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scuttle-buttle · 8 months ago

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Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

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The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good.

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry.

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.”

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.”

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away.

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties.

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right.

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe.

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious.

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble.

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead.

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned.

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.”

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. ��She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover.

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down.

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up.

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body.

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him.

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad. “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….”

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming.

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers.

He grins. “Yes ma’am.”

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length.

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high.

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.”

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you.

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths.

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs.

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty.

Finally.

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfic #robert rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #harry crosby x reader wife x rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal smut #harry crosby smut #masters of the air smut #anthony boyle #nate mann #anthony boyle smut #nate mann smut #scuttle-buttle

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artbyblastweave · 2 years ago

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The Bureau of Temporal Adjustment is stiffing me on the bounty they posted for anyone who successfully goes back in time to kill Hitler, because of course they fucking are, why pay a freelancer when you can fuck him over, right? Even though I recorded the whole fucking thing for posterity. They’re saying that I shot, quote, “a stunningly obvious body-double/decoy put in place by Bureau of Temporal Consistency” and that they know this because, quote, “he didn’t have the moustache when he was just a baby, you fuckhead.” Okay, maybe put that in the dossier next time, assholes.

#Every fuckin time!#shitpost

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th3-0bjectivist · 5 months ago

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My visit to the NASCAR Hall of Fame (Charlotte, NC - JUN 29 2024)

Every year for a few years now, I try to do an Independence Day post where I walk around a few cemeteries and snap some cool photos. But this is an election year, and I'm concerned that I'm going to have to soft-block some political zealot high on their own farts that will leave intellectual gems in the comments like 'Drumpf IZ Hitler!' or 'down with left-cucks in 24!'. So instead, I'm going to share some pictures that I took at the NASCAR Hall of Fame in Charlotte, and you can leave all the unrelated jabbering political frivolity that you'd like in the comments section.

For the record, I'm not into NASCAR at all. I haven't watched a full single race in my lifetime, and I tend to associate it with rednecks driving in circles. Which, to my chagrin, I was dead wrong in my interpretation on. Well, except for the redneck part. There's a hell of a lot more to these beautiful cars than I thought. My visit to this specialized museum was a delicate mix of history, art and science lessons!

The first thing I learned is that although these cars look fully assembled from the outside, they have nearly all the standard parts taken out (the radio, the average driver wheel, the headlights, etc.) and the bodies are composed of a flat sheet of durable metal. These days the car panels, which are composite materials like plastic coated with fibreglass, are then painted over to make a colorful, and often very corporate piece of art that is ready to drive at breakneck speeds. This all makes the modified car as light and agile as possible on the speedway.

In the U.S. south, where I reside these days, stock car racing's roots took hold from prohibition. Stock car racing wasn't just about competition; it was about taking your very fast car and running moonshine and illegally imported booze to different regions around Appalachia. Getting away from highway patrol meant stripping your car of excessive weight and parts, allowing for maximum maneuverability around hairpin turns and extreme acceleration up and down steep hills… all while a 1000-pound barrel of booze was strapped down in the back seat.

This is a picture I snapped inside the Hall of Honor, and that man is Richard 'the King' Petty. As a non-NASCAR fan, his face is the face I most associate with NASCAR, as his signature moustache, glasses and hat stand out to me as a truly memorable and iconic driver. But it’s not just the driver that participates. In NASCAR, your team is composed of a chief, who spots opportunities from television monitors and signals the driver through radio to execute specific moves to win the race, all while managing the rest of the team.

The pit crew consists of mechanics, a jackman (runs around the car with a heavy jack to raise the automobile during a maintenance pit stop), a cut-off valve attendant for refuelling, and a driver attendant who helps the driver get in and out of the car. It doesn't just take an individual driver, but a full team to assist the driver in winning the race. Drivers have suffered concussions, bone fractures, severe burns, whiplash, traumatic bodily injuries and death. Talk about bleeding for your craft!

And now for some art! Pictured above is a full-scale clay model of a Next Gen Ford Mustang. These days, clay models of racing cars are developed from digital designs and used to capture approvals from companies to lay down a final design for a race-worthy automobile. Once you pack a V-8 engine into one of these babies and recreate it out of a steel tube frame, you've got a vehicle that can reach speeds above 200 miles per hour.

Here's my pops, Dave, who I took to this museum as a birthday present. He's a NASCAR freak, and this little excursion to the Hall of Fame actually made him cry for a beat as he recalled decades worth of memories of racers, historic moments, and images of historic back-to-back victories for drivers and their teams.

Every car has the potential to be a race car. It just takes some weight-loss surgery or a good initial design, some driver safety features, and a colorful skin to make the whole thing faster, more agile, and more appealing to the eye. I have to say I never expected to absorb so much from the NASCAR HoF. I was grateful for my visit and wanted to share a portion of what I learned to Tumblr as a fun little sidebar.

I hope you enjoyed this post. And rest assured, you will never see another NASCAR post on my page ever again… y'know, unless it’s a meme or something!

Happy 4th,

th3-0bjectivist (Luke)

[ADDENDUM (07/05/2024): Tumblr ryanthedemiboy pointed out to me in the comments that the third paragraph in this post probably needed some modifications regarding the actual description of the panels, which I originally and ignorantly described as an ‘outer metal hull’. While this might have been the case with older NASCAR vehicles, in modern times the panels are at best ‘metal-skinned’, if that, and manufactured from carbon fibre. Also, older NASCAR vehicles were painted and repainted, but ever since the early 2000’s these vehicles are simply wrapped in a vinyl skin. Thank you for your insight ryanthedemiboy, I will ‘stay in my lane’ so to speak in the future and give these topics, that are alien to me, the research they deserve before I post!]

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dasha-aibo · 9 months ago

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I go back in time to give Hitler some basic perspective lessons, so he can finally become a painter, like he's always dreamed.

He goes on to make friends in the liberal Weimar artist circles and his life does a complete 180.

Then Germany still becomes fascist, because the complex sociopolitical circumstances of post-WWI Germany would inevitably lead to the rise of some kind of a revanchist militaristic dictatorship, Hitler or no Hitler. Old Adolph is executed for drawing anti-state pamphlets. But at least his cool name and moustache are spared from forever being associated with dictatorship.

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nando161mando · 6 months ago

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Germany's massive racism problem has been caught on camera again. This time, the German elite partying on luxury island of Sylt were filmed singing "Germany for Germans, foreigners out," while mimicking Adolf Hitler's salute and moustache.

Singing this racist slogan to the electronic tune of „L'amour Toujours" by Gigi D'Agostino has become a trend among partying white Germans, particularly within the social circles of the far-right party AfD and its youth wing, Young Alternative.

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turneradora · 1 month ago

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Here is a new press article, promoting "Rivals", in the next issue of the Hello ! Magazine, of October 14th.

Thanks to Emma Jones for the advanced news and for the written version of it.

Aidan Turner didn’t have to look far for someone to base his portrayal of moustachio’d talk-show host Declan O’Hara in Disney+’s steamy adaptation of Dame Jilly Cooper’s bonkbuster Rivals.

The Being Human actor, 41, looked to his dad as inspiration for his role in the 1980s-set raunchy romance, which follows the rivalry between notorious womaniser Rupert Campbell-Black - played by The Boys star Alex Hassell - and TV boss Lord Tony Baddingham, portrayed by David Tennant.

Aidan made his name in Poldark and fans of the period drama will recognise 16th-century manor Chavenage House, which doubles as the grand Cotswolds home of Declan, his flirtatious wife and their daughters. Aidan is also a father in real life - to a two-year-old with his wife, US actress Caitlin Fitzgerald, whom he met on the set of The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot in 2018.

In Rivals, he stars alongside American actress Nafessa Williams, who made her name in the Twin Peaks reboot before playing singer Whitney Houston’s assistant Robyn Crawford in a 2022 biopic.

The 34-year-old makes her UK debut as Declan’s powerful producer Cameron Cook, and tells Hello! She based her character on growing up in 1980s Philadelphia and observing the strong women in her family.

What or who inspired your roles?

Aidan: I lightly based it on my dad, but the more I watched it, the more I thought: ’That’s my dad!’ The way he walked, his accent and energy. He’s not any angry man, not as angry as Declan, but he’ll come at you with a force. He had a moustache for 20 years and I loved having one for this part, too - it was weird to shave it off.”

Nafessa: My mom and grandma, I remember their red lips, their hairstyles and the fashion they wore, and had always want to emulate that. I was really young in the Eighties but loved watching them and how powerful and confident they were. There are also references from TV and music videos, Nasty Girl Vanity 6 is Cameron’s song. It helped me get into her confidence and sensuality.”

Aidan, how did it feel to shrug off the sex-symbol image to play a protective father?

It was lovely, it felt real, and I could relate to him. He’s a dad, I’m a dad - and he’s like my dad.”

And what about the steamy scenes… are you nervous about your family and friends watching them?

“That’s a question! I tend to never think about it until the moment you really have to and you’re sitting beside them. I think my family have seen my naked bum many times, so I don’t think this will be a big thing.”

N:”A tiny bit. I don’t know if they’ve seen me this much, in this way. I’m thinking about who’s going to be at the watch party, and who’s going to be watching it with me. I was nervous watching it myself!”

How did you feel about filming those scenes?

A: ‘It’s quite a vulnerable thing…But we’re all grown-ups and have done it before. The way to do it is just try to have as much fun as you can. It leads us down a creative path that’s fun because you can find different things to put into the whole mix of the dance.”

N: “It’s not the most comfortable thing to do but when you’re doing it with people who you feel comfortable with, that makes it better. Also, intimacy co- ordinators were there to make sure we were safe and protected and to answer any questions.

“It’s really a dance, it’s choreography. I don’t think people understand how technical it is. It’s really just us getting the job done at the end of the day and just making sure you’re as comfortable as you possibly can be. Everybody was very gentleman- like with me.”

Had you read Rivals?

A: “I’d read the script but not the book. But on the first day of shooting, when we all went to the trailers and there was a signed copy of the book on our chairs, that was a special moment so I got busy reading it then.”

Nafessa, what was it like coming across the pond to be in the show? “It was an honour, and I thank Disney and Jilly for letting me be part of it. There’s a lot of life imitating art. Cameron came from New York to be here, I came from Atlanta. So I understood her world and being new.

“When I read the script I thought: ‘She’s so strong and smart, and so firm in who she is.’ I felt she could hold her own among these strong, powerful men and was excited to give my voice to it. It was fun; everyone was so warm and welcoming, and H I learned a lot.”

INTERVIEW: NICKY MORRIS

Rivals will be available to stream on Disney+ from 18 October.

#aidanturnerinternational #aidan turner #séries #rivals #declan o’hara #declan #disneyplusuk #disneyplus

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supremechancellorrex · 7 months ago

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I've been hearing a lot of people say that Ozai in the Avatar: the Last Airbender cartoon isn't supposed to be "developed" because he's a "symbol". My problem with this is that a character can both be well-developed and a symbol at the same time, so why choose otherwise? "It makes sense because he's supposed to represent" doesn't justify leaving the writing a little loose.

In the cartoon, Ozai is hardly a character to sink your teeth into. You can surmise and speculate things about him, but ultimately every discussion was more about Zuko or another character overcoming him and how satisfying that was than any character depth of Ozai himself. On the Day of Black Sun, Zuko and Ozai's confrontation is less an argument and ideological battle with layers between two human beings and more an extremely developed character yelling at an evil cardboard cutout.

The Problem With Ozai

Zuko: "It was cruel and it was wrong."

Ozai: "Lol."

Zuko: "We need to replace this era with an era of peace and kindness."

Ozai: "Lame." (*scowls in annoyance, tries to leave*)

Zuko: "Stay or I'll cut you." (*waves swords*)

Ozai: "Fine. Whatever. Go on" (*proceeds to sit back down and wonder if he's having spiced fire rice cakes for dinner*)

The way the cartoon presents it, Ozai just was a bit too a moustache-twirling villain and that's even considering his actions. It's not even him being morally bankrupt or sadistic, but that his entire character only exists on the surface level. Him being "superficial" and "ruthless" isn't even a character trait because he has no real character beyond "I'm arrogant, selfish and evil". Even some of the worst dictators in human history from Hitler and Stalin to Mussolini and Mao have more complex 'psychological depth' than Ozai, despite committing the most evil and awful acts against other human beings.

I got they want to reflect the toxicity of the Fire Nation with him as a symbol, "fear" and "ruthlessness", but these are symptoms and the result of an ideology, and Ozai and this ideology need a bit more than "The Fire Nation's ideology is that they're superior, share the greatness and just kill people". We never see Ozai really talk about this ideology, how he is *civilising* the other nations (well, besides, setting them on fire). Why does he think Fire is superior? Why does the Fire Nation? We can speculate it's the unity of the Fire Nation and its industrialisation, that maybe the Fire Nation thinks they have better tea ceremonies and cleaner cities, but none of the Fire Nation characters really talk about this. Sharing their 'greatness', how?

And, of course, we know and the show know their 'greatness' is a lie and farce really, but for their citizens to buy into this farce realistically for 100 years, sending sons and even daughters to die for it, presumably working in factories endless hours to keep up war production like that giant drill, one would think the smokescreen would be a little more convincing than a couple lines. Yes, in the Headband, they show the kids are taught a warped version history with the Air Nomad army, but what is the unifying ideology of the Fire Nation exactly? And how does this reflect Ozai? Beyond ruthlessness and being a smarmy jerk?

And this brings me to a scene I have quite a problem with. The War Meeting flashback in Sozin's Comet Part 1, essentially Ozai just goes from 'How do we quell rebellion?' to 'We will destroy their hope by killing them all with fire'. Hehe, well, I mean, why even talk about "destroying hope" when they'll be too dead to despair? Of course, Sokka says after hearing that literally "I always knew the Fire Lord was a bad guy, but his plan is just pure evil". Then they throw in an Ozai baby picture to pretend they have some nuance, and then blah, blah, Energybending turtle appears out of near nowhere.

A Better Ozai

(I want it noted how hard it was to get a decent gif of cartoon Ozai, especially in his Pheonix King regalia. That is how little people care about or are interested in him. There is more Daniel Dae Kim gifs from the live-action than the cartoon version)

The funny thing is Ozai burning the Earth Kingdom could have worked if they actually gave him character arc in the cartoon. Have Ozai start out believing he can civilise the Earth Kingdom, who he views as inferior and needing to be kept in check. We see in the show Earthbending is banned in Fire Nation colonies and annexed territory, but they should also show him introducing policies to ban certain styles of Earth Kingdom dress, specifically their green national colour dress, and customs, forcibly *civilising* these territory with authoritarian laws. Earth Kingdom children have to go to Fire Nation school to be indoctrinated in how their cultures and homes are inferior, and told to report on their parents.

However, as time goes on, Ozai becomes increasingly disenfranchised with the war, as colonised Earth Kingdom citizens continue to resist, Earthbend and continue banned cultural practices in secret. He feels rising disgust at these people's Earthbender stubbornness and 'backwards' practices, resisting engaging in and conforming to Fire Nation's 'superior' cultural practices, science, and education. How dirty they are, so unFire-Nation, he thinks more and more. He begins to unravel in his hate and think to himself things like how "You just can't take the root edge out of people, so I should burn the root to the ground. Make the world clean, pure and Fire Nation".

If they showed Ozai in the cartoon shifting from the standard position of his father Azulon to an even more extreme and horrifying position over time, reacting in all the worst ways to whatever the world throws at him increasingly and increasingly, his turn as the Pheonix King could have been far more chilling. Azula isn't the only one who has to go "crazy" due to the Fire Nation's twisted teachings. It would have further emphasised the cycle of toxicity in the Fire Nation that Sozin set in motion.

Imperialism and fascism is often driven by a number of things in conjunction, commonly economics, but also vain pride, fear and discomfort; pride of your own nation at the expense of others, as well as fear and discomfort of others, how 'different' they are, their 'weird illogical customs' diluting the 'pure culture of yours' that you understand, their 'strange appearances' changing the face of the culture you know, that you like and think is the greatest and should be eternal. They could be spies, enemy agents of chaos and degeneration. They need to be 'civilised' or 'exterminated' to silence conflict and bring order, this 'dark horde' of backwards people who just can't ever be allowed to be 'in charge'. I think a weakness here is that Ozai is never shown to show any discomfort, he's just so confident and evil about everything, but if he were to reflect the dark face of the Fire Nation, a people they say aren't wholly evil demons, he does a bad job showing the twisted human face of evil and it makes him irrelevant in a way as a character with the themes other than "Defeat evil guy".

Lessons Taught Improperly

Now some would try to defend Ozai in that Avatar: The Last Airbender is a kid's cartoon, but I would say that makes it more important when discussing real-life issues. What is the point of lesson if it is taught improperly? Sometimes that can do more harm than good.

Avatar includes a number of mature themes, including the genocide of Aang's entire people and Gyatso's skeleton. Judging by the Tibetan influences in Air Nomad culture, a real-life people who have also been genocided, I think it is necessary and good practice for even kid's shows to make sure the lessons on real-life evils like the concepts and systems of imperialism, colonialism and nationalism are taught well. Because otherwise you get an inaccurate picture of what it is and how it actually works, and what is the point of that?

Stories want to impart lessons on things being "bad" as a message, but often I think they fall short in getting to the point of why they happen. I wonder if that makes them a little pointless in a way, because the reasons why characters/people and nations do things is both important to good writing and real life. If you aren't taught it properly, how well can you recognise it in your own country? And if you can't, then hasn't the lesson failed to be imparted?

#avatar legend of aang #avatar the last airbender #atla ozai #fire lord ozai #fire nation #imperialism #colonialism #air nomads #atla aang #atla gyatso #air nomad genocide #prince zuko #fire nation royal family

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