#and his need to prove himself to indoctrinate him i think that that's fascinating

[eggbagelz]

On book four now. I definitely prefer the movie and it's for a MULTITUDE of reasons [most of which relate to how st aggies was tied to the pure ones and how kludd and metalbeak were changed too]

Generally speaking ive always felt that with the right director an adaptation is capable of doing really well even if significant changes are made [look at lotr or httyd] and it doesnt mean the source material is any less brilliant or whatever but here its like oh thank god you actually managed to make smth more interesting than the books did

Started reading the gahoole books and so far i think i prefer the movie more

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

"Close Quarters and Fake Steak" from Part 2 of Into the Horizon

A full chapter of Zowens from Part 2 of my story. The only real context you need to know here is that "Mara'Monto" means Deathmatch and "sa Heig'on a Manu" is The Arena of Fighting (the gladiator fighting circuit they've both been forced into fighting for.) Everything else I think you can pick up from within the chapter itself. Oh, and sorry for the alien language. It's a thing. It isn't necessary to know exact translations as it's written to only be understood as much as Kevin does. (Third Person Limited Shifting is a hell of a trip) Anyway, this if for my darling@zayneeac's birthday. Happy birthday, darling. Here's to many many more. Enjoy.

Kevin hadn’t intended to fall in love.

Fighting as a team again hadn’t been nearly as difficult as he’d expected. Far from it, he found it exhilarating. He’d always known that he was meant to fight with Sami forever and even the distant future in the 9th Era or Period of those dinosaur bastards fell under the category of “forever.” The only thing that Kevin never would have predicted was the environment where they’d be spending that forever. He’d pictured a marvelous main event sunset at WrestleMania, not some deathmatch pit in a science fiction nightmare.

And yet, they were surviving. Somehow, against all the odds, they were a team again and God it was just like old times. The way they moved in sync hadn’t changed much from their days as a tag team on Earth, although the fighting style was completely different. They won most of their matches, and the ones that they didn’t win were exhibition fights or Gontzos.

Gontzo. Mara’Gontzo, Mara’Monto, sa Heig’on a la bullshit language. Holy fuck did he hate Gorosian. He was trying to learn it but the notion of indoctrinating himself into the society of his captors wasn’t remotely appealing. When he’d taught himself English, it was on his terms. Having the Gorosian’s pisstastic, apostrophe-laden nonsense shoved down his throat offended him on levels he couldn’t express to them if he were permitted. Mainly because he didn’t speak the fucking language. But he still took the lessons and tried a little (very little) if for no other reason than Sami was fascinated about learning the language and attending the sessions with him meant more time they could spend together.

Although, since becoming a team again, they’d been spending all their time together anyway, so it really didn’t matter. Honestly, as much as he loved Sami, the guy could grate on you, and maybe skipping the classes would give him a moment of relief from Sami’s endless curiosity.

Whatever. He knew he wouldn’t stop going. Sami was the one thing keeping him sane in the Arena. Kevin was miserable as all hell, but every time Sami learned something new, his eyes would light up just enough that it stoked the minuscule remaining flame of Kevin’s soul. He hated himself and what the Arena made him do, but every spark of happiness that Sami felt, Kevin felt too.

And frankly, those sparks were all he lived for anymore.

At least they were doing great in the BattleRing.

When they started their run as a team, all their matches were two on one, which you would think would benefit them, but naturally, the Heig’on just loved to make everything difficult. Rather than one standard Manu opponent, they were pitted against anything from giants to ferocious beasts. Even their training had proved little use when facing down some unholy six-legged blend between a rhinoceros, a lion, and an elephant. They had to adapt quickly, and thankfully they did. Even more thankfully, their stint as strictly beast fighters was mercifully short as, once the crowd got behind them, they started to face off against other tag teams. After that happened, there was no stopping them. True, Kevin was always the one to strike the killing blow, but they made it work. Tag teams were unheard of in the Arena before them, at least, that’s what he figured. The years of developed chemistry between him and Sami meant that they could get in each other’s heads on a level their opponents could never dream of. There were still fights where they had to battle monsters, but even then, once they got the hang of fighting the various demon-beasts from across the galaxy, they had no trouble winning.

They were a nearly unstoppable team and with their new winnings, came new privileges. So many privileges. They were called Man’Yokulae in Gorosian and they usually involved some level of comfort or entertainment. But the best privilege of all was that they finally had names. Well, sort of. They weren’t their real names, but whatever powers of the universe threw them into that pit had a sense of humor because their designations in Gorosian both ended in something similar to their real names. 59 translated to Kae’do, and 63 was Zev’ii. It was close enough to KO and Sami that he could deal with them, and he’d requested their names as Kaydo and Zehvee. The names were granted, and finally they were able to use actual pronouns for a change.

Although, Sami wasn’t nearly as fond of calling Kevin “Kaydo” as he was being called “Zehvee” and usually just called Kevin “Kae”. Kevin didn’t care, as long as they didn’t have to speak French. Sooner or later their habit of speaking en français would come back to bite them, so any time they didn’t have to use their native tongue was beneficial.

There were other privileges as well, but being a proper noun was by far the best. He wouldn’t say they were well off though, but whomever their mysterious benefactor was had made them comfortable. They had their own room now, cramped but private. Perhaps a bit too much of both, as Kevin could no longer escape Sami when he was sick of him. And that meant that when he wanted peace and quiet, there was usually none to be found. Far from it, Kevin was slowly being driven insane by Sami’s ceaseless questions.

One day, while resting after a mid-day Gontzo fight, Sami was laying on their bed (because of course, the assholes had only given them one bed) and staring at the ceiling. Kevin was quietly attempting to read an ebook he’d been given to pass the time. The tablet was programmed with a translator, but it was a bit like trying to read a foreign novel filtered through Google Translate. Still, he managed well enough and it helped stave off the boredom. It was a story about some noble rebels standing in defiance against the corrupt Government. It was poorly written and reeked of propaganda, but it was better than making small talk with Sami.

And yet, Sami kept trying

Sami was laying on their bed, playing a small handheld block game that he’d earned. It somewhat reminded Kevin of those old, grey-brick Game Boys, if the Game Boy only played the originally included Tetris game. Sami usually played his game with the sound off, and the room was blissfully quiet, when Sami just had to go and ruin it with yet another question.

“How do the time scoops work?” he chirped from his spot on the bed.

“How do what?” Kevin asked.

Sami popped up from the bed to sit on the edge, putting the game down.

“The time scoops. Those machines that brought us here. That’s what they call them, right? How do they work? All the different aliens around here. Do they have different scoops for different aliens? I can’t imagine a Gorosian fitting comfortably in the pods we arrived in. I know you said they only work one way, but why? Why can’t you go back in them? What’s the hang-up?”

“Just accept that you can’t,” Kevin replied, trying to brush him off.

Sami shook his head, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “No, it’s just, you’d think time travel would work in both directions. If you can use the devices to pull something into the future, why can’t you use it to shove something into the past?”

“They’re called scoops,” Kevin replied gruffly, “you don’t scoop something backward. Scooping is for removal. From what I understand, without a pod at the other end, you can’t go backward.”

Sami looked sad at the response, dropping his hands into his lap.

“Besides,” Kevin added, “I told you what happened to Earth. The world was already a dumpster fire when we left, and it never got any better. If you went back, you’d just be caught in the same apocalyptic hell as everyone else. All those people, back there on Earth? They’re dead. All of them. Humanity burned, Zehvee. This place is shit but at least we’re alive.”

Sami stared at the floor and his voice was quiet as he replied, “I’d rather have died on earth with them. I hate this place. I hate hurting people just to survive. The arena sucks.”

“Yeah, yeah it does.”

There was a pause before Sami’s voice picked up once more.

“But how do the crowds work?” he asked. “They aren’t actually in the compound; how do we see and hear them like they’re live? What kind of technology does that involve?”

Kevin groaned and threw up his hands in frustration. At that rate, Sami’s questions were going to end him long before some Heig’on fighter did.

But Kevin had nowhere to go; he couldn’t escape. Regardless of how pissed he got, they were together almost constantly. In the events of their inevitable arguments, the close quarters and lack of alternative entertainment forced them to reconcile quickly. It led to far fewer arguments, knowing that they couldn’t escape each other, although if Kevin was being honest, it wasn’t because he wasn’t frustrated, just that he had to watch Sami be in pain over their disagreements, something he’d always managed to avoid when they were rivals in the WWE.

And, somewhere along the way, something changed.

If Kevin had to pick a day or moment, it was after something that happened in the mealhall one day. They weren’t scheduled for a fight that day, so they just trained for several hours before spending some time in their quarters. When it was time for dinner, they were escorted to the mealhall. Sami was excited, he’d done well in an exhibition fight the previous day, knocking out both opponents himself. Of course, Kevin had let him do so, exhibition fights were becoming less frequent for them and Sami shone best when the fight didn’t involve murder, so Kevin had feigned injury to drive Sami to perform harder. He’d stepped up to the challenge and was told he’d be receiving a treat the following day at mealtime.

Kevin laughed. “It’s probably just a different flavor of grey pudding, or maybe a different color. Hey, maybe you’ll get orange pudding, to match your hair!”

Sami just glared at him and said nothing, and when they headed for the mealhall, Sami was excited for whatever he had earned.

He grew even more excited when they turned into the meal hall and Sami saw his favorite Orbaka helper working the food table again.

She, at least Kevin was pretty sure the alien was female, was designated Orbaka-10014. She was of a species that Kevin learned was called “Jakkan” and she was quite attractive, all things considered. She had pale, pearly skin with eyes that, while resembling somewhat human eyes, were a touch too large. Her lips were a royal purple shade, and she had a nose-shaped feature between her eyes and mouth that even Kevin admitted was cute, although there were three “nostrils” rather than two. However, her most prominent feature was how she didn’t have hair. Instead, traveling down the back of her head, neck, and back were two thin black tendrils, about three inches apiece, with small spherical ends on them. Overall, she resembled something out of Star Wars and the rest of her kind had very similar appearances. Jakkans in general, Kevin had decided were probably the most visually appealing aliens he’d seen since arriving in Hell, and if he had to pick the best of them, it’d probably be her.

But Sami… if Kevin had to guess, Sami had a crush on her. He kept trying to flirt with her, something that always seemed impossible due to communication issues. Kevin had learned long ago that everyone they encountered had universal translators, but they didn’t work the same with every species, and whatever algorithm was used to translate English to Jakka was spotty at best. Also, despite his efforts, she never seemed to enjoy seeing him. She always smiled, but it was never a friendly smile, and Kevin was beginning to wonder if smiling meant the same thing on the Jakkan planet. It still didn’t stop Sami from trying, and as he grabbed his tray and headed for the food table, he was looking quite happy.

“Hi, again,” he said cheerfully to the Orbaka, a wide smile on his face. “You look nice today.”

10014 squinted her eyes.

“Friendly?” she asked, not understanding his comment.

Sami raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Well, I’m trying to be, anyway. How have you been?”

“Beans?”

“No, I mean your day. How has your day been going so far?”

“Distance? I have never left Heig’on compound in three revolutions.”

Kevin couldn’t help but be amused as Sami shook his head. He wondered if he should suggest Gorosian as an alternative, but to him, watching Sami struggle with flirting was too priceless to disrupt, so he said nothing.

Sami tried again. “No I mean, how have you been feeling?”

That, she seemed to grasp a bit more and she replied “I understand. I am… alive. Not dead yet, which is preferred.”

Sami smiled again. “Good to hear. So, what’s my surprise?”

Kevin watched as she smiled again, that same miserable version she always used with Sami.

“Trophy?” she returned. “You have won no trophy.”

“No,” Sami replied, “My surprise. My gift. I was told I’d earned something.”

Her smile fell flat and was replaced by confusion once more. As she stood there, trying to understand his meaning, a guard behind her made a loud grunting noise.

They were holding up the process too much.

10014 huffed a bit, her three nostrils puffing out as she scooped the (still) grey pudding into Sami’s bowl.

“Urn?” she told him, “Those perished in Heig’on do not in urns. Incinerated only.”

Sami sighed and dropped his tray against the table in frustration. Kevin, deciding to step in, put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“His privilege,” he spoke up.

Still no sign of understanding.

Kevin thought for a moment before deciding to give in and try the other approach. It would probably ruin his fun in the long run, but Sami deserved whatever gift was coming to him and he wasn’t about to let him go without. Wracking his brain to pull out the little bit of Gorosian he’d absorbed, he tried to parse together a sentence.

“Rio Man’Yokulae do Tor’ooq’toan,“ he said. He was certain he was messing it up, and his belief was confirmed when he saw Sami look away, his hand over his mouth to suppress the laughter.

Still, it seemed to get the job done and 10014’s eyes widened, and she made a sound of understanding, an oddly joyful scowl crossing her face.

“Yes!” she said enthusiastically, “Earned reward!”

She stuck her spoon into the pot of foodstuff and headed into the back room.

“See,” Kevin told Sami, “You just need to know how to talk to them.”

Sami was still choking on suppressed laughter.

Kevin shook his head.

Fine. I’ll bite.

“All right, Mr. Quad-Lingual, how bad did I do?” he asked, although he really didn’t want to know.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Sami replied with a grin. “Well, you called me a trans woman and referred to yesterday as ‘the before time’ but at least you got your point across.”

“Jesus. I hate it here.”

Before Sami could respond, the Orbaka returned with a small plastic cup with dark liquid in it.

“SolTerra bean beverage,” Orbaka-10014 chirped, holding the cup out to Sami.

Sami looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on him. It was his turn to go wide-eyed as he exclaimed, “Wait, coffee? There’s coffee here?!”

The Orbaka moved the cup a bit closer to Sami who gladly accepted it, not even putting it on his tray. He looked down at it, before commenting, “Black, hm? I guess I don’t get any kind of soy or sweetener.”

The Jakkan just stood there looking perplexed, replying, “Added sweet? Coffee not meant as sweet. Bads flavor.”

Sami shrugged and gave a warm smile to the alien woman, saying, “Still, it’s nice to have.”

He paused before adding in Gorosian, “Hintoq’ho Gyntviana Roa”

The Orbaka’s eyes lit up and her cheeks flushed a shade of violet.

The guard behind them grunted again, this time louder and angrier.

The Orbaka’s shock disappeared, followed by a quick “Yo’Vaa’Dan” as she served Kevin his food. More of the same as usual. God, he hated the grey pudding. But, with the guard getting angry, Kevin knew they needed to be moving along and he gently nudged Sami’s foot with his own.

“Right,” Sami said, moving and, taking their trays they both headed for their assigned seats. Midway there, Sami took a sip of his coffee. Immediately, he stopped in his tracks, so abruptly that Kevin nearly plowed into him.

“Shit,” Kevin swore. He took a moment to readjust his food on the tray and moved to stand beside Sami, looking for what the hold up was. Sami was standing there, staring at the cup of coffee with the most disgusted look on his face as though he was about to retch on Kevin’s boot.

Kevin couldn’t help but smile. “Not good?” he asked.

Sami’s face un-contorted, transforming into a look of determination and he held out his tray to Kevin.

“Kae,” he remarked, “would you mind taking my tray with you to our table. I need to… um… go water that plant over there…”

Sami motioned towards a potted, tree-like plant in the corner that was standing unattended. Kevin fought valiantly to suppress the snorted laughter that was trying to erupt from him, instead silently taking his tray across his forearm and doing the same with Sami’s on the opposite side. With both trays balanced, he silently headed for his table, making sure to keep an eye on what Sami was doing. He sat down, trying to be discrete, and as he sat there he watched Sami casually make his way over to the plant. After checking to make sure nobody was watching, Sami turned his back to the plant and, without even looking at it, dumped the cup of coffee behind him into the dirt. After the cup was empty, he returned to where Kevin was and sat down across from him.

Kevin was unable to hold back the laughter anymore, nearly choking on his efforts to do so (as well as that damn pudding).

He swallowed his mouthful and asked, “That bad, huh?”

Picking up his spoon and digging into his bowl of slop, Sami just shrugged. “I guess I should have known better. I can’t imagine them having coffee plantations here.”

“No, probably not,” Kevin agreed. “Hey, out of curiosity, what did you say that made her blush like that?”

Swallowing a spoonful, his friend replied, “Oh not much. I said thank you.”

“Uh-huh. And? I knew that much, what was the second part?”

The redhead turned sheepish. “I might have called her beautiful as well.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “God you’re hopeless.”

They both got quiet after that, focusing on their meals, until, after about five minutes, KO happened to glance back up at the plant Sami had “watered”.

It was starting to wilt.

Kevin had to suppress another laugh, an action that he wasn’t getting any better with over time. Sami heard him and, following his line of sight, also noticed the plant in distress.

“Ah hell,” his friend muttered, before grabbing the cup of water off Kevin’s tray, standing, and leaving.

“Hey!” Kevin cried out as he took the cup away, “Dammit Zehvee!”

Sami wasn’t listening, nor was he trying to be inconspicuous this time. He strode over to the plant and, bending over, distributed the water around the soil in the pot.

Naturally, a guard noticed, and Kevin let out a worried sigh as the guard headed over to where Sami was. He strained his ears to hear the conversation, but they were a bit too far away. He just turned his eyes down toward the table, an almost instinctive action in the face of possible trouble, and waiting until Sami returned to his seat. When he did, his friend let out a satisfied hum.

Kevin was a bit surprised at that and, his eyes still on his food, asked in a hushed, low tone, “You get bitched at?”

“Nah,” Sami said, totally undisturbed as he returned the empty water cup to Kevin’s tray, “he just told me that there’s Orbaka that tend to the plants and that I shouldn’t bother with them. I’m fine. Thanks for the water, though. It’s looking better already.”

Kevin looked up at Sami. His smile was so warm and infectious, and as he looked behind his friend, he realized Sami was right. The tree did look better.

Sami was still smiling. The misery and steel-walled prison they were in, forced to fight for the amusement of slavemasters and bloodthirsty sadists, and Sami was concerned with a damn plant. He couldn’t help but return the smile and as he sat there, basking in the glow that his friend always seemed to have around him, the walls of his heart began to crumble, broken down by cinnamon curls and hazel eyes.

After that, it was only a matter of time before Kevin loved him completely. TBC

[omegawizardposting]

Ok, another stream of consciousness, gut reaction type post re: Lotor’s trans-reality gate and how his story could have been rewritten.

From what I recall, and after a little research, Lotor’s endgame is to harvest pure quintessence from the rift on Daibazaal. That part of his storyline, I take no issue with. In fact, I think that it would have been a very good point of contention between he and the Paladins, ensuring that there was still a confrontation to be had, but room for Lotor to be redeemed. The mere desire to harvest quintessence from the rift is forgivable, and could have been used as an important stepping stone during Lotor’s redemption arc.

Where the issue arises is the Altean colony, the residents of which he is using as a source of pure quintessence for his experiments and until he can enter the rift. Although he believed he was doing it for a good reason, cool motive, still murder. This is, uh, putting it lightly, a lot less forgivable.

I haven’t gotten to this point in my rewatch yet, but I do know that his generals, who ultimately betrayed him and who are looking for any way to save their own skins after his escape, are aware of the trans-reality gate. Take this information to Haggar and Zarkon, receive your pardon, and go about your lives. This solves their problem, and is a solid segue into the next part of the arc.

Haggar is the one who harvests pure quintessence from other Altaeans.

Now, I’m not certain if the generals know about the Altaean colony, but again, from what I recall, Lotor isn’t working entirely alone. I would assume he’d need help establishing the colony, and with his generals, at that time, being entirely loyal to him, they would be at his side during its establishment. It makes narrative sense for them to know about the survival of the Altaen race.

Once Lotor kills Narti, seemingly without remorse, this loyalty is broken, and so they spill the beans to Haggar. Alongside their knowledge of the trans-reality gate, this is a huge bargaining chip--and as they already have the trust of the Altaens on the colony, Haggar could very easily send them in to begin harvesting pure quintessence in preparation for a proper go at the trans-reality gate. Haggar is Zarkon’s witch, and a talented Altaen alchemist; she would be able to learn what Canon!Lotor did about the Altaens and quintessence in a fraction of the time he did, I’d wager.

Lotor, meanwhile, has been so busy trying to establish himself as Emperor in order to better aid Voltron in the destruction of his father’s corrupt empire that this has all flown completely under his radar. The colony is safe, he believes; he’s hidden it well, and when the time is right, when he’s certain they won’t be followed or tracked, he can bring Allura back to her people.

His fatal mistake is assuming that his generals are either in hiding or dead...

...and that mistake is an excellent character-building moment.

Imagine his horror when he finally reunites Allura with her people, only to learn from them that his generals are alive, and that they have been “doing his bidding” by “establishing a second colony”.

Imagine the explosive friction between he and Team Voltron as he scrambles to prove his innocence, again, and after all they’ve been through together, they still don’t fully trust him.

Imagine his heartache at watching the woman he’s developed feelings for side with Team Voltron.

But then imagine his determination to exonerate himself. Imagine his success in doing so, the blow it would strike to the Galra Empire, and the quiet, tender moments after when everyone comes together and realizes, “He’s on our side, he’s one of us,” and a new, unshakable bond is forged.

Imagine Lotor feeling, for the first time in his life, that he is a part of a family.

Voltron is huge on found family, and Lotor--neglected, abused, indoctrinated Lotor--finding his would have been the ultimate declaration of love for the trope. It would have tied up his character so nicely, and made him into a truly fascinating, multidimensional hero, rather than an uninspired, one-note villain.

[ohjohnno]

Outrageous Fortune Reviewcap: S1E09 (”When The Blood Burns”)

I’ve been demurring on this one, partly because of real life shit (well, mostly that to be honest) but also because this episode isn’t all that good. It’s an episode entirely centering around Antony Starr’s characters, and I sure hope they paid him double, cos the range he needed for it was tremendous. But, unfortunately, one of those characters (Van) just isn’t all that interesting yet, and the other (Jethro) is ill-served by one of the dumbest and most unfortunate sideplots the show has yet had. So, without further ado, we’ll get this one out of the way, and I’ll try and keep it short. 

We open with a dual appearance from the two most irritating characters in the show: Tracy and Suzy Hong, their differences now thoroughly mended and united in enjoying themselves by tormenting Van.

Yeah, it’s as insufferable as it looks. An incensed Van finally snaps and threatens to quit; Mr. Hong overhears, but Van finally manages to stand up for himself and it pays off: Mr. Hong makes him manager of one of his local little stores, which seems to sell mostly cheap novelty junk. I’m not entirely sure why he does this, honestly, but it’s a mildly important character moment for Van, so okay, I guess?

Meanwhile, in the West household, things are getting a little crazy.

Cheryl and Kacey are promoting their new underwear business with a sorta quasi-striptease party, hosted by and for middle-aged women. It’s one of the aspects of the episode I like best, not because the women are sexy but more because they really aren’t; they’re a bunch of trashy fortysomething women, reminding the world that it isn’t just model-type people who like having sex, or who know how to have fun with it. Kacey makes this explicit with a little barb at the morbidly fascinated Pascalle, telling her they didn’t offer to use her as a model because they wanted to use “real women”, which is a nice reminder that toxic standards of femininity cut cruelly in both directions. So, yeah, good segment - made all the better by the horror of the younger girls who’ve been dragged along.

Van returns, utterly nonplussed at the scene before him, and they all retreat to the bedroom. Antony Starr’s comic acting here is great, actually - he follows the others to the room and finds them using his drugs with an indignant and confused response of “well... don’t!”, and it makes me laugh every time. Draska expresses some clear interest in him, which he once again ignores, as usual. The next scene is where the plot properly begins.

The gist of it is this: the Hongs’ local store has their goods transported from warehouse to shelf by Draska’s clan, the Doslics. Van discovers that there’s a discrepancy between the number of trading cards he was meant to be shipped and the number he actually received; he goes and politely asks the Doslics about it, and they do not take that well.

   I come from good people - HONEST people! Made strong by our troubles!

Naturally, they think he’s accusing them of thievery. Naturally, this makes Van pretty sure they really are committing thievery, and a raging Mr. Hong agrees. The two proceed to keep escalating tensions, and the rest of the Wests get caught in the crossfire; mama Doslic gets into a fight with Cheryl in a supermarket car park, Pascalle finds her old tyre-modelling photos all defaced with violent graffiti, and it’s all mildly funny but also kinda dull. Eventually, it turns out that Van’s mate Munter has been stealing the cards from the warehouse all along, using the keys Van gave him for safekeeping. This is not the last time Van will find himself victimized by the consequences of his own actions.

I’m blasting through *a lot* of this plot here really quickly, and that’s cos it just isn’t very interesting for the most part. It’s trying to be a farce, mostly, and it sometimes succeeds; Van’s initial confrontation with the Doslics is really quite funny, and his steadily increasing panic as the situation just goes more and more wrong isn’t bad either. But it’s all a bit too by-the-numbers and predictable, and in the end none of the stakes feel real; we all know that in an episode like this, the Hongs and the Doslics were never really gonna properly come to blows, and they don’t. Van confesses a lot of stuff to Draska in a couple of secret meetings, and while he’s initially paranoid about her loyalty, she proves herself by finding a way to fix the issue; she places all the blame for the break-ins on Eric (who was selling the stolen cards anyway, after buying them from Munter) and the two families come together to absolutely motherfucking whoop the guy’s ass, leaving him looking rather worse for wear. 

      ...next thing I know I’m getting the shit kicked out of me by half the West                                                   Auckland United Nations!

If I have a favorite moment in this plot, it’s probably near the beginning, when the elder Doslic is first bringing in what he believes to be the full shipment of cards. He’s ranting and raving, the whole time he does it, about how much he just damn well hates the “chinks” and their terrible language skills, not to mention their driving - all while speaking in a heavy Croatian accent himself and also, oh yeah, taking their money. This show really does get quite a lot of comedy out of the idea that solidarity between marginalized groups really just doesn’t exist.

The rest of it, though? I mean, it does contain a couple of important moments, I guess. Van, after initially lying to protect Munter and only making everything worse, is genuinely willing to offer himself up, blame himself entirely, and essentially sacrifice himself in order to save everyone’s hides, and only doesn’t end up doing it because Draska fixes it all before he has to. That’s a nice reminder that Van, at his core, really is a genuinely good person, and that his internal conflict as a character all comes from the tension between that and the toxic masculinity he’s had indoctrinated deep within him by his father and the culture he’s grown up in. Cheryl demonstrates where her loyalties lie and takes Van’s side without a second’s hesitation after mama Doslic shows up with complaints; for all her problems with Van, she really does love him unconditionally. But there’s also too much stuff that doesn’t come off, like Van’s boring interactions with a mildly delinquent kid who likes the trading cards, or Tracy’s ever-one-dimensional mistreatment of Van. 

Still, at least it’s better than Jethro’s plot.

Remember how Tracy knows now about Jethro’s little rape-by-deception thing a few episodes ago? Well, she still doesn’t seem to be thinking of it as rape, but she is trying to get him to apologize for it nonetheless. Jethro, meanwhile, wants to root her again, and he knows he can’t do that without apologizing. So Jethro’s plot this episode is several scenes in a row of him miserably failing to pull off a convincing apology, and... that’s it, really. Hugh’s back, being annoying as usual (though it’s intentional enough that it doesn’t bother me too much), and Loretta briefly shows up to mock him for how bad he is at apologizing (talk about the pot calling the kettle black!), but for the most part this is all really redundant and dull. The only interesting part comes in Loretta’s video shack, where Jethro straight up lies to Caroline’s face, right in front of Loretta, in order to make himself some free time to go and keep trying it with Tracy. Loretta, of course, is too sociopathic to feel sorry for her, and we all knew a couple of episodes ago that Jethro wasn’t gonna be able to maintain it with her as a regular relationship, but the beginnings of heartbreak on Caroline’s face as she begins to get an inkling, in her subconscious, of what’s going on is genuinely sad.

But the ending of this plot? It’s awful, and in a really unfortunate way. In the end, see, it turns out Tracy never really wanted an apology; she likes Jethro, doesn’t really care about the fact that he deceived her in such an intimate way, and wants it with him again. She decides he’s ready when... he just refuses to apologize one time, admitting he isn’t sorry because (and this is possibly the worst line of dialogue in the whole show, so brace yourselves): “why would I be, when it was the best fuck I’ve ever had?” 

Eugh.

So they start having an affair, and that’ll stay important. Meanwhile, Van’s plot ends similarly, in the superficial respect: Draska finally convinces him to have sex with her, as a celebration for the two of them getting out of that little escapade with everything intact, and it’s also the start of a relationship. Her toxicity, of course, has been evident the whole time from her unhealthy fixation on him, but if she demonstrated anything in this episode it was her intelligence and resourcefulness, so one suspects bad things on the horizon for Van. Nothing much happens with the rest of the characters - Loretta doesn’t do much other than the aforementioned mockery of Jethro and some mildly funny jabs at Pascalle’s choice of career, and Pascalle doesn’t do much other than get all horrified by what’s been done to her poster. On the whole, then, this is a disappointing episode, and maybe the worst one so far. Van will get good, I promise - the potential is all there already. But we’ve still gotta wait for now. Until next time.

[theliterateape]

Commie Puke-Faced Panty-Waisted Girly Man

by Don Hall

New comment from Ed Parker on They Learned it from the Wolverines:

It's hard to believe that one author can be so twisted, so wrong, and so proud of it in one article. "Soyboy" doesn't describe him well enough. Don Hall is what GenXers would call a MANGINA. But we Boomers used to call guys like this Commie Puke-Faced Panty-Waisted Girly Men. I suppose it would be pointless to argue that the frame-up on Kavanaugh had nothing to do with any reality outside of Whoopi Goldberg's psychosis, or that the obvious fraud of the recent election was nothing more than the installation of a Chinese puppet by a Chinese-owned Congress, or even that the remake of Red Dawn was censored by the Chinese, as it originally portrayed them as the invaders. Facts don't matter to thong-wearing pajama boys. As a spew, this article was a decent attempt to be obnoxious without being factual, but Donny's efforts were all in vain anyway, as his target audience doesn't read, can't think, and functions primarily on "feewings" manipulated so well in his Public Fool System edumakayshun. I'm sure he's very proud of himself, as any hocker that manages to crawl all the way up the side of a toilet bowl would be, but the intelligent reading public will just flush him down the swirly of irrelevance from whence he came, and where he should have stayed. All you've got is snark, Donny boy, and you're not even very good at that.

Dear Ed—

We at LiterateApe.com don't get too many comments on our articles despite our impressive (at least to us) average 98K unique reads per year, so yours stood out. It also stood out because, in terms of kind of brilliant takedowns, yours is quite the feat.

In 236 words, you manage to include some excellent Trumpian putdowns (soyboy, MANGINA, thong-wearing pajama boy, hocker that manages to crawl all the way up the side of a toilet bowl, and the classic Commie Puke-Faced Panty-Waisted Girly Man), you also adhere to some fantastic (but erroneous) GOP talking points like a champ! "Kavanaugh was framed." "Biden is an illegitimate president because Trump really won." "The Chinese are defrauding our elections (as opposed to the Russians)."

All unleashed due to my observation that guys like you have been pining away for your "Wolverine" moment since we all were in high school, desperately clinging to the possibility that we, too, could avenge Harry Dean Stanton while looking like a teen heartthrob.

I could simply ignore your comment. I could answer it in the comments section. But, no, Ed. You deserve better. You deserve more.

Throughout history, humans have not handled new technologies well. Gutenberg's printing press has been implicated in the Reformation, the Renaissance and the Scientific Revolution, all of which had profound effects on their eras. The shift from an earth-centered to a sun-centered universe were unintended consequences in the printing press era. This influx of books, pamphlets, and ideas destroyed the existing paradigm and those in power at the time did not respond well. Excommunications, torture, executions followed the spread of information previously gated from the rabble.

436 years later, Bell received his patent for the telephone. Give or take fifty years or so and a large percentage of American households contained a phone. All of a sudden, when tempers flared and your neighbor needed to be insulted or wrangled, you no longer had to leave your home, walk to his house, and confront him face-to-face. Now, sans the brief time to diffuse the rage, you could pick up the phone, call him, and tell him what a MANGINA he was in an instant.

In the onslaught of the Information Age, we now have the internet. No longer even required to know the neighbor you get to insult, everyone is a neighbor by proximity to a computer screen and some broadband. Instantaneous outrage, immediate written bitchslapping.

This, like the fallout from every invention of new technology in communication indicates, is not the end of all things. It is us getting used to new ways to engage and, because we are humans, fucking it up for a while until the newness wears out.

In the nascent days of digital communication, I found some fun in trolling some people. I recall creating a fake character—Kaufman—and trolling the Chicago Improv Message Board. It was pointless, it was antagonistic, it was a series of namecalling and juvenile bullshit. On the other hand, I was in my twenties and, like all people in their twenties, a bit stupid.

I am, however, curious about grown people who continue to engage with online communication in the same manner.

Specific to your comment, Ed, I can say that the insults are like throwing a basketball at an armless kid. Just bounces off and I stare at you wondering what else you have for me. I've been called a Nazi and a racist by some on the Extreme Left ("The Woke") and that doesn't bother me because it isn't any different than calling me a Unicorn or a Bowl of Potatoes. I'm obviously not those things so why would it bother me?

I can't speak for being a "soyboy" as I'm not entirely certain what that means but I can say I dig meat. Not sure what a MANGINA is but I applaud the creation of the word. I might very well be a MANGINA.

I'm definitely not a Commie. I'm no more in favor of the "Oppressor/Oppressed" binary of Marxist thought than I am a racist. Binary is too simplistic in my opinion. I may be Puke-Faced (subjective), I wear boxer shorts so no panty-waist, and I'm thinking that you see "Girly Man" as a derogatory but I see it as being feminist (which I am).

Still, pretty creative stuff and you managed to evoke "libtard" without using it so my hat goes off to you.

You, by your choices of real info, present yourself as a member of the Alt-Right Tribe and so your insults are pointless and juvenile (like mine were when I was a 22-year old "Kaufman").

The meat of your comment centers on three issues we can disagree about but could use a bit of genuine conversation.

I understand how someone would see the Kavanaugh accusations as merely a "He Said/She Said" situation. The Whoopi Goldberg thing misses me but I can see how someone might disagree that Brett is a rapist. While I don't believe all women in these cases, I believe these women so we'll just have to leave it at that.

As for your contention that the presidential election was fraudulent ("that the obvious fraud of the recent election was nothing more than the installation of a Chinese puppet by a Chinese-owned Congress"), man, there's so much actual data available that disputes everything in that excerpt it's hard to take you seriously. You seem to be a True Believer and I've found that talking to you and your type is more like beating my forehead up against a building or giant rock than dialogue.

Keep in mind, the fact that your comment sort proves the point of my article doesn't mean I dismiss you entirely. I have friends and family who believe in the concept of Christianity and I don't relegate them to idiot status due to the fairy tale to which they ascribe.

As for the remake of Red Dawn I have no opinion on it either way so you may very well be correct that it was censored by the Chinese government. They tend to do that on the regular with Western film so it would not be a big surprise.

My curiosity comes back to why you would feel it necessary or worth your valuable time to write those 236 words?

I suppose one could also ask what pragmatic purpose I had in writing the article in question and my response would be for entertainment purposes in general. I found the idea of men my age being slowly indoctrinated by the pop culture of our youth fascinating. I remembered that the Milius version of Red Dawn was in line with the "Trust the Military/Distrust the Government" propaganda of the Reagan years. In terms of pragmatics, I suppose I thought this was interesting enough to pen and publish. I could be wrong.

What pragmatic purpose would you, Ed, say justifies your response in writing? You don't know me. I don't know you. You decided that the article was so enraging that you needed to respond, not on your own social platforms, but on mine so there must be a reason other than sheer spite?

The landscape of our current version of the same culture wars we Americans have been fighting since the founding of the country aren't that different from the days of incendiary pamphlets distributed by Patrick Henry. The difference, I think, comes into play in the immediacy of response (which eliminates the time to calm your "feewings" and focus your thoughts) and the vast reach the internet provides.

I can't make too many assumptions about you, Ed. I could assume that working IT at Sears for years (which, these days resembles working at a Blockbuster Video as a tech support guy) left you feeling cheated by life. I could assume you sat there in your Sears polo shirt imagining the coming Red Dawn and how you could be a Wolverine yourself—fighting for the freedoms of "real Americans" against the Commie Puke-Faced Panty Waisted Girly Men. I could assume your sad existence led you to open your own firearms school and wear t-shirts that declare your fealty to "Beer & Guns & Bacon & Freedom".

I could but I won't.

I find that kind of assuming makes an ass out of you. You might be a great guy. Or not. I can guarantee you are far more than your online vitriol. Most people are more than what we can see on the surface.

Ask yourself, Ed—why? Why even bother when you know how meaningless and empty your screed will be? Is it a sort of bragging for your friends to see and applaud? “You sure told that pussy what’s what, Ed!”

Is this the person you hoped you’d be when you became the age you’re at now? If not, what went wrong and is it too late to change course?

[aion-rsa]

Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 11 Review: The Holding

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Fear the Walking Dead review contains spoilers. 

Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 11

After months of careful buildup that began back in season 5, Fear the Walking Dead finally brings the mysterious THE END IS THE BEGINNING doomsday cult into focus. Penned by Channing Powell (who has multiple The Walking Dead writing credits to her name), “The Holding” answers a lot of questions about this mysterious group. By the end, Alicia will even meet the cult’s enigmatic leader, Teddy. But before that fateful encounter, Teddy’s underground paradise will go up in flames, as demanded by a myriad of Walking Dead universe tropes and bylaws. 

I have to say, as far as post-apocalyptic doomsday cults go, the Holding actually seems like a pretty nice place to ride out the end of the world. Situated in a converted underground parking garage, the group has everything it needs, from electricity to water to an abundance of fresh game and produce. Seriously, this is the sort of self-sustaining utopia that Morgan aspires to with his own fledgling settlement. Outsiders aren’t allowed to bring weapons inside the Holding, either—something new visitors Alicia, Wes, Al, and Luciana learn from cult liaison Riley (Nick Stahl). Except our band of interlopers aren’t visitors. No, in the cult’s eyes, they’re fresh recruits. Indeed, their jaded skepticism is actually welcomed! Because once cynics buy into Teddy’s message, it means they’re true converts to his “circle of life” teachings. 

What’s interesting about the introduction of yet another zealous faction is not its predictably rotten underbelly. Rather, what’s fascinating is that to the indoctrinated, their group is always in the right. Think about it: whether they’re following Teddy, or following Virginia, or Jeremiah Otto, or Celia Flores—in the end, it’s all the same. After all, everyone is a hero in their own story, as the saying goes. Luciana has been here before, of course. Except Alejandro leveraged a would-be miracle to build his walled-in La Colonia.

Despite their collective cynicism, Riley is still able to reach past their defenses to open up old wounds. Alicia, Luciana, Al, and Wes have each lost someone important to them. (Until this episode, it never occurred to me that they each lost a sibling.) In Wes’s case, it’s this loss that shapes Alicia’s first encounter with him in season 5’s excellent “You’re Still Here.” As I said at the time, Colby Hollman’s Wes was a welcome breath of fresh air and an antidote to that season’s relentless altruism. He didn’t need healing, and he didn’t want to be saved. Rather than be inspired by Team Morgan’s feel-good recruitment videos, he retreated further into his own skepticism. And why wouldn’t he after losing his brother Derek early on in the apocalypse?

In a season full of interesting twists and turns, revealing that Derek has actually been alive the whole time is quite a sucker punch. As embodied by Chinaza Uche (whom you may know from Apple TV+’s Dickinson), Derek is all warmth and brotherly love. But while his survival makes for an unexpected (and tearful) reunion with his brother, it also raises a lot of questions for Wes. And the more he and Al and the rest continue to dig for answers, the more questions are raised in the process. Wes wants to believe the best of his brother, even as his doubts continue to mount—and especially even as it becomes clear Derek is responsible for sabotaging Tank Town.

If you recall, in this season’s “Bury Her Next to Jasper’s Leg,” Wes was at the oil fields that day, and was nearly killed by shrapnel. While not my favorite episode of the season, “Jasper” proves to be an important piece of the bigger puzzle that comprises Teddy’s doomsday cult. While the group may be underground, they have eyes and ears everywhere. So for Wes it stands to reason that Derek must have known his brother was at Tank Town that day. Derek’s reply, “People are people,” is a chilling non-answer—unless you remember that Wes himself said this to Alicia in “You’re Still Here” as a way of explaining away the darker, predictable side of human nature. 

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That Derek would offer his brother such noncommittal platitude troubles Wes greatly. This is someone he idolized in life and lionized in death. As I said, his brother’s very absence informed so much of Wes’s worldview, and not in a good way. Wes has come such a long way since meeting Alicia and becoming part of Morgan’s crew. He understands that people are capable of change—himself included. This lesson isn’t mawkish, isn’t forced, it’s part of Wes’ moral reawakening. If he can change, so can Derek. 

That is, if Wes can get his brother to stop chugging the Kool-Aid. Derek, though, is so firmly entrenched in Teddy’s teachings, so fully invested in the destruction of the outside world, that he would kill his own brother. Unfortunately, as we’ve witnessed in the real world, conspiracy theories can poison minds and tear families apart. 

I’ll admit, as Derek and Wes grappled over the gun, I really thought we’d be saying goodbye to Colby Hollman this week. Which would have been a shame, as I really like Wes a lot—at least when he’s given something to do. 

This is also the point in the story where the Holding’s ugliness is finally brought to light. Not only are skeptics not welcome, they’re secretly embalmed and chained up in a hidden room. And wouldn’t you know it, embalming fluid happens to be flammable. Alicia chooses to stay behind while her friends escape so she can personally (and single-handedly) torch the place.

It’s not until we meet Teddy in the flesh that “The Holding” goes from a good episode to a great one. Hearing Teddy’s recorded pronouncements piped endlessly through speakers is one thing, but John Glover commands the screen the moment he appears, looking every bit like the charismatic leader of a doomsday cult. Glover does wonders with the few minutes he’s onscreen, wielding words like weapons, cutting Alicia deeply with canny insights about her friends—and Madison, too. She may not want to admit it, but Alicia has met her match. Truly, Teddy is the villain that Fear deserves. And it must be said, season 6 is steadily shaping up to be one of the show’s best.

The post Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 11 Review: The Holding appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/33ajLvW

[godlessandfine-blog]

Why I left Islam?

First, let me introduce myself. I was born into a muslim family, like so many others.  So obviously I was a muslim since birth.  As soon as I was born, indoctrination began, shaping a cult into a child’s vulnerable mind.  My name was decided by a priest.(It is considered auspicious). The first thing I heard with my tender ears is “Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar” (God is great, God is Great), which I would repeat in my life so many times.  Then they circumcised my precious little thing (it hurts a lot) by saying “bismillah hir rahman nir raheem” - “In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful”. (Not for medical reasons, but for religious rites). How can cutting a babies foreskin be considered merciful? If Allah wanted all us circumcised, why didn’t he create us like that? Circumcision  is a must to be a muslim, as it is also required in other abrahamic faiths. If you get scared of circumcision you will not be accepted as a muslim, as it’s a must for every Muslim male. So before thinking of getting converted to a muslim, you must get rid of Aichmophobia. Then on the seventh day after my birth, to thank allah for blessing them with a son, they performed aqeeqah. (Sacrifice that is offered on behalf of the newborn on the seventh day after birth.). They sacrificed two sheep (for a girl it is one sheep, one boy = two girls, and they talk about gender equality). Their throats were cut by reciting  "bismillah hir rahman nir raheem" - “In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful”. (Where is the mercy for the sheep here?).  As an infant I did not have the liberty of taking any decisions, all the thinking part was taken care by my dear father (mothers don’t have a say, they are of no value). I was repeatedly asked to say “bismillah hir rahman nir raheem” before doing anything. I got used to it over a period of time. Before doing anything, I used to say “bismillah hir rahman nir raheem”. My mom started training me about the ethics of islam at home. Thankfully I was put into a school for my worldly education. But in the evenings I had to go to a madrasa in a nearby mosque. In the madrasa I was told that Mohammed is the most perfect man ever in the history of the Universe. Infallible. He never committed any bad act. After Allah, Mohammed is the most benevolent person. I was told that Mohammed always forgave his opponents, he was a forgiving and tolerant man. I was told that Mohammed respected women the most and Islam was a religion that honoured women. In a nutshell , to Muslims Mohammed is a saviour of this mankind.(peace be upon him)  I was always told to do namaz without ever missing it, five times a day. I was also told to recite quran in arabic everyday without fail. I was told about satan. How he leads us to the wrong path. How dreadful satan is. I was told that if I miss namaz, i would be sent to hell. Which is what every child would be threatened with, eternal hellfire (lol, Allah is the most merciful). Then there were stories about how satan takes control of you, when you miss your namaz.  I was told about the omnipresence of Allah. (I used to wonder, if god is one, how the hell is he present everywhere). This used to confuse me.  I was also told about heaven, jannah. I was told that I would be taken to heaven when I have completed all my duties which Allah has ordered. I was told that heaven is the most beautiful place to be in. I was told about rivers of honey, streams of milk. (Sadly there was no mention about chocolate rivers, I love chocolates). I was also told that, Allah is always watching you. He will punish you for whatever wrong you do and reward you for the good things, so we must also try to please Allah and stay away from sin.  I was also told about two angels called Raqib and Atid, one angel always sits on the right shoulder and records all good deeds, while another sits on the left shoulder and records all bad deeds. ( I used to wonder when Allah knows everything we do, why was there a need to have these two extra guys. No wonder we have the so called population explosion.  I used to hear stories from my friends about ghosts. Like one of my friends always used to tell us a lot of stories about ghosts. His father was a truck driver. He always used to tell us about his father’s encounters with the ghosts. Listening all this, we used to get terrified. All this made me  phasmophobic. I was not able to sleep properly at night. I knew a ghost will come from nowhere and eat me up or do some terrifying thing to me. I believed more easily in the existence of ghosts as Allah himself had created satan. Whatever my friend used to tell me, i used to blindly believe in it. Just imagine my plight those days. I could never sleep alone. I could never go to a room which had no light. Nights were terrible to me during those times. I was never able to come out of that fear for a long time. As I grew I learnt more about islam. I learnt about the 72 hoors (Female maidens of paradise) which we would be getting for being obedient to God. The Shaheed (Martyr - who dies for the cause of islam) is one of the people who will straight go to the Jannah (Heaven) and get those 72 hurs. (Wonder if he gets time for prayers with so many hurs). No wonder why so many suicide bombers are working for Allah’s cause. They don’t even have to wait for the day of judgment.

Then , luckily science happened.

Thankfully science was there to my rescue when religion never answered my questions and confused me.  In school , when I was in 8th standard I read about Miller-Urey experiment about the origin of life.  Then read about Darwin and Gregor Mendel and their work. I got fascinated with the idea of evolution. Started reading articles which supported evolution. 1.The universal genetic code  2.The fossil record.  3. Genetic commonalities 4. Common traits in embryos 5. Bacterial resistance to antibiotics All these things contradicted the Quran, Adam and hawwa (Eve) and the claim Allah created us. I was confused.

When I tried confronting my islamic teacher at the madrasa with these valid points, he was unable to answer. He would instead reprimand me for questioning Allah’s existence. The best answer he used to give when he had no answer is “Allah knows better.”. The typical answer from clerics who know nothing.

I really started doubting God. Whenever we call for him he is never there? The most merciful is not at all merciful when you see natural disasters. Where is he when tsunamis and earthquakes claim thousands of innocent lives?  The most merciful is the most merciless towards animals of sacrifices, which is celebrated as eid al adha  He never tried to prove himself, just left an old book and plenty of doubt, despite the fact Allah is all powerful and easily could clinch his existence if he revealed himself.  He made animals and let them have other smaller animals as their food. He made sex a sin. (But on the contrary he lures the martyrs with 72 virgins in heaven). Hypocritical in the least.  Is never able to make sun rise from the opposite direction even for once, just to prove his presence.

For all these questions i was reprimanded and punished and was told that Satan is misguiding me. (Allah knows best. lol). Instead of them accepting these doubts came from my rational mind , not some malevolent demon.

Finally, I had enough of all that crap. And what a transformation in myself after I stopped believing in all that crap. There was no fear of ghosts as there are none. There was no fear of Satan. No fear of the most powerful Allah. No fear of Hell. (Though I will miss the 72 virgins of heaven). No fear of death, death is the end of it all. After death i’m nothing same as before my birth. That was a good realisation . There is no hell.

Now I just enjoy my life. Enjoy it to the full. As I should.  I look at the open skies, the sun, the moon and the stars. I’m a free bird now, free from the bondage. I have left islam, the kingdom of slaves.

[njawaidofficial]

'Mr. Robot' Season 3: Everything to Know Before the Premiere

http://styleveryday.com/2017/10/10/mr-robot-season-3-everything-to-know-before-the-premiere/

'Mr. Robot' Season 3: Everything to Know Before the Premiere

“Mind awake, body asleep. Mind awake, body asleep.”

The soothing mantra of the hauntingly talented hacker Elliot Alderson (Rami Malek) has likely been ringing in the ears of Mr. Robot fans ever since the Sam Esmail thriller shut down its operations (and very nearly shut down its main character) at the end of season two more than a year ago. Now, “Stage Two” of the Dark Army and Mr. Robot’s (Christian Slater) plan is on the cusp of execution, just in time for the launch of season three on Oct. 11.

Of course, those notions are as alien as the techno-jargon found throughout the series for anyone who hasn’t given Mr. Robot much thought in the year since it aired its most recent episode. But considering the incredibly dense nature of the storytelling (the USA Network drama rarely spells anything out for its viewers, and the season three premiere expects fans to remember the events of this complicated tale in great detail), it’s crucial to remember where everything stands as we prepare to return to a world living in the aftermath of the Five/Nine Hack — at least, a better memory than the one Elliot himself is forced to work with.

For a truly deep dive into the current standing of Mr. Robot, we invited you to listen to the first episode of our new podcast covering the series, a collaboration with Post Show Recaps hosts Josh Wigler (that’s me!) and Antonio Mazzaro. All season long, we’ll be providing podcast primers on every episode, starting here with an overview of the series and a table-setting for the season ahead:

In addition to what’s covered in the podcast, read on for some of the fundamentals of what you need to know heading into the new era of Mr. Robot.

1. It’s a Tangled Web

Where do we even begin as we attempt to untangle the events of the past two seasons? It’s best to start at the big season one headline: Elliot Alderson, a distressed but incredibly gifted individual, secretly boasts a Hyde to his Jekyll in the form of Mr. Robot, a second personality who takes on the likeness of Elliot’s late father. The two personalities are at war with one another, with Robot intent on overhauling the world through militant revolution, and Elliot intent on preventing himself from causing lasting harm. Through two seasons, the Robot side of Elliot has scored the lion’s share of the victories, all but fully bringing down the global conglomerate E Corp (alternately known in Elliot’s worldview as Evil Corp) through a massive attack known as the Five/Nine Hack, and now on the edge of instituting a second stage of that plan — appropriately called “Stage Two.” 

There’s a lot more to keep in mind, between Darlene (Carly Chaikin) getting burned and cornered by the dogged Dom DiPierro (Grace Gummer) of the FBI; Angela’s (Portia Doubleday) apparent indoctrination into the mysterious Dark Army; and the boiling feud between two of the most powerful individuals in the world, Phillip Price (Michael Cristofer) and Whiterose (BD Wong). At the heart, however, it’s most critical to understand that the rivalry between the two sides of Elliot has escalated tremendously, thanks to the big season two cliffhanger…

2. The Key Word

When season three begins, there’s one buzz word to keep in mind: “disintegration.” That’s how Esmail and others involved in the series describe the relationship between Elliot and Mr. Robot this year, or lack thereof. Season two ended with the Mr. Robot side of Elliot’s personality proving his commitment to his cause by inviting a gunshot wound, potentially taking him off the playing field, but at least keeping the operation in motion. Season two also concluded with confirmation that Elliot survived the injury (it’s hard, if not outright impossible to imagine this show existing without Elliot in the hub of it), but the damage is done: Elliot and Robot’s alliance, as much as one ever really existed, has been blown to bits, thanks to a single bullet. 

Beyond Elliot and Robot’s dynamic, expect other relationships to disintegrate in their own right, whether that’s Elliot and Darlene — due to her precarious situation with Dom and the FBI — or Angela and Phillip Price — due to her potential newfound loyalty with Whiterose — as just two of many potential examples.

3. America’s Most Wanted

Season three stands to bring one of the most important figures in the show’s mythology out of the shadows and back into the light: Tyrell Wellick (Martin Wallström), once on track to become the youngest Chief Technology Officer in E Corp history until a string of self-sabotaging acts turned him into the most wanted man alive. One of them, at least. Tyrell was an instrumental player in the Five/Nine Hack, teaming up with Elliot — or Robot, more accurately — and then disappearing into the ether, almost completely unseen during season two.

The season two finale finally brought Tyrell back into the fold, as it was revealed he wasn’t secretly dead, as Robot tried to convince Elliot. But where exactly was Tyrell over the course of the season, and what exactly has he been into in the time since his disappearance from the public eye? We’re bound to find out this year, as Mr. Robot can’t get away with keeping Tyrell in the dark for much longer. Keep an eye out on the inevitable reunion between Tyrell and his wife Joanna (Stephanie Corneliussen), one of the most intimidating character on the show.

4. The Rose Blooms

Another power player from Robot lore set for an expanded role this season: BD Wong’s Whiterose. Or is it Minister Jiang? Depends on the day and occasion. The veteran actor plays one of the single most fascinating and powerful characters in the series, as both the head of the Dark Army hacker group as well as China’s Minister of State Security. In her private moments, she seems to prefer the Whiterose moniker, so that’s where we’ll settle as well — but that’s about the extent of our confidence when it comes the time-obsessed figure, who comes equipped with some of the most destructive potential of anyone on the show.

“First of all, every trans character on television creates a dialogue about trans people, which is super valuable,” Wong previously told The Hollywood Reporter about playing Whiterose. “We need to get people with the program about what trans people even fucking are. Those of us who embrace trans people, like myself, forget that it doesn’t come easily for people. Here is a character that, for all intents and purposes — there is a poetry of Sam’s utilization of this character as trans — is rather symbolic. What I mean is that he really wants to discuss in a big way on the show the power dynamics associated with gender. There’s a great challenge in being a powerful woman in a powerful white man’s world.”

5. Cannavale Games

And now, a new player enters the arena: Bobby Cannavale, of Vinyl, Boardwalk Empire, Oz, and several other films and shows that aren’t associated with HBO. Given the secrecy surrounding the story of Mr. Robot, it’s not a shock that there’s very little information we currently know about Cannavale’s character — but as the only new series regular on the board (Wong’s promotion notwithstanding), and given the caliber of actor enlisted for the role, it’s safe to say Cannavale’s presence will loom large throughout season three.

With that said, here’s what we do know: Cannavale is playing a used car salesman named Irving. Really, that’s the full extent of what we know. We can make some leaps from there — that perhaps Irving is involved in the mysterious car drama surrounding Tyrell Wellick’s disappearance, for one thing; or that whatever he’s selling, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. However he factors into the narrative, Irving stands out as the most intriguing new element in the mix.

6. A Slimmer Robot

Season two of Mr. Robot clocked in at 12 episodes, many of them equipped with extended runtimes. Between Elliot’s initial incarceration through the first two-thirds of the season, as well as the expanded focus on the greater ensemble, the second year of the award-winning series felt fuller than its first season — for better or for worse, depending on your outlook.

But season three aims to bring the series back to basics, at least in terms of how it will unfold: a lean 10 episode order, the same amount of installments as seen in season one. Given the current complexity of the narrative, can Mr. Robot accomplish all of its season three business with only ten episodes? That’s one of the big questions heading into the season — but it also presents the possibility for a leaner and tighter thrill-ride than anything the show has put forth before, both an exciting and daunting prospect to consider.

7. The Loose Ends

How will Darlene escape the FBI’s wrath? What are Angela’s true motives? Should we be worried about Trenton and Mobley, the fsociety hackers last seen in Arizona fielding an unexpected visit from the deadly Dark Army agent Leon, played by Joey Badass? Are we really delving into questions of time travel and parallel universes, as Whiterose has seemingly intimated? And what exactly is inside the Washington Township power plant? Really, the list of lingering questions still in the mix for Mr. Robot is vast, but season three stands ready to tie up at least a few of those loose ends — and at the end of the day, it all comes back to the man (or men) in the title.

“I’ve looked back on the second season and I’ve seen a lot of similarities with The Empire Strikes Back, in terms of Luke/Elliot going away and isolating themselves, while their sister is out there and battling the evil empire,” Esmail previously told THR about how he views the road ahead for season three. “I think this is the return of Elliot. Season three, and the way I’ve been thinking about it, is sort of the return to Elliot — but not the naive Elliot we saw at the beginning of the season. It’s the Elliot we’ve seen go through this horrific experience from the first and second seasons, and with all of that in mind, that’s going to make this new Elliot come into fruition in the next season.

Bonus: One Last Listen

Still looking for ways to catch up ahead of season three? Once again, we have you covered on the podcast front, with a second preview show — this one guiding you through 18 key scenes from the series you ought to watch in order to freshen up on all things Robot.

Follow THR.com/MrRobot for interviews, news, podcasts and more all season long. Mr. Robot returns Oct. 11.

              Mr. Robot

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