had as many as 20,000 eunuchs, and the English chronicler Roger of Hoveden was appalled that the Byzantines deprived so many men of their masculinity. The cleric Guibert of Nogent claimed that the Byzantine Emperor Alexius I even ordered that each family in the empire should have one of their sons castrated, which Guibert condemned as making their bodies “weak and effeminate, no longer fit for military service.”

Most significantly, crusaders believed that the Byzantines lacked courage in war, preferring to hire mercenaries and avoiding hand-to-hand combat, and thus gave them no credit for centuries of (often successful) warfare, conducted on the frontiers of the Byzantine Empire. This was a view a number of authors of crusades sources shared, including Robert the Monk, Albert of Aachen, Peter Tudebode, and the author of the Gesta Francorum, among others. But such a view was not held only by the crusaders, as even the well-known twelfth-century Jewish traveler, Benjamin of Tudela, noted that the Byzantines hired mercenaries because they “are not warlike, but are as women who have no strength to fight.”

#history #knights

70 notes · View notes

stevishabitat · 5 years ago

Text

During WWII, when Richard Feynman was recruited as one of the country’s most promising physicists to work on the Manhattan Project in a secret laboratory in Los Alamos, his young wife Arline was writing him love letters in code from her deathbed. While Arline was merely having fun with the challenge of bypassing the censors at the laboratory’s Intelligence Office, all across the country thousands of women were working as cryptographers for the government — women who would come to constitute more than half of America’s codebreaking force during the war. While Alan Turing was decrypting Nazi communication across the Atlantic, some eleven thousand women were breaking enemy code in America.

Their story, as heroic as that of the women who dressed and fought as men in the Civil War, as fascinating and untold as those of the “Harvard Computers” who revolutionized astronomy in the nineteenth century and the black women mathematicians who powered space exploration in the twentieth, is what Liza Mundy tells in Code Girls: The Untold Story of the American Women Code Breakers of World War II (public library).

A splendid writer and an impressive scholar, Mundy tracked down and interviewed more than twenty surviving “code girls,” trawled hundreds of boxes containing archival documents, and successfully petitioned for the declassification of more than a dozen oral histories. Out of these puzzle pieces she constructs a masterly portrait of the brilliant, unheralded women — women with names like Blanche and Edith and Dot — who were recruited into lives they never could have imagined, lives believed to have saved incalculable other lives by bringing the war to a sooner end.

Driven partly by patriotism, but mostly by pure love of that singular intersection of mathematics and language where cryptography lives, these “high grade” young women, as the military recruiters called them, came from all over the country and had only one essential thing in common — their answers to two seemingly strange questions. Mundy traces the inception of this female codebreaking force:

A handful of letters materialized in college mailboxes as early as November 1941. Ann White, a senior at Wellesley College in Massachusetts, received hers on a fall afternoon not long after leaving an exiled poet’s lecture on Spanish romanticism.

The letter was waiting when she returned to her dormitory for lunch. Opening it, she was astonished to see that it had been sent by Helen Dodson, a professor in Wellesley’s Astronomy Department. Miss Dodson was inviting her to a private interview in the observatory. Ann, a German major, had the sinking feeling she might be required to take an astronomy course in order to graduate. But a few days later, when Ann made her way along Wellesley’s Meadow Path and entered the observatory, a low domed building secluded on a hill far from the center of campus, she found that Helen Dodson had only two questions to ask her.

Did Ann White like crossword puzzles, and was she engaged to be married?

Elizabeth Colby, a Wellesley math major, received the same unexpected summons. So did Nan Westcott, a botany major; Edith Uhe (psychology); Gloria Bosetti (Italian); Blanche DePuy (Spanish); Bea Norton (history); and Ann White’s good friend Louise Wilde, an English major. In all, more than twenty Wellesley seniors received a secret invitation and gave the same replies. Yes, they liked crossword puzzles, and no, they were not on the brink of marriage.

Letters and clandestine questioning sessions spread across other campuses, particularly those known for strong scientific curricula — from Vassar, where astronomer Maria Mitchell paved the way for American women in science, to Mount Holyoke, the “castle of science” where Emily Dickinson composed her botanical herbarium. The young women who answered the odd questions correctly were summoned to secret meetings, where they learned they were being invited to work for the U.S. Navy as “cryptanalysts.” They were to take a training in codebreaking and, if they completed it successfully, would take jobs with the Navy after graduation, as civilians. They could tell no one about the appointment — not their parents, not their girlfriends, not their fiancés.

First, they had to solve a series of problem sets, which would be graded in Washington to determine if they made the cut to the next stage. Mundy writes:

And so the young women did their strange new homework. They learned which letters of the English language occur with the greatest frequency; which letters often travel together in pairs, like s and t; which travel in triplets, like est and ing and ive, or in packs of four, like tion. They studied terms like “route transposition” and “cipher alphabets” and “polyalphabetic substitution cipher.” They mastered the Vigen��re square, a method of disguising letters using a tabular method dating back to the Renaissance. They learned about things called the Playfair and Wheatstone ciphers. They pulled strips of paper through holes cut in cardboard. They strung quilts across their rooms so that roommates who had not been invited to take the secret course could not see what they were up to. They hid homework under desk blotters. They did not use the term “code breaking” outside the confines of the weekly meetings, not even to friends taking the same course.

These young women’s acumen, and their willingness to accept the cryptic invitations, would become America’s secret weapon in assembling a formidable wartime codebreaking operation in record time. They would also furnish a different model of genius — one more akin to the relational genius that makes a forest successful. Mundy writes:

Code breaking is far from a solitary endeavor, and in many ways it’s the opposite of genius. Or, rather: Genius itself is often a collective phenomenon. Success in code breaking depends on flashes of inspiration, yes, but it also depends on the careful maintaining of files, so that a coded message that has just arrived can be compared to a similar message that came in six months ago. Code breaking during World War II was a gigantic team effort. The war’s cryptanalytic achievements were what Frank Raven, a renowned naval code breaker from Yale who supervised a team of women, called “crew jobs.” These units were like giant brains; the people working in them were a living, breathing, shared memory. Codes are broken not by solitary individuals but by groups of people trading pieces of things they have learned and noticed and collected, little glittering bits of numbers and other useful items they have stored up in their heads like magpies, things they remember while looking over one another’s shoulders, pointing out patterns that turn out to be the key that unlocks the code.

1 note · View note

system76 · 5 years ago

Text

Winners of Superfan 3: Mission to Thelio

We had a lot of great submissions to Superfan 3 this year! There were a wide range of entries from technical to artistic, and on so many interesting topics, too. After much (much, much) deliberation, we are proud to present our winning entries:

Owen Rubel submitted his designs for a portable cloud, which would be about the size of a lunch box. But instead of a sandwich without the crust, his portable cloud is made of six Raspberry Pis on three power management boards. As to how it works, Owen says, “The software installed making it a cloud is merely docker swarm, with one node acting as the managing node and the other 5 acting as the worker nodes.”

Here’s what Owen’s awesome Portable Cloud would look like:

Robert Hansen submitted his open source NSRL RDS Lookup Service, which helps digital investigators narrow down which files are relevant to their investigation. His lookup service provides a dedicated server for investigators to compare cryptographic hashes of files against a list of hashes created by the National Software Reference Library. How cool is that?

Learn more about Robert’s NSRL RDS Lookup Service here!

Eric Mann loved his Oryx Pro so much, he decided to write a review! In it, he covers the unboxing experience, setup, and his first thoughts on his new machine. When Eric isn’t at the helm as a kickass web developer, he’s probably kicking back on top of a mountain.

You can read Eric’s review here!

J. Matthew Turner switched from GNOME to KDE Plasma, but soon felt a longing for the graphics toggle he once had. So he made one! With this tool, Pop!_OS users with KDE Plasma can toggle between Intel and NVIDIA graphics, just like on the default setup.

See his project’s GitHub page for more info!

Daniel Griffiths sent us multiple submissions, but the one that stood out most was the fact that he designed, built, and maintains Pop!_Planet, a primarily open source hub for all things Pop!_OS. Daniel and Pop!_Planet have been an integral part of the System76 community, and we’re excited to have him onboard our mission!

Eric Olle presented a fascinating lecture on a Trauma Directors Tool Kit, written in R. The toolkit is designed specifically for medical professionals to aid them in injury prevention, diagnosis, and analysis of trauma. It allows for better communication of data between trauma centers that have different closed databases and may be unable to communicate otherwise. It also allows the user to make adjustments to the data depending on local variables.

Watch the full presentation here!

Bill Zaumen submitted multiple entries as well. Our favorite was an application he created that can encrypt his information to a backup device using GNU Privacy Guard (GPG). As he explains in his email submission: “The drive contains a very large encrypted file containing a LUKS file system, a long (32 byte) LUKS key that was created with a random number generator and that is encrypted using GPG, plus a directory that can be used as the mount point.”

See the GitHub page for Bill’s application here!

Dan Negrey submitted a web app he built for him and his family to predict the outcomes of NFL games. The web app was built on Dan’s Gazelle using Rstats. Though he’s currently in 3rd place in predicting winners, he is very much a winner when it comes to Superfan!

Check out his NFL game picker here!

Phi sent us a transmission from an outpost at the edge of the universe. In it, he shows us a demonstration of Geometor’s Explorer Project, which uses algebra to determine the golden ratio between points on a blank canvas. From the project’s website, “The GEOMETOR Project is a collaborative effort to explore the architecture of all that is. Whether we look at the architecture of nature (matter) or the architecture of logic (mind) - a resonance emerges in the form of a simple proportion.”

youtube

Dan Thompson uses System76 hardware to create things like ornaments, throw blankets, wall art, and doormats for Uni-Art. Uni-Art is a website showcasing the art and designs of the famous architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, through various products available for wholesale.

Check out his cool artwork!

That wraps up our winners for Superfan 3: Mission to Thelio! We look forward to meeting our fantastic recruits when they join us in Denver on November 15th and 16th. For everyone else, be on the lookout for more on Superfan in the coming weeks!

4 notes · View notes

archivexhunting-hardy-brothers · 6 years ago

Text

Dragon Age AU

Frank - Dragon Age: Origins and Awakening

Status: Mage Apostate Skills: Ice and water magic, blood magic, healing magic Weapon: A wooden staff infused with magic, with an Iodine gemstone at the top

Backstory: Frank was at a very young age when it was discovered that his gift with magic was something to behold, and he was taken to the Circle of Magi to be trained as an apprentice, cutting him off from his family in the process. And while he excelled in his studies, being one of the top students, Frank started festering a severe resentment towards the Circle itself, angry that he was taken from his family and locked into a world where he would have nonexistent freedom.

He passed his own Harrowing at almost lightning speed and granted his robes when he was barely nineteen years old. In roads where he joins the Grey Wardens and becomes the Hero of Fereldan, he’s tricked by one of his friends into destroying a phylactery and recruited into the Grey Wardens to fight against the Blight. Frank is a true leader, with a keen sense of observation and battle tactics, and along the way he begins to dabble in blood magic, whilst keeping it a secret from the rest of the company.

In a path in which he knew the Hero of Fereldan during their apprentice days, he takes advantage of the confusion of the Hero being recruited to run away from the Circle, using blood magic to disguise himself and sneak back into the Tower to destroy his own phylactery. Eventually Frank can be found by the Hero as an apostate and recruited to help fight against the Blight, something he takes to with eagerness. He can either become a full Grey Warden by way of the Ceremony, or he remains just on the outskirts as a companion. As a demisexual panromantic individual, Frank can fall in love with male or female characters.

(*)

Joe - Dragon Age: Origins and Awakening, Dragon Age 2, and Inquisition

Status: Rogue Dalish Elf Tattoo: The vine tattoo over his left eye Skills: Persuasion, pickpocketing, lock picking, and stealth Weapon(s): Two silver daggers, and one two-sided battle axe

Backstory: Joe grew up in a Dalish clan, where he ended up meeting Merrill, who was the Keeper’s Apprentice from another clan. They became fast friends, and they, along with Tamlen and Mahariel, would sometimes go into the forests together, studying the plants and learning to hunt together, and Joe even developed a tiny bit of a crush on Merrill. He found her to be fascinating, and was intrigued by how she saw the world, filled with possibilities.

Their more or less peaceful lives came to a crashing halt when one afternoon, a Grey Warden by the name of Duncan came to their clan, carrying an unconscious and delirious Mahariel from the forest. Within a few days, it became apparent of what happened after Mahariel regain themselves: they and Tamlen had chased off some humans before exploring an old cave, before Tamlen was killed by a magic mirror that also gave Mahariel some kind of tainted sickness. In the end, Duncan recruited Mahariel for the Grey Wardens on the promise that they could delay the taint and save their lives, and Mahariel left the Clan for good.

When Merrill confessed to keeping a piece of the mirror that killed Tamlen and made Mahariel very sick, Joe was very concerned for her safety, not wanting her to get the taint herself, but she persisted in trying to cleanse the shard of the Blight magic that had a hold of it. Despite her eventual success using blood magic, she was forced out of the clan by the Keeper, which Joe did not realize as he had been out during a hunting trip, only to come back a few days later to find her missing. Not wanting to be in the Clan without anyone he could call a real friend, as the other elves had always found Joe to be a bit odd, he ended up packing his things and leaving the Clan himself.

In one path, Joe can find Mahariel with Alistair and help his friend with ridding the world of the Blight without becoming a Grey Warden himself. He has a place of honor with Mahariel should they succeed in killing the demon, but finds himself restless and unhappy in the spotlight, and thus will end up leaving to find his own path and eventually reuniting with Merrill.

In another path, Joe finds Merrill first, and ends up becoming her constant loyal companion in her efforts to reconstruct the Eluvian mirror. He supports her use of blood magic, often being a willing participant, and defends her from people who may see her as a threat. He cares for Merrill very deeply, and will lay down his life in an effort to keep her safe. His feelings for her are borderline romantic, but will remain platonic if she does not return his affections, out of respect for her.

#dragon age au #da au #; relevant to joe #; relevant to frank

2 notes · View notes

sciencespies · 4 years ago

Text

An Evening with Martin Sheen and 24 Other Smithsonian Programs Streaming in January

https://sciencespies.com/history/an-evening-with-martin-sheen-and-24-other-smithsonian-programs-streaming-in-january/

An Evening with Martin Sheen and 24 Other Smithsonian Programs Streaming in January

Smithsonian Voices Smithsonian Associates

An Evening with Martin Sheen and 24 Other Smithsonian Programs Streaming in January

December 31st, 2020, 11:30AM / BY

Lauren Lyons

Smithsonian Associates Streaming presents “Mr. President: An Evening with Martin Sheen” on January 19.

Kick off the New Year with Smithsonian Associates Streaming and enjoy individual programs, multi-part courses, studio arts classes and virtual study tours produced by the world’s largest museum-based educational program.

Wednesday, January 6

You Must Remember This: Favorite Movies and Their Times: Some moments in movies never leave us: a snappy line of dialogue, a dance in the rain or by the Seine, a timeless love song, a great last line. Documentary filmmaker and writer Sara Lukinson revisits some of our favorite movies, setting them against the backdrop of their times, the people who dreamed them up and the America they reflected—or asked us to imagine. This session focuses on Casablanca. 12 p.m. $20-$25

Alfred Hitchcock: Master of Suspense: Over a career that spanned six decades, Sir Alfred Hitchcock’s films never failed in bringing audiences to the edge of their seats. Join playwright and screenwriter Marc Lapadula as he peels back the layers of meaning beneath this grandmaster’s bold intentions and dazzling techniques that made him one of the most influential filmmakers in the history of world cinema. 6:30 p.m. $20-$25

Thursday, January 7

The Female Spies of WWII: They were the least likely of spies—and their exploits have often remained in the shadows of WWII’s espionage lore. Brent Geary and Randy Burkett, career officers in the CIA, share the stories of remarkable women who fought both the Nazis and gender stereotypes to help win the war and create the foundation for the modern CIA and U.S. military special forces. 6:30 p.m. $20-$25

Saturday, January 9

The Real Revolution: America, 1775-1783: The story of the American Revolution is more than a catalog of deeds by famous men. Historian Richard Bell explores this tumultuous period from the perspective of ordinary Americans by looking at military recruitment, the wars on the home front and in Native American territory, the struggles of people of color and the experiences of loyalists. 10 a.m. $70-$80

Tuesday, January 12

Eat Well, Be Well: Whole Food as Everyday Medicine: Food sustains us, gives us comfort, brings us together and has a huge impact on our health. Carly Knowles, a registered dietitian nutritionist, and physician Michael Roizen, chief wellness officer emeritus at the Cleveland Clinic, discuss a science-based approach to support optimal health and wellness through everyday meals based on sound nutrition. 6:45 p.m. $20-$25

Wednesday, January 13

Becoming Frank Lloyd Wright: In a richly illustrated program, lecturer Bill Keene delves into the backstory and lesser-known aspects of the life and career of one of the most famous of American architects. He traces his formative years in rural Wisconsin, the ups and downs of both his personal and professional life and the influences that shaped a creative philosophy from which some of the 20th century’s most remarkable and innovative structures arose. 12 p.m. $25-$30

Aviation writer and filmmaker Paul Glenshaw examines how the intertwined stories of jazz and flight reveal the arc of 20th-century history in a Smithsonian Associates Streaming program on January 13. (Louis Armstrong; Library of Congress).

Jazz and Flight: An All-American Duet: Jazz and powered flight are cousins, born and raised at the same time in surprising parallel paths. With film and music, aviation writer and filmmaker Paul Glenshaw takes off on a journey infused with truly American style and innovation as he examines how the intertwined stories of jazz and flight reveal the arc of 20th-century history. 6:45 p.m. $20-$25

Thursday, January 14

Surrealism: The Canvas of Dreams: Artist and art historian Joseph Cassar leads a fascinating journey through the landscape of the imagination as reflected in the distinctive work of artists including Ernst, Arp, Miro, Magritte and Dali. Smithsonian World Art History Certificate enrollees receive 1/2 credit. 6:30 p.m. $20-$25

The Post-election Blues: How Can Americans Regain Common Ground?: After one of the most polarized presidential campaign seasons in recent history, will it be possible to resurrect the very American notion of E Pluribus Unum or “out of many, one”? A frank panel conversation moderated by civility expert and Washington Post columnist Steven Petrow looks at the challenges before us, as well as some reasons to be optimistic. 6:45 p.m. $20-$25

Friday, January 15

Lunchtime with a Curator: Decorative Arts Design Series: Join curator Elizabeth Lay, a regular lecturer on the topics of fashion, textiles and American furniture, for an image-rich lunchtime lecture series focusing on decorative arts and design topics. The first session focuses on Midcentury Modern design. 12 p.m. $20-$25

Saturday, January 16

Shenandoah National Park: Natural History Highlights: The ancient mountains of Shenandoah National Park harbor many secrets, encompassing geology, diverse native forests, wildlife and a rich human history. Naturalist Keith Tomlinson covers its geological origins to present-day conservation efforts, providing an intimate appreciation for its unique natural history. 10 a.m. $25-$30

Tuesday, January 19

Techniques in Modernist Painting: Experiment with a variety of painting styles such as cubism, suprematism and abstract expressionism to learn practical applications of the concepts and techniques of modernism. Smithsonian World Art History Certificate enrollees receive 1/2 credit. 10:30 a.m. $245-$275

Linoleum-Block Printmaking Without a Press: This class introduces students to the materials and techniques of one-color relief printmaking, from design and carving of the block, through inking, printing and presentation of the finished linocut. 10:30 a.m. $195-$225

Mr. President: An Evening with Martin Sheen: In a conversation with journalist Ken Walsh, actor Martin Sheen discusses his iconic role in The West Wing, as well as its impact on television’s depiction of government and how we view our real-life national leaders. 6:30 p.m. $20-$25

Thursday, January 21

Mozart: The Reign of Love: The inexplicable force of nature that was Wolfgang Mozart seemed to live onstage and off simultaneously, a character in life’s tragicomedy but also outside of it, watching, studying, and gathering material for the fabric of his art. Biographer Jan Swafford examines how those dual lives converged in the creation of works that shaped classical music for all time. 12 p.m. $20-$21

A Lab of One’s Own: Rita Colwell, a pioneering microbiologist and the first woman to lead the National Science Foundation, has long known that her profession is not always welcoming to women. Yet she and others excelled despite the obstacles they faced. Colwell examines how women successfully pushed back against the status quo—and what science gained in the process. 6:45 p.m. $20-$25

How to Succeed in 2021: A new year is a chance to begin again. We all make resolutions to eat better, exercise more or learn a new skill. What’s going to be different for you in 2021—other than everything? Join Karen Mangia, TEDx presenter and best-selling author of Success with Less, and Listen Up! How to Tune in to Customers, and Turn Down the Noise, to learn strategies designed to help move you from intentions to actions, acceptance to acceleration and resolutions to results. 6:45 p.m. $20-$25

Wilderness guide and wildlife photographer Russell Gammon presents a Smithsonian Associates Streaming virtual safari on January 23.

Saturday, January 23

Russell Gammon’s Africa: f you’ve dreamed of glancing across a dry African savannah or standing beneath a jungle canopy, hoping to get a fleeting glimpse of a wild creature you’ve only seen in a zoo, follow veteran wilderness guide and wildlife photographer Russell Gammon on a virtual safari to his favorite wild places. 10 a.m. $60-$70

Gyotaku: The Japanese Art of Printing with Fish: Delightful and detailed prints on paper can be made using real fish. Using direct printing and water-based printing inks, create realistic looking schools of fish or a single artistic print simply by inking a whole fish and pressing it to paper. The result is a gyotaku, a term derived from the Japanese words for fish (gyo) and print (taku). Learn how to paint realistic fish eyes to bring your print to life, and cut masks to create realistic compositions. 10 a.m. $75-$85

Sunday, January 24

Introduction to Watercolor: Beginning students as well as experienced painters explore watercolor techniques and learn new approaches to painting through demonstration, discussion and experimentation in an 8-session course. 10:15 a.m. $245-$275

Classical Sounds of the Cinema: Magnificent Movie Music: Whether it’s Beethoven, Mozart, Rachmaninoff, Richard Strauss, Puccini or Bach, opuses of almost every famous composer have added emotional depth to hundreds of films ever since talkies emerged. In a session discussing 20th-century composers, concert pianist and movie fanatic Rachel Franklin delves into the magic of some of the greatest film music ever composed (even when it was unintentional). 3 p.m. $25-$30

Wednesday, January 27

Creativity Boosters: Are you in a rut? Would you like to think more creatively? This fun class is full of ideas to help boost your brain and spark your creativity. Award winning artist Lori VanKirk Schue will get your creative juices flowing again with the help of everyday materials and easy ideas. 10:30 a.m. $45-$55

The Dawn of Flight in Washington, DC: Think of the invention of the airplane and places like Kitty Hawk, North Carolina or Dayton, Ohio, come to mind. How about Washington, D.C.? You’d likely be surprised that the nation’s capital is home to several significant sites connected to the beginnings of the airplane. Together, they tell a story of large and small moments that helped launch flight as we know it today. Join Wright scholar Paul Glenshaw for an interactive virtual tour that visits locations across the area to discover the crucial role Washington played in the earliest days of powered flight. 12 p.m. $25-$30

Thank You for the Laughs! Comedians at the Kennedy Center Honors: Mel Brooks, Johnny Carson and Carol Burnett—all recipients of the Kennedy Center Honors—made it look easy, but nothing is harder than comedy that seems effortless. Join Sara Lukinson, filmmaker and writer for the Kennedy Center Honors for 38 years, for an evening full of laughs as she covers the remarkable lives of these legendary entertainers and screens clips of their hilarious performances. 6:45 p.m. $20-$25

Friday, January 29

The Lost Art of Scripture: According to religious scholar Karen Armstrong, the misunderstanding of scripture is perhaps the root cause of many of today’s controversies. She shines fresh light on the world’s major religions to examine how a creative and spiritual engagement with holy texts can build bridges between faiths. 12 p.m. $20-$25

To view Smithsonian Associates digital program guide, visit www.smithsonianassociates.org.

#History

0 notes

tediousoscars · 5 years ago

Text

2019

Predict-o-meter: This year: 9/11; Total: 108/134 (83%)

Welcome, welcome one and all to this year’s diatribe concerning all things Oscar.

With one glaring exception (see if you can spot it) this year’s class is solid with some soaring achievements at the top and a lot of really solid work through the middle.

So without further ado, let’s get to it ...

- THE CONTENDERS -

1917. In most war movies the MacGuffin is winning: a skirmish, a battle, a campaign, or, ultimately the war. In “1917” the goal is to call off an attack; to avoid a battle. Most war movies focus on the big picture: strategy, troop movements, etc. “1917” focuses on a single soldier embarking on a single mission for a single day. “1917” is not most war movies. The Germans have executed a strategic retreat and established a new defensive position. A zealous British commander is in hot pursuit, but Command has learned - through the new-fangled technology of aerial photography - that he is charging into a trap. No telegraph lines have yet been laid to the forward position, and radio is not quite a thing yet, so the only way to warn the commander is to send soldiers across no-man’s land, across the previous German line, across the French countryside to deliver the message in person. What follows is a quixotic quest full of constant fear and tension across a landscape made bizarre by the ravages and awful logic of war. It is a saga of commonplace heroism, of a man randomly plucked from obscurity, given an awesome, nigh-impossible task, and rising to the occasion for no other reason than it is his job. The film is expertly paced and while moments of sheer panic are rare, moments of relaxation are nonexistent. Though the time-honored message - war is hell - is definitely there, it is not driven home in the typical, ham-fisted way, and the final scene in which our hero collapses against a tree and gazes out at an idyllic sunlit pasture feels more triumphant than any victory brought about by explosions and bullets.

Jojo Rabbit. I often like to go into these films with no knowledge in order to avoid preconceptions, an approach that was a little jarring in this case, at least at first. In “Jojo Rabbit” director Taika Waititi creates a vivid, slightly out-in-leftfield world that will be familiar to fans of Wes Anderson (particularly “Moonrise Kingdom”). However, Anderson’s Boy Scouts have been replaced (as the vaguely authoritarian and hierarchical children’s organization central to the film) by the Nazi’s Hitler Youth. The opening scenes in which an excited 10yo Johannes "Jojo" Betzler bounces around his room in full Nazi regalia chattering away with his imaginary friend, Adolf Hitler (“C’mon, now ... Heil me!”), as he prepares for Nazi training camp are downright off-putting at a visceral level. For a second I thought I’d stumbled into an unironic production of “Springtime for Hitler.” But soon enough you realize that you are seeing the world through Jojo’s young eyes, and that he is a sensitive, insecure boy who is desperate for acceptance. Jojo uncritically accepts the worst Nazi propaganda about the Jews to the point that when he actually meets a Jewish girl he asks where her horns are (“They don’t grow in until you are 21,” she coyly replies). What follows is a complex tale of human drama told from a persistently childish (in the best sense of that word) perspective. The fact that it doesn’t just fly apart into an incoherent mess is a testament to Waititi’s skill as a director (WHY was he not nominated?) and a story that starts out uncomfortably off-putting ends up being thought-provoking and heartwarming. This film defies all expectation and should not be missed.

Little Women. A fresh take on a much-beloved classic, “Little Women” follows a family of 4 sisters through late childhood and early adulthood as they struggle with questions of marriage and career through the lens of an 18th-century culture that has quite definite opinions on these matters. The sisters are well cast and have good chemistry. Two of them - Saoirse Ronan as Jo and Florence Pugh as Amy - were nominated for their trouble. Throw in Laura Dern as Marmee and Meryl Streep as the irrepressible Aunt March and you’ve got a powerhouse cast that drives the film forward and keeps things lively. The storytelling is deft throughout, but for my money the best part is at the end when Jo suddenly and inexplicably agrees to marry a minor character from early in the film that she didn’t even seem to like. It all feels very out of character and more than a little deus ex machina, until the coda showing Jo haggling with her publisher over the publication of her book. When he insists that the main female character must be married (or dead, either is fine) by the end of the book, she reluctantly agrees but asks for more money in return. “If I’m going to sell my heroine into marriage for money, I might as well get some of it,” she declares, adding a nice meta twist that makes Jo’s sudden nuptials not only understandable but downright delectable.

Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood. Director Quentin Tarantino (nominated) returns to a vein he previously mined in 2009’s “Inglorious Basterds”: The alternate-history black comedy. This time out, however, the group upon which he unleashes ahistorical vengeance is not the Nazis, but the Manson Family. Set in 1969 Hollywood in a reality not too far from our own, “Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood” follows Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio in a nominated role) as an aging TV cowboy who flies to Italy to make Spaghetti Westerns in an attempt to salvage his career. His constant companion, stunt double, and manservant is Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt, also nominated), a man of immense talent, but no ambition, who is content to carry Rick’s water as long as it doesn’t interfere with his generally zen lifestyle. What follows is a fascinating character study of the two men as they navigate the politics of Hollywood. Rick, in particular, pursues relevance with the panicked desperation that only middle-aged white men can achieve. But the show is consistently stolen by Pitt’s portrayal of Cliff as some combination of ronin samurai and burnt-out hippy. In every situation Cliff knows exactly what to do and how to do it at the same time that his motivation seems to be little more than, “Well, why not?” It’s breathtaking to watch. The Manson Family, for their part, play a minor, oblique role through most of the film, only to fall victim to Tarantino’s signature cartoonish uber-violence in the film’s climax. Never before has someone being set on fire been this laugh-out-loud funny. “Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood” is like a rollercoaster: don’t over-analyze it, just enjoy the ride. And it is a very enjoyable ride.

Parasite. This is another film I walked into with no foreknowledge and ended up being very pleasantly surprised. “Parasite” is a film from Korea that at its core is about income inequality, but the lens that it uses to examine this phenomenon is unique. “Parasite” follows the Kims, a downtrodden, working-class family of four barely scraping by in the slums of Seoul. Son Ki-Woo is very smart, but can’t afford to attend college like his friend Min-Hyuk, so when Min-Hyuk has a chance to study abroad he asks Ki-Woo to pose as a college student and take over his position tutoring the daughter of the rich Park family. Ki-Woo does so, and through a series of increasingly hilarious hijinks the entire Kim family becomes employed by the Parks in different capacities. The contrast between the capable, sensible, but poor Kims and the clueless but rich Parks is played to maximal comic effect, and you think this is an enjoyable romp and you pretty much know where it’s going. When all of a sudden, in the middle of the second act, the entire film takes a jarring left turn and sends you careening into bizarre, unexplored territory. I won’t spoil it for you, but director Bong Joon Ho richly deserves his nomination for crafting such a compelling story that completely defies expectations.

- THE PRETENDERS -

Ford v Ferrari. This is the true story of how legendary driver and car designer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) teamed up with the Ford Motor Company to take on Enzo Ferrari and win Le Mans. Central to the effort is the cantankerous Ken Miles (played with verve and gusto by Christian Bale), a British driver and engineer who is obsessed with racing to the exclusion of almost everything else, especially social niceties. When an ambitious, young Lee Iacocca proposes that Ford buy the ailing Ferrari, only to be humiliated by Enzo himself, Henry Ford II (aka “The Deuce”) declares war on Ferrari’s beloved racing team and their dominance at Le Mans. Shelby is recruited as one of a very few Americans to have ever won that race, and he insists on bringing along Miles as one of the few people who share his burning, all-consuming passion for racing. But Ken’s brash, irreverent style conflicts with Ford’s corporate image, and there ensues a protracted battle between Shelby and “the suits.” This is all handled deftly. The interpersonal struggles are well-motivated and feel real, the racing scenes are exciting, and the ultimate, somewhat mixed climax feels very satisfying. Definitely a very good movie, just not a great one.

The Irishman. Pacino. De Niro. Pesci. Keitel. Scorsese. Must be a gangster movie. This time around Scorsese takes on True Crime by studying the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of one-time Teamsters President Jimmy Hoffa (played by Al Pacino in a nominated role that is more than a little ironic given Hoffa’s frequent anti-Italian tirades). The titular Irishman is Frank Sheeran (De Niro); a Teamsters driver, turned scam artist, turned Mob enforcer, turned Hoffa confidant and Union Local President. All of the clichéd gangster tropes are here: the steak dinners, the smoke-filled rooms, the bizarre, posturing pseudo-conversations where nothing is actually said, but everybody “gets the message,” the sudden, brutal violence. All of it. And it is all executed expertly, being second nature to this team by this point. But for my money the film really revolves around Sheeran’s daughter, Peggy (played by Lucy Gallina as a child and Anna Paquin as an adult). Even as a child Peggy sees through the bluff and bluster of Mafia “honor” to its brutal core of senseless violence, and she holds her father in distain for it. This particularly rankles Sheeran’s Don and protector Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci, also nominated), whose lifelong efforts to curry favor with Peggy come to naught. And when Peggy takes a shine to Jimmy Hoffa, seeing him as an honorable man helping people live better lives, Russell’s knickers are well and truly twisted. After Hoffa’s disappearance (the film makes no mystery of it, but I won’t spoil it) Peggy and Frank become fully estranged. Towards the end of his life Frank feels compelled to make a furtive attempt at reconciliation, but offers no remorse nor even any understanding of why Peggy stopped talking to him in the first place. The film ends with Sheeran alone and forgotten in a nursing home, being interviewed by some FBI agents still desperately trying to close the Hoffa case. They point out to him that all of his compatriots are dead, running through a roll call of the characters we have been watching for the past two hours. “Who are you protecting?” they ask. Sheeran has no answer, but offers no assistance, for in the end his loyalty was all he ever had.

Joker. Not since 2012’s “Les Misérables” has a movie been as monotonously bleak as “Joker.” Purportedly the origin story of Batman’s nemesis, “Joker” is a Chinese water torture of debasement and degradation. There’s no real theme or plot; just drip drip drip of indignities piled one upon the other. For hours. The titular Joker doesn’t even emerge from the tortured psyche of Arthur Fleck (played by Joaquin Phoenix in a nominated role) until the film’s waning moments, and even then he is literally just a crazy clown with a gun; hardly a suitable foil for the Batman. Phoenix gamely portrays an abused, antisocial misfit, but the skill with which he applies his craft is not put to any greater purpose. There’s no redemption here, or even a moral, just misery piled upon a man who has always been miserable and always will be. Each year there are at least one or two nominations that I cannot understand. With “Joker,” not only do I fail to understand the nomination, I can’t even understand why it was MADE.

Marriage Story. Meet the Barbers, Charlie and Nicole. They are beautiful (looking exactly like Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson - both nominated) and accomplished: he a playwright and director in New York’s theater community, she a star of stage and screen and Charlie’s favorite leading lady. When Nicole is offered a TV pilot shooting in Hollywood she decides to take son Henry with her, but removed from Charlie’s directorial dictates and suffocating ambition she decides to never go back. What follows is a bi-coastal divorce proceeding and custody battle that pits two people against each other who actually like and admire ~90% of the other, but just can’t reconcile the other 10%. The Barbers have different goals and agendas, but no real animus towards each other. However, the only system available to them for moving forward is one designed along ruthless, winner-take-all grounds. This leads to much conflict and soul-searching. Eventually, through introspection and growth, they manage to achieve something approaching a conscious uncoupling without scarring Henry too much in the process.

So which SHOULD win?

There were a lot of very good, enjoyable films in the class, but only 3 that really made you think about film as an art form and its capabilities: “1917,” “Jojo Rabbit,” and “Parasite.” Of these three Jojo Rabbit was both the most thought-provoking and the most straight-up enjoyable. My pick for the best movie of 2019 is: Jojo Rabbit.

But which WILL win?

“1917” appears to be the favorite, with “Parasite” a potential dark horse. I’m going with “1917,” and I can’t quibble too much; it’s a really good film.

And in the other categories ...

Best Actress: Renee Zellweger looks like a lock for her role in “Judy.”

Best Supporting Actress: Laura Dern should win here, not for being the mother of the Little Women, but for being the glamorous, “take no prisoners” Hollywood divorce lawyer in “Marriage Story.”

Best Actor: Joaquin Phoenix should follow in Heath Ledger’s footsteps by winning an Oscar portraying the Joker. While I am loathe to see this depressing trainwreck of a film garner any accolades, I must grudgingly admit that Phoenix gives a powerful performance. Still not worth seeing the film, however.

Best Supporting Actor: Brad Pitt should run away with this category. His performance definitely IS worth seeing “Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood.”

Best Director: Again this is a race between Sam Mendes for “1917” and Bong Joon Ho for “Parasite.” And again “1917” is the clear favorite and “Parasite” is the dark horse. The Academy has taken to splitting Best Picture and Best Director of late, but I’m going to play it safe and choose Mendes.

Best International Feature Film: “Parasite” should earn its richly-deserved Oscar here. As well as ...

Best Original Screenplay: Look for “Parasite” here. It is definitely very original.

Best Adapted Screenplay: Jojo Rabbit. I would have loved to see Waititi nominated - and even win - for directing, but he will have to settle for winning for his writing. Something tells me he’ll be fine.

Best Cinematography: 1917

Best Makeup and Hairstyling: Bombshell

That’s it for this year. Until next year, save me an aisle seat

0 notes

raenwynnnemophilist · 7 years ago

Text

Drill Day

First day of drills is today. I do not know what to expect, or what the purpose even is, but I was told I am required to attend. “Ye go, or ye get booted oot of the vanguard, recruit,” I mocked to myself in the captain’s voice. I’m wearing the Vanguard’s uniform, and I hate how itchy it feels. I just want my own good clothes back. What is with people and their fascination for clothes? They don’t feel comfortable, and they are so restrictive. The only logical I reason I can think of for wearing such things is for cold weather. Is war really so brutal? Will I survive despite my background? I square my shoulders, and stand up tall. “I will survive. Just like I have survived everything else. Titan’s watch over me.”

I walked up the stone path to Dun Modr; the captains were already waiting there along with one other recruit. As I walked up the the pathway, I stood next to Captain Odron Twinhammer, and saluted him and Captain Honibelle. The other recruit, Khorlrum, had a flask of ale out and was heavily drinking it down as if this drill would be the end of him. As I looked around, I saw Durghan scowling at him in disappointment for a good few minutes before his attention snapped to me. “Recruit, what the hell d’ye think yer doin’? We’re in formation!” I didn’t realize he had been snapping at me, I was standing where we had stood last meeting.

A snicker could be heard from Honibelle at Durghan’s outburst, quickly followed by another, “Oi! I never drank ale while I was in formation!” Khorlrum Palefire quickly stashed his flask away, grumbling to himself. “Tha’ is better Palefire. We will make a soldier out o’ ye yet. “ He didn’t appear too happy to be without his ale to occupy his hands.

“Old habits die hard, eh Durghan?” Captain Honibelle voiced in a playful, light voice. “Me neither, but I was a light weight, so…” Durghan chuckled at the captain. I chuckled to myself as well, a light weight Dwarf? She could still out drink a human.

Khorlrum could be seen nodding in agreement to her statement, “Aye, habits do die hard.”

I snickered at Khorlrum , before quickly realizing all the captains were staring at me. “Oi! I’m the one oot of formation! Apologies, captains!” I quickly shuffled my bare feet over next to Khorlrum, just as Recruit Oakenbloom rolled in. As all recruits did, he saluted the captains and dutifully waited for them to salute back before moving into line next to me.

“Oakenbloom.” Captain Odron said in recognition. Oakenbloom nodded at Odron.

Right after him, Thanesguard Dranin Orehand meandered in as well. “Orehand! Ye got yer armour back!” Durghan announced with surprise mingled into his voice. Dranin looked down at himself in confusement. “Naw, the old stuff is still buried.” Durghan sighed at the unfortunate news, hoping he had been able to rescue his rare armour set from the mines. The jewels it’s adorned with are severely hard to come by, and took Dranin a lot of work.

Captain Honibelle looked over at Dranin with concern. “We’ve been looking into replacing some of our severely worn tools, so a new drill should be in our hands before too long.” The hope was to use the new drill to rescue Dranin’s armour. The Vanguard understood how much that amour set meant to him. “Which, frankly, we sorely need. Some of that stuff is older than the Cataclysm…” There was a slight cringe to her voice.

Dranin walked over to Oakenbloom and looked him up and down, eyeing him, before saluting him, and standing next to the captains.

Barging into the conversation at hand, Odron added, “Tha’ drill went through shite, on Draenor. I’m surprised it survived the portal back.”

Dunagin casually glanced at Odron, politely listening before replying. “Draenor sounded like fun. Orcs as far as th’ eye can see!”

Rubbing the back of her head, Honibelle let out a weary sigh. “I’ll have to check the rest when I’m able. But I hope I’m able to catch up with a few people before I get into the thick of that job…” As Honibelle and Odron discussed the drill, Lieutenant Drarin walked up the pathway towards them. He issued each captain a salute, and nodded at Odron with a curt “Cap’n” before he moved to stand next to the Vanguard’s banner, waiting for the drill to start.

Odon nodded back to Drarin, issuing him a polite, “Lieutenant.”

I watched the group from the corners as I stood next to Khorlrum, a priest. Odron moved to the front, and stared down each one us to make sure he found us to his liking. I observed his chest puff out as he took in a huge breath, his shirt straining at the front, and yelled at us in a startling, booming voice. It filled my bones with compulsion, seeming to move me of it’s own accord. “Vanguard! File… In!”

The recruits shuffled over like sheep to form a line in front of the captains, and lieutenant. The deep booming voice filled the practice yard again, this time louder as spittle flew all over our faces. “Ye call tha’ a straight line?! Two rows, move it!” This time we moved faster, not wanting to be yelled at again. There were 8 of us, 4 in each row. I was new to the drill practices, but some had already been through this a few times. I kept my eyes on them in hopes if I followed their lead I wouldn’t mess up, resulting in extra work. “Vanguard… Attention!” My brow furrowed in confusion, as everyone straightened their bodies and put one hand on their weapon, and the other at their side, straight as an arrow. I attempted to copy them. The captains were all staring at us like dogs waiting to be fed to the pits. I would have rather been facing off a bear, to be quite frank. At least bears were predictable.

“Palefire, switch spots with Thanesguard Orehand. Shields upfront ALWAYS.” Palefire shuffled into Orehand’s spot, both looking up like nothing phased them anymore. I had a bad itch on my head, and attempted to scratch it while their attention was elsewhere. I earned a hard glare from the captains, but caught Honibelle smiling at me kindly. I quickly jotted down in my mind that she was the nicer of the captains. It would be good to remember this just in case; you can never be too careful.

Dunagin Thunderfist raised his hand, and before waiting to be called out, bravely asked, “Sir! Would ye need me up front?” Odron nodded at him approvingly. “Captain Brightslate, switch with recruit Thunderfist, if ye don’t mind.” He looked them over once more, nodding to himself. “Better. Now, why do we keep shields upfront, Vanguard?”

Meekly, I raised my hand, awaiting the appropriate acknowledgment from Odron before continuing. “For protection, captain?”

“Protection fer who, recruit?”

“The healers, captain,” I guessed. I honestly had no clue, but any effort was better than none in this case.

Dunagin bellowed out from the group, “Tae protect Khaz Modan!” as Durghan snorted derisively at me. I shrugged, it was my first drill, and at least I was trying.

“Fer our healers, aye, but also fer our Mountaineers, and Sorcerers.”

Durghan crossed his arms. “Fer anyone no wearin’ plate. I’M a healer, keep in mind.”

“Thunderaxe ‘as it.” Odron agreed back. “But even the old ones need protecting. Right Thunderaxe?” He smirked slyly at Durghan and was met with a wicked grin from the healer.

Without even raising his hand, Drarin blurted out, “Yer a fightin’ healer, Thunderaxe.”

“Damn right I am!”

Odron looked back at his recruits, eyeing us over again to make sure we weren’t fooling around while they weren’t watching. “Not all o’ our healers are battle medics, keep tha’ in mind. Some ‘ave never seen action. Now then, let’s try this a bit faster.”

The air was humid, making my clothes stick to my body already in a sheen of sweat. The occasional breeze graced us, thank the Titans, making it bearable. Breathing was beginning to become difficult as the air seemed to thicken as the day went on. “Vanguard… Attention!”

Over, and over, we practiced between being at attention, and at ease. “Earn these colours Dwarves! Still slow, we will do this till yer arms fall off! Again!”

Drarin looked around himself, and grunted before nodding. “Thus dunnae seem proper… Captain, permission tae fall oot fer a momen’ “

“Granted, Lieutenant. Vanguard… Attention!” The group moved as one, trying to move faster and faster in hopes of appeasing the captain, but to no avail. Finally… Finally, Odron nodded in satisfaction. “Tha’ was bloody perfect. Who ‘ere knows wha’ it means, when yer officer orders left or right face?”

Durghan shouted out, “It means a one-quarter turn in the direction indicated!”

“Correct. What does it mean when ordered about face?”

“Turn aroon’ “ Drarin offered up as Durghan also said, “A turn te the right te face the opposite direction!”

“Turn around is the correct answer. Let’s try them then shall we? Does everyone understand wha’ to do?”

As one, the group chorused. “Aye, sir!” with a respectful nod.

“Tha’ was better. I head everyone tha’ time. These training exercises are crucial, and must not be taken lightly! If ye don’t ‘ear or ye ignore a command in the battlefield, it could mean the death o’ the lad or lass next to ye. We rise together, and we fall together. We’re an elite military unit. Not a bunch o’ bakers! Aye, ye earn yer place in the Vanguard. It’s not given to ye! Ye will either thrive ‘ere, o ye won’t last ‘ere.”

Without thinking, I mumbled under my breath, “But it’s yummy…” Honibelle smiled at me, but Odron did not. “If ye ‘ave somethin’ ta say recruit, say it out loud!”

I looked around, my cheeks turning bright red in embarrassment at myself. Fool lass. “Och me? Er… Just saying baking is yummy, captain. That’s all.”

“Baking is yummy is it? Well war isn’t so yummy recruit, neither is seein’ yer kin die around ye. So ye all better get used to it, ‘cause it’ll leave a not so yummy taste in yer mouth.”

“Aye, captain.”

Drarin raised a hand this time, waiting for Odron to nod in acquiescence. “Until ye come back from a hard battle. Then ye’re tummy will get thae damned be’ food oor kin ‘ave tae offer. An’ ale too, we’re Khaz Modan’s finest. Remember tha’, heroes ‘ef oor people. Celebration after battle ‘es crucial when victory ‘es had.”

“Well said, Thundersteel, well said.” Odron complimented back to Drarin.

Honibelle covered her mouth with her hand, and chuckled softly. “Rations will help with that later, but after the training, okay?”

Odron nodded to Honibelle, and cleared his throat. “Movin’ on. Before we get to the rest o’ the drills, I like to ask a question before we start. Why do we fight?”

The group answered back, one by one, “Fer Thane an’ Moontain!” and some “For Khaz Modan!”

Honibelle clasped her hands together, and peered at the Dwarves who hadn’t answered. “For thane an Mountain!” Oakenbloom replied late.

Odron stuck a plated finger in his ear, looking a bit confused. “I don’t think I ‘eard ye. I said… WHY DO WE FIGHT?!”

A louder chorus of male and female voices answered him, their bodies becoming stone, as they roared in bestial vigor. “FER THANE AN’ MOONTAIN!”

“Who do we fight for?”

“Fer the cooncil!”

“I think I only ‘eard some o’ ye? WHO DO WE FIGHT FER!”

“FER THE COONCIL!” They roared back at the captain, spittle flying into the air. Honibelle roared out with them, “For the council, our Thane, or shield-siblings, and for all Dwarves and allies under the mountain, sir!”

“Loud and proud Vanguard, let those deaders past the Thandol ‘ere ye.” The recruits let out a mighty roar, letting their hunger for blood be known. The hunger for the adrenaline only a battle brought; the camaraderie as you moved as a single unit.

“Let's try some basic commands, now,” Odron informed them. As he stood in one spot, he swept them over with his commanding gaze. “Vanguard… Present… Arms!” The recruits swiftly brought out their weapons and the metallic zhing sounded throughout the practice yard. They stood there for a few moments, in battle stance, awaiting their next order. “Vanguard… Shoulder arms!” The zhing filled the air again as weapons, swords and axes alike, were sheathed into their proper sheaths. For hours this went on, weapons out, weapons sheathed. By the end, my arms ached with a ferocious biting pain, and I could hardly move my arms from the constant movement. My ears rung from the bellowing produced greedily from the Captains; spittle flew everywhere, and perspiration dripped down my lean body in a gleam. As my muscles shook, and I thought I could go no longer... “Vanguard… Scatter!”

We quickly bolted in all sorts of directions. I dived behind some stones, while others remained out in the open. I shook my head at them, knowing if this was a real battle they would have died. Scatter meant a large incoming attack, usually a bomb. Moving away would not be enough to survive, you would need to find coverage so the after shock, and shrapnel did as little damage to your body as possible. “Fall in!” The roar echoed throughout, making the recruits rush back into formation. We did this a few times more, until it was evident we could not carry on much longer. By now, the sun was setting, and stomachs were growling. I’m used to conditions that require stamina, but not by unnecessarily exhausting our reserves in the repetition of drill after drill. My mouth felt parched, like sand paper creating friction against one another, and my body felt numb. I felt light on my toes, and I reveled in it. It felt good to move like that again, forcing your body to go past its limits.

“Vanguard, at ease.” For once, his voice was quiet. “Who ‘ere can tell me wha’ the Phalanx, or shield wall formation is?” I slowly raised my hand into the air, ignoring the tremble in my arm. “Speak recruit.”

“Well it soonds to me like the front lines use their shields to make a wall. Essentially to protect against arroos, and the like… Er, captain.”

“Tha’ is one way to explain it. Anyone else?” Drarin’s arm shot into the air. “Lieutenant.”

“Shields up fron’, longer melee weapons behin’. Then thae res’ o’ thae infantry followed by thae moontaineers, than thae medics an’ sorcerers.”

Odron nodded at him. “Wha is the job o’ those behind the shield wall, if enemies were to be pulled behind our lines?” Nothing but crickets, and the occasional evening wind answered him. I raised my hand again, someone had to answer if we didn’t want more drills. “Recruit, ye may speak.”

“Contain, and kill them so the wall can reform, captain.”

“Tha’ is correct recruit. Ye lot did well today, and hopefully those tha’ didn’t know our formations, and commands, will remember fer next week. Any questions?” The captain was answered by tired, low “Nae, captains.”

“Vanguards… Dismissed.”

#Dwarven Vanguard #Drills #First day #Rae #Dwarves #Female dwarf #Captain Odron #Captain Honibelle #Drarin #Oakenbloom #Durghan #Dunagin #Khorlrum #Orehand #MG #RP

1 note · View note

opheliaintherushes · 8 years ago

Text

The last five minutes of Five Came Back made me weep unabashedly (I am a sucker for a good ‘rediscovering our humanity at the movies’ montage) so it was with rapturous pleasure that I tackled Mark Harris’ detailed history. Ostensibly a focus on five directors (Frank Capra, William Wyler, George Stevens, John Ford, and John Huston) and their involvement in the war effort, Harris sweeps back the curtain on a treasure trove of fascinating details

- Hollywood refrained from incorporating anti-Nazi sentiment into their films throughout the 30s until Jack Warner (who was, let me say, quite the character) finally threw down the gauntlet

- the reason for this, of course, is because nearly all of the studio heads were Jewish at the time, and red-baiting from isolationist types was barely a smokescreen for anti-Semitism (it comes up again when Capra, compiling Why We Fight, constantly and inaccurately accuses his left-leaning writers team of inserting secret Communist messages)

- there are a bunch of cameos from major power players later: Harry Truman raises his profile by questioning the waste of propaganda; Capra recruits Dr. Suess and Mel Blanc for a series of cartoons; Marshall (yes, of the Marshall Plan) oversees the war film department; George Stevens stops angry young man Irwin Shaw (!) from starting a fight and takes him under his wing - the push and pull of American vs British propaganda - little warnings not to tell the British we won the last war when American troops made it over there; the superiority of British propaganda threatening the narrative that the U.S. was leading the war effort in the public’s eyes - the hints of a whole other film history that never happened; films like Huston’s PTSD doc Let There Be Light shelved, incise and relevant dialogue cut - William Wyler’s story definitely stands out (you can see why he inspired Spielberg) - Wyler bribing the State Department for entry of more and more relatives; Wyler punching an anti-Semite on leave; Wyler flying combat missions to the dismay of his superiors, who realized that if he was captured by the Germans, he would be killed; Wyler deafening himself on his final run but returning home to usher in a new era of realism with The Best Years of Our Lives - in particular, Harris details a conversation between Wyler and the woman watching his father’s old shop in his Alsatian hometown; it volleys between the woman’s anger at the American bombs that had recently hit and Wyler’s anger at the collaboration that had thrived during the war. He speaks to the mayor in search of family and friends, but the mayor tells him not to ask questions - all of the Jews are gone - the final chapters where Stevens stumbles upon and documents the liberation of Dachau are harrowing, into the grotesque of the Nuremberg trials, where his film provokes only pride from the accused, and to the revelation that he then sealed the film away until he was to make The Diary of Anne Frank; he lasted five minutes, locked it away, and never again returned.

#Five Came Back #HIGHLY recommend #both this and Pictures at a Revolution were excellent #I'm very excited for his Mike Nichols book #if you want the barebones and the montage the documentary is very good #but the book has so much more #I didn't even mention Ronald Reagan auditioning for Capra's no-fraternizing in Germany doc #and getting rejected because they didn't think he could handle the gravitas of the situation!#recommendations

9 notes · View notes

howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 6 years ago

Text

Moonwebs: Journey into the Mind of a Cult by Josh Freed

Reviews of this 1980 book which was made into the film, Ticket to Heaven.

Benji Miller was recruited at Boonville. This is a true story.

The complete book, with added photos, is now available HERE

This book does an amazing job at explaining the highly sophisticated techniques of cult organizations and the mental process that goes on inside the mind of someone who falls prey to a cult. It also explains the political and financial background of Rev. Moon.

In Moonwebs, award-winning journalist Josh Freed penetrates the complex and frightening world of modern day cults. He describes the incredible efforts made by friends to extricate their friend Benji Miller from the grasp of cult leader Sun Myung Moon. When friends and family risked thousands of dollars and criminal charges to kidnap Benji and deprogram him, author Josh Freed was with them. He conveys the terrifying power of the Unification Church by describing their harrowing brainwashing techniques.

When first published Moonwebs sold 70,000 copies.

Aside from the fact that Moonwebs reads like a novel, flowing easily and pulling the reader into its narrative, there is a far greater reason to read the book. First written over twenty years ago and reprinted in 1989, one would think that it would be a history of days gone by, situations resolved. But its tale of "Reverend" Sun Myung Moon and his Moonies is just as relevant today because Moon is still very powerful. We no longer see Moonies selling flowers in the street much, so we have forgotten what Moon can do. Today, Moon's empire is more mainstream, with real estate and publishing holdings. And that is even scarier than the brainwashed youngsters told of in this book. Today, Moon has the power and influence to extend his brainwashing to far greater numbers of us. Moonwebs is thought-provoking and scary for that very reason.

A great book – from first hand experience of the moonies. It gives a fascinating insight into how people are capable of believe almost anything. Explains the process of breaking down personalities – essentially by getting people to examine their deepest fears and beliefs. Then it tells of how the moonies can then build the subjects personality up in their mould.

Sounds incredible. It doesn’t seem likely, but it happens. Read this book! Even if you are a not a ‘searcher’ – someone looking for wider meaning or the meaning of life – perhaps you have made compromises in your life, not lived up to your own ideals, not lived the life you thought you would – whatever it is, the brainwashing process can find that chink. They get you to examine yourself – to not trust yourself and then tell you that the only way out is to follow them – they have the answers.

The book also looks at the psychology of the process of brainwashing and then the wider application of such a process.

If you have ever wondered how people can relinquish power to others read this. It looks at the basic nature of humans to be adaptable and somewhat malleable to their society – and how fragile our psychological defences can be in the face of a determined attacker. Even seemingly stable people have weaknesses – a life that is not TOTALLY fulfilled.

Cults of personality – there are many reasons behind their success – but this looks at the crucial central power of surrendering thought. There are massive parallels with the methods of subjugation described in works by George Orwell and Aldous Huxley. Specifically ‘thought crime’ – the idea that by even thinking about anything anti-cult or anti-establishment, you are failing or damned.

Read this book, then pass it on. Very readable style – you could read it in one sitting – no probs.

Moonwebs is also available in French:

Billet pour le Ciel

Other Boonville stories:

Crazy for God: The nightmare of cult life by Christopher Edwards

Mitchell was lucky – he got away from the Unification Church

Life Among the Moonies – Deanna Durham

My Time with the Oakland Family – the Moonies

UC leaders stole passports from guests at California workshops

Recruitment – The Boonville Chicken Palace by David Frank Taylor, M.A., July 1978, Sociology

“Socialization techniques through which the UC members were able to influence” – Geri-Ann Galanti, Ph.D.

#Boonville #Moonies #cult recruitment #Sun Myung Moon #Creative Community Project #Mose Durst #Josh Freed

0 notes

spiked-watch-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Let’s talk @spikedonline and their friends

As Spiked! don't like to be reminded about their origins, let's talk once more about them. Who are they? Where do they come from?

The magazine originates in the RCP, the Revolutionary Communist Party. (In leftist circles we used to call the RCP the “Revolutionary Cocktail Party”, due to the upper class origin of many of their cadres.) Nick Cohen writes here a very good piece about the RCP, this fascinating a certainly deluded political organisation.

The RCP, of which academic @Furedibyte was the chief ideologue (then under the nom de guerre of Frank Richards), used to publish the magazine known as Living Marxism. Both were known for their pleasure for alienating everyone on the left, with their contradictory views on mostly everything, which could be said to originate in cosy intellectual games more than real working class politics — they have never been interested in the working class, even if now and then they hide behind it to promote their reactionary ideas.

Living Marxism (also known as LM after a while, perhaps in order to hide their pseudo-Marxist origins) had a very similar editorial line to @spikedonline: contrarianism, puerile contrarianism, contradictory and dishonest contrarianism, driven not so much by conviction but the need to have a hot take — this doesn’t rule out that some of them got to believe the things they write about.

You can LM’s back issues here. There’s an archive of their back issues here too. You will recognise many of Spiked! usual favourite topics: moral panics (when discussing pedophilia), anti-environmentalism (it’s enviromentalists who are the real nazis), the defence of free speech no matter what (as long as you agree with them, as the tight editorial policy of the magazine makes it clear), anti-Labour bias, victim blaming, anti-feminism (they are the real feminists, blah blah blah), etc. Their hot takes have remained stable throughout the decades, although recently they are shifting away from their open borders politics in order to embrace Brexit.

Living Marxism (LM) was sued for libel after publishing an article denying the genocide in the Serbian death camps. The article — an embarrassing piece of fact-anemic “journalism”, even by their standards — was called "The picture that fooled the world". A typical cuntrarian article but that cost them dearly. LM lost the libel case and had to fold. The editor at the time was Mick Hume, in case the name rings a bell. His name still pops up on Spiked!, so the name might indeed ring a bell.

The former RCP and LM'ers survive this day loosely gathered around several fronts. They are knows by those who’ve clocked them as the LM Network, a name they don’t adhere to, needless to say.

Some of their fronts are:

Spiked Online (obviously)

Debating Matters

Sense about Science

The Institute of Ideas

The Manifesto Club

WORLDWrite

The East London Science School

Invoke Democracy NOW

among others...

Since their RCP days the LM Network has been very "jesuitical", putting a lot of effort in recruiting cadres from the youth, particularly in educational institutions. Anyone who had the displeasure of being courted by them can tell you that they are good orators, they can seduce young people with their hypocritical and dishonest contrarian bullshit; they make you feel like you need to earn your place among them — as someone told us: “the SWP would buy anyone a pint in the SU bar, not the RCP, you had to be chosen...”

The ex-RCP/LM Network are even today very powerful in educational institutions. Particularly in the University of Kent, where Furedi, Joanna Williams (education editor at Spiked!), and several other Spiked contributors work/study or have worked/studied: Ellie Lee, Patrick Marmion, Tiffany Jenkins, Nikos Sotirakopoulus, et al. But also through their Debating Matters front, and of course the East London Science School, where many of them have worked and continue to work, much to the dismay of the parents and staff who managed to figure out who they are, taking their children and careers elsewhere.

They have worked and continue to work very much like an entryist cult, with very clear ideological shifts in tandem. And they've hidden and hide behind these fronts that seem about non-partisan openness, when in reality are there to promote their agenda, closing debate by mere act of having their cronies hog the mike, as Jenny Turner describes so well in this piece about the Institute of Ideas’ Battle of ideas.

It is hard to gauge the real influence of this group of people. But their ability to secure spaces without revealing their real intentions and politics, and their work in schools and universities, are of great concern.

#LM Network #spiked online #institute of ideas #debating matters #sense about science #worldwrite #manifesto club #east london science school

0 notes

hermanwatts · 5 years ago

Text

Sensor Sweep: Hall of the Giant King, Henry Kuttner, William Stout, Alex Nino

RPG (Grodog): Thinking through the mega-dungeons I’m familiar with, the stand out qualities that I love to play through, and the mega-dungeons that bring that to the table are: Best Environments to Explore and Map: Castle El Raja Key, Maure Castle, Caverns of Thracia, Foolsgrave. Most-Fun Encounters: Castle Greyhawk, Foolsgrave, Rich Franks’ mega-dungeon. Most-Fun Puzzles, Enigmas, and Centerpiece Encounters: Castle Greyhawk, Maure Castle, WG5, ASE1/2-3, Undermountain.

Science Fiction (Alexandra Rowland): I was groomed and abused by Scott Lynch and Elizabeth Bear for several years. For a long time, I never wanted to talk about this in public. I didn’t want anybody to know about this. I only began rethinking yesterday and I was still considering what to do about it, but… …Apparently I don’t have that luxury anymore.

Art (Modiphius): The Art of Robert E. Howard’s Conan: Adventures in an Age Undreamed Of features a selection of some of the most incredible art associated with the classic barbarian hero ever assembled into one set of covers. With one of the most successful gaming Kickstarter campaigns of all time, Conan set out to be the definitive treatment of Conan in games: central to that was recruiting a stellar lineup of artists for covers and interior illustrations. The Art of Conan presents a variety of art drawn from the incredible core rulebook and the expansive line of sourcebooks and supplements, organized by book, allowing players and fans of amazing sword-and-sorcery art to enjoy this fantastic art on its own.

New Release (DMR Books): Cahena is a historical novel (with fantasy elements) dealing with the brave and beautiful warrior queen who reigned over the Berbers in the seventh century. The Cahena, as she was known, was believed to be a sorceress and prophetess. She led an army forty thousand strong, wielding javelins and scimitars, in a valiant struggle against the Mohammedan invaders who were fresh from their conquest of Carthage. Rich in historical detail and dramatic action, this is a story to rival the great war epics of all time.

Publishing (Amatopia): There’s been talk on social media by Big Prominent Authors who’ve been paid a lot of money to write stuff about how hard it is to stay prolific in these totally unprecedented and difficult times. These writers–whose only job is to write–can’t seem to squeeze in a page or two amidst the chaos. It’s emotionally taxing do perform their job, you see. It’s so hard because evil bad people who may or may not be orange keep them from focusing. What a bunch of weenies.

Genre (Pulprev): Today when people think of science fiction and fantasy, chances are, they think of two separate genres. Science fiction, the genre of starships and computers and technology. Fantasy, the genre of knights and dragons and castles. Two distinct genres, and never the twain shall meet. The meeting of the two, science fantasy, was the exception, the red-headed stepchild, never part of the mainstream. This wasn’t always the case.

Art (Heavy Metal): William Stout has had a long and eventful career as an illustrator and production designer—you can read all about it in the biography on his official website. His work has run in numerous publications, including Heavy Metal. And then there was Masters of the Universe. The 1987 movie seemed like a good idea, given the popularity of the toys, but the Cannon Films production, starring Dolph Lundgren as He-Man and Frank Langella as Skeletor, was a flop.

Paleontology (Phys.org): Lions were once far more widespread than they are now, with several subspecies of lions dividing the world between them. They were found in much of Europe and Asia including the Middle East, in Africa, North America and maybe South America. Previously, the cave lion Panthera leo spelaea was found across much of Eurasia and as far as Alaska and Canada. But cave lions died out 13 000 years ago, perhaps partly due to humans, although paleontologists suspect that climate change played a major role. The American lion P. leo atrox suffered the same fate.

T.V. (Kairos): Loyal readers know that a key mission of this blog is shedding light on Hollywood’s hatred of their audience. Much as A Bridge Too Far proves Pigman’s Caine-Hackman hypothesis, the1998 movie Pleasantville epitomizes Hollywood Death Cultism. YouTuber Devon Stack, who reviews movies with a keen eye for both literary criticism and propaganda, explains this superficially innocent film’s subversive depths. “As much as the baby boomers fought to overturn and rebel against and eventually destroy the American culture that existed before them, one thing that I have always found interesting is how much the same champions of counterculture that sadistically dismembered their heritage and mocked every tradition their parents have gifted them, but at the same time romanticize this same culture they worked so hard to undo.”

Science Fiction (Adventures Fantastic): “Trog” appeared in the June 1944 issue of Astounding. It has never been reprinted. The story is set in 1956. Civilization has been collapsing for four years. The general consensus is that humanity has a collective, mass consciousness that has tired of civilization. It takes over people at random and causes them to destroy things. Supply lines have been disrupted. Food is scarce. Things that break cannot be replaced. People destroy things. Those that do are called trogs, short for troglodytes.

Book Review (Marzaat): In the summer of 1565 on the parched ground of Malta, the future of Western Civilization was decided. Would the Moslems continue their expansion into the Mediterranean, preying on European ships and taking Christian slaves as far away as England? Or could they be held back? It was an epic struggle, an astounding tale of resolve and leadership, of disunity in command and disunity among allies.

Tolkien (Notion Club Papers): Tolkien and The Silmarillion by Clyde Kilby. Lion Publishing, Berkhamsted, Kent, UK. 1977 pp 89. (US edition, 1976.) This is a hardly-known, slim, minor, but fascinating contribution to the writings about Tolkien. Its centre is an account of the summer of 1966 which the author spent meeting with the seventy-four year old Tolkien a few times per week, ostensibly to provide him with informed and enthusiastic secretarial assistance to get The Silmarillion ready for publication.

Pulp Magazines (Black Gate): This third installment of the Weird Tales deep read covers the eleven stories in the October 1934 issue, including the first Jirel of Joiry story by C. L. Moore. Her flame didn’t burn as long in the Unique Magazine as the Lovecraft-Howard-Smith trinity’s did, but it did burn as brightly. Moore had sixteen stories in Weird Tales between 1933-1939, twelve in an incredible burst of creativity in the years 1934-1936.

Travel (Last Stand on Zombie Island): Outside of Moscow, reportedly on the location of one of the principal stavkas of the 1941 defense of the city from the German invasion, now stands the so-called Main Cathedral of Russian Armed Forces. Built by popular subscription (with lots of help from the military and government) the immense Eastern Orthodox church is a living, breathing memory to the Russian (not Soviet) effort against Hitler in the Great Patriotic War.

Art (DMR Books): The result was The Fantasy Worlds of Alex Nino, which came out in 1975, just a few short years after Alex began doing work for American comics. The publisher was Christopher Enterprises, a somewhat shadowy company about which I’ve been able to discover little. They emerged on the scene in 1975, put out portfolios by Nino and Michael Kaluta, then followed that with a Bernie Wrightson portfolio in 1976. Also in 1976, Christopher Enterprises published several awesome posters by Wrightson and Stephen Hickman.

Weird Tales (Tellers of Weird Tales): I first wrote about Earl Peirce, Jr., on May 17, 2017. I misidentified him then as Earl Monroe Pierce, Jr., based on his age and his residency in Washington, D.C., where Peirce/Pierce is known to have lived. A month later, an anonymous commenter let me know that I had the wrong person and provided a link to an online discussion about the right one. I removed what I had written and promised an update and correction. By then it was too late: my mistake was memorialized in the Internet Speculative Fiction Database (ISFDb) and you can still find it there today. I pride myself on doing good work.

Old Science Fiction (M Porcius): Here at MPorcius Fiction Log we are beating the heat and staying off the streets by reading old issues of Thrilling Wonder Stories at the internet archive. In our last episode we read three stories by Leigh Brackett; those tales of rough men trying to master their environments and find or create a place where they belonged–and the women who loved them–were later reprinted in Brackett collections and theme anthologies. Today we read three stories by Henry Kuttner that have not been quite so widely reprinted–you might call them “deep cuts.”

RPG (R’lyeh Reviews): 1978: G3 Hall of the Giant King. 1974 is an important year for the gaming hobby. It is the year that Dungeons & Dragons was introduced, the original RPG from which all other RPGs would ultimately be derived and the original RPG from which so many computer games would draw for their inspiration. It is fitting that the current owner of the game, Wizards of the Coast, released the new version, Dungeons & Dragons, Fifth Edition, in the year of the game’s fortieth anniversary.

Sensor Sweep: Hall of the Giant King, Henry Kuttner, William Stout, Alex Nino published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

0 notes

talabib · 7 years ago

Text

Leadership Journey: Women at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory

Despite the many forward steps in feminism and the women’s rights movement, many people are still oblivious to the role that women played in the space program’s early years during the 1950s and 1960s. What’s worse, there are still people out there who think women can’t “do” science.

Most history books and movies about space focus on the astronauts in space and the male engineers in the control room, but the truth is that intelligent and driven women were a central force in making all those male accomplishments possible. It doesn’t matter that they went unseen and unrecognized at the time. Today, we recognize that their impact was astronomical.

Barbara Canright was the first of the female computers to work at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

In 1939, after winning a grant from the National Academy of Sciences, a rambunctious trio of friends – Ed Forman, Frank Malina and Jack Parsons – founded the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, or JPL, at the California Technical Institute. Among the first people they hired were Barbara and Richard Canright.

Barbara and Richard had met at Caltech, where Richard was a graduate student and Barbara was a typist. This is also where Richard first met the founders of JPL.

As the name suggests, JPL was a laboratory that created jet engines. One of the early plans was to build a jet engine that could quickly propel an airplane off the ground, the hope being to speed up launching procedures and shorten runways.

JPL pursued this goal in a pretty straightforward manner, essentially just strapping powerful rockets onto small planes. Rockets were something that fascinated the team at JPL. Yet the word “rocket” was strongly associated with science fiction at the time, so, to sound professional and scientific, they claimed that their experiments dealt strictly with jet engines.

These experiments required a lot of calculations, which is where Barbara Canright came in. She was a math whiz and could expertly crunch numbers to measure force and propulsion. Since there were no automated computers in the 1940s, it all had to be done by hand. A single experiment might take a week of calculations and fill up to eight notebooks.

And so it wasn’t long before JPL started recruiting a new computing team to help Mrs. Canright with calculations. Two more female computers came on board: Virginia Prettyman and Macie Roberts. Interestingly, in those days the term “computer” was still used for people rather than machines as they were the ones who did the computing!

Roberts was soon promoted to supervisor and charged with hiring new employees, and she set about establishing a female computer team. This was not a typical move in the early 1940s. Most places wouldn’t put a woman in charge of hiring and managing her own all-female division within an engineering department. But JPL wasn’t a typical place.

JPL expanded rapidly and soon began working on military rockets.

It took a fair few crashes – thankfully none of them fatal – and explosions to get there, but, finally, on August 12, 1941, JPL successfully managed to reduce the length of an airplane's takeoff by 50 percent.

It was good timing, too. The United States entered World War II just a few months later, and JPL won a lucrative contract from the US Army.

Thanks to this influx of money, JPL expanded quickly and was soon able to engineer new and effective military rockets.

Their facilities, hidden away in the canyons on the outskirts of Los Angeles, increased in size and number. They were also able to hire new employees as engineers and computers, which they did by placing ads in newspapers and on college bulletin boards.

All that was required to become a computer were skills in advanced math. Degrees weren’t a prerequisite, which was just as well considering it wasn’t until the 1970s that a significant number of women were able to gain engineering degrees.

In the 1940s, JPL was determined to find the best rocket-propellant mixture. Indeed, Barbara Canright and Macie Roberts spent most of their time analyzing experiment results.

It was chemist Jack Parsons who had the breakthrough, however. He came up with the idea of using liquefied asphalt as the key ingredient in the mix.

Without the hard work of the computers at JPL, the optimal mix would have taken much longer to determine. That mixture ended up being 70 percent liquefied Texaco No. 18 asphalt, 30 percent lubricating oil and crushed potassium perchlorate as the oxidizer.

It was a hit with military bigwigs. The propellant provided a substantial 200 pounds of thrust – and they simply loved the fact that it was produced from a cheap material like asphalt.

JPL’s stock was rising. The results were good. But they knew that the real future lay in unexplored territory: outer space.

While developing missiles for the army, JPL simultaneously laid the groundwork for space exploration.

Soon after JPL created the propellant mix nicknamed “Jack’s cake,” it began working on the army’s Corporal missile project. The idea was to create a guided rocket that could carry a large warhead.

JPL didn’t stop there. While developing the missile, the JPL team used the opportunity to research advanced rockets that could one day travel even farther. They dreamt of discovery, not weaponry.

Barbara Paulson was one of the computers who worked on the Corporal project. Her work was particularly focused on a missile variant that used liquid propellants and was based on the concept of a two-stage launch.

It was this multi-stage technique that proved to be the key to long-distance rockets. The initial launch gets the rocket off the ground, but subsequent “launches” fire the missile hundreds of miles farther once it's safely up in the air.

The multi-stage launch that Paulson helped compute ensured that the Corporal could carry its heavy warhead a staggering 200 miles. In fact, it’s this self-same system that makes it possible for rockets to escape Earth’s gravitational pull.

JPL wanted to be a pioneer in building rockets that left Earth’s atmosphere, and so they began Project Orbiter, the aim of which was to send a satellite into space.

Sadly, though, the Department of Defense decided to cancel Project Orbiter and work with the navy instead. Needless to say, the engineers and computers at JPL were heartbroken. However, they refused to set aside their dreams of space exploration. When they started their next project, the Jupiter-C missile, they secretly continued their satellite research.

Due in no small part to the calculations of the computing team, Jupiter-C got better and better. And so it was that on September 19, 1956, they sent a rocket 3,335 miles up into the air, higher than any previous rocket.

The success of Jupiter-C was bittersweet, but it all counted in the space race.

JPL’s engineers were a diverse bunch of female computers. Among them were Helen Yee Ling Chow, whose computations led to Jupiter-C’s success, and Janez Lawson, JPL’s first African-American employee. Thanks to their efforts, JPL's Jupiter-C rocket was able to break free from Earth’s gravitational pull. But their efforts were overshadowed just a year later.

Although they’d successfully launched all four stages of the Jupiter-C rocket, it was still just a test. Therefore, instead of releasing a satellite in the fourth and final stage, the rocket only carried sandbags equivalent to a satellite’s weight.

This meant that the honor of sending the first satellite into space went to the Russians; in 1957, they launched Sputnik.

It was only after the public failure of the navy’s Project Vanguard, in December, 1957 – their rocket exploded on the launchpad – that JPL was given the go ahead.

In fact, JPL had been doing satellite research on the quiet during the Jupiter-C program. This meant they were ready to launch almost immediately: after government approval, it took just under 90 days for JPL to successfully launch the Explorer satellite on January 31st, 1958. It had been sitting in storage.

Feats of mathematics were involved, too. Computer Marie Crowley plotted the calculations for Microlock, a tracking system that accurately picked up the satellite’s low-frequency radio signal from thousands of miles away.

Meanwhile, at mission control center, Paulson was analyzing incoming data and calculating the satellite’s trajectory. This task required great skill. For eight minutes the satellite’s signal was lost during the first crucial orbit. Panic broke out. But Paulson knew from her calculations that all should be well. And she was proved right when the signal was detected again. And all the while the famous physicist Richard Feynman was peering over her shoulder!

In the 1960s, JPL set its sights on the moon, but electronic computers weren’t much help.

The Explorer success cemented JPL’s reputation. They became the go-to lab for space exploration. When the US government decided the space program should be kept separate from the military, they signed the National Aeronautics and Space Act in 1958. The act created the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) and JPL became one of its primary research and development groups.

The women computers at JPL were particularly excited about plans to explore Venus and Mars. However, the rather less exotic Moon was viewed as the necessary first step. It was therefore set as the target for the Pioneer and Ranger programs.

Computers like Susan Finley were critical, plotting with pinpoint accuracy the trajectories and velocities needed to get lunar probes successfully into orbit.

At the same time, Paulson and Helen Chow spent hours of overtime calculating the trajectory of the Mariner probes that would be sent to Venus and Mars. They discovered there were only brief windows of time suitable for the ideal voyage. Only then would the alignment between the Sun, Earth, Mars and Venus be just right.

By the early 1960s, things had changed a little. Finally, the human computers had access to their electronic equivalents. But these machines were large. They were no longer room-size, as they had been in the 1950s – but, still, a machine like the IBM 1620 was as large as a desk.

Moreover, they were still slow when compared to talents such as Helen Chow. In fact, IBM’s CADET, the Computer with Advanced Economic Technology, was given a new name to match its acronym: Can’t Add, Doesn’t Even Try.

Indeed, no machine was up to the challenge. They were too unpredictable and unreliable. They couldn’t even compete in the games the team played to see who could calculate the fastest. In this, Chow, the undefeated champion, reigned supreme.

The Voyager and the Viking missions were high-points for the computing team at JPL.

Plotting a safe trajectory to Venus was hard. But it was nothing compared to the challenge of the Grand Tour. The plan was to send a probe through the entire solar system, using the planets’ gravitational pulls – all while using as little fuel as possible.

The precise calculations required for that task were astronomical in scale. Eventually, the Grand Tour was renamed the Voyager program. Sylvia Wallace and Sue Finley were tasked with calculating the trajectory and developing the computer programs for the task.

Around the same time, technology was becoming fast and reliable enough to be useful. It was therefore decided that the computer team take courses on coding and computer languages, such as FORTRAN and HAL, as they were in charge of these electronic machines.

Finley was also heavily involved in the creation of the Deep Space Network. This was a large system of dish antennas set up at key spots on Earth. It allowed the mission-control centers at NASA to stay in contact with the probes when they were sent on increasingly longer journeys, like to Jupiter and Saturn.

Sue’s work made Voyager possible. The women at JPL also helped write the computer code through which JPL could receive amazing images transmitted back by the probes. And it wasn’t just images. All sorts of data were streamed back, especially from the Viking mission to Mars.

Paulson played a crucial role in the Viking project, calculating the trajectory the Viking probe needed to take on its eleven-month journey. Her calculations were also needed for the critical final stages of the probe’s entry into Mars’s orbit. The probe was designed to separate into orbiter and lander sections at a precise distance from Mars; once detached, the lander would safely parachute down onto the planet’s surface. The mission was a success due in no small part to Paulson.

In the seventies, it wasn’t just computers that advanced at JPL. Feminism finally started to make an impact.

Viking 1 reached Mars on June 19, 1976, helping engineers and scientists glean previously unimaginable knowledge about Mars. This initial mission paved the way for programs in later decades, like the Mars Pathfinder and the Mars Exploration Rover missions. These led to an even deeper understanding of the mysterious red planet.

The 1970s also saw advances beyond space missions. The women’s liberation movement was also making significant contributions to gender equality.

Universities finally began accepting women to engineering programs. This would mean that later generations of women would be able to become engineers at JPL. Hitherto, talented women working at JPL had one option: become a computer. And though there was no shame in this, the position of engineer came with more prestige and authority. Women now had a choice, a privilege that had been denied pioneers like Helen Chow and Barbara Paulson

That doesn’t mean it was all progress and improvement. If a woman at JPL became pregnant, she was expected to quit her job; whether explicitly stated or not, all women, working whatever job, were expected to set everything aside in the case of a pregnancy. Women had to decide between their family and their career, and pregnant women were seen as a liability.

Women were forced to quit their jobs if they wanted children, even at JPL. Nonetheless, the culture there was still special: JPL was a diverse workplace, especially when compared to the general social climate in the United States in the 1960s. The company was particularly proud of its large and integrated female workforce. It was thanks to this culture that Helen Chow was able to rehire Barbara Lewis after she had had her child. The sisterhood was strong.

Eventually, things changed for the better. Maternity leave was introduced in the late 1960s (in the 1950s and early 1960s, there was essentially no such thing in the United States). Having a child no longer meant giving up a job.

Helen’s role in these developments was critical. Throughout the 1970s, she hired female programmers in order to get them in the door at JPL. After that, she encouraged them to enroll in engineering classes and night school. She knew that once they had engineering degrees they’d be unstoppable.

The women at JPL are critical to NASA’s continued success.

As we’ve seen, ever since the United States first turned its explorative gaze to the stars, the women at JPL have been there, making vital contributions. Though many have since retired, their contributions are still felt.

For instance, the Deep Space Network (DSN) that Sue Finley built and maintained remains the main line of communication for US space missions.

Meanwhile, many missions the world over have depended on Finley’s expertise for their success. Who could forget the French-Russian-US Vega mission, which sent delicate measuring equipment on a Russian rocket to the dark side of Venus in 1985?

It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get close to Halley’s Comet and gather data on it. As Finley’s male colleagues looked on, she manually entered commands to make the DSN’s massive antennas and satellite dishes pivot and perfectly pick up signals from the sensitive equipment sent to Venus’s atmosphere.

By the 1990s, most of JPL's early female team members and leaders, like Helen Chow and Barbara Paulson, had retired. But, as of 2015, Sue Finley was still working at JPL.

Finley wanted to put off retirement until she’d seen the successful conclusion of another project. This was the remarkable Juno mission, which involved sending out another probe, this time to orbit Jupiter. And, in July of 2016, the probe finally got there. It doesn’t matter to Finley that it’s the people in the control room that get most of the media recognition. She knows her worth.

Women like Sue never signed up for praise, but without her the US space program would never have been realized. Today, there are more women working at JPL than at any other NASA center. And it’s all thanks to the trailblazing work of the women of previous generations.

The women who worked at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory during its formative decades, from the 1950s to the 1980s, were a vital part of a team that revolutionized rockets and space exploration. Their calculations controlled the trajectories and plotted the courses of NASA’s satellites, probes and exploratory rangers – a task similar to calculating how to shoot an arrow at a moving target from millions of miles away. In short, it was an almost superhuman feat. Now, in our more open-minded times, their accomplishments are finally getting the recognition they truly deserve.

#Women at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory

0 notes