#Illumination Show do Lago

[lunamagicablu]

Vi narro ora la storia della Dama con la Lanterna. Era questa una fanciulla che dimorava silenziosa sulle sponde di un’Isola, colma di meli, circondata da un grande lago e da fitte nebbie di fuoco e di mistero.La Dama era spesso assorta, sedeva su di un piccolo scranno e dalla riva sabbiosa illuminava la Via dei Viandanti che ignari passavano lungo i Sentieri della Terra Ferma. Molti si addentrarono su Cammini sconosciuti, come falene verso il fuoco, molti perirono tra le Acque, altri si persero nelle Nebbie del Mistero, altri ancora si bruciarono anima e pensieri tra le Nebbie di Fuoco attorno all’Isola.Pochi giunsero all’Isola sacra, e quei pochi guardarono afflitti negl’occhi scuri della Dama della Lanterna. ‘Dimmi dolce Signora, perché attiri noi mortali tra il periglio e verso la morte?’‘Non son io Viandante a condurti, io mostro solo un approdo, poco o nulla conosco di ciò che oltre la luce della mia Lanterna accade…’Sempre questa fu la domanda e sempre la stessa fu la risposta….Strano Mondo di incanto, strano paradiso perduto, meta ultima e viaggio, approdo al tempo stesso e molo per viaggi ancor più perigliosi…La Dama un giorno decise così di avventurarsi fuori dall’Isola. Portò con sè la lanterna incantata e circondata da un mondo a lei sconosciuto, straniero ed incomprensibile, attraversò le acque e il fuoco, scostò i veli e si addentrò tra le terre straniere dove ormai incanto e profezia, magia ed illusione erano ricordi perduti, fantasmi evanescenti di un passato lontano.Attraversò Boschi e lande di candida neve, parlò al cigno e al cane fedele, imparò l’arte dal saggio ragno e a lungo proferì con la lepre ed il cervo selvaggio. Giunse allora in una verde radura, inverni e primavere, spiriti dell’autunno e dell’estate sedevano in Cerchio.‘Dicci Dama che a lungo hai viaggiato, cosa cerchi nel Mondo dei Mortali?’‘Cerco una Via per loro stessi, Messeri. Molti periscono, molti ignorano la luce della Lanterna, molti non sopravvivono alla Via: il fuoco li brucia, le acque li inghiottono. Fantasmi crudeli li aggrediscono, poiché essi son senza alcun sapere e non hanno armi per giungere a me…’‘Sii la Via allora. Non attender più silenziosa sulle sponde della Tua Isola. Afferra la mano di chi ancora vede la lanterna e conducili, uno ad uno, attraverso il fuoco e l’acqua. Nutrili con l’aria delle tue parole e sii la terra salda sulla quale poseranno i passi… Un dì all’anno, ti concederemo la compagnia del Figlio del Sole, così che la luce della tua Lanterna sia sempre più forte e luminosa… In quei giorni il Mondo sarà gaio ma anche oppresso e spaventato… In quel tripudio di tenebra, alza più in alto che potrai la lanterna dell’Isola, tienila ben salda, e il Figlio Antico la renderà ancor più splendida… Avrà giovani corna di cervo, sarà il Rinato, sarà il Figlio della Madre…’La Dama con la Lanterna vaga ormai da tempo immemore per le Vie del Mondo dei Mortali. Ha molti aspetti, ma porta sempre con se la sua piccola Lanterna. Chi ne scorge la luce non può che afferrarne la mano, e con passo incerto ma protetto, viaggiare lungo i Sentieri che portano ad Avalon….

di Isabella Abbiati (Isobel Argante)

**************************

I will now tell you the story of the Lady with the Lantern. This was a girl who lived silently on the shores of an island, full of apple trees, surrounded by a large lake and thick mists of fire and mystery.The Lady was often engrossed, she sat on a small bench and from the sandy shore she illuminated the Way of the Wayfarers who unaware passed along the Paths of the Mainland. Many went on unknown Paths, like moths to fire, many perished among the Waters, others were lost in the Mists of Mystery, still others burned their souls and thoughts in the Mists of Fire around the Isle.Few made it to the sacred Isle, and those few gazed sorrowfully into the dark eyes of the Lady of the Lantern. 'Tell me sweet Lady, why do you draw us mortals to peril and to death?'‘I am not the Wanderer to lead you, I only show a landing place, I know little or nothing of what happens beyond the light of my Lantern…’This was always the question and always the same was the answer….Strange world of enchantment, strange paradise lost, final destination and journey, landing at the same time and pier for even more perilous journeys…One day the Lady decided to venture off the island. She carried the enchanted lantern with her and surrounded by a world unknown to her, foreign and incomprehensible, she crossed the waters and the fire, pushed aside the veils and entered the foreign lands where by now enchantment and prophecy, magic and illusion were lost memories, ghosts evanescent from a distant past.She crossed woods and lands of white snow, spoke to the swan and the faithful dog, learned the art from the wise spider and spoke at length with the hare and the wild deer. She came then to a green clearing, winters and springs, spirits of autumn and summer sat in the Circle.'Tell us Lady that you have traveled a long time, what are you looking for in the Mortal World?''I'm looking for a Way for themselves, Messeri. Many perish, many ignore the light of the Lantern, many do not survive the Way: the fire burns them, the waters engulf them. Cruel ghosts attack them, for they are without any knowledge and have no weapons to reach me…''Be the Way then. Wait no more silently on the shores of your island. She grabs the hand of anyone who still sees the lantern and leads them, one by one, through fire and water. Feed them with the air of your words and be the firm ground on which their footsteps will rest… One day a year, we will grant you the company of the Son of the Sun, so that the light of your lantern will always be stronger and brighter… In those days the World will be gay but also oppressed and frightened... In that blaze of darkness, raise the island's lantern as high as you can, hold it firmly, and the Ancient Son will make it even more splendid... It will have young deer antlers, it will be the Reborn will be the Son of the Mother…'The Lady with the Lantern has been roaming the Ways of the Mortal World since time immemorial. She has many aspects, but she always carries her little Lantern with her. Whoever sees its light can only grab its hand, and with an uncertain but protected step, travel along the Paths that lead to Avalon….

by Isabella Abbiati (Isobel Argante)

[espetaculoillumination]

Apresentação do Espetáculo Illumination 2019/2020 - Natal Luz Gramado

Mais no YouTube: ESPETACULO ILLUMINATION

[alwaysmarveling]

Call Me Back

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: death, a small sexual innuendo, and lots of commas and long sentences

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Wanda promised each other you would always call to check in, and Wanda’s going to do her best to keep that promise, no matter what.

The first time you met Wanda was… well, when was the first time you met Wanda? Was it when wisps of red flashed in front of your eyes, projecting images so horrific and lifelike that you all but collapsed in a heartbeat? Or was it when she stepped forward to shake your hand timidly, grief and determination filling the witch as she promised to make up for it?

“I- I wouldn’t have done it if I… we were just trying…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you had told her with a smile before confiding in her about your own missteps, how you’d wreaked havoc on all of New York with your powers of body modification after your own parents died, how Fury finally got the Avengers to catch you, and how they quickly became your new family.

-

“You mean they really almost burned the kitchen down trying to make you a birthday cake?” The brunette giggled later that night as you recounted the story of your sixteenth birthday, the two of you sitting comfortably beside each other on the living room sofa.

“Yup. And when Nat showed up with an ice cream cake fifteen minutes later to find smoke in the living room, Sam told me she freaked on everyone.”

“Excuse me, Y/N, I did not do any ‘freaking.’ God, is that what you teenagers are calling it now?” The two of you erupted into laughter, and the redhead could do nothing more than shake her head, a smirk playing on her lips no matter how hard she tried to conceal it.

---

Much like Nat and Steve predicted, the two of you became fast friends. You sat next to each other on movie nights, sang karaoke in your room when you thought everyone else was asleep (if they weren’t awake when you started, they certainly were once you were thirty seconds into Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”), and, much to Steve’s dismay, when you finally became confident with your ability to grow wings on your back, snuck out regularly for late-night flights around the compound.

But you also insisted on being there for Wanda’s training sessions, even if it meant you had to wake up an hour earlier. You cradled the witch in your arms when she woke up night after night with an aching hole in her heart before you eventually insisted you guys just share a room. And you promised her, above everything else, that when you went out for anything, whether it be a quick grocery run or a month-long mission, you’d let her know you were okay.

You knew the promise she pleaded you to make was a result of the anxiety she suffered. She’d lost everyone she cared about; if a simple text or call was enough to put her at ease, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

---

“Wanda,” you’d whispered, the teen immediately sitting up straight when she’d heard the cracks in your voice. “I- I don’t know what to do. I’m safe, but...” She told you to stay there, don’t move, she’d be there in minutes. And, with your brain unable to function enough to think of any other option, you listened.

Her heart broke at the sight of you, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself and your head hung, you feet occasionally kicking the wet sidewalk. The neon sign of the restaurant your date had promised to meet you at illuminated one side of your face, allowing her to see the tears that you had tried but failed so desperately to hold in. But the witch didn’t let you see her emotions, instead whisking you away from the unfamiliar section of the city, brushing the tears off of your cheeks and bringing you to the twenty-four-hour diner for milkshakes. She made a fool of herself in front of the waitstaff until tears flowed from your eyes once again, but this time, the crystalline drops rolled down your raised cheeks, aching from smiling too hard. 

-

When you had a panic attack during training because you couldn’t get one of your body modification attempts to reverse—”Wanda, I cannot be stuck with claws for hands, I can’t!”—she refused to let you hang up until the steady sounds of her own breathing calmed you down, the sharp nails receding and making way for the soft pads of your very human fingertips.

-

And when she called you after the mission in Lagos, you worked tirelessly to complete your own solo mission as soon as you could. You returned to the tower to find her holed up in the bedroom, news broadcasts playing nonstop on the television to remind her of the horrors she’d committed; accident or not, she told you, she needed to hold herself accountable. You simply shook your head at her, holding out your hand without another word. She didn’t take it at first.

“You can’t fix it, Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” She was expecting you to fight her back on it, yell at her and demand that she take your hand, or perhaps you’d go the complete opposite direction and leave her alone, let her be swallowed by guilt and anguish, rip open old wounds and form new ones as she thought of how she tore apart families that were probably much like her own. You did neither.

Wanda’s green eyes remained fixed on your outstretched hand. You stayed silent, one eyebrow cocked as if daring her to see what would happen should she choose not to take it. It was only then that she realized, for once in her life, the person she most loved wasn’t leaving; the support she so desperately needed wouldn’t be yanked away from her when it was mere centimeters from her grasp.

So she rested her fingers in the palm of your hand, and you pulled her out to the balcony where the two of you had spent night after night watching the stars instead of sleeping, making up funny names for each of them and rolling in fits of laughter that only came to those delirious and sleep-deprived enough to understand just what was so funny. Except, this time, instead of dropping into the oversized beanbag chair that was the usual spot of your stargazing shenanigans, she watched curiously as you removed your shirt. Her mouth dropped as you closed your eyes and allowed the white feathers to emerge from beside the ridges of your spine. Although it was a process she’d seen several times before, your modifications had never ceased to amaze her, and your angel-like wings had always been her favorite. The witch admired the additions as you allowed them to flap slowly, once, twice, before turning back to her.

“Let’s go,” you finally spoke, the order gentle but leaving no room for negotiation.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” That was enough for the brunette, who squeezed your hand before following your lead. She allowed you to guide her through the maze of clouds and couldn’t help but smile softly as the sun’s rays hit your face at just the right angle. You wore the exhaustion from your recent mission on your face, and streaks of dirt covered the bruises that she was sure littered your body. But she was content, in awe, because you were you. You didn’t put up walls to hide your scars from the world, didn’t use passive-aggressiveness to hide the passion that burned in your heart. At the end of the day, you were good, purely and truly good. You were an angel; even the sun knew it.

What Wanda didn’t realize, but what you taught her that night, as she sat surrounded by sunflowers, the moon, thousands of gleaming stars, and the tickle of your feathers as your wing pulled her close to you, was that she was one too.

“I’m glad you called me,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the open sky as you pointed out a particularly bright spot. “I’m gonna call that one… Philip. He looks regal, real proud. Look at him, so much brighter than the others, and he knows it too.” The witch breathed out a soft chuckle, stroking her fingers over your feathers as she responded.

“I’m glad I called you too. And I think Philip is a good name for him. What about that one?”

“Hmm… Walter? He’s a bit more serious, I think. But you see the one next to him?” You waited until you got a nod from the girl before continuing. “That’s his sister. She makes sure he has fun, even when he says he doesn’t want to. But you name her, Wands. Naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” She squeezed the elbow that you nudged her with before giving in.

“Alright… that’s Delia. And, yeah, she’s the best. The life of the party. Walter keeps her grounded, though,” Wanda added, to which you agreed to with a hum. You two fell quiet after that, enjoying the comfortable silence and looking up at the twinkling lights, some of them gaining names and stories, others waiting to be named another night.

“Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

“You call me if you ever need me, okay? I know we started this with me calling you, but I’m here for you too.” The witch met your eyes with a firm bob of her head, but you continued, desperate to make sure she understood. “And if I don’t pick up at first, you call me back, okay? Call me until I respond, promise?”

“I promise,” Wanda soothed gently. “I will.”

“Okay, good, good. Because,” Wanda felt a brush of your feathers against her upper arm as you fluttered your wings, slightly agitated, “because I think I love you. I mean, um, I know. I know I love you. I love you. Yeah, I-” Wanda shut you up with a kiss, her lips pressed urgently against yours. And if you hadn’t lost your breath from your rambling or your declaration of love to the girl of your dreams, then you most definitely lost it as your lips melted into hers, in the comforting warmth of her palm against your cheek, and in the words that left her mouth as you finally pulled apart, breathless.

“I will, Y/N, I promise. Because I love you too.”

---

People thought you were inseparable before you started dating, but they all realized how wrong they were after that night. The two twin beds quickly became a queen-sized mattress, sideline support during training sessions became fierce yet playful spars, and the private giggles you guys shared grew tenfold. Fury wasn’t exactly happy that his unofficial daughter was now dating, but he was pleased by how efficiently the two of you worked together, which led you to this moment, the two of you covering the Quinjet while waiting for the rest of the Avengers to finish their business inside the massive Hydra base. With Wanda covering the ground and you in the sky, flying with the white-feathered wings that Wanda loved so dearly, the two of you held off the swarms of Hydra agents relatively well. With a small break in between incoming agents, Wanda looked up to check on you, but she was a moment too late. Before she could even think to warn you, the pure feathers she loved to brush her fingers through fell from the sky, the white stained with red, your screams ripping through her eardrums.

No one, including Wanda, had time to think as she exploded with a new rage, one that hadn’t run through her in years. One that she hoped she would never experience again, but here she was. And there you were.

While you were held in the air by her signature red mist, the opposing agents fell to the ground. She didn’t care about their screams, only yours. And with them all dealt with, she could turn to you, rushing you both into the Quinjet and yelling for the other Avengers to get back here, now.

But her efforts were futile. She could press down on the wounds all she wanted, beg for you to come back until her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but nothing would work. You were gone the instant the missile had hit you, and as much as Wanda wanted to deny the truth, she knew it just as much as your other teammates did when they rushed onto the Quinjet. You were gone before you could say a single goodbye.

---

The first time Wanda called was from your shared bedroom. She dialed your number before tracing the pillow where your head would have laid, running her fingers over the cartoon carrots that covered the comforter. The yellow bedding set was a gag gift Tony had gotten the two of you when you got your new bed.

“You know, since I figure the two of you will be going at it like rabbits,” he winked before getting immediately smacked in the back of the head by Steve.

“They will be doing no such thing,” the supersoldier had chastised him with a roll of his eyes. “God, Stark, sometimes I forget you have a brain when you say such stupid things.”

But you loved it, telling Wanda, “The carrots remind me of you, Bunny.” And how could she return the present when you were being so sweet about it? But the sheets didn’t make her smile in the same way they once did because you were gone. No one was there to tease her about the way her nose wiggled much like the little white fluffy creatures or promise to get her carrots from the market the next day.

The call went to voicemail, and as bittersweet as it was, Wanda savored it because it was you. Your voice. But the beep came far too soon, and your turn was done. So she spoke. 

“Y/N, hey, it’s me, Wanda. I, um, I love you. I’ll always love you, yeah?” The witch put the phone down, thinking that was all she could bear to say as the lump in her throat ballooned in size and hot tears filled her eyes. But just before time was up, her hand shot up to press the device against her ear again. “Call me back, milaya.”

---

The second time Wanda called was from the balcony. The brunette eyed the sparkling diamonds that filled the sky, wondering how you could be gone when, the last time she was here, you were right there beside her, laughing over the boys’ latest shenanigans and Ned, the newly named star. 

Now, the beanbag chair felt too big, too empty without another person sitting next to her. Without you. So she dialed your number, the only number she bothered to learn by heart, and waited for the dulcet tones of your voice. As the dial tone rang, she ran one hand over the white feather that laid gingerly in her lap. Natasha had given it to her along with several others a few days after your death. Each of the team members had one to remember you by, but the spy had picked out the biggest and most brilliant ones to give to Wanda.

“I know how much her wings meant to you-” Natasha stiffened as Wanda threw her arms around her. But the witch didn’t care, her tears soaking the redhead’s shirt as she tried to find the words to thank her. She couldn’t, but it was okay. Natasha knew anyway. Wanda had little time to reflect on the memory before her face brightened at the sound of your voice.

“Hi, this is Y/N-

“And her girlfriend, Wanda! She’s taken, so don’t even think about it, you jerk!” Wanda smiled slightly at your jubilant laughter, remembering how you’d pushed her away for interrupting you.

“I’m not available right now, but leave me your name, number, and message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can, okay? Talk to you soon.” The witch’s eyes closed slightly as the greeting ended with a spell of your giggles before it was interrupted by that damn beep. God, how she hated that beep. Nevertheless, she took a breath and spoke out into the clear night sky, looking up at the stars as she did so.

“Hi, lyubov moya, it’s me. Wanda. I’m calling you back, just like you told me to. I’m not okay. I need you. I love you.” Her breath caught in her throat, forcing her to pause for a moment, but she forced herself to keep going a second later. “Sam and Bucky did the stupidest thing today. Nat and Steve were all over their asses. You should’ve seen it. I miss you. Please, call me back. I’ll tell you all about it.”

---

The last time Wanda called was from the sunflower field. The two of you hadn’t been here since the night you told her you loved her. In fact, it took Wanda several hours to find it since she hadn’t been paying much attention to the route the first time you came.

Once again, the night was clear, the stars lighting up the dark canvas with their radiance. She missed the feeling of your wing wrapped around her, of your presence next to her. But she had one of your feathers in her fingers and your voice in her ear, and to ask for more would be greedy, right?

“Hi, angel. It’s Wanda. I’m calling you back to leave a message, but I can’t do it again after this because I don’t want your voicemail to fill up, okay? I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, but I need to be able to hear your voice, so I can’t let it fill up. But I haven’t forgotten you, I promise I haven’t. I never will. I’m still-” Wanda swallowed, a fighting effort to calm the waver in her voice. “I’m still not okay, but I’m trying. For you. But I’m not okay, I need you to call me back. I’ve named one up there Halia, but her twin sister needs a name. And naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” The witch sniffed once as the corner of her lip curved up slightly, remembering the playfulness in your voice when you’d first said the line. “Call me back, Y/N, please.”

With the message over, Wanda clutched the phone to her chest, her breaths becoming faster and shallower as she closed her eyes, trying to accept the knowledge that it’d be the last time she’d ever leave a message, the knowledge that she was really losing you… the knowledge that she already lost you.

---

Months went by. Wanda wasn’t sure how they did, but they did. The first sign of it was the first Halloween without you, as she saw the other couples dressing up in matching costumes that you would’ve loved, costumes you would’ve pointed out to Wanda with an excited bounce and told her you’d have to wear next year. The next was Thanksgiving, when Wanda ran through the list of everything she was thankful for and came up short when she thought about the people she still had left. And then it was Christmas, and Valentine’s Day, and the first day of summer.

And while Wanda did her best to move on, she always found herself under the stars, dialing your number. She sat on the balcony, in the sunflower field, wherever she could see the sky, and she listened to your voice telling her that you’d call her back as soon as you could, always forcing herself to hang up a second before the beep could cut you off. Wanda named every other star she saw, leaving the ones in between for you and hoping that you’d approve of the names she chose.

“I’m naming that one Angel for you, Y/N,” Wanda murmured. “It’s even brighter than Philip. It’s the brightest star in the sky. I know you think it’s silly to name things after people, but this one’s just special, so you’re gonna have to make an exception, okay?” The brunette’s lips stopped moving, but her eyes stayed wide open as she watched the star as if, if she watched it long enough, studied it hard enough, you would materialize from its luminescence. As if you would come back to her. But when you didn’t, she finally allowed her watering eyes to rest, her eyelids drooping to surround her in darkness.

“I’m not okay, Y/N.” The witch’s voice was softer than it had ever been, more tired. But this time, there was no one to whisk her off and make her forget the heaviness of it all. “I need you so badly. I love you so much. I always will. But, please, angel, call me back.”

[oodlesofsnootles-main]

Obitine Week 2021: Day 1 - Outsider POV

Three cadets were lost in their coursework, the glow of datapads illuminating their tired faces. Nothing could break them from their trance, until….

“Lagos, Amis, Soniee, you’re never going to believe what I just saw!”

Korkie Kryze ran in, out of breath and bubbling with excitement. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, though it was enough to grab their attention.

“What is it?” Lagos jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair.

“Calm down, both of you,” Amis yawned. “He probably found another incorrect date at the Peace Museum again.”

“No, I think there’s…right here in Sundari…there’s another….”

“Spit it out, Kork!”

“Jedi!”

“A Jedi?” They all exchanged doubtful glances, then returned their eyes to a gasping Korkie.

“Something must be happening, for another Jedi to visit! My aunt Satine said we’d be unlikely to see them here again.”

“Where? Where did you see the Jedi, Kor?”

“Uh, well, I didn’t actually see a Jedi, but—”

“Now I’m confused,” Amis scratched his head, “you saw one but you didn’t?”

“Let me explain. I went to visit my aunt, and there was a...robe. A genuine Jedi robe. Right there on the floor.”

“But then where was the Jedi?” Soniee impatiently slammed down her datapad.

“Allow me to finish,” Korkie huffed. “There was also a lightsaber. Sitting right on top.”

“How? They aren’t allowed here,” Lagos noted.

“Did you touch it?”

“No, Amis. But I wanted to.”

“You should’ve taken it, to show us. Then brought it back, of course.”

“Steal a lightsaber from a Jedi here on secret business? Are you serious?”

Soniee rolled her eyes. “What makes you think it's a secret? Not everything is a big conspiracy, Korkie. We just got lucky last time.”

“It must be a secret, because they were meeting in private and I heard my aunt speaking to a man…the Jedi, I assume. Whispering, really.”

“What were they saying?”

“I don’t know, it didn’t feel right to spy.”

“You usually don’t have a problem with that,” Amis pointed out. “You should’ve gone and asked this Jedi for food. They carry some in their belts. Did you know that?”

“I was the one who told you!” Korkie sighed. “Do you think I should’ve stayed and listened? Or waited, or even knocked on the door?”

Amis kicked his feet up onto the desk and leaned back, grinning. “What she and a disrobed Jedi do behind closed doors is her business, Kork, heheh.”

It took a while for the insinuation to reach him, but when it did, his face twisted in disgust. ”Don’t talk about my aunt like that!”

“Yeah, laser brain, that’s our Duchess.” Lagos scolded, equally outraged. “Show some respect!”

Korkie’s shoulders slumped and his inherent light seemed to dim. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, don’t feel like you can’t confide in us, Kor. I believe everything you saw and heard.” Lagos stared at the other two. “This won’t leave the room, right?”

Soniee shook her head, then punched Amis in the arm until he did too.

“I just hoped maybe…maybe they were talking about…me.”

“We get it, Kork, you want to be rewarded with a personal tour of the Jedi temple for your bravery.”

“Some recognition would be nice.”

“I’m sure they heard all about it!” Lagos patted his arm, “your aunt must be telling that Jedi how proud she is of you.”

A hopeful smile spread across his face. “What else could they possibly be talking about?”

[wintervvidow]

apricity pt. three

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, vomit mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 4,200

A/N: this is a bit of a filler chapter yet still very important! I did have to use google translate for the Russian, so if it is incorrect, please let me know and I'm very sorry if it is! Thank you 💕

MASTERLIST

��Я готов отвечить.” ( Ready to comply.)

The December air was cold as it blew through Florence’s hair, her arms circling Bucky’s waist as they rode down the dark road on Bucky’s motorcycle. The soldier steered with one arm, free hand coming down to rub circles on the redhead’s calf as they pulled behind a cluster of trees, hiding them from onlookers as they waited. The pair of assassins were unthawed and reset only hours ago, immediately given their latest mission.

A car came into view, red tail lights illuminating the air around them. Bucky flipped the bike’s headlight on and pulled onto the road again. The soldier revved the bike, catching up to the side of the vehicle as Florence sunk her butterfly knife into the tire, causing the car to swerve off the road and crash into a building.

Bucky parked the bike ahead of the crash, Florence stepping off the bike, Bucky behind her, and approaching the car. She flipped open the trunk to reveal a large silver briefcase, opening it to see five bags of blue liquid; exactly what they were looking for.

This was the last mission the Winter Soldier and the Winter Widow would ever go on.

Florence bolted up in the cheap hotel bed, Bucky’s screams reverbing in her brain. HYDRA always made her watch when Bucky was reprogrammed, a way to keep Florence in line and remind her who she was; just a puppet.

The last mission was always a common nightmare in the rotation of dreams Florence had, continuously taunting her. She disappeared only two weeks after it, abandoning everything she had grown accustomed to and the only person she had ever loved.

Florence couldn't go back to sleep, instead deciding on making herself coffee, the microwave clock mocking her, 4:34 a.m. She sipped her coffee slowly at the small kitchenette table, patiently waiting to start her day as she watched the clock tick away until it became 6:30 a.m., a reasonable enough hour to be awake for Steve to not worry.

~

The team was in Lagos, following a lead on Brock Rumlow, who had been causing quite the headache in the past few months, this time his target was deadly weapons from the Institute For Infectious Diseases.

Florence and Natasha sat across from each other listening to Steve and Wanda Maximoff converse about their surroundings through their earpieces, doing their best to remain anonymous and still get the intel under the hot noon sun.

“You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?” Steve asked Wanda as she fiddled with the sugar packet in her hand.

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute.”

“It’s also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns...which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.” Florence smirked at Natasha’s response as she took a sip of her coffee, savoring the caffeine.

Wanda chirped back through her radio, ‘You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?”

Florence glanced at Wanda across the cafe, “Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.”

Sam’s voice floated through their earpieces from the rooftop above, “Anybody ever told you two you’re a little paranoid?”

The two redheads shared a knowing look with small smirks adorning their faces, “Not to either of our faces. Why? Did you hear something?” Florence’s tone was light, but both she and Natasha knew the darkness behind it; the Red Room made them that way.

Steve, ever the serious man, refocused the small group, “Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

Sam scoffed in the mic, “If he sees us coming, that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.”

There was a pause in time before Steve spoke, “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.” Sam deployed Redwing, giving Sam and the team the information they needed, “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

Natasha glanced at Florence, the pair not too thrilled to be dealing with this particular situation, “It’s a battering ram.”

“Go now.”

Wanda questioned Steve into her mic, the tension had just risen significantly.

“He’s not hitting the police.”

The team scattered, Steve, Wanda, and Sam going after Rumlow while Florence and Natasha were both on motorcycles racing down the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.”

Natasha revved her bike, “I’m on it.” The redhead purposely crashed her bike, flinging it into an armed guard. Florence ditched her bike, joining Natasha in the fight.

A guard swung at Florence, missing his target as she ducked and swept his feet from underneath the attacker. Natasha took down two more guards while Florence took down three more, tossing the last guard on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Florence and Natasha were attacked by Rumlow, neither of the two women able to effectively take him down. The two were shoved into a tank, Rumlow dropping a bomb in before latching the door closed. They surveyed their surroundings quickly; two guards with guns aiming at them. Florence kicked one unconscious while Natasha grabbed the other guard and used him as a human shield when the grenade exploded, grabbing Florence on the way down.

Black smoke filled the air, the smell of fire making it hard to breathe, sending the pair of assassins into a coughing fit on the ground. Looking up, they could see Steve being blown back into the building by an explosion, their ears ringing from the volume. Steve sent Sam after Rumlow, who was in an AFV heading north.

Natasha relocated the ditched bike and got on, pulling Florence behind her. The younger assassin revved the bike as they entered the street, Florence holding onto her.

Sam called out the offenders, clocking four of them splitting up.

Natasha stopped the bike and looked at Florence before splitting up, “I got the two on the left, you take the right.”

Florence sprinted down the busy street, dodging and weaving the crowd. Her targets came into view ahead of her, the girl sent a throwing star their way, effectively knocking him to the ground with no way to run. The girl grabbed the man, searching the bag furiously, trying to locate the weapon, “It’s not here!” Sam replied back, not having the weapon either.

Natasha called over the mic, “I have it.” Florence sighed in relief, moving to meet back up with the team.

She came upon Steve, who had Rumlow on the ground in front of him. She approached the scene cautiously, listening to the exchange.

“You know, he knew you and that redhead, Florence. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.” Rumlow whispered tauntingly at Steve.

Florence approached from behind, grabbing Rumlow’s hair and yanking him back, putting a knife to his throat, “What did you say?” The flip switched in Florence’s brain at the mention of Bucky, nothing else mattering anymore. She didn’t care that people were probably filming her with a knife to someone’s throat, and Steve made no move to stop her.

The disfigured man laughed as the knife dug deeper against his neck, staring up at Florence, “He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. Always screaming about you.” He then looked at Steve, “Till they put his brain back in a blender. He wanted you to know something. He said to me, ‘Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go.’ And you’re coming with me.” Rumlow’s thumb pressed a detonation device, Florence and Steve noticing it at the same time.

Wanda was behind them, containing the explosion of fire with her powers, keeping Steve and Florence from becoming red mist. The newest member sent Rumlow up and into the building in front of them. The building went up in flames, the leftover gasses from Rumlow’s bombs reacting to the fire and exploding. The bystanders screamed and ran as Wanda looked on in horror at what she had just done, hand clamping over her face.

Florence gently guided the girl away from the scene, “Hey, come one. We have to go, this isn’t on you, okay?”

Behind them, Steve called for Sam to request Fire & Rescue before he took off to go save people from the building, leaving Florence to console the distraught brunette.

A month later, the team was back at the Avengers Compound, Florence sitting with Steve as they watched the news.

“Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria last month. The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos, when the attack occurred.”

The TV switched to show King T’Chacka of Wakanda’s speech:

“Our people’s blood is spilled on foreign soil, not only because of the actions of criminals, ut by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.”

Steve turned the TV off, the only other sound in the compound coming from Wanda’s TV in her room. Florence got up to go speak to the girl before Steve stopped her, “I’ll go.” Steve and Wanda were taking the Lagos incident the hardest, both blaming themselves. The mention of Bucky had made both Florence and Steve freeze until it was too late, leaving Wanda to deal with the bomb that now plagues her consciousness. Florence watched as Steve walked off until he wasn’t visible anymore for her to turn on her heel to head to the kitchen.

The redhead was in dire need of coffee, the cup she had that morning had worn off. The nightmares amplified after Rumlow’s supposed confession about Bucky, the girl had hardly slept more than two hours a night. When she did sleep it was restless, nightmares of Bucky haunting every corner of her mind. She managed to make it through half her mug before she was called downstairs for a meeting with Tony and the Secretary of State.

Secretary Ross sighed heavily as he stood at the head of the table of Avengers as he mimicked his golf swing, “Five years ago, I had a heart attack and dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me. Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

Next to Florence, Natasha spoke with a smirk adorning her face, “What word would you use, Mr. Secretary?”

Secretary Ross looked up from the table, “How about ‘dangerous’? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross stepped aside from the table, allowing the full view to be on the screen in front of the table, showing various clips of incidents the Avengers were involved in. Everyone at the table grimaced at the screen, not proud of what it was showing. Ross flipped through events of New York, Washington D.C., Sokavia and Lagos before Steve had enough, noting Wanda’s demeanor change and telling Ross to turn it off.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” Ross paused, placing a large file on the table in front of Wanda who passed it on to Rhodey, “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

Steve spoke from the end of the table, “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that.”

Ross looked down at Steve, “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes, you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

Rhodey gestured to the accords “So, there are contingencies.”

Ross shrugged, “Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

Ross began to leave until Natasha stopped him, “And if we come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.” Ross left after that, leaving the team to discuss.

The team was arguing amongst themselves as Florence stared at the ceiling with her feet on the table, listening to various points being made while Rhodey and Sam debated behind Steve while Tony rolled his eyes.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, “So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No, that’s cool. We got it.’”

Sam cut Rhodey off, “How long are you going to play both sides?”

Vision interrupted from his spot on the couch next to Wanda, “I have an equation.”

Sam moved to stand behind Florence, his voice dripping in sarcasm, “Oh, this will clear it up.”

Vision continued, “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve spoke with the Accords in hand.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invited challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict,” Vision paused, “breeds catastrophe. Oversight, oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

Rhodey looked to Sam, “Boom.”

Natasha spoke from her spot at the table, “Tony, you are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.” Tony rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind.”

Tony grumbled at Steve’s statement, “Boy, you know me so well.” Tony rose from the couch, cradling his head as he walked over to the kitchen, “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” Tony grabbed a coffee mug, looking into the sink, “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal?”

Natasha looked at Florence with a knowing look about her coffee-sleep- problem while Tony continued complaining behind them, “Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony placed his phone in the fruit basket, a small hologram emitting from it of a young man, “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk, See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where. Sokovia.” Tony paused, allowing the words to sink in painfully, “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

Steve began speaking, “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

Rhodey speaks up, pointing at Steve, “I’m sorry, Steve. This is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not S.H.I.E.L.D., it’s not HYDRA.”

Florence practically flinched at Rhodey’s mention of HYDRA as Steve cut him off, “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

Tony walked towards the group, “That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

Steve interrupted, “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” The team all shared looks, silently gauging their stances.

Tony looked down at Steve, “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.”

Wanda, who had been silent the entire meeting, spoke from her seat next to Vision, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

Vision spoke beside her, “We would protect you.”

“Maybe Tony’s right,” All eyes darted to Natasha, “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

Sam cut her off, “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“I’m just reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.” Florence was slightly shocked at Natasha’s statement. She had assumed that she wouldn’t be signing, not wanting to walk back into a potential puppet situation.

Tony leaned against his chair, looking at Natasha baffled, “Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?”

Natasha shook her head, “I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no, you can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay. Case closed. I win.”

Florence noticed Steve’s phone buzzing, watching his face fall as he read the notification, “I have to go.” The team watched as Steve bolted out of the room.

Days later, Florence was seated between Steve and Sam as they attended Peggy Carter’s funeral in London. The girl was never close to Peggy in the ’40s, she only spoke to her briefly, but Florence knew Steve would need support. The trio watched from the pew as Sharon Carter, Peggy’s niece and an ex S.H.I.E.L.D agent, spoke about her aunt. Sharon had grown to be a friend and an ally to the team, helping them out during the Battle of Triskelion.

The funeral ended quickly, Florence standing outside with Sam while Steve remained in the chapel. A familiar redhead passed by, Florence grabbing Natasha’s arm gently, “Nat? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Steve, then I’m off to Vienna to sign the Accords.”

Florence furrowed her brows, “You’re signing it? Who else signed?”

Natasha shrugged, “Yeah, it’s what seems right. Tony, Rhodey and Vision have signed. Clint says he’s retired and Wanda is TBD. You?”

“I can’t.” Florence wanted to but was immensely torn. She didn’t see a way to function properly under the Accords, and her best bet was to not sign, much to Natasha’s dismay. Florence remained paranoid after the Red Room and HYDRA, even more so than the redhead in front of her. She wanted it to be easy, to sign the Accords without any second thoughts, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Natasha smiled softly at her friend, “I figured. But there’s room on the jet if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Nat, but I’ll pass. Go see Steve.” The two girls hugged briefly, Natasha pulling away and entering the chapel.

Hours later, both Sam and Florence’s phone vibrated, alerting a notification, the pair taking out their devices and reading ‘UNITED NATIONS COMPLEX BOMBED’

The two looked up from their phones in fear, immediately on the hunt to find Steve.

They found him in the lobby of Sharon’s hotel, having walked her back after Natasha left hours ago. Sam stopped in front of him, “Steve, there’s something you need to see.”

The trio stood in front of the TV of their shared hotel room as the news anchor spoke, “A bomb hidden in news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna.”

Sharon paced behind them while she was on the phone.

“More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

The screen played a clip of the alleged suspect, Bucky, and Florence felt like she was going to be sick. Her stomach dropped and she could feel Sam’s gaze on her. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon interrupted Steve and Florence’s internal spiral, “I have to go to work.”

Florence remained in front of the TV, trying to talk herself out of believing that Bucky would do this. He would have been acting alone. He wouldn’t have done this, this wasn’t the man she knew. She knew he was out of HYDRA’s clutches and was on his own, it couldn’t be him.

Steve grabbed her wrist gently, turning her away from the TV, “We have to go to Vienna, come on.”

Florence and Steve made it to Vienna along with Sam, both leaning against a tree with hats and sunglasses in an attempt to remain unknown. Steve pulled out his phone, dialing Natasha’s number. Florence ignored their conversation as she stared emotionless at the ground. The air was still heavy with smoke from the bombing as Steve spotted Natasha a few yards away, her ignorant to the fact that Steve and Florence were here.

After Steve hung up, Florence’s phone began to ring, Natasha’s contact lighting up the screen. She shared a look with Steve before answering, “Hey.”

Natasha wasted no time getting to the point, “Look, I know how much Barnes means to you, trust me I get it, but don’t do anything stupid. You need to stay home and regroup.”

Florence sighed into the phone, “Nat, you know I can’t do that.” Florence ended the call before Natasha could respond, quickly pocketing the phone in her black jacket and walking away.

Florence and Steve entered a restaurant, quickly spotting Sam at the bar.

Sam placed his food down, “She tell you to stay out of it?” Steve and Florence’s silence was answer enough for Sam, “Might have a point.”

Steve pursed his lips, “He’d do it for me.”

“1945, maybe.” Florence glared at Sam through her glasses as he continued speaking, “I just want to make sure we consider all our options. The people that shoot at you two usually end up shooting at me.”

Sam didn’t know him. Steve didn’t know the ‘new’ him. Out of the two, she had known Bucky the longest, loving him through the good and the bad. Even when he was the darkest parts of the Winter Soldier, Florence still held love for him in her heart because she knew what HYDRA made him into. And when Florence’s reflection was unfamiliar to herself, whether she was covered in someone else’s blood or she had been reprogrammed, Bucky kept her from falling apart in the Red Room. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon made her way up the bar, standing next to Steve as she updated the group, “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of its noise.” Sharon slid a file over to Steve, “Except for this. My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now, so that’s all the head start you’re gonna get.”

Florence thanked Sharon as she left to leave, “You’re all gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight.” Again, the feeling of bile worked its way up Florence’s throat, forcing herself to choke it down. Her hands shook at her sides as she took in Sharon’s words. She wouldn’t let that happen, even if it ended up killing her. She was going to save him.

Steve read over the file quickly, Sam and Florence looking at him expectantly, ”He’s in Romania.”

The location shouldn’t have shocked Florence as much as it did. A lot happened in Romania between herself and Bucky, she shouldn’t be surprised he went there. He probably didn’t even realize why he went to Bucharest, the action must have felt familiar. She should have began their search there two years ago, Florence was angry with herself for missing such an important place to them both. And God, did Romania have painful roots in the soldiers’ and widows’ lives.

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[tessiete]

"I wish you would write a —" continuation or AU of that scene from away the vapour flew (because I've seen you mention that even your AU's have AU's lol and I'm selfishly hoping you'd consider revisiting that fic and coz I can't let this opportunity pass when this fic literally lives in my mind rent free lol)

Alright! At long last I have figured out what happens next. This is for you, dear thing ❤️❤️❤️ ( @lightasthesun on - or very near thereabouts - your birthday)

LED BY THE WANDERING LIGHT

It starts with a very little thing: a seed.

 It is slipped from the glove of a Republic aid trooper who smiles as he passes it over.

 “From the General of the 212th,” he says. “Don’t know what it is, but I damn near lost the thing on the way over.” 

 “For me?” he asks, and the man nods, his grin growing wider.

 Then he leans in as though commiserating with a friend. “Jetiise sha’bise, lek?”

 “Elek,” agrees Korkie, dubiously, turning the little living pebble between his fingers.

 The trooper grins, and gives him a friendly shove before trotting off back to his ship. Korkie has come down on his aunt’s behalf to oversee the relief efforts, but he is distracted by the seed in his hand. It is flat, and furry, and pleasingly plump. If he squeezes it, he can feel the skin relent and rebound, and if he digs in his nail ever so gently, he can feel the taste of water upon his thumb, and see the pale blush of springtime in the depths of the cut. It is a seed of something, he knows, but of what?

 He places it in the breast pocket of his Academy jacket, and turns his attention back to the work. It is an impressive, and important sight, but his thoughts linger on the seed, and he feels it sit bright and eager against his heart.

 Later, when the supplies have been unloaded, and the aid troopers seen off, when the ceremony of thanks and assurances of neutrality have all been displayed, when he is back in his room at Sundari only hours away from the magtrain ride back to school, he plants the seed in a little pot of black earth, and dampens the soil. It will not grow tonight, but he cannot help but stare at it anyway, waiting in the dark, beneath the stars, so patient.

A week passes, and he is back at the Academy when the mail officer - an upperclassman he’s never met - stops at his place during first meal.

 “Su-su, Kryze!” he calls. “A package for you from the Core.”

 A small bundle wrapped in layer upon layer of bonding tape, and stamped with the ink of a hundred spaceports too numerous and cramped to decipher lands upon his lap. He uses the thin knife from his plate to slice through the plastifibe envelope. 

 When his fingers graze the object within he gasps, and pulls back the wrap to reveal a real, proper book. It’s not even printed on flimsi, he notes, cracking the aged spine and letting the pages fall open, but on actual paper. They don’t make these in the Core, and hardly ever in the Mid Rim, it’s just not economical, and most planets don’t have the resources to spare. But this one is old, it’s pages creased, and worn smooth at the corners with the turning of many fingers. It is about horticulture, though the illustrations of green and growing things have faded to browns and burnished golds. It is beautiful. 

 A piece of dried grass has been tucked between two pages, and when Korkie folds them back to look he sees an image of the seed he’d sown in the pot by his bed. Beside it, a riotous bouquet of blossoms burst in an array of different colours. It is a daesyn flower.

He tucks the book in his kebisebag, and carries it around for the rest of the day. At nightfall, he takes it out with careful reverence, turning the pages back to the daesyn slowly lest they tear or turn to dust. Then, by the light of a little glowrod, he props the book against his window and reads along as he tends to the small green sprout only just peeking through the soil.

 He buys a sun lamp, and a watermeter, and adjusts the temperature of his quarters much to Amis’ chagrin, determined to provide the most optimal growing conditions he can for the little plant.

  After a month, the seedling has become a sturdy sprout, with prickly leaves of a green so deep it might be blue. He is attempting to commit those variegated lines to flimsi when Amis returns to their quarters, a small pouch swinging from his hand.

 “I’m supposed to give this to you,” he says, tossing the pouch. Korkie reacts without thinking, snatching the bag out of the air before it can hit the ground.

 “Who’s it from?”

 “Front desk. Said some high up Republic alor sent it.”

 “Which one?”

 “Don’t know. Didn’t ask, did I? Too busy polishing the silver.”

 Korkie grimaces in sympathy, having spent many an afternoon of his first year cleaning the trophy case in the main hall. He thinks that Amis’ plight could be easily avoided if only he behaved himself, but refrains from saying so to his friend.

 Instead, he pulls the drawstring at the top of the purse, and turns it over his hand. A dozen discs of coloured glass tumble into his palm. They are thick, and smooth, though not polished by anything but time. Each is a different colour, though some are struck through with shimmers of gold and silver. 

 “What’s that?” asks Amis over his shoulder.

 “Don’t know,” he echoes. The glass feels comfortable in his grip. Made to be held, and carried, and passed from hand to hand.

 “Should ask Lagos,” says Amis. “That seems like her kind of thing.”

 He makes no reply to Amis, but of course, he does as he suggests. Lagos is, after all, a walking encyclopaedia, and of all their friends the most likely to at least have an idea of where to start looking.

 The excitement on her face when Korkie shows her his hoard tells him she has more than an idea - she knows.

 “Oh, oh, oh!” she gasps. “Where’d you find Abafar trading beads?”

 “They were a gift,” he replies. “What are they for?”

 She picks them up one at a time and holds them to the light. By some trick of their design, they cast no shadow, but seem to capture the rays inside like banked embers, or twisting prisms. The ones marked with ribbons of ore grow warm in her hand, and she presses them to his cheek so he can feel their heat.

 “They’re the traditional currency of Abafar,” she explains. “It’s a desert planet in the Outer Rim, and craftsmen in the Void used to make these beads as a means of facilitating trade over great distances. Metal was scarce, and the beads could also be used to retain heat for longer - that one in your hand could keep the warmth of the sun all night, if you wanted it to.”

 He considers the disc of deep indigo, and holds it up to the sun until it turns red. The glass seems to have become molten, but its warmth is not painful in the hand. He leaves the bead out for the rest of the afternoon to test Lagos’ theory, and brings it into bed with him at night. Tucked beneath his pillow, it radiates a soothing heat, and he feels his muscles relax and his worries melt as he drifts away into an easy slumber.

   The next gift he receives is shattered into bits.

 “Sorry, kid,” says the attendant at the delivery depot when he arrives to claim his parcel. “Happens sometimes with these packages from the front. The war is not a safe place for fragile things. Bic cuyir meg bic cuyir.”

 He takes the present anyway, carrying it delicately back to the Academy, fearful of breaking it further. When he finally tears through the tape and plastifibe, clay and ceramplast pieces give up any pretense at form and clatter over the surface of his desk.

 It was beautiful once, he can tell. Perhaps a bowl or a cup turned by hand - he can see the telltale print of a foreign finger pressed into a section of naked clay - but now it is only fragments and dust.

 Still, he hovers over the pile, turning the pieces this way and that, trying to see how they fit together. He doesn’t notice when sixth bell rings, or when Soniee pings his comm, or when Amis sneaks in past curfew and turns out his light. He stays up late into the night, until the form takes shape, and through the cracks and crevasses of painted clay dawn creeps in.

 It is an amphoriskos. A small vessel for storing precious oils, like the kind used in the rituals of so many traditional peoples. There is none in it now, and Korkie retrieves the sachet to see if perhaps it was spilled into the weave of the plastifibe wrap. But it is dry. And the clay, when he looks at it more closely, is dry and unstained by use. The gift was always empty.

 The shards sit upon his desk in their loose arrangement until, one afternoon, Amis moves to sweep them off into the dustbin.

 “No, no!” protests Korkie, before Amis can complete the task. “I want to keep it.”

 “What for?” his friend asks. “It’s broken.”

 “I don’t know yet.”

 He collects the bits of amphoriskos into his hands, and arranges them about the base of his daesyn pot. The paint glints in the light, and so too do the Abafar beads nestled amidst the debris. The plant grows green and bushy, its leaves reaching out to skim the rim of its bed as though a swimmer poised on the edge of emersion.

He receives Theelin singing strings wound tight around a holodrive meant for the Duchess, paired basalt spindles from Hapes, seashells from the deep oceans of Mon Cala, and a set of Lateron hoops carried on the wrist of the visiting senator from Naboo.

 “From Master Kenobi,” she says, and she smiles at him with a warmth that feels like family. He wonders if they’ve met before, if he should know her, but she moves along with the entourage of press and government officials before he can ask.

 He is home for Holyrod month, and has brought his prizes with him carried along specially in his kebisebag, his daesyn in his hands. He sets them out along the windowsill in his rooms at Sundari. The watchet blues and greens of crystalline filtered light play over his collection, illuminating one after the other in joyous turn. He does not know what they mean, or why his father has sent these particular things to him, but they are all precious, and he longs for a way to display his gratitude for the thought he has been spared.

 The daesyn itself revels in its new surroundings, and leans close to the glass to get as close a view of the sun as it can, budding with imminent delight.

The Senator from Naboo is called Padme, he discovers when he is introduced to her again at mealtime. And she has not come alone. She is part of a delegation of foreign ambassadors, all from the Republic, but not all, Korkie suspects, as enthusiastic about the Chancellor as they had once been. There are murmurings and whispers amongst them, hurried out between thin lips and caught only in the corner of his eye, or the turn of his head, but whether satisfied or not, they are accompanied by the ceremonial force of the Senate, and the might of Palpatine himself - Two Jedi travel with them.

 Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 He sees him through the crush of bodies, and later down the line at suppertime. In the midst of deep blues, and mauves, and furs, and silks, his earthen tunics stand out, but he is always distant, always just out of reach. All he needs is a moment, he thinks, to make sure he’s seen, so he can acknowledge his father - even in the polite, and suitably respectful language of perfect strangers if he must, but it never comes. 

The plates are cleared, the halls are emptied, and Korkie finds himself bidding his aunt (she is always his aunt here) goodnight, and wandering back to his rooms alone.

 It is dark when he arrives, though by the window the Abafar beads glow like the distant lights of the city. He slips off his stiff shoes, and his raiments of clan, but is interrupted by a knock at the door. He waits, uncertain, until the knock comes again.

 Perhaps his mother come to assure herself of his health and presence, as she has done so often in the past, but he opens the door to find Obi-Wan Kenobi waiting, with his hand out. In the euphoric rush of astonishment, he hastens to place his own hand upon his father’s as is customary on Stewjon, though he holds fast in a manner peculiar between children and their parents.

 “Master Kenobi,” he stammers. “I did not expect you. I thought you’d left. Forgive me.”

 “There is nothing to forgive,” Obi-Wan replies. “I’d rather hoped to catch you alone, but I’m afraid our schedule was somewhat packed.”

“Of course.”

He is staring, he knows it, but he can’t seem to think of anything else to say, caught up in looking at his father and searching for all the commonalities between them. Does he tilt his head like that? Does he stroke his chin? Does he frown and smile by equal measure?

But the weight of his scrutiny is too much to bear, and Obi-Wan cracks.

“I thought to ask: did you get my gifts?”

“Yes,” says Korkie. “Thank you. They were very thoughtful.”

“Ah...And did you - did you like them?”

At this, Korkie cannot help but smile, and he shakes his father’s hand, tugging him forward with zeal.

“Yes, of course,” he says. “Would you like to see?”

If he is confused by his son’s desire to reintroduce him to items he has already laboured over and seen, then he does not show it. Nor does he resist when the hand in his pulls him further into the room, and doesn’t let go even as a curtain is flung open, and a light flicked on low.

He is pulled over to the broad casements and left to bask in starlight as Korkie steps aside to reveal a colorful mobile hanging from the frame of his window.

“The amphoriskos broke,” he explains, and sees a shadow flicker in his father's eyes. “No, no,” he insists. “It wasn’t your fault. It just happened. But I couldn’t bear to throw it away. It was so beautiful.”

He gestures at a silver thread from which hang a variety of irregularly shaped clay shards. The shiny amber and black paint catches the light thrown by the glowing Abafar beads strung further up, and on another and another thread. When he blows on them the threads hum, and sway together, the seashells and pottery and glass clattering together like wind chimes.

“The singing strings,” notes Obi-Wan, and Korkie grins.

“And the Lateron hoops,” he says, pointing to the frame from which the strings are suspended. “And the spindles, for balance. It’s meant to hang with my window open, like it is at school. And then, at night, when the dreamwinds come, the whole thing sings, and shines, and glows like the stars.”

“It’s beautiful,” says Obi-Wan with awe. He reaches out with one hesitant finger, the beads flickering beneath his touch, and the strings murmuring the low notes of an opening phrase.

“You gave it to me,” says Korkie with a shrug, and Obi-Wan turns his awe upon his boy.

“No,” he says. “I gave you fragments, but you have made them into art. You gave them meaning. You gave them a soul.”

Korkie shifts on his feet, fretting at the cuff of his sleeve, and diving in.

“Would it be okay, do you think -” he starts, then stops. Then he starts again. “Do you think it’d be alright if I wrote you? Every once in a while.”

“Wrote me?”

“Or com’d,” he says, quickly. “Only I know you’re busy, and I can’t expect to lay claim to any of your time, not really, but I -”

“Com me,” says Obi-Wan. “Write me. Send me anything you like, but only say you will and I will have all the time for you I can spare.”

“I promise that I only want a very little.”

“If it’s mine to give it’s yours to have, Kiorkicek,” his father swears. His grip upon his hand is firm, willing him to believe him, and Korkie nods his head because he does.

They stand there, hand in hand, reading themselves in each other, and learning the other in turn, and in the glow of the stars, and the city, and the Abafar beads, the daesyn flower bursts from its roots into a riot of colour and life.

[twinferns]

im back on my wandavision bs

YALL this episode-

i am so ready to talk ab this. also before i start ranting all i just wanna say that i never expected these to get any notes? ive been perceived and it’s refreshing. also to my three (3!!) followers thanks for sticking around for this shitshow, i appreciate yall.

anyways im gonna start now.

as always, below this line there will be MAJOR SPOILERS so if you haven’t seen the ep yet keep scrolling i dont wanna ruin it for you!!

let’s hop right in

- ok ik im superficial but can we take a moment to appreciate wanda’s hair and clothes? girl was absolutely killing

- vision just keeps getting hotter and idk what to do ab it

- major bad vibes from agnes, like she shows up just to calm the twins? and they happen to age up while she’s there? and she doesnt bat an eye? not to mention that awful jazzercise outfit

- the way agnes just broke character?? like take it from the top?? im not a fan and it’s scaring me

- BILLY AND TOMMY ARE SO FUCKING CUTE OMG I LOVE THEM - alright yall we’re back with monica and her testis coming out weird? like in the image on the scientists tablet her body is just white. could this be hinting

- i dont like the director, and i honestly think he's super fishy, especially how he kept trying to villainize wanda more than necessary? like what was the reason

- in the cam recordings of wanda stealing vision's body, were they trying to take vision apart and put him back together?

- ok so sparky is super interesting, like dont get me wrong him and the twins are so incredibly cute, but he's a really interesting plot device

- i think agnes killed sparky on purpose to test wanda, and potentially to force the twins to age up. when wanda says she cant revive the dead, and agnes seemed surprised. i think she wanted to see if wanda could bring pietro back but i'll get back to that

- commercial break time!! lagos is where the avengers were at the beginning of the civil war, and where wanda lost control of her powers which lead to the sokovian accords and the civil war, that was the paper towel brand. the motto was like "for cleaning up messes you didnt mean to make" or someting which times in

- UH WANDA AND VISION NEARLY FOUGHT vision is becoming more aware??

- UH IS NORM GOD THAT WAS SCARY

- WANDA FUCKING CAME OUT OF THE HEX WTF WTF also she aimed all the guns at hayward she knows something ab him

- her accent lowkey came back?

- the way she and vision were arguing and she cued the credits im screaming

- PIETRO BUT IT'S FUCKING EVAN PETERS

- i find it interesting how the twins see right through the illusion bc theyre immune to wanda's powers

- wanda isnt the bad guy it just doesnt line up, or else nothing bad would be happening at all

im sure there's so much that i missed so please illuminate me! im literally so excited for the next ep. ALSO THERE ARE NO KIDS AND VISION NOTICED.

anyways im done lmao see yall next week

[mostlysignssomeportents]

All the books I reviewed in 2020

I know it's a little late for Xmas shipping, but I'm FINALLY getting around to publishing a roundup of all the books I reviewed in 2019!

Part 1: FICTION FOR ADULTS

I. AGENCY by William Gibson: A sequel to The Peripheral for the Trump years, about seductive bitterness of imagined alternate timelines, filled with cyberpunk cool and action.

https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/books/story/2020-01-24/agency-william-gibson

II. RIOT BABY by Tochi Onyebuchi: An incandescent Afrofuturist novella that connects the Rodney King uprising with contemporary struggle, pitting supernatural powers against dire politics.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/23/riot-baby/#Tochi-Onyebuchi

III. OR WHAT YOU WILL by Jo Walton: A metafiction about the desperate attempt of a character to pull his writer into a fictional world to save the both from human mortality.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/07/little-bro-with-snowden/#metafiction

IV. A BEAUTIFULLY FOOLISH ENDEAVOR by Hank Green: Sequel to An Absolutely Remarkable Thing - a madcap and sometimes brutal tale of social media influencers, alien invaders, disinformation, and runaway capitalism.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/08/absolutely-remarkable-thing/#carls

V. FAILED STATE by Christopher Brown: A legal eco-thriller that imagines the end of capitalism without imagining the end of the world - cyberpunk meets ecotopianism, with anarchist jurisdictions, show-trials, and rewilding.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/12/failed-state/#chris-brown

VI. AFTERLAND by Lauren Beukes: Eerily well-timed road-trip novel set after a prostate-cancer plague wipes out nearly every man on Earth, except for the protagonist's teenaged son, who is now being hunted by the (all-female) US government.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/28/afterland/#XY

VII. BALLISTIC KISS by Richard Kadrey: Sandman Slim confronts the worst demons of all - his own trauma and self-doubt.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/25/anxietypunk/#bk

VIII. SQUEEZE ME by Carl Hiaasen: Hiaasen was writing comedic whodunnits about improbable Florida Man types decades before the memes, and his Mar-a-Lago gator plague novel is a hectic and hilarious tale for our times.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#disappearing-act

VIII. The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson: KSR says it's his last novel and I say it's the book he's been training to write all his life. If you like your climate fiction wrenching but still uplifting enough to move you to tears...

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/03/ministry-for-the-future/#ksr

IX. SET MY HEART TO FIVE by Simon Stephenson: An absurdist robot-romp in the mold of Kurt Vonnegut about a robot who catches the disease of emotions and tries to treat it by moving to Hollywood to write screenplays about robots.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/01/cant-pay-wont-pay/#robot-rights

Part 2: NONFICTION FOR ADULTS

I. A PUBLIC SERVICE by Tim Schwartz: An incredibly practical, detailed guide for would-be whistleblowers (and journalists who work with them) to staying safe while spilling the beans.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/08/a-public-service-a-comprehensive-comprehensible-guide-to-leaking-documents-to-journalists-and-public-service-groups-without-getting-caught/

II. THE MONSTERS KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING by Keith Ammann: A sourcebook for RPG game-masters explaining how different kinds of monsters can use a variety of combat tactics that add depth, texture (and challenge) to your games.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/10/the-monsters-know-what-theyre-doing-an-rpg-sourcebook-for-dms-who-want-to-imbue-monsters-with-deep-smart-tactics/

III. SNOWDEN'S BOX by Jessica Bruder and Dale Maharidge: The incredible, true tale of how trust among friends allowed Snowden's leaks to safely transit from his home in Hawai'i to the hands of Laura Poitras and the journalists who reported the story.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/03/31/snowdens-box-the-incredible-illuminating-story-of-the-journey-of-snowdens-hard-drive/

III. ABOLISH SILICON VALLEY by Wendy Liu: A personal journey from a fully bought-in believer in Silicon Valley's meritocracy to a ferocious critic who demands tech to serve humanity, not a human race in service to the tech industry.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/04/14/abolish-silicon-valley-memoir-of-a-driven-startup-founder-who-became-an-anti-capitalist-activist/

IV. THE CASE FOR A JOB GUARANTEE by Pavlina Tcherneva: A fierce little book setting out an economic program to rescue the nation and the planet from a system that insists we can't even hope for a better world.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/22/jobs-guarantee/#job-guarantee

VII. SUBPRIME ATTENTION CRISIS by Tim Hwang: What's worse than having our lies destroyed by surveillance to manipulate us with ads? Having our lives destroyed by surveillance in order to fuel a fraudulent market in ad-based manipulation.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#wannamakers-ghost

VIII. MONOPOLIES SUCK by Sally Hubbard: There are plenty of *great* books about monopolies and the resurgence in antitrust, but Hubbard's is the most practical, providing the reader with excellent advice for actually *doing something* about monopolism.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/27/peads-r-us/#sally-hubbard

IX. BREAK 'EM UP by Zephyr Teachout: The most lucid, readable, infuriating, energizing book on the rise of monopolies. Teachout never loses sight of the systemic nature of the problem, even as she uses individual stories to tell the tale.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

X. BOUNDLESS REALM by Fox Nolte: There has never been a better book about the Haunted Mansion (indeed, this is one of the best books ever written about environmental design in general). Nolte goes *way* beyond trite wisdom about "storytelling."

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/09/boundless-realm/#fuxxfur

PART 3: GRAPHIC NOVELS

I. YEAR OF THE RABBIT by Tean Viasna: A graphic memoir of Viasna's harrowing boyhood during the rise of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. It's a tale we've rarely seen through the eyes of a child, and brilliantly realized.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/22/year-of-the-rabbit-a-graphic-novel-memoir-of-one-familys-life-under-the-khmer-rouge/

II. FEMALE FURIES by @misscecil​: Castellucci uses an obscure and anachronistic all-woman cast of DC Universe b-characters to tell an incredible, smart, pitiless story about #MeToo, comics, solidarity and betrayal.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/29/female-furies/#apokolips-now

III. LONELINESS OF THE LONG-DISTANCE CARTOONIST by Adrian Tomine: A memoir of intensely felt impostor syndrome, a forceful reminder that comparison is the thief of joy - and that the traits that keep an artist going at first go toxic over time.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/21/the-thief-of-joy/#tomine

IV. CONSTITUTION ILLUSTRATED by R Sikoryak: The Trump years were an unhappy crash-course in Constitutional law, but Sikoryak's genius adaptation of the Constitution in the style of dozens of cartoonists is a pure delight.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/27/ip/#r-sikoryak

PART 4: KIDS AND YA

I. SEND PICS by Lauren McLaughlin: A YA novel that's a thrilling revenge-play about "revenge porn," a cyber-heist novel that's also a sneaky and forceful book about teen girls' sexuality.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/04/21/send-pics-ripping-brutal-amazing-novel-about-teens-sextortion-revenge-and-justice/

II. IMPOSSIBLE MUSIC by Sean Williams: A YA novel about a music-obsessed kid who loses his hearing is the frame for a book about ability, adaptation, music theory, family, Deafness and what dreams are really for.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/30/deafhood/#impossible-music

III. HARD WIRED by Len Vlahos: A 15 year old discovers the truth behind bizarre dysfunction of the world around him: he's an AI in a sim, and the guy he thinks of as his long-dead father is actually the research scientists who created him.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/31/ai-rights-now/#len-vlahos

IV. ADVENTURES OF A DWERGISH GIRL, by Daniel Pinkwater: Like every Pinkwater novel, it defies description, it is brilliant, and it is his best to date. Ghosts, Revolutionary War fleshbots, papaya juice, and supernatural beings from the Catskills!

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/25/dwergish-girl/#you-are-a-pickle

V. WITCH by Finbar Hawkins: A beautiful debut novel about a pair of 17th century sisters who avenge themselves against the witchfinders that murdered their mother. A superbly told historical.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/01/the-years-of-repair/#witch

FINALLY: I published *four* books in 2020!

I. POESY THE MONSTER SLAYER: My debut picture book, about a little girl who turns her toys into weapons and torments her parents by hunting monsters all night, with wonderful art by Matt Rockefeller:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627

II. LITTLE BROTHER/HOMELAND: My multibestselling YA novels were reissued last summer in a gorgeous package with a (fantastic) new introduction by Snowden.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

III. ATTACK SURFACE: A standalone, adult sequel to Little Brother and Homeland. The New York Times called it "vocal and unflinching" and "ultimately optimistic"; the Washington Post called it a "riveting techno-thriller."

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

IV. HOW TO DESTROY SURVEILLANCE CAPITALISM: A long pamphlet/short book that makes the case that Big Tech manipulates us and spies on us because they have monopolies - not because they've developed devastating, data-driven mind-control.

https://onezero.medium.com/how-to-destroy-surveillance-capitalism-8135e6744d59

[alnelishowroom]

Bathroom Mirrors- Show Your Image in Style

Whether or not you are making arrangements for a bathroom remodelling or a straightforward update of the look, modern bathroom mirrors can meet your requirements appropriately. This is because an expansion can achieve a sensational effect on the whole space. Mirrors generally help in reflecting artificial and natural light and by and large they are set over the vanity. You can pick a suitable model from sites managing wall mirrors available to be purchased based on the style of your home and even your bathroom itself. You can go for the one that can properly supplement the light apparatuses and the vanity that is already present in your home and for this Alneli can be a right option for you where you can buy bathroom fixtures online in Lagos and that too at great prices along with a great collection.

Depending upon the decorative theme of your bathroom, your choice of bathroom mirror should be something that will find a place with the theme and style of the room. You need a mirror that will mix in well with different highlights of the room. This way you will have an agreeable vibe to the room. 

So investigate your bathroom. What kinds of walls encompass the room? Is it accurate to say that they are painted walls? Is it true that they are tiled walls? Are the walls completed in bathroom divider framing? 

Next you should investigate the things mounted on the walls. Do you have racks on the walls? Do you have cupboards on the walls? What style of towel holders or racks do you have on your bathroom walls?

You ought to likewise take into thought what kind of taps or faucets you have in your bathroom. The style and finish of your bathroom taps just as the style of your bathroom sink and cabinet is a significant factor in figuring out what style of bathroom mirror you should use to praise the bathroom climate. 

You have countless options with regards to choosing the ideal bathroom mirror for your application. I can't start to turn out every one of them here on the grounds that it would experience composing volumes regarding the matter. 

There are bathroom mirrors accessible in a wide range of subjects, sizes, shapes, colours, materials, completions, outlines and frameless. Just know your bathroom. In the event that you consider all the articles that are the make-up of your bathroom, you ought to have a smart thought of what course you should glance to locate your ideal match bathroom mirror.

What I will propose is saving some an ideal opportunity for sitting before your PC and going on the web to a couple of good bathroom mirror locales and exploring your conceivable outcomes. Over the long haul, you will realize that the mirror you picked was the result of your patient however perseverant research. 

Bathroom mirrors have progressed significantly throughout the long term. Today this is another type of wall art. You should treat your search for the ideal bathroom mirror similarly as you would treat your search for the ideal oil painting. You need something artful and simultaneously you need to create a positive sentiment inside yourself each time you go into the room.

In case if you want to shop for bathroom mirrors online, then, Alneli would be a better option as it offers a wide range of decorative wall mirrors, bathroom mirrors, Illuminated mirrors and latest designed Bluetooth LED Mirrors with modern technology. Check out a wide variety of bathroom mirrors today.

Learn more tips for choosing a bathroom mirror that truly reflects your lifestyle.

[upennmanuscripts]

Murder in Lombardy! The original owner of a rare Italian Book of Hours identified

Fifty-two discoveries from the BiblioPhilly project, No. 9/52

   Book of Hours (here identified as the Hours of Cornelia Rhò), Use of Rome, Philadelphia, Free Library of Philadelphia, Lewis E 206, fols. 16v-17r (full-page miniature of the Virgin and Child, and beginning of the Hours of the Virgin with historiated initial and coat-of-arms)

Though in rather poor condition, a closer look at this neglected Renaissance Book of Hours from Lombardy, Free Library of Philadelphia Lewis E 206, can tell us a great deal about its original context. Though it now has a Lewis shelf mark, the manuscript was a gift to the Free Library from Simon Gratz (1840–1925), a Philadelphia lawyer, education reformer, and autograph collector. Like an item we examined several weeks ago, this manuscript never belonged to John Frederick Lewis and therefore was not described in the 1937 catalogue of the Lewis Collection’s 200 western manuscripts.[1] Prior to being owned by Gratz, the book had been in the possession of another lawyer, George T. Strong of New York (1820–1875), who had acquired the book by 1843, when he inscribed his name on one of the flyleaves (incidentally, Strong’s notoriety stems from the survival of his 2,250-page diary, which records nearly every day of his adult life in great detail, so it would be interesting to see if he mentions the acquisition of this book). The manuscript thus came to the New World relatively early on, but that is certainly not where its story begins!

Beyond this American provenance, the book’s origins have until now remained obscure. Perhaps on account of its somewhat compromised condition, the book was not included in the landmark Leaves of Gold exhibition in 2001. And yet, present at the bottom of the first page of the Hours of the Virgin, on folio 17r, are a straightforward heraldic escutcheon bearing two impaled coats-of-arms (i.e. shown fully side-by-side to indicate a matrimonial union) and a somewhat less easily discernible name. These elements do not appear to have been altered through overpainting. They therefore must indicate the original owner.

   Lewis E 206, fol. 17r (detail of Visconti/da Rhò coat-of-arms) and their modern equivalents below

The right or sinister side of the coat-of-arms is readily identifiable as a serpent devouring a human baby, the famous vipera or Biscione, employed by the Visconti rulers of Milan and incorporated into the arms of their successors, the Sforza (argent an azure serpent devouring a child gules, or, in Italian, d’argento alla biscia d’azzurro ingolante un bambino di carnagione). The dexter side of the arms is of a less famous family, the De Raude or da Rhò (Gules, a wheel of five spokes argent, in Italian, di rosso, alla ruota d’argento), with the five-armed cartwheel being a play on the Latin word “rota” or wheel. Happily, the blue cartouche that surrounds the escutcheon contains a still-legible three-line inscription in gold capitals that reads “CO-RNE/LIA- DE/RA-VDE” or Cornelia de Raude.

Because the Sforza, the usurpers of ducal power in Milan, re-employed the Biscione in their more complex arms, I initially thought that the combination in our Book of Hours might be a reference to Cornelia, illegitimate daughter of Ottaviano Riario (1479–1523). Ottaviano was himself the son of Caterina Sforza (1463–1509), and the latter was instrumental in the upbringing of her illegitimate grandchild Cornelia. The date range seemed approximately correct, and the Sforza link could explain the use of the Biscione on the sinister, as well as the inclusion of a full-page prefatory miniature of Saint Catherine a few pages earlier, on folio 15v.

Lewis E 206, fol. 15v, full-page miniature of Saint Catherine

And yet, Cornelia Riario had no known connection to the da Rhò family. Further research allowed me to conclude that the correct identification lies in the person of Cornelia Rhò (birth date unknown, died after 1538), the daughter of Giovanni Paolo Rhò who married Giovanni II Borromeo (known as “Il gigante,” apparently on account of his size!), in 1518. As the son of Filippo Borromeo and Francesca Visconti, Giovanni II was the descendant of a prominent aristocratic line and served as commander of the Sforza infantry. His grandparents, Count Giovanni Borromeo (1439–1495) and Cle­ofa Pio da Carpi, owned a truly splendid Book of Hours illuminated by Cristoforo de Predis (ca. 1443–1486), today in the Biblioteca Ambrosiana.

Cornelia’s mother-in-law was therefore a Visconti (see family tree below). The greater fame of the Visconti dynasty, and the complexity of the Borromeo family arms, which include a small Biscione anyway, are likely what led to Cornelia to elect to include the Visconti arms on the sinister, stripped of the gold crown atop the viper to signify that ducal power had passed to the Sforza. The wedding of Cornelia and Giovanni in 1518 accords perfectly with the circa 1520 date given to the book on account of the style of its miniatures and inhabited initials, which show the ongoing impact of the art of Leonardo da Vinci and his followers on miniature painting in Lombardy. It therefore seems reasonable to assume that this Book of Hours was a wedding gift to the young bride, either from her new husband, his parents, or her own parents.

  Family tree of the Borromeo family, from Vincenzo De-Vit, Il Lago Maggiore, Stresa e le isole Borromee notizie storiche colle vite degli uomini illustri dello stesso lago (Prato: Alberghetti, 1877), 112–113

The da Rhò family had their ancestral origins in the town of the same name, some ten kilometers north-west of Milan, but in the late-fifteenth century were elevated by Gian Galeazzo Sforza to become lords of Borghetto Lodigiano, about ten kilometers south of the bishopric of Lodi, in the Lombard plain. Their imposing residence there, the Palazzo Rhò, still survives and currently serves as the town hall. It was built sometime after 1481 (see here for further information and photos).

Palazzo Rho in Borghetto Lodigiano, the former seat of the da Rhò family.

This book is a valuable addition to the biography of Cornelia Rhò, as precious little else is known about her. She and Giovanni II had a son, Filippo Dionigi, the year after their marriage, who would go on to marry the noted poetess Livia Tornielli. Apparently, for unknown reasons, Cornelia’s brother Baldassarre murdered Giovanni II—her husband and his brother-in-law—in 1536![2] His tomb survives in the Milanese church of Santa Maria delle Grazie, famous for being home to Leonardo’s Last Supper. [3] In a future post, we’ll explore the authorship and attribution of the manuscript’s high-quality miniatures and inhabited initials, which can help us to further understand the context in which this overlooked gem of the Lombard Renaissance was produced.

[1] Edwin Wolf, A. S. W. Rosenbach, and Richard W. Ellis, A descriptive catalogue of the John Frederick Lewis collection of European manuscripts in the Free library of Philadelphia (Philadelphia: Free Library of Philadelphia, 1937).

[2] Vincenzo De-Vit, Il Lago Maggiore, Stresa e le isole Borromee notizie storiche colle vite degli uomini illustri dello stesso lago (Prato: Alberghetti, 1877), 172.

[3] Pietro C. Marani, Roberto Cecchi, and Germano Mulazzani, Guide to the refectory and Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie (Milan: Electa, 1999), 67.

from WordPress http://bibliophilly.pacscl.org/murder-in-lombardy-the-original-owners-of-a-rare-milanese-book-of-hours-identified/

[skulmam]

A Boot

He’s a war veteran, he’s bearded and scraggly with green eyes. Many grimy strands of hair dangle in front of his dust-darkened face, his beard is full of gray, making it difficult to discern the color of his once lush hair. He’s tired and wearing far too much for the current weather. Back in the spec-ops he had a purpose, he had drive and determination, but when the war ended and he became old, after losing his wife and kids to violence, divorce and infidelity, he no longer found greater meaning in civil life. It wouldn’t be worth the effort he thought. Deep crows feet line the edge of his face with a past of squinting, weeping and laughing. It’s hard to tell how much of each is responsible for them, but there they lie. His belongings lie around him, he sits on a blanket, cross-legged blankly staring at whatever is right in front of him, his dazed look keeps passers by away. Stoned. He enjoys their worried faces. Someone cares. His name is Snake and tends to refuse his given name. Many decades after being deployed all over the world and after many proxy and private wars, his body was rather weak and broken. The 2050s have not beckoned kindness to his being. The global soldiers insurance is broken and he makes most of his money from begging or displaying odd public rants.

Tonight there was no one on his spot in the park behind the bushes, no needles to be found or struck by. He laid his head down next to the root of his favorite tree in this cold night. He briefly imagined someone next to him, and then laughed out loud at how ridiculously sentimental he was being and subsequently fell asleep.

This morning started with a repeating boot in his stomach.

“Wake up, gramps!” Yelled some well dressed man. He was accompanied by another younger, handsome man; sharply dressed.

“Ack!!!” Snake yelled in agony.

“No time for sleep, you stupid hag!” The kicks became nudging stomps on the top of his arm. “Get up, asshole!”

Snake groans and coughs in response.

“Ah, fuck this. You’re quite the throbbing pussy for a war hero.”

Laying on his side, Snake was kicked in the face and blacked out.

Snake awoke on a couch, in a nice room with ample windows, fluffy couches and wood floors. His nose was bandaged, left eye, purple, swollen. It was a bright morning.

Oh god what a headache, he thought. He was alone there was a staircase  hugging the main western wall of the wide living room where he found himself a golden morning light illuminated the space.

“Where am—“ he groaned.

“—Where are you?!” A man’s whiny voice lowering from a staircase barged in the middle of his murmur. 

“Uh… yes.”

I was interrupted ... Snake clenched his jaw.

“You’re in my house. Lovely, isn’t it?”

— “yeah. I suppose...”

“Hm. Can’t you show a bit more gratitude? It’s much better than the piss pile you called your home.”

— “I don’t live anywhere.” Snake said. “Just who are you?”

“I’m your commander, dimwit.”

— “I’m not enlisted. Commander Dimwit.”

“Ahaha… don’t get too comfortable, now. I’ll let that one slide considering lieutenant Jefferies took a bit too much liberty and aggression out on that wide nose of yours. I’m commander Zacharia.”

Snake only blankly stared at Zacharia while the commander lit a cigarette from a fine holder.

“You may be wondering why you’re here.”

Snake said nothing while he sat up to turn to Zacharia. He slouched in the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees.

— “Well, frankly, we don’t have anyone quite so… rugged anymore. Most battles and soldiers are not used to the diet, dirt, grime, soiled underwear, human stench—”

—“I get it, okay?! You guys suck.”

“Mind your manners around superiors. We are an intellectual force now. Very quick and precise. We pride ourselves in that." Zacharia paced around the room, around the couch where Snake sat. "War is not what it used to be. A lot less casualties. Very, very expensive. Plus, we haven’t had a war in decades! No one really knows the field these days.”

—“Mmm hmm.” Snake rolled his eyes, folded his arms.

Zacharia went on about the current state of affairs. Snake had been preoccupied with his life and keeping his head. A short temper and aging cqc skills had gotten him into and out of a lot of trouble in his last 14 years of homelessness since 2041. Now 2055, the world is in a stable state of perpetual insecurity, many governments are still failing after the great economic charades of the 30s and 40s, many coastal cities have been abandoned but mostly along and south of the equator, save in Chile, New Zealand, Lagos and a few others. More are yet to sink. Those that have managed to stay afloat are ravaged by poverty, although many aren’t, only a handful of countries have managed a true transition away from poverty. Zacharia then droned on and on about the glorious army and some other shenanigans about world peace or something.

Snake enjoyed the comfortable living space so he made himself cozy and didn't interrupt Zacharia's monologue in the luminous rustic room.

"... You can't get close to hookers anymore ... sleeping will be done outside, in that horrid hardening cold of the glowing cideehhhh" … The commanders words were merging into each other. They became clear every few seconds and the rest turned into a mumbled garble as Snake's eyes were starting to feel as if they were crossing despite his heroic efforts to stay awake!

"Uh-huh." Snake felt obliged to acknowledge the fact that Zacharia was still speaking to him. "Ah. Of course," he said as his head drifted sideways. His eyelids fluttered shut.

"euunderstann? I said. Do you understand?!" An unfamiliar, hostile tone overtook the commander's cool demeanor.

A whipping sound cut the air shortly before snake felt a sharp, stinging pain on his exposed neck.

SMACK!

"Ahh! Fuck!" Snake folded over as he howled and winced in pain. The grimy middle-aged man helplessly clutched his neck.

"We are still a violent and disciplined force, Sargent Chewy," said the proud commander. "do not snooze on me. I will rip the fingers off your palm."

"It seems homeless life has gotten you soft in all the wrong ways."

"I don't want to participate in your dumb game of checkers," Snake could barely catch his breath. "My damn neck."

"This is chess, sir, and you're a pawn!" The commander leaned toward him. "You have no choice. Refuse or fail, we will cut off your feet and throw you in an asylum. 'This poor war hero is shell-shocked and delusional after stepping on a landmine. What a shame.'" The commander dropped his head in feigned sadness. A bright smile took upon his face as he raised his head. Snake flinched, still feeling the sting of the whip where its bruising silhouette was mounding.

"You're out of shape, but if you cooperate and perform, we will grant you a stinky, Lincoln-log house in the middle of the rocky mountain countryside! Just like you dreamt of as a kid." Zacharia held a polaroid of Snake playing with a small, roofless Lincoln-log cabin in his infancy. He tapped it twice as he shoved it in his face.

"Remember? Sounds nice, huh? A good deal, eh? Once you're done, you can jerk off in peace until that peepee of yours goes soft for eternity."

The commander fixed his sleek black hair, and took back his proud stance in that white daintily buttoned outfit of his. His glossy boots resembled that of a cavalry battalion.

"Get that betrayed dog face off of your face. You had it coming. After All, you are in my house."

-derelicht@protonmail.ch

[espetaculoillumination]

Deixe-se encantar pela magia e a emoção que este novo show “Illumination” – (Show do Lago) proporcionará aos seus espectadores, com muitos efeitos, luzes e todo encantamento do Lago Joaquina Rita Bier.

O Lago Joaquina Rita Bier será o palco para a apresentação deste lindo espetáculo que promete encantar o público com diversos efeitos especiais, uma tela de projeção de água de 200 metros quadros, bem como um grande concerto e coral que certamente emocionará a todos com lindas canções.

Contando com inúmeros artistas, dentre os quais músicos, cantores e bailarinos, este espetáculo ficará na sua memória. Deixe-se envolver por toda a magia e encantamento de um show com cenário grandioso e empolgante, que contará também com um lindo show pirotécnico, que fará desta noite uma noite inesquecível.

[patriotsnet]

Did Trump Say Republicans Are The Dumbest

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-trump-say-republicans-are-the-dumbest/

Did Trump Say Republicans Are The Dumbest

Most Dictators Rig Elections To Win With His Postal Service Gambit Trump Merely Wants Everybody To Lose With Him

What would the U.S. media say if the president of another country was threatening to hobble his nation’s postal service in hopes of suppressing ballots ahead of an election?

Every once in a while, an American journalist gets this notion: to imagine how the national press would cover a particular domestic story, whether it be white nationalist violence or protests against racist policing, as if it were happening in another country. It’s a venerable and sometimes illuminating frame—a way for Americans, given to believing in their own exceptionalism, to see themselves and their country’s troubles from a different vantage.

But in the postal case, and increasingly in the age of Trump, the “if it happened there” test proves of little use. It is 2020, after all, and there is no global shortage of demagogues and authoritarians making a joke of democratic processes. They stuff ballot boxes, jail opposition leaders, harass journalists, and threaten voters. They exploit all the tools at their disposal to rig an election in their favor. They increasinglywelcome elections, in fact, with recent scholarship showing “that elections can actually prolong dictatorships in the longer term,” as three European political scientists put it.

With Universal Mail-In Voting , 2020 will be the most INACCURATE & FRAUDULENT Election in history. It will be a great embarrassment to the USA. Delay the Election until people can properly, securely and safely vote???

— Donald J. Trump July 30, 2020

This Meme About How Donald Trump Called Republicans The Dumbest Group Of Voters In The Country Is Fake

The fake quote has been floating around the internet since about the time Trump announced his presidential bid in 2015. It has been widely shared on Twitter and Facebook by people eager to expose the businessman-turned-politician as a hypocrite for leading a party he once, allegedly, mocked.

“If I were to run, I’d run as a Republican,” the fake quote reads. “They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific.”

News 1998 People Magazine Quote Attributed To Trump Calling Republicans The Dumbest Voters Is False

Social media users shared a quote attributed to Donald Trump alleging that he said Republicans are “the dumbest group of voters in the country.”

Trump’s alleged quote to People Magazine in 1998 reads, “If I were to run, I’d run as a Republican. They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific.”

– MRS MCK ??? November 5, 2020

Speaking the truth for once. “@Lynneth1000000: Boris Johnson is our Trump. #GTTO#Elections2020pic.twitter.com/hy0rwkqvDP“

– David Rhodes November 5, 2020

“If I were to run I’d run as a republican. They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country.” Donald Trump, 1998. @FoxNews@PressSec@DonaldJTrumpJr@realDonaldTrump@GOP@seanhannity@TuckerCarlsonpic.twitter.com/cHY2Mt9sWY

– KarenS November 2, 2020

Fact Check/ Verification

As expected, the run-up to the United States Presidential election results saw a number of misleading and false claims circulating online.

A relevant keyword search on Google led us to a fact check done by Reuters in May.

It quotes a magazine spokesperson as mentioned in Factcheck.org, “People looked into this exhaustively when it first surfaced back in Oct. . We combed through every Trump story in our archive. We couldn’t find anything remotely like this quote-and no interview at all in 1998.”

Result: False

Snopes: https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/1998-trump-people-quote/

Disclaimer

Trump ‘knows Republicans Are Stupid’ Jared Kushner Allegedly Said To Former Editor

Greg Price U.S.Jared KushnerDonald TrumpRepublicans

One of the strategies Donald Trump employed as he began putting his name on the U.S. political map years ago was championing “birtherism,” the long-held conspiracy theory that President Barack Obama was born outside of the U.S. and hence should never have been elected. He often chastised Obama and demanded the president produce his birth certificate, revving up an anti-Obama base that eventually helped put Trump in the White House.

Evidently, Trump may have been using the so-called birthers only as a means to an end.

His son-in-law, Jared Kushner, who is also a senior adviser to the president, allegedly told a former editor of the newspaper he once owned that the billionaire real-estate mogul didn’t believe his own “birtherism” claims, and only made them to charge up Republicans because they are “stupid,” GQ reported.

During a discussion on how to cover Trump, the former New York Observereditor, Elizabeth Spiers, claimed she told Kushner that she had serious problems with Trump’s repeated claims that Obama was not born in the U.S., to which Kushner allegedly told her: “He doesn’t really believe it, Elizabeth. He just knows Republicans are stupid and they’ll buy it.”

Spiers told her Kushner anecdote in response to a question from a conservative blogger on Facebook, and then screenshotted the response and put it up on Twitter.

Top 10 Actual Things Donald Trump Said At His 2016 Presidential Campaign Kickoff

Top 10 Actual Things Donald Trump Said At His 2016 Presidential Campaign Announcement

? — On Tuesday, real estate mogul-turned reality show star, Donald Trump, became the latest Republican to jump into the 2016 presidential race.

If he’s elected in 2016, the GOP hopeful predicated that he would be the most successful president for U.S. jobs that “God ever created,” used the recent sale of a multi-million dollar apartment he owned to someone from China as an example of his friendly ties with the country, voiced concern that people from the Middle East are “probably” sneaking into the country through the border, and revealed that rich Islamic terrorists are his competition within the hotel market in Syria.

This is all real, and it’s trademark Trump. Here are the quotes from Trump’s presidential announcement that you will never hear another presidential candidate say — ever.

Most Of Trump’s Stories Then Were About His Pending Divorce From Marla Maples

• While the quote has been debunked several times since it apparently surfaced in 2015, users have recently been resharing it on social media.

• Most of Trump’s stories were about his pending divorce from Marla Maples and appearances at various social and entertainment events.

Fact Checker

A magazine photo claiming that US President Donald Trump referred to Republican voters as ‘dumbest voters’ is false.

The photo- that has gone viral on social media platforms quotes the Peoples Magazine in 1998, where it is alleged Trump said if he were to dip his toes in politics, he would use the Republican ticket.

“If I were to run, I’d run as a Republican. They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific,” read the message purporting to be a quote from Trump.

Several Twitter users including Azeem ButtValryLeBourg and MuthuiMkenya in reference to the ongoing US election indicated that one does not have to be smart if their followers are stupid.

While the quote has been debunked several times since it apparently surfaced in 2015, users have recently been resharing it on social mediaespecially after a Democratic Candidate Joe Biden was projected as the President-Elect for the United States.

The Star’s fact-check desk established that the meme was first debunked by SNOPES in 2015, followed by other independent debunks.

‘i Just Want 11780 Votes’: Trump Pressed Georgia To Overturn Biden Victory

Trump asked secretary of state to recalculate vote in phone call

Martin PengellyRichard Luscombe

In an hour-long phone call on Saturday, Donald Trump pressed Georgia secretary of state Brad Raffensperger to “find” enough votes to overturn Joe Biden’s victory there in the election the president refuses to concede.

Read more

The Washington Post obtained a tape of the “extraordinary” conversation, which Trump acknowledged on Twitter.

Amid widespread outrage including calls for a second impeachment, Bob Bauer, a senior Biden adviser, said: “We now have irrefutable proof of a president pressuring and threatening an official of his own party to get him to rescind a state’s lawful, certified vote count and fabricate another in its place.”

The Post published the full call.

“The people of Georgia are angry, the people in the country are angry,” Trump said. “And there’s nothing wrong with saying, you know, um, that you’ve recalculated.”

Raffensperger is a Republican who has become a bête noire among Trump supporters for repeatedly saying Biden’s win in his state was fair. In one of a number of parries, he said: “Well, Mr President, the challenge that you have is, the data you have is wrong.”

Trump said: “So look. All I want to do is this. I just want to find 11,780 votes, which is one more than we have. Because we won the state.”

He insisted: “There’s no way I lost Georgia. There’s no way. We won by hundreds of thousands of votes.”

Read more

Dumb Son Of A Bitch: Trump Attacks Mcconnell In Republican Donors Speech

At Mar-a-Lago, former president also goes after Fauci and Chao … and claims party ‘can’t have these guys that like publicity’

Donald Trump devoted part of a speech to Republican donors on Saturday night to insulting the Senate minority leader, Mitch McConnell. According to multiple reports of the $400,000-a-ticket, closed-press event, the former president called the Kentucky senator “a dumb son of a bitch”.

Read more

Trump also said Mike Pence, his vice-president, should have had the “courage” to object to the certification of electoral college results at the US Capitol on 6 January. Trump claims his defeat by Joe Biden, by 306-232 in the electoral college and more than 7m votes, was the result of fraud. It was not and the lie was thrown out of court.

Earlier, the Associated Press reported that a Pentagon timeline of events on 6 January showed Pence demanding military leaders “clear the Capitol” of rioters sent by Trump.

But Trump did nothing and about six hours passed before the Capitol was cleared. Five people including a police officer died and some in the mob were recorded chanting “hang Mike Pence”. More than 400 face charges.

At his Mar-a-Lago resort on Saturday, amid a weekend of Republican events in Florida, some at Trump properties, the former president also mocked Dr Anthony Fauci.

I hired his wife. Did he ever say thank you?

Trump also said Covid-19 vaccines should be renamed “Trumpcines” in his honour.

Fact Check: Trump Did Not Call Republicans The Dumbest Group Of Voters

5 Min Read

An old quote falsely attributed to Donald Trump has recently resurfaced online. The viral meme alleges Trump told People magazine in 1998 that Republicans are “the dumbest group of voters in the country”. This is false.

While the quote has been debunked several times since it apparently surfaced in 2015, users have recently been resharing it on social media. Examples can be seen here , here , here , here

The meme reads: “If I were to run, I’d run as a Republican. They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific. – Donald Trump, People Magazine, 1998”

Snopes first wrote about the false quote here in October 2015 . Since then, the quote has been debunked multiple times .

People magazine has confirmed in the past that its archive has no register of this alleged exchange.

“People looked into this exhaustively when it first surfaced back in Oct. . We combed through every Trump story in our archive. We couldn’t find anything remotely like this quote–and no interview at all in 1998.”, a magazine spokesperson told Factcheck.org that year .

In December 1987, People published a profile on Donald Trump titled “Too Darn Rich”. The article quoted him saying he was too busy to run for president .

Republicans Say Bidens Afghanistan Withdrawal Plan Is Dumber Than Dirt

President Biden’s pledge to withdraw U.S. forces from Afghanistan by Sept. 11 prompted immediate backlash Tuesday from leading congressional Republicans, who decried his plans as “outrageous,” “dumber than dirt” and “a disaster in the making.”

arrow-right

“Precipitously withdrawing U.S. forces from Afghanistan is a grave mistake. It is a retreat in the face of an enemy,” Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell said on the Senate floor. “Foreign terrorists will not leave the United States alone simply because our politicians have grown tired of taking the fight to them.”

The GOP’s wholesale rejection of Biden’s planned withdrawal illustrates the political risk confronting the new administration as it seeks to bring the country’s longest war to a close — even as many Democrats greeted the news with relief.

“It took us 10 years to find and kill Osama bin Laden. We stayed an additional 10 years to help train Afghan security forces and create conditions for a more stable future in that country,” said Sen. Tim Kaine , a leading advocate for repealing the 2001 war authorization that permitted U.S. engagement in Afghanistan. “It is now time to bring our troops home.”

Biden will withdraw all U.S. forces from Afghanistan by Sept. 11, 2021

“It is insane to withdraw at this time given the conditions that exist on the ground in Afghanistan,” said Sen. Lindsey O. Graham , noting that he also thought Trump’s deadline was “very bad, ill-conceived policy.”

No Donald Trump Did Not Call Republican Voters Dumb In The 1990s

Donald Trump has made plenty of questionable claims over the years, but calling Republican voters dumb isn’t one of them.

Still, one political meme continues to spread across social media sites and claims he said just that.

The story goes that in a 1998 interview with People Magazine, Donald Trump said he was considering a run for president and would do so as a Republican because “They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific.”

The post was flagged as part of Facebook’s efforts to combat false news and misinformation on its News Feed.

The meme features a repurposed image of a younger Trump, with the quote billed as a statement he delivered in an interview with the magazine.

So did Donald Trump actually say that – or anything like it?

No, the quote is bogus.

The fabricated quote appeared on social media sites inOctober 2015, when Trump’s campaign started to gain steam. The meme has continually resurfaced over the years, though it has repeatedlybeendebunked.

We searched People’s archives, which date back to the 1970s, and found no Trump interviews in 1998 – or any other time – that feature that quote or anything resembling it.

Most of the magazine’s articles at the time that involved Trump discussed his celebrity and high-profile divorce from Marla Maples.

Featured Fact-check

People also issued a statement rebuking the quote’s authenticity.

Trump Did Not Disparage Gop In 1998 People Magazine Interview

CLAIM: “If I were to run, I’d run as a Republican. They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific.” — Donald Trump in 1998 People magazine interview.

AP’S ASSESSMENT: False. The president did not make such a comment to People magazine. 

THE FACTS: Singer and actress Bette Midler, who often speaks out against Trump, shared the false quote attributed to Trump on her Twitter account Sunday, with the comment that Trump “certainly knew his crowd.” Julie Farin, a People magazine spokeswoman, told The Associated Press that the magazine looked into the claim exhaustively when it first surfaced years ago but did not find anything remotely like it made by the president. 

The image used with the false quote shows Trump during a 1988 appearance on “The Oprah Winfrey Show” where he discussed running for president, but made no reference to Republicans being “the dumbest group of voters.” The quote first began circulating in 2015 and has been widely shared across social media platforms, including Facebook. It has been widely debunked since that time.

Here’s more information on Facebook’s fact-checking program: https://www.facebook.com/help/1952307158131536

___

This is part of The Associated Press’ ongoing effort to fact-check misinformation that is shared widely online, including work with Facebook to identify and reduce the circulation of false stories on the platform.

Trump Gets Slap On The Wrist For Rant On ‘stupid’ Iowa Voters

‘Not good to insult Iowa voters,’ one Iowa Republican says, but the fallout is far from dramatic.

Donald Trump’s slam of Iowans as “stupid” would usually be a breathtaking gaffe for a presidential candidate, but the billionaire businessman has proved time and again that this isn’t any normal presidential race and that he isn’t any normal candidate.

Top Republicans and Republican operatives in the state on Friday disparaged Trump’s comments from his Thursday evening rally at Iowa Central Community College in which he questioned the intelligence of voters who believe rival Ben Carson’s claims of a violent past and subsequent redemption. “How stupid are the people of Iowa? How stupid are the people of the country to believe this crap?” Trump yelled.

“Not good to insult Iowa voters,” Doug Gross, the former chief of staff to Iowa Gov. Terry Branstad, told POLITICO on Friday.

Steve Grubbs, the chief Iowa strategist for rival Rand Paul, was happy to pounce on the comment. “Trump’s meltdown last night makes me worry what would happen in a stressful situation in the White House,” Grubbs said.

But many Iowa Republicans also don’t see lasting damage. They see the comments as unfortunate but not nearly enough to send Trump packing.

“I heard audible gasps from those I was sitting by, yet that had no effect in his standing in the caucuses. And I’m not trying to dodge or be cute, but we don’t know. We don’t know what impact this will have,”Strawn said.

Here Are The Top 10 Stupidest Things Trump Did As President

Salon

We’re tentatively starting to emerge from the four year-long national nightmare of Donald Trump’s presidency, but the reckoning of what the nation endured will take years to really understand. Trump was terrible in so many ways that it’s hard to catalog them all: His sociopathic lack of regard for others. His towering narcissism. His utter ease with lying. His cruelty and sadism. The glee he took in cheating and stomping on anything good and decent. His misogyny and racism. His love of encouraging violence, only equaled by his personal cowardice.

But of all the repulsive character traits in a man so wholly lacking in any redeemable qualities, perhaps the most perplexing to his opponents was Trump’s incredible stupidity. On one hand, it was maddening that a man so painfully dumb, a man who clearly could barely read — even on those rare occasions when he deigned to wear glasses — still had the low cunning necessary to take over the Republican Party and then the White House.

On the other hand, it was the one aspect of Trump’s personality that kept hope alive. Surely a man so stupid, his opponents believed, will one day blunder so badly he can’t be saved, even by his most powerful sycophants. That has proved to be the case as Trump fumbles his way through a failed coup, unable and unwilling to see that stealing the election from Joe Biden is a lost cause.

He then pointed at his head, and said, “I’m, like, a person who has a good you-know-what.”

Trumps 10 Most Hilariously Stupid Things He Said In 2019

Sarah K. Burris – Raw Story

President Donald Trump has a long history of saying some of the most bizarre things in politics. This year was one for the books as the president flailed, searching for excuses for his July 25 phone call with Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelensky.

Here are some of the most hilariously stupid things the president has said this year:

1. Windmills cause ear cancer

“If you have a windmill anywhere near your house, congratulations, your house just went down 75 percent in value,” Trump told Republicans in April. “And they say the noise causes cancer. You tell me that one.” He then made a whirring noise mimicking a turbine.

2. He wants to buy Greenland

“In meetings, at dinners and in passing conversations, Mr. Trump has asked advisers whether the U.S. can acquire Greenland, listened with interest when they discuss its abundant resources and geopolitical importance and, according to two of the people, has asked his White House counsel to look into the idea,” the Wall Street Journal reported in August.

“Denmark essentially owns it,” Trump told reporters in the days that followed. “We’re very good allies with Denmark. We protect Denmark like we protect large portions of the world. … Strategically it’s interesting.”

Trump then got into a fight with Danish leaders and had to cancel a trip he’d planned to the country.

3. Trump is the “chosen one.”

4. “Why don’t they go back and help fix the totally broken and crime-infested places from which they came.”

Fact Check: Did Trump Say In ’98 Republicans Are Dumb

Q:

Did Donald Trump tell People magazine in 1998 that if he ever ran for president, he’d do it as a Republican because “they’re the dumbest group of voters in the country” and that he “could lie and they’d still eat it up”?A: No, that’s a bogus meme.

FULL ANSWER

The meme purports to be a quote from Trump in People magazine in 1998 saying, “If I were to run, I’d run as a Republican. They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific.”

We were alerted to the meme by a reader, A. Douglas Thomas of Freeport, N.Y., among others, who saw it in his Facebook feed, along with a message from someone who said, “I just fact-checked this. Google Donald Trump, People magazine and 1998. This is an actual quote by Trump.”

We’ll save you the effort. It is not an actual quote by Trump.

We scoured the Peoplemagazine archives and found nothing like this quote in 1998 or any other year.

And a public relations representative with People told us that the magazine couldn’t find anything like that quote in its archives, either. People‘s Julie Farin said in an email: “Peoplelooked into this exhaustively when it first surfaced back in Oct. We combed through every Trump story in our archive. We couldn’t find anything remotely like this quote –and no interview at all in 1998.”

There were several stories in the late 1990s about Trump’s flirtation with a presidential run.

Trump Forced Republicans Into The Dumbest Corner

Joshua Holland

Republicans are stuck on the wrong side of public opinion on Covid-19, and that’s probably the biggest reason why they’ve struggled to make up any ground against their Democratic opponents. Back in March, I noticed a trend that was unusual in our polarized times: GOP voters were telling pollsters that they believed Donald Trump’s various claims about the origins of the pandemic and bought that the media and Democrats were exaggerating its danger, but when asked about how they themselves were responding to the outbreak, majorities made it clear that they took it very seriously. They were concerned about its impact on their families and communities, were taking precautions to avoid contracting the virus and supported most if not all public health measures to contain it.

And even as numerous prominent Republicans and White House staffers tested positive for the disease, the conservative media continued to relentlessly downplay the severity of this historic public health crisis and openly mock those who take it seriously. It’s hard to overstate how wide the divide between the movement and a significant majority of the public–voters Trump needs to win over–has become.

For a party that was once hailed for its messaging prowess, it is confounding. But it makes sense in context. Trump set the course for his party to navigate the pandemic months ago, and he simply does not have a plan B.

The Fake Donald Trump Quote That Just Wont Die

Brian Feldman

In October 2015, as Donald Trump was gaining steam in the Republican primary, a quote began circulating that, for any other GOP member, might have ended their campaign. In 1998, as the story goes, Trump told People, “If I were to run, I’d run as a Republican. They’re the dumbest group of voters in the country. They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific.”

The quote was too good to be true. Sites like Snopes and Politifact quickly debunked it as a lie, or more specifically, could not find a primary source. There is no record of Trump saying this quote in People, though he has more broadly expressed political ambitions for decades. Despite the quote’s repeated debunking, it has shown up across social media consistently throughout the campaign in an attempt to derail the Trump Train.

While all of the fact-checking has determined that the quote is most certainly fake, the origins of the fakery are shrouded in mystery.

Snopes obtained the quote via an image emailed to them, one of the type meant to go viral on Facebook, and they first wrote about it on October 16, 2015. The image they cite has a watermark from the popular liberal Facebook page the Other 98%, one of the largest of a new genre of publication that exists mainly on social media and is dedicated to preaching to the choir.

Similar comments appear on another version of the clip.

User ieathairpussy:

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“They believe anything on Fox News. I could lie and they’d still eat it up. I bet my numbers would be terrific.”

The only problem is, there’s no evidence of Trump having ever said it.

According to Snopes, a website that debunks urban legends and myths, the image began appearing around October 2015, about four months after Trump announced his candidacy for the presidency.

While the quote may seem plausible, there is no evidence that Trump even gave any interviews to People magazine in 1998, let alone uttered the now-viral phrase, and there is nothing in the magazine’s extensive online archive pointing to political profiles of the businessman.

The reference to Fox News is also suspect – while the network launched in 1996, its popularity only really took off during the 2000 presidential campaign when George W Bush was elected; in the aftermath of the September 11 terrorist attacks and during the 2002 US-led invasion of Iraq.

Trump did begin making noises about running for president in 1998, telling NBC’s Stone Phillips that he was ‘liberal on healthcare’, in favour of tax cuts and pro-choice when it came to abortion, saying: “I hate the concept of abortion. I hate anything about abortion and yet, I’m totally for choice. I think you have no alternative.”

He also told King that he was planning on forming a ‘presidential exploratory committee’, adding: “The polls came out and they said if I ran, I’d do very well.’

The Birth Of The Stupid Party

Republicans are handing their presidential nomination to a know-nothing billionaire bully, Donald Trump — the worst nominee in modern times. How did Republicans get to be so stupid?

Of course, “stupid” is subjective. But by most standards, Republicans fit the bill. In September, Public Policy Polling found that “66% of Trump’s supporters believe that Obama is a Muslim… 61% think Obama was not born in the United States.” The same poll found that 54 percent of all Republicans believed the President to be a Muslim.

In 2013, Louisiana Republican Governor Bobby Jindal warned the GOP to “stop being the stupid party.” Jindal said Republican candidates should “stop insulting the intelligence of voters… with offensive and bizarre statements.” However, Jindal didn’t listen to his own advice; on May 10th, Jindal endorsed Donald Trump. Stupid is as stupid does.

It wasn’t always like this. Fifty years ago, Republicans seemed wrongheaded but intelligent. What has happened to the Grand Old Party? Its transition to the stupid party had four stages:

In September, writing in the Daily Beast Ana Marie Cox observed, “Trump and Carson are winning a huge slice of the GOP base because of prideful ignorance, which to voters signifies not just a rejection of the establishment or elites but a release from the hard work of having to think.”

2. Republicans accepted racism. When the GOP adopted the southern strategy, they tacitly accepted racism. With Trump this racism has come out in the open.

Did They Really Say That

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It was Abraham Lincoln’s 208th birthday last weekend. The US Republican Party’s social media feeds honoured the 16th president by sharing a picture of his iconic memorial in Washington DC, with an inspiring quote laid over the top.

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that counts, it’s the life in your years,” was the message on Twitter and Instagram, also shared by President Trump.

There was just one problem: the words have been attributed to Lincoln many times over the years, but there is no evidence he ever said them. The post has since been deleted.

It was the latest example of a growing modern phenomenon, the fake political quote.

Some have said “fake news” could have swung the outcome of November’s US presidential election. Bogus stories like “Pope Francis Shocks World, Endorses Donald Trump for President” were extensively shared online.

Made up quotes are perhaps more benign than fictitious news stories with a clear political agenda. But they still raise concerns, says James Ball of Buzzfeed News, who is writing a book about “post-truth” politics.

“If enough people share and believe these fake quotes, then they can contribute to the polarisation of politics, making each side think less of the other, especially as many partisans think fake news is a problem which affects primarily their opponents.”

These fake quotes don’t just come from right-wing politicians and activists.

It seemed too obnoxious to be true – and it was.

[chicviagens]

🌄 Gramado Natal Luz ❇ Novembro, nessa época a cidade oferece espetáculos únicos como o Natal Luz. Encontre no seu roteiro atividades e gastronomia com Uva e Vinho, jantares com tradição italiana, suiça e alemã, que vai bem para casais, familias e amigos. 📸 - @jessika_queiroz27 obrigado pela foto 😍 👉 Roteiro: 16/11/2019: Serviço de transporte privado em sua casa para transporte até o Aeroporto no RJ, onde você irá pegar o voo rumo a Porto Alegre. Chegada em Porto Alegre receptivo te aguarda para transporte até o Hotel Canto Belo @hotelcantobelo 17/11/2019: Parque Snowland. Lá você conhecerá todo o charme dos vilarejos alpinos da suíça, em uma perfeita réplica, com neve de verdade! O parque é uma garantia de diversão! 18/11/2019: City Tour de Gramado e Canela guiado e noite com Jantar Suiço Tradicional, sequência livre de Fondue - (Queijos, Carnes e Chocolate) 19/11/2019: Trem Maria Fumaça com visita a 2 Vinícolas c/ degustação, almoço incluso e Epopeia Italiana. A noite Churrascaria Garfo e Bombacha, Churrasco Gaúcho. 20/11/2019: Espetáculo Illumination do Natal Luz, Reencontros de Natal. Deixe-se encantar pela magia e a emoção que este novo show Reencontros de Natal proporcionará aos seus espectadores, com muitos efeitos, luzes e todo encantamento do Lago Joaquina Rita Bier. 21/11/2019: Café da manhã no hotel, serviço de busca para transporte ao aeroporto de Porto Alegre onde você irá pegar o voo de retorno ao Rio de Janeiro, chegada ao Rio receptivo te esperando para te deixar em casa após essa fantástica viagem! Pacote inclui todos os items mencionados acima, entre em contato para fazer sua reserva, personalizar seu pacote, obter os valores e mais detalhes. Colecione momentos, bora viajar! 😍 📸🏝🏂🗽🗼⛩⛴✈🌊🌍 (em Gramado - Serra Gaúcha/RS) https://www.instagram.com/p/B21p7iTHhMj/?igshid=133angg2f5p7o

[polixy]

The countries with the 10 largest Christian populations and the 10 largest Muslim populations

The countries with the 10 largest Christian populations and the 10 largest Muslim populations;

A Catholic prays during morning Mass in Kano, Nigeria; Muslims mark the end of Ramadan with prayers at a mosque in Lagos. Nigeria has the sixth-largest Christian population in the world, as well as the fifth-largest Muslim population. (Chris Hondros/Getty Images, left; Pius Utomi Ekpei/AFP/Getty Images)

“Top 10” lists can often be helpful in displaying and illuminating data. For example, the two tables of countries with the largest Christian and Muslim populations featured here reveal differences in the concentration, diversity and projected changes in the world’s two largest religions.

The two lists show that the global Muslim population is more heavily concentrated in Islam’s main population centers than the global Christian population is for Christianity, which is more widely dispersed around the world. Indeed, about two-thirds (65%) of the world’s Muslims live in the countries with the 10 largest Muslim populations, while only 48% of the world’s Christians live in the countries with the 10 largest Christian populations.

To put it another way, more than half (52%) of the world’s Christians live in countries other than those with the 10 largest Christian populations, while this is true for just over a third (35%) of the world’s Muslims. In absolute terms, there are twice as many Christians (1.2 billion) as there are Muslims (609 million) living in countries that are not on their religion’s top 10 list.

A number of the countries with the world’s 10 largest Muslim or Christian populations also have large (and in some cases, larger) populations of other faith groups. In India, which has the second-largest Muslim population, Islam is a minority religion (making up 15% of the country’s population) and Hinduism is the majority faith. Nigeria, which has the sixth-largest Christian population in the world (87 million), also has the world’s fifth-largest Muslim population (90 million).

In addition, the lists illustrate the extent to which the population centers for these religions have moved away from their historical and traditional hubs. The top five Muslim countries are all in South and Southeast Asia or in sub-Saharan Africa, rather than the Middle East; and the top three Christian countries are in the Americas rather than in the Middle East or Europe.

Overall, there are about 2.3 billion Christians in the world and 1.8 billion Muslims. That gap is expected to disappear by 2060, when Pew Research Center projects there will be 3 billion Christians and 3 billion Muslims. That’s because Muslims, on average, are younger and have more children than do Christians.

In 2060, the share of the world’s Muslims living in the countries with the 10 largest Muslim populations is expected to be slightly lower than it is today (60% vs. 65%). Meanwhile, the share of Christians living in the 10 countries with the highest Christian populations is expected to remain the same (48%).

The 2060 lists for Muslims and Christians are also expected to change in other ways. By 2060, India is expected to supplant Indonesia as the country with the largest Muslim population. Still, India’s Muslim population will remain a minority religious group (19%) in the Hindu-majority country.

The country with the highest Christian population, the United States, is expected to remain in that position in 2050. Lower down on the list, Tanzania, Uganda and Kenya are expected to be added, while Russia, Germany and China will fall out of the top 10.

; Blog – Pew Research Center; https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2019/04/01/the-countries-with-the-10-largest-christian-populations-and-the-10-largest-muslim-populations/; ; April 1, 2019 at 12:05PM

[un-enfant-immature]

The Rodecaster Pro is a perfect centerpiece to a home podcasting studio

My podcasting rig is simple: Two microphones, a Tascam recorder, two XLR cables. I’ve upgraded things a bit in the past year — improved the mics, bought some foam windscreens and bought a pair of tabletop, foldable mic stands. But the principle is the same: take nothing I can’t fit into a laptop sleeve.

It’s served me pretty well in the five years I’ve been doing my show. While friends were building soundproof posting studios in their homes, I went with a rig I could take with me. It’s a lot easier to ask someone to be on your show if you’re able to go to them.

Here’s a picture I took of comedian Hannibal Buress after recording an upcoming episode in my hotel room in Lagos, Nigeria. That’s my setup right there. It’s sitting atop my rolling luggage, which is turned upside down on a small hotel coffee table. Improvisation is key.

There are trade-offs, of course. Sound is a big one. The mics themselves are pretty crisp, but ambient noise is an issue. I’ve recorded a bunch of these in cafes, bars and restaurants. I tell myself it’s part of the charm. And, of course, with a Tascam, you don’t have the same sort of sophisticated control you get with a board.

Perhaps I’ve always secretly fantasized about what a home studio might look like. Cost has always been a factor, of course. These things add up like crazy. Also, the barrier of entry is needlessly complex. A handful of companies have looked to capitalize on the increasingly profitable world of non-professional podcasts. Blue has produced some pretty compelling USB-based stuff. For those who want to record multiple guests in the same room, however, things start to get much trickier.

I jumped at the chance to try out the Rodecaster Pro. From the looks of it, it just might be the ideal product to help home podcasters scratch that itch. The product is essentially a six-channel soundboard with self-contained production capabilities. The idea is to just record everything live to a single track that can be uploaded directly to your podcast server of choice.

That includes everything from live mixing to an octet of sound pads you can use to trigger music beds and sound effects. Better yet, you can patch people in remotely by connecting a smartphone via hardwire or Bluetooth.

It’s a really lovely piece of hardware. I showed it to a few folks during setup, and everyone was impressed by the look of the thing, from the pro knobs to the brightly illuminated sound pads with customizable colors.

There’s a small touchscreen display at the top of the board that serves both as a way to gauge levels and navigate various settings. Essentially it serves as a way to bypass the computer entirely, once you’ve finished the setup process. The Rodecaster operates on a similar principle as much of anchor.fm’s offerings, giving users the path of least resistance to bringing a podcast to life.

It’s an admirable goal, especially in the world of podcasting, where content democratization is supposed to be a guiding principle. And certainly setup is painless, so far as mixing boards go. I had to fine-tune and troubleshoot a few things to get it up and running, but within an hour or two, everything was perfectly set up and running.

The downside to that level of simplicity, however, is that it removes the ability to fine-tune some key parts of the process. The most glaring omission is multi-track recording. Sure, you can record four people on mics and a fifth on a phone call, but it all records to the same track. That’s fine and dandy if you want something quick and dirty (as, granted, some podcasters do), but I’m a proponent of editing.

If you’re trying to make it sound professional, you’re going to want to cut it down. Even as someone whose podcast often runs in excess of an hour, I still find I spend much more time chopping the show up in Audacity than I do actually recording. It sucks, but that’s what you need to do if you want it to sound half decent.

Even if you’re not editing for content, at least cut the “uhms” and “ahs” and all of those bits where everyone talks over each other. That’s a hell of a lot easier to do when you’re operating with multiple tracks. I realize not everyone feels that way, but the option would be nice.

Setup mostly consists of unboxing and plugging in cables. Rode sent up a deluxe edition in a giant backpack that also included a pair of its Podcaster microphones and large, heavy stands. You’ll need to go through a couple of screens to set up odds and ends like time and date and to pair it to your phone, if you plan to go that route.

I tethered the board to my laptop during setup, in order to customize the sounds. It comes preloaded by default with applause, laughter, a rimshot and the like — it’s the Morning Zoo Crew package. I tossed in an intro and outro song and a couple of custom effects for good measure (Reggaeton air horn and Nelson from The Simpsons, naturally).

There’s a total of 512MB of storage, so you can add longer tracks as well, associating them by dropping them onto the corresponding pads on the desktop app. Check the levels, pop in a microSD card for recording and you’re off to the races.

I’ll admit that I ran into a couple of hiccups with things like phone audio through the board. Also, the rear headphone jacks require an adapter if you want everyone to hear themselves and the sound effects. Seems like an odd choice, given the novice target audience.

Original Content records its weekly episode on Fridays, so the timing worked out perfectly to test the thing out. Anthony and I set up mics across the table from each other and we beamed Jordan in via phone.

I hit record, tapped the intro music and we were off. Somewhat annoyingly, the buttons can only trigger the sounds, but not turn them off. That’s great for something like the air horn (for ironic comedic effect only, I swear), but less great with music. You’ll want to edit that down to the length you need it, otherwise you’ll end up potting down the volume, effectively losing that channel until it’s finished playing. The ability to see how much time is remaining on each track would have been a nice touch, but it’s not crucial here.

Once everything was up and running, we didn’t run into any issues for the hour and change we spent recording (aside from me riding the sound effect board a little too hard, perhaps). We finished recording, popped out the card and transferred the files. Boom, podcast.

The sound quality on the Rode mics is really terrific — borderline studio-quality stuff. The episode will be up in a few days, so you can judge for yourself. The sound on Jordan’s phone connection isn’t great, but you can’t really fault Rode for the poor state of cellphone call quality these days.

The Rodecaster Pro does exactly what is says on the box — and does most of it quite well. As someone who operated a board back in my radio days, I got back into the swing of things almost immediately. I’d forgotten how much I’d enjoyed going through those motions in the intervening years. And the ability to actually do a show face to face brings a level of energy and understanding you lose when relegated to Skype.

Bottom line: $600 for the board alone is going to be prohibitively expensive for many novice podcasters. But for a select few looking to start down the path to serious podcasting, this will really hit the sweet spot and up your game with the press of a button.