#helping him realize he has more to offer this world than being a mouthpiece for a god | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plan-d-to-i · 3 years ago

Note

(google translate again, yeah)

(I forgot to thank you for the last answer, I really didn't know that the drama used the music of my compatriot, it was a pleasant surprise for me)

I don't know if anyone has asked you this before, but do you think JC was good with WWX as a kid?

I mean not just their childhood, but the time of their training in Gusu.

I really love JC, and I understand perfectly well that he is the most dick in character, but I love him precisely during my studies at Gusu, I can not give any arguments that then JC was directly GOOD to WWX, but he is clearly cared a little about him and even ... worried? at least that moment after the punishment where JC helped WWX get to the room...

Yay - I'm so happy to hear about Stravinsky :)

Hahah loving jc as the dick that he is is the way to do it! go for it. :) also, sorry this was so delayed I wanted to reread the Cloud Recesses arc so it would be fresh in my mind before answering.

In terms of jc the Cloud Recesses arc is perhaps the most 'mellow' we see him aside from the Lotus Pod Extra but for me it's still impossible to find him a worthwhile person. I can already see the faults in his character that I know will only get worse as he grows older. Canonically I don't see how he would have any friends studying in the Cloud Recesses if he didn't come as a package deal w Wei Wuxian. I mean I doubt jiang cheng would have any friends without WWX period. In fact jiang cheng doesn't make any friends over the course of 13 years. He's also unable to find a wife bc of his temperament and behavior...

What we can glean about their relationship in the Cloud Recesses arc (and even the Lotus Pod Extra) is that any time WWX gets a kind word or understanding from someone, jiang cheng scoffs at it. Any time someone shits on WWX, jc is there to agree, to relish the idea of WWX being punished, and shit on him some more. He would be an immensely exhausting person to be around. He doesnt believe in WWX's ideas and ingenuity, (as NHS does for example), he doesn't believe WWX is hurt, he always assumes the worst of him, he doesn't believe LWJ might like WWX. The only thing he ever seems to believe is that WWX will dishonor YunmengJiang and that WWX should be punished. So for a kid who supposedly wants his father's approval so badly he instead constantly acts like his mother's mouthpiece/minion. He reprimands WWX like he's trying to become Madam Yu 2.0. I see jc stans all the time being like oh he had to keep WWX in check bc WWX was such a lOOooose canon, for the good of the Clan!! lol listen JFM didn't give a f...about WWX's behavior (in his letter to LQR) why are you so concerned? JFM would have preferred for jc to try & save his peers in the Xuanwu cave or at least to understand why that was the correct course of action rather than for him to just sit in front of the class in the Cloud Recesses and tell WWX off for giving LQR as good as he got, while actually still breaking the rules himself but eschewing punishment.

salt up here, quotes below :

Even when Nie Huaisang picks up on the fact that WWX is being treated unfairly by LQR, jc dismisses it and piles on WWX instead.

Nie Huaisang said, “Old Man Lan really seems like he’s coming down especially harshly on you. Every time he reprimands someone, it’s always you.” Jiang Cheng grunted. “He deserves it. What kind of answer was that? He can get away with saying that sort of nonsense at home, but he had the nerve to say it to Lan Qiren’s face. He was practically asking for the old man to kill him!”

But does WWX get away with ANYTHING in Lotus Pier? When we know he is punished constantly for EVERYTHING? This is jiang cheng fully being his mother's mouth piece. It's not something WWX would get away with, it's something jc knows JFM wouldn't mind. Which is why he's so pissed off. Which begs the question if JFM would not be upset with WWX's behavior why does jc need to criticize him? Again :

A dark expression shadowed Jiang Cheng’s face, and his voice was filled with anger. “Why are you so proud of yourself? What is there to be proud of?! Is being told to get out some amazing accomplishment? You’re making our entire clan lose face!”

and his glee at the idea that WWX will be punished leaves a bad taste in one's mouth considering how WWX was perpetually punished in Lotus Pier by jiang cheng's mother for... existing.

Jiang Cheng smiled grimly. “Now that you’ve thoroughly offended both Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren, you’re basically dead tomorrow. No one’s going to clean up your corpse either.”

and again

Without the old one, only the young one remained. This would be easy to deal with! Wei Wuxian rolled off the bed and laughed while putting on his boots. “Heaven’s charmed clouds are blessing me with shade.” Jiang Cheng was beside him polishing his sword with loving care when he decided to spill cold water over Wei Wuxian’s head. “Just wait until he gets back. You can’t escape punishment.”

Where others like NHS see value in WWX's thoughts

Nie Huaisang thought for a while. “Actually, I thought what you said was very interesting,” he said, not entirely able to hide his envy and yearning.

jc is always dismissive of WWX's ideas. These are inventions that WWX realizes. Demonic cultivation in the first conversation and The Spirit-Attraction Flag and The Compass of Evil in the second:

“Enough,” Jiang Cheng warned. “Whatever nonsense you spout, you better not head down that sort of dark road.”

Changing the topic, Wei Wuxian said, “If only there was something like fishing bait that could draw the water ghosts in. Or, something that could point in the direction they’re hiding, like a compass, that sort of thing.”

“Lower your head and watch the water,” Jiang Cheng said. “You’re letting your fantasies run wild again. Concentrate on looking for water ghosts like you’re supposed to.”

“Hey, mounting swords and flying was also only a fantasy once!” Wei Wuxian said.

He's also a hypocrite. Because even though he berates WWX for misbehaving, he himself breaks the rules. He drinks, he even goads WWX into buying liquor, the only difference is that he doesn't get punished for it, and he doesn't feel like coming forward and getting punished for it :

Naturally, Jiang Cheng was too embarrassed to talk about what Wei Wuxian had been up to. After all, all of them had egged him on to go and buy alcohol, and they all deserved to be punished as well. He could only speak vaguely. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s not that bad! He can walk. Wei Wuxian, why haven’t you gotten off yet?”

It's no wonder WWX is so impressed by LWJ's integrity in spite of his social status, when he's clearly used to the other dynamic :

“Lan Zhan, I really admire you,” Wei Wuxian said sincerely. “After I told you that you had to punish yourself too, you actually did it. You didn’t let yourself off at all. I can’t argue against that.”

A dynamic which is shown repeating in the Lotus Pod Extra where WWX is the only one to get punished for sunbathing, and which repeats here when Wei Wuxian here stops jiang cheng from confronting Zixuan over YanLi's honor (and jc's) and does it himself.

Zixuan :“Why don’t you ask what about her could make me satisfied?” he said in return.

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng rose. Wei Wuxian pushed him away and stepped between them, smiling coldly. “You think you’re very satisfactory? As though you have the right to be so picky!”

Zixuan: “If she’s unhappy, then let her break off the engagement! I certainly don’t cherish your wonderful disciple-sister. If you cherish her so much, why don’t you take it up with your father? Doesn’t he love you more than his own son?”

After hearing the last sentence, Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, and Wei Wuxian was no longer able to contain his own fury. He flew at Jin Zixuan, his fist raised.

WWX takes the punishment alone. Same way he offers to do when he hurts himself falling from a tree because jc threatened him with dogs. meanwhile jc is gleeful to see him being punished.

[Wei Wuxian] was kneeling on the stretch of pebble road to which Lan Qiren had assigned him when Jiang Cheng walked over from afar and mocked him. “You’re kneeling so obediently.”

“It’s not like you don’t know I have to do this all the time.” Wei Wuxian’s voice filled with schadenfreude. “But this Jin Zixuan guy, there’s no way he hasn’t been pampered and spoiled rotten since birth. No one’s ever forced him to kneel, I’m sure of it. If he doesn’t wind up crying for mommy and daddy today, I’m not named Wei.”....

Wei Wuxian "...It’s a good thing you didn’t do anything.”

“I was going to. If you hadn’t pushed me away, the other side of Jin Zixuan’s face would be hideous too.”

“Stop it. His face is uglier for being lopsided."

WWX is happy to have spared jc from getting into trouble but jc makes the whole thing about himself anyway (like everything else ever) and is upset JFM would rush over for WWX - in his mind. Even though JFM clearly had to rush over to meet with Jin Guangshan not to coddle WWX in any way.

"Jiang Fengmian had never rushed to another clan in less than a day because of him. Regardless of whether what happened was big or small, or good or bad." Never

WWX on the other hand tries to be observant of jc's feelings and reassure him & distract him from his moods :

When Wei Wuxian saw Jiang Cheng’s melancholy expression, he thought he was still upset with what Jin Zixuan said. “You should leave. You don’t need to keep me company any longer. If Lan Wangji comes again, he’ll catch you. If you have time, you should find Jin Zixuan and watch his pitiful kneeling.”

Later in the book after nearly dying in the Xuanwu cave WWX leaves his sick bed to run after jc and comfort him after his mother's rant, even though WWX had to listen to his parents (and himself) being slandered by YZY. jc doesn't spare any thoughts for how other people might be feeling or suffering. His entire perception of the world is centered around himself. To him even WWX's greatest fear doesn't generate empathy, only amusement or later on a form of torture.

From that point onward, they made trouble everywhere together, and if they encountered a dog, Jiang Cheng would always chase it away for him, then enjoy a peal of derisive, unbridled laughter at Wei Wuxian’s expense beneath whichever tree the boy had leapt atop.

he grew up on the streets, often having to fight for food with vicious dogs. After several bites and chases, he gradually became extremely scared of all dogs, no matter the size. Jiang Cheng laughed at him because of this quite a lot of times.

This brings me to the last point. jc's resentment of WWX's interest in Lan Zhan, or in a serious friendship outside of him. I see so many ppl say that bc WWX fought he was kicked out of the Cloud Recesses early... but was he?

Jiang Cheng was somewhat taken aback. “Lan Wangji? What was he doing here? He still has the nerve to come see you again?”

“Yeah, I think his bravery is laudable if he still has the nerve to come see me. His uncle probably told him to check on me and see if I was kneeling properly.”

Jiang Cheng’s instincts were sending him ominous signals. “So were you kneeling properly?”

“I was then,” Wei Wuxian replied. “But I waited for him to walk away a bit, then took a tree branch, lowered my head, and dug out a hole in the dirt near me. It’s the pile right by your foot—there are ant tunnels there. It took me so much effort to find them. Anyway, I waited for him to turn back and see my shoulders shaking. He had to have thought I was crying, so he came back and asked. You should have seen his face when he caught sight of the ant tunnels!

“…” Jiang Cheng said, “Why don’t you just get the hell out and go back to Yunmeng? I bet he never wants to see you again.”

Thus, that evening, Wei Wuxian packed up his things, got the hell out, and went back to Yunmeng with Jiang Fengmian.

Repeatedly throught his stay in the Cloud Recesses even while NHS was observing that LWJ's behavior around WWX was strange and unique, jc was telling WWX he is hated and bothersome. When WWX wanted to apologize to LWJ jc is completely dismissive of it :

“He hates me already? I was thinking of apologizing to him,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Oh, so you want to apologize now? It’s too late!” Jiang Cheng said derisively. “He’s exactly like his uncle. He thinks you’ve been wicked ever since you were an embryo, so it’s beneath his dignity to pay you any attention.”

Later on when WWX mentioned wanting to invite LWJ to Lotus Pier jc categorically says no.

“Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

BONUS

jc also always doubts WWX. He suspects him immediately of wrongdoings. He doesn't believe that getting hit with the discipline ruler in Cloud Recesses actually hurt him until LXC confirms that WWX might take more than a few days to heal. He doesn't understand WWX is in actual trouble from the Waterborne abyss and assumes he's fooling around luckily Lan Zhan is there to rescue him:

The disciple’s lower body had already been swallowed by the black whirlpool. It spun faster and faster, and he continued to sink deeper and deeper, as though something hidden beneath the water was pulling down on his legs.

Mounted on Sandu, Jiang Cheng had risen calmly until he was about sixty meters above the whirlpool before he looked down. Filled with displeasure at what he saw, he shouted and dove down. “What are you up to now?!”

The suction force inside Lake Biling grew ever stronger. Wei Wuxian’s sword was optimized for agility, and consequently, its strength happened to fall just short, and they were nearly pulled to the surface of the lake. Wei Wuxian steadied himself and held on to Su She with both hands.

“Someone help! If I can’t pull him up soon, I’ll have to let go!” he shouted.

Suddenly, the back of Wei Wuxian’s collar tightened, and his body was lifted into the air. He twisted his neck and saw Lan Wangji holding him up with one hand.

He maintains this same mindset when he tries to whip LWJ and WWX as they're attempting to leave Lotus Pier after the ancestral hall confrontation when WWX passes out.

Is jc evil in the Cloud Recesses ? No. He's just an annoying, basic, disagreeable asshole who doesn't bring anything positive to someone like WWX. People like jc become obsessed with kind, outgoing, generous people, people who don't set boundaries on what they give and what others take in their friendships. Even though they're dependent on them for their social interactions, because who else would socialize with them willingly, they resent them in equal measure, but at the same time they wouldn't be drawn to another selfish, self centered piece of shit person like themselves.

On a personal note, even Cloud Recesses jiang cheng is someone I would exclude from any personal friend group. Friendship with him is adding a minefield of jealousies and snide comments to every interaction. Things that then others will need to compensate around because he won't compromise or empathize w issues outside of his own concerns.

Translation source : x

#This is long af because I wanted to have one post where I included everything #I’ve bitched about jc’s behavior in the cloud recesses for a long time so it was time to put down the quotes #mdzs #Cloud Recesses #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #Nie Huaisang #jiang cheng

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2374

Summary: After seeing Steve's shield handed over to some stranger, Sam calls up Bucky, certain he's the one person who can properly commiserate. He doesn't really expect Bucky to answer though (the guy's become a bit of a recluse), or to hear the hints that he might be missing Sam as much as Sam's been missing him. Not that he'd ever say it straight out.

Sam is almost completely still as the feelings rattle through him like a roller coaster’s last run on a derelict track. He only lets it out—the blend of frustration, betrayal, and regret—in the way his fingers squeeze his knee through his jeans, skin damp against the denim. Keeping his hands clasped, and watching those clasped hands, was more grounding, but he needs one of his hands to hold the phone to his ear, and that activity is getting pretty damn tired.

Bucky’s voicemail clicks on for the third time in a row.

“Bucky,” Sam says, “I know you prefer calls to texting, so what are you doing ignoring me, man? Haven’t used your cell in so long that you’ve forgotten how to hit the answer button? At least it rang. That’s something, I guess.”

He sighs away from the speaker where it won’t be recorded for Bucky to hear later. Maybe he did divert his message from the snarky sarcasm he was planning to leave the guy, but Bucky doesn’t need to hear him sigh on top of that.

For a few moments, Sam taps his foot along with the muffled music of his nephews’ video game coming through the closed door. He knows the boys’ routine (and if he ever forgets, he sees the copy Sarah has on the fridge door) and that this isn’t their usual scheduled time for whatever they’re playing out there. Best guess: Sarah wants them hogging the TV so she won’t be tempted to peek at that government-sanctioned shitshow. Sam can’t blame her. Actually, he wonders if she blames him. The disappointment was so clear in her eyes before he stopped making himself meet them. He thought he was doing the right thing when he handed the shield over. Are there people out there who think he’s let them down, or just his sister? Just himself?

He can’t talk to Sarah right now and he’s thankful that she’s giving him some time to himself, but as soon as he got it, he realized he didn’t know what to do with it. Just like that shield. Dialing Bucky over and over—tapping in every number every time because that appears to be part of this pity ritual he’s performing—seemed like the thing he should do. Probably won’t answer. That asshole is terrible at staying in touch. Still, Sam’s heart feels a little heavier with every word closer he gets to the end of this message. Feels like he’s trying to keep the thing afloat in his chest, like his parents’ boat down at the dock. This is what he knows he should do when everything in him wants to sink—reach out, talk to people. Kinda self-sabotage when he picks the one person almost guaranteed not to answer.

Oh, he’ll hear back from Bucky eventually, probably a handful of choppy texts sent in the middle of the night two weeks from now. Sam knows his pattern; Bucky’s chattiest between 3am and 4am, so chatty that what are likely intended as longer blocks of text arrive in broken fragments because he wants to make everything into neat paragraphs, like he’s writing a damn letter, instead of just getting to the point, but he hits send too soon. Sam would teach him—with plenty of mocking and name-calling, but he would teach him—only while he’s been running ops all over the planet, Bucky’s shrunk his own world way down. He’s gone local to the extreme and it aggravates Sam, even though Bucky isn’t his responsibility, isn’t his other inheritance from Steve. It’s sorta just easier to feel like Bucky is a misplaced bequest than to acknowledge that maybe he misses the guy and his sharp-shooter’s eye and his caveman hair. He can’t keep calling him.

“Thought I’d give you a heads-up,” Sam says, voice weary with this half-true excuse. “Maybe you already saw.” He clears his throat and says quickly, “Anyway, guess I’ll hear from you when I hear from you.”

He’s pulling the phone away from his head and has barely ended the call when it’s ringing in his hand. He answers and catches Bucky’s voice saying his name before it’s even back up to his ear.

“Bucky?” Sam says. “You have a senior’s moment and forget where you left your phone?”

“Nah,” Bucky says. “I saw it was you and decided to ignore it.”

“But you called back.”

“You wouldn’t quit calling. Seemed like you needed me to tell you directly to knock it off.”

“Jackass.” Sam’s gaze darts to the door, but it’s still shut. No chance Sarah saw him grinning over this easy banter. Always the banter with this idiot. Always easy. He sniffs and turns his chair away from the black TV screen. “Did you see that joker on the news?”

Bucky’s either less self-conscious or more inept because he sighs right into the mouthpiece, an exhausted breath in Sam’s ear that has his fingers fleetingly digging into his knee.

“Couldn’t believe that shit,” Bucky tells him in a rough voice. He’s clearly holding back his own feelings about today’s events and, from the sounds of it, they’re more along the lines of anger, hurt, and a simmering desire to wrench the shield from the arm of the new Captain America. “You know that thing’s supposed to be yours.”

“You saying I should’ve done something to stop it?” Sam demands.

“Coulda.”

Sam forces his shoulders to drop, draws a slow breath in and pushes it back out.

“It wasn’t mine anymore, if it ever was. I gave it to the Smithsonian. They sealed it in this glass case and added it to the exhibit.”

“Not a very tight seal.”

“Guess not,” Sam agrees.

“You shouldn’t have turned it over,” Bucky says. Sam’s silent, frowning, and Bucky goes on. “Forget about the shield being given to somebody else—it shouldn’t have even been in a glass case. Doesn’t belong there.”

“I do just fine without it,” Sam assures him. The practicalities of carrying that shield around are more straightforward to discuss than his yawning uncertainty in the face of Steve’s legacy and his place relative to it. “The shield would only get in the way of the wings.”

“You and those wings.”

“Hey, they carried me over Tunisia recently. Show some respect.”

“Didn’t hear about that,” Bucky says in a tone that’s difficult to interpret, though Sam squints thoughtfully as he listens.

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t even be telling the likes of you, but it was discrete. As far as the major players are concerned, I was never there.”

“So it was illegal?”

Sam’s head tips back as he laughs hard.

“Why, you wanna turn me in?” he jokes. “Working on the government’s trust? What’s the next level up from a pardon? Knighthood?”

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Bucky groans, which really does make Sam smile.

“I’m sure it would’ve been illegal if you were there,” he says automatically. Too fast, his imagination fills it in, a fictional alternative materializing in his mind. Him and Bucky, cocky in reckless freefall. Him and Bucky, fighting back-to-back in a plummeting aircraft. Sam screening Bucky from enemy fire with his wings. Bucky deflecting a stray bullet with his arm before it could hit Sam.

“Nah, I can’t do that no more.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure you’re an angel.”

“Anybody get hurt?” Bucky asks.

Sam glances through the window at the blue sky, the truck rolling unhurriedly past with the driver’s arm hanging out to catch the sun. Beautiful day. He remembers a kick that sent a guy through the door of the plane, sucked out into the sky, another guy tossed aside who tried to fight him in midair, and a helicopter aflame as it went down. He shrugs and figures Bucky’ll hear the gesture in his voice.

“Nobody who didn’t know the risks.”

“Of going up against Captain America?” Bucky probes. Sam rolls his eyes.

“You know, that would almost be a compliment if you got my name right.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not using the name just to avoid compliments from me.”

“I honestly can’t say which one would feel more wrong,” Sam says, passing a hand over his head as he leans back in his chair, “calling myself Captain America or hearing a little overdue praise from you.”

“I’m not really a words guy. Ask my therapist.”

Sam sits with that for a second. He’s happy that Bucky’s talking to someone. He needs it, badly, after decades of violence and being belted into the passenger seat of his own brain. It’s more than Bucky’s ever admitted to him before, but Sam would bet—and bet big—that seeing some stranger named as Steve’s successor today has gotten to Bucky as much as it’s gotten to him. Something like that is bound to open Bucky up a little. He’s the only other person Sam can imagine the news having such a monumental impact on.

“You could try words,” he goads, not wanting to leave Bucky hanging more than a few seconds after his admission. “What else do you have if you don’t feel like being a human action figure?”

“I have my system. My rules.”

“Oh yeah? What rules?”

“Three of ’em,” Bucky informs him. “Nothing illegal. Nobody gets hurt. Making amends for the actions of the Winter Solider.”

“You don’t have to make amends for something you—”

“Don’t. It… helps.”

And who is Sam to question what’s helping Bucky? After the multiple-lifetimes’ worth of hell the guy’s been through?

“Good for you, man,” Sam offers softly.

“Save it, Sam.” The words are clipped but light. Sam grins.

“No words for me either? You more comfortable with me sticking to actions? How are we supposed to talk to each other when you don’t come to Tunisia with me?”

“Wasn’t invited,” Bucky quips back.

“You mighta been if you answered your phone more often. I’m not gonna send you the details to a covert operation in a text.”

“You wanted me in Tunisia?”

“You get shit done,” Sam acknowledges simply. You wanted me in Tunisia? echoes in his head. His heart’s bobbing like a buoy now. You wanted me in Tunisia? You wanted me?

“Not like that.”

“‘Not illegal,’” Sam repeats. “‘Nobody gets hurt. Making amends.’”

“Right. Can’t do any of that.”

“Well, I’m glad this regime’s working for you, but you have to admit it’s weird that I saw more of you when we were fighting alien hordes.”

“What can I say?” Bucky asks in a tone that seems to consciously flatten the charm out of it. “I’m old-fashioned now.”

Sam snorts.

“You were old-fashioned then.”

“I assume you had a team on the ground.”

“I had to,” Sam says over the sound of a squabble in the other room. Immediately, he can hear Sarah’s voice rising slightly above, breaking it up. Just like that, there’s the looping music of the video game again. She’s raised those boys well. “Couldn’t wait around for you.”

“I might show up if you asked me on better dates.”

“It wasn’t a date, it was a goddamn op.”

It’s startling to hear the sound of laughter. Not hearty, deep, rich, or loud, but definitely laughter. Bucky laughs? Sam backtracks a minute. Bucky makes jokes? About dating? About the two of them dating? Evidently, that is something he’s capable of, along with returning calls during daylight hours.

Sam shifts in his seat.

“You could come around sometime,” he suggests, nervously rubbing a hand up and down his thigh. “If you like fish and you’re ever in Louisiana.”

“I do like fish,” Bucky says. “I’ve been going to this sushi place a lot lately.”

It’s not his taste that surprises Sam—it’s the readiness with which he responds to the invitation. He would’ve sooner guessed that Bucky would tell him to shove it up his ass. In a joking way, but still.

“On dates?” Sam asks, telling himself he’s providing some good-natured hassling and that it has nothing to do with the odd feeling he got when Bucky’s joke about them dating caught up with him.

“One. Mostly, I go with Mr. Nakajima.”

“And that’s not a date?”

Sam laughs and wishes he could shut his own mouth as firmly as he’s (many times) told Bucky to shut his.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his eighties, so he’s more age-appropriate for me than most people, but I murdered his son,” Bucky says grimly.

“Amends?” Sam guesses, adjusting his tone to cope with Bucky’s emotional switchback.

“I haven’t told him yet, but, yeah, I’m working on that.”

They’re both working on something, Sam thinks. Both confronting something that feels too big to tackle—the decision not to announce himself as the new Captain America, guilt for assassinations Bucky had no control over but which span the better part of a century. Sometimes it seems to Sam that they go up against the easiest situations as a team and face the hardest stuff alone. But he called Bucky, and Bucky called back.

“You could bring some of those amends down here and trade them for a snapper dinner,” Sam proposes, aiming for irritatingly cheerful to pull Bucky back out of the dark.

“What do I have to make amends to you for?”

“Being a dick. I’ll text you my sister’s address.”

Sam swiftly ends the call. There are two possible sources to which he can attribute the small surge of adrenaline he feels: hanging up on Bucky and the fact that he might’ve just asked him on a date. When Sam dialed, he knew it was because he didn’t want to do this alone, but he thought that meant watching the appointment of an upstart Captain America. Although he believed he could count on Bucky’s understanding today and for the near future, asking him down to have dinner with Sarah and the boys (or tricking him into it, since he didn’t exactly say it’d be a thing with the whole family) lengthens the timeline. Near future? Inviting Bucky to meet his family and see where he grew up means recognizing that he’ll be in his life a little longer. Alone? Sam might forget the meaning of the word.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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lore-of-the-silvereyes-rwby · 4 years ago

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Ironwood Summary

Here we are at last the final conclusion of this long character analysis series, for now. This is mostly going to be my own opinion of the character based on the research I did for the analysis. As well as some ideas of what may happen to the character in future volumes and overall standing of what the character was always meant to be and represent in the rwby narrative. Also keep in mind that this is only an analysis of Ironwood’s character pre Volume 8 so there won’t be any spoilers used in this analysis or summary

(Before we begin i want to thank @spacecapart for his art to be used in this summary as i feel this piece summarizes how i feel about Ironwood)

When I started researching and writing on July 31st 2020 for Ironwood and the months that followed I feel like I have gained a better understanding of what exactly Ironwood’s character was meant to be while making sure my overall opinion of him wasn’t biased but honest and neutral.

For the most part Ironwood’s life was just sad because, well it was never really his to begin with, since he pretty much had no say in it. Based on what I saw and learned about him with the help of additional lore as well as the current story Ironwood was just a tool and a plot device in the narrative.

He started as a tool for Mantle(pre Atlas) which planted the seeds that made him this cold inhuman person that we see at present due to its old toxic ideologies of imperialism and militarism combined with a Nietzsche's philosophy that survives and thrives through Ironwood once he become a de facto king when Atlas became an official kingdom.

Then he became a tool for Oz to protect and safeguard the current status quo without benefiting from it. Though it was with good intentions Ironwood couldn’t help but feel insulted that he was being restricted and kept in check by someone who does not share his belief or ideals of what he considers right even though they weren't his beliefs or the best to begin with.

Finally after all was said and done he became a tool for the very enemy that he swore to fight and defend against. Due to his toxic upbringing in Atlas and his bitter resentment for Oz he tried to take matters in his own hands only for it to backfire immensely into the events that we see in the show. As I Stated in “The Hero that was never meant to be” Ironwood was more or less the most prominent catalyst for all of the events and conflicts in the show that Salem took advantage of and prospered from simply due to Ironwood’s elitist and violent mindset.

All of this just contributes to Ironwood being a plot device since that he’s essentially just a philosophical mouthpiece for Atlas as the show has somewhat made it clear that he is basically the physical embodiment of Atlas if it were a person with both a voice and need to survive. Which wouldn’t be so bad if Atlas wasn’t the Remnant equivalent of a fasciest imperialist dystopia. Most of Ironwood’s character flaws mostly stem from the fact that his is simply the product of his origins and refusing to change or find a compromise for the better.

Another thing that I believe should be taken into consideration is his overall effect in the plot. Added by how the narrative has been structured with its main conflict I think it's safe to assume that no matter what, Ironwood was always a character that was set to fail ever since his introduction. This is mostly due to the fact that most if not all of his power comes from control and authority over others. As well as his lack of actual experience when it comes to war and conflict.

As I stated in I am power with my own estimate of Ironwood’s age(47-50) based on his rank’s promotion requirements he has at least 30 years of experience from both his huntsmen and military career: 34 if we were to count his academy days of training. Now you're probably asking; “If he has that many years of experience in his career, then why are you saying he has none?” Well it is quite simple based on 2 factors; his professions and the time that he was born in.

At present he is both Headmaster of Atlas academy and the Atlas equivalent of the joint chiefs of staff of the Military. I think it's logical to assume that Ironwood gained the status of Headmaster first and General later due the needs of Oz. Given the importance of the relics hidden in the academies it would be a pragmatic choice for Oz to ensure that there was always a guardian and supervisor over the vaults as well as training the worlds next gen huntsmen(the agreed upon nuclear deterrent).

Since his profession shifted from field combat to school administration upon becoming headmaster most if not all of Ironwood’s career from this point on saw very little combat opportunities and would soon be filled with politics once he became General further diminishing his combat skills. Also since Generals are the face of the military they mostly handle diplomatic and public affairs as well as deal with civilian contractors to ensure the military has the resources and gear needed to sustain itself.

This means that Ironwood went from fare soldier, to desk jockey, to financial benefactor throughout the entirety of his 30 year long career. But the two thirds of his later career basically had no relevant or beneficial experience that would be suited for the war that he had been preparing a long time for. Ironwood’s lack of practical experience is also more damaging when you realize that the very little he did have also wouldn’t be of much help in the first place as well.

This is mostly due to the fact that Ironwood was born at the beginning of the high golden age of peace and prosperity for Mantle/Atlas and all of the concerning conflicts happening at least 5 years before the show’s start very late in his career at an estimated age of 45, with the white fang terrorists groups targeting SDC assets that he wanted for war.

Also his career at that point most likely focused on policing and enforcing Atlasian laws rather than doing actual combat and even then he was trained to fight grimm instead of human combatants and even if he had to fight people they most likely are that of combat inexperienced and petty criminals that wouldn’t actually put up that much of a challenge and even then most of the fighting was done by disposable robots that he can command with the press of a button.

Overall Ironwood was really unprepared to even fight anyone in general, let alone wage a war against Salem. Even if he had powered up that army to the maximum it really wouldn’t solve anything. Ever since the first episode of the series the message was clear; You're not going to win with just strength and power alone, but with acts of mercy and honesty. As well as just enjoying the simple things in life and just simply living life rather than just surviving. After all this time Ironwood forgot to live life and be satisfied with what he had. Because of this he’s just going to keep on pushing the limit until he loses everything that he has and drag everyone else with him. Simply because he wouldn’t admit to himself that he has no idea about what to do or accept that he wasn’t the most important piece on the board.

Which sadly brings me to the very likely truth that it is guaranteed that Ironwood’s part and time in the story is coming to an end and his death is drawing near. This has been foreshadowed in the beginning of volume 6 where the true plot and crisis of the story had basically made Atlas and by extension Ironwood irrelevant to the story when it's been made clear they can’t just simply kill Salem and win with brute force as he had hoped. Because of that Ironwood was no longer important to the story as they show and fandom have hyped him up to be. Even if he still had an actual role in the plot I’m afraid to say that Ironwood’s story (even if it wasn’t that much) has already been told and judging by the direction he is going by it’s only going to get worse for his character (moraly wise) to the point that his death may be a blessing in disguise for remnant.

To start we need to look at the essential core concepts that make up Ironwood’s character. If we remove all of his actions and focus on his archetypes we get a character that is A) Half robot, B) the de facto leader of an inefficient military(let's be honest it's just a glorified security force for rich douchebags.) C) A school principal and D) someone who essentially hails from what can be considered the most evil and inhuman kingdom of his world that values power and is placed into a story and conflict where none of those things even matter given what we know about the true stakes and consequences of the plot and this is essentially all that we even know about him in relation to the story.

Which brings me to this point that in my opinion he wasn’t much of a character to begin with. This is mostly due to the fact that we really don’t know anything about him besides the summarized 4 points from the last section. We don’t know anything about him like how he became involved in the plot, how old he is, when and what caused him to be a cyber, does he have anyone outside of work or any family that he cares about and more importantly why does he fight in the first place and what motivates him to do so and what does he hope to gain? These details to me are important as to give depth to a character as to better understand why they are the way they are. Otherwise they are either a philosophical mouthpiece or a living ideological caricature. As I stated before in Ironwood’s case he is just that for Atlas, just a simple tool that it can use for whatever it needs.

Which also brings up another subject towards his contributions to the plot; What exactly can he do and was he really even that important to begin with? As I stated before Ironwood really doesn’t have much to offer besides the Military which has been proven to be useless and unneeded. But if it was to be needed that doesn’t automatically mean Ironwood should be the one leading it. For example should he be removed from power and replaced and the heroes really need the military wouldn’t it be simple just to involve the new commander and chief or appoint someone they can trust to ally with them. So yeah the military part as well as the academy are what give an individual like Ironwood any relevance but that doesn't automatically mean they’re that important or crucial to begin with.

Simply put Ironwood has always been a character in the wrong genre. Had he been placed in any other circumstance he may have had a point and could have succeeded but in the case of his story he doesn’t have one. Ever since his debut he has always been this source of contradictions and antagonism and contrast when it comes to how the world and characters have been set. Due to this Ironwood has always been this source of escalation and conflict as he only follows his own beliefs and tries to force others to comply with them. As well as the truth that he really has no idea of what to do since he was never really prepared to handle anything like this and added by the fact that he won’t admit or consider the possibility that he is not that needed or important. If he continues on with this type of thinking it's only going to warrant his end as simply put by Oscar he really is just as dangerous as Salem.

Before I explain his overall purpose and status in the Narrative I want to go over several ideas for what may be next for Ironwood throughout the rest of the series which will be explained further by the reasoning I will use in the narrative part.

Fate and status for Volume 8 and the rest of the series

Death

I think it's safe to say that Death flags have been hovering over Ironwood for a while or at least since Volume 7. But is it certain? Most likey. I say it’s near mostly due to my belief that his story has essentially been told and he really doesn’t have anything left to contribute to the plot at this point. The impact of his death whether it will leave a positive or negative impact remains uncertain. But the way of his death to me is certain; he’s going to die by the hands of another character(specifically a hero). I know most people would have hoped for a heroic sacrifice or a redemption by death but I don’t exactly see Ironwood doing such things. (Which I’ll explain in the next 2 bullet points)

If it hasn’t been made clear Ironwood has made more enemies than allies simply due to his inability to compromise or let go of his Atlasian ideals and ego. As well as his refusal to accept the fact that he really isn’t that important or necessary in this conflict or at least in the way he wanted to be. If he further descends into his own little world Ironwood is going to cause more problems and do more damage that can never be undone and the only way to stop it would be if he was out of the picture. Because of this Ironwood is likely to die in V8 or by the end of the Atlas arc but it is also possible that he may die at another point later in the series.

Redemption Arc

The chances for Ironwood’s redemption are slim but they’re there, but probably not in the usual way that everyone expects to happen. To help clarify the possibility of redemption we will be using the trifecta structure of redemption arcs. This includes; How the character sees himself, how they see the world, and the stakes and how they change over time. As well as the Scale and Values of his motivation. To help better understand let us take a look at Ironwood’s motivations and goals from V2 and how they contrast and differ from V7 Ironwood.

Volume 2 Ironwood’s motivations upon first glance are simple; stop the threat and ensure stability and security. However if you watch closely there is an ulterior motive. From this we can determine the true Values of his goals and the Scale of what he is willing to do to achieve them and they go as such;

His values as of V2 are security via large Military foundations and amassing complete control and influence over forign nations while promoting the agendas of Atlas imperialism.(similar to the Galactic empire in its early years from Star Wars) With the scale showing that he is willing to go to such lengths as propaganda and political manipulation and betraying allies to get what he wants(the greatest example of this being subverting control from Ozpin)

From this we know that Ironwood sees himself as this perfect savior that can do no wrong and should be the one in charge. While his views of the world being that everything is below him unless they match those of Atlas. With the stakes at the time being the possibility of losing imperial expansion and the threat of domination from a superior force that could shatter the foundations of his ideology and culture.

While Volume 7 Ironwood’s motivations being; whatever it takes to preserve his perfect and ideal society even if it means sacrificing everything else before his valued culture is destroyed.

The values of this Ironwood definitely differ from previous versions of the character. As V7 Ironwood’s motivations have shifted from saving lives and defending them from Salem to preserving the very little bastion of control and authority that he has over Atlas. With the scale showing that he is willing to turn on allies and go as far as to abandon a whole heavily populated city and potentially the rest of the world in order to preserve the one thing that he has complete and unconditional control over.

Because of this a lot of Ironwood’s views have changed by the end of V7.

Due to his streak of recent failures his views of himself changed from being the perfect leader that he thought he was, to accepting reality that he isn’t said leader and is prone to failure. However because of that thinking he no longer feels that he should hold himself to that set standard anymore and do what he thinks is needed to get his desired results. Which leads to the fact that he still views himself as the one that should be in charge but this time he does not feel compelled to be fair or considerate of either allies or people.

His views of the world really haven’t changed as much. He is just more honest, open and direct about his views by V7’s end where it's pretty clear that he values his military industrial complex that is Atlas over people's lives regardless of their affiliation.(It should be noted that Mantle is still apart of the Kingdom of Atlas as a whole so consider the fact that he is abandoning the part of it he deems is an acceptable loss without even trying to save it)

But the greatest and significant of changes for Ironwood in the plot are the stakes. Prior to being told the truth about Salem’s immortality he honestly thought that he could win and kill her and be free to pursue whatever task he could set his mind to now that she was gone. After being told and with the clear indication that his power(Atlas) was at risk he essentially is doing what raven did; cut his losses and settle with what he has and run. As such the stakes for Ironwood at this point are to preserve the very little power and control that he has currently at his disposal and sacrifice and do whatever he can’t to maintain it even if it means letting the rest of the world die or be under Salem's control.

This is just speculation but Ironwood’s chances for redemption are pretty slim but not impossible. But the key start and major factors to make that redemption possible is for him to yield power and let go of Atlas. As I stated before, Ironwood relies heavily on his control over Atlas as he believes it to be the only means to maintain and sustain a war as well as the only way of enforcing his authority. To reiterate Ironwood true power and relevance to the story is his complete and unchallenged command over the Kingdom of Atlas and at the risk of sounding cliche; “All who obtain power are afraid to lose it even a hero” If there is to be any hope of defeating Salem and or maintaining peace in Remnant it can not happen with Ironwood being in power. Which may be more difficult than it seems which leads us to the possibility that he may not be redeemed and should he live past the Salem conflict with this type of thinking.

A New Enemy

For a character to be redeemed the character needs to want change for better but given his personality and recent events Ironwood at this point doesn’t feel or believe that he should change as he now has an ends justify the means mentality with the belief that he is this grand savior believing his way is the only way. Because of this it is very likely that he may stay an antagonist throughout the remainder of the series and possibly long after the main conflict.

The Third Faction; Okay I think it's a safe bet to say that no matter what Atlas was always going to be an antagonistic force that was being set up as early as V1. And unfortunately for Ironwood he ended up being the face and voice of said force that was there before he was ever given a name or a design.

Because of this setup it is possible that Atlas under Ironwood will become its own faction that may try to counter salem but at the same time will possibly sabotage the allies aka the main heroes and the rest of remnant since Ironwood’s paranoia has increased to the point that he doesn’t trust anyone anymore and most likely will reject any offer of aid or promise of an alliance since Ironwood believes his in own hype that much that he will eventually become a problem that has to be stopped which will possibly lead to the end of Atlas. Which brings us to what might happen to the character post Salem and Atlas.

Post Salem Insurgency; This is speculation but it's possible that after Salem is defeated and Atlas is destroyed he would continue to be a threat for the rest of Remnant as he will be forced to answer for war crimes and step down from power with the possibility that he may never obtain it again.

Given what we know of his personality Ironwood isn’t the type of guy to yield power or think he did anything wrong due to his ends justify the means montra. As such in the years following Salem's defeat and the possibility that Atlas may no longer exist or at the very least no longer subservient to Ironwood’s authority its most likely that he might end up in charge of a paramilitary consisting of the very few soldiers that are still loyal to him and start raiding and terrorizing settlements, cities and kingdoms all over remnant just to rebuild his military complex and infrastructure as a means to reclaim the status and power that he was stripped up.

How and why any of this would happen if it ever does is debatable but should it come to be Ironwood is going to need to compensate in order to survive if he becomes a legitimate threat which brings us to a very likely scenario based on his original inspiration

Full Cyber

Given what happened near the end of V7 and recent V8 concept renders combined with the Tin-man inspiration I do believe that there is a very likely scenario that Ironwood will be more machine than man at some point in the series assuming he doesn’t die yet. This is pretty much a given scenario due to his favoritism for machines than people and his new found ideology that humanity is weakness now it is very likely when given the chance that Ironwood will willingly become full cybernetic(Possibly to the point of just simply being a brain in a new metal body)

While this isn’t exactly an ideal outcome for the character but at the same time this would actually make Ironwood a credible threat as he would now be able to enforce his authority on his own now without relying on others to do it for him. Based on the research from the I am power post Ironwood is relatively a very weak character in comparison to a majority of other characters that we have seen so far and this is especially true when compared to the villains and main heroes. One key aspect to remember is that Remnant didn’t need the military only Ironwood did because on his own he’s screwed no matter what the situation.

Ironwood relies to heavily on his Army as it is the only thing that gives him some ambiance of a fighting chance but ultimately he is very ill suited to lead and manage said army that when you think of it are possibly full of people that are probably more capable than him as well as able to back up and defend their position of power on their own. Whereas Ironwood can not if he were to be overthrown by the military. In other words a fully cyberized Ironwood would actually be beneficial for him as it would make him a formidable threat beyond just simply being the guy who has the world's only military. Depending on what kind of enhancements he can get he would at least be on par with characters like Ruby Qrow and Yang and at the very best on the level of pre maiden Penny. Because as he is right now Ironwood would surely die if he were to face any character that is not within his capabilities. But this is my theory and observations but until we see more Ironwood’s best bet is going full cyber.

Role in the narrative & what we can learn from Ironwood

To start I think it's pretty clear that Ironwood in narrative is just a foil for most of the characters in the show. Especially with greater comparisons and emphasis on these 3 characters; Ozpin Ruby & Salem. While at the same time he is also the character representation that embodies Atlas the most and as such much about what we know and learned about Atlas is mostly due to Ironwood’s actions as he is the culmination and development of Atlasian culture. Unfortunately though this as far as his character was ever going to go. Which makes it all the more tragic and sad when you think about the role that he was supposed to serve.

We will first be breaking down each Foil comparison between Ironwood and the 3 prominent characters to plot as to better under his place in the narrative.

Ozpin

Of all the characters that exist in the RWBY story I do believe that Ironwood tried to emulate and be his own version of Ozpin(or any past incarnation). However unlike Ozpin Ironwood is biased, lacks actual experience and above all takes shortcuts to get faster results at the expense of others. I know that this mostly stems from good intentions but what exactly qualifies Ironwood to even think that he should be the one in charge to handle this Salem conflict. This is one of the greatest problems that is addressed in the show about Ironwood. He really believes that it's his destiny to lead by replacing Ozpin and win.

But I ask again; What exactly can Ironwood do that would qualify him to even be worthy to take up Ozpin’s task?

That's just it really, there is nothing about him to warrant such a thing. When it comes to the foils between the 2 it's about being this Big Good character that should lead and the themes of Grey morality that R.T. has tried to implement into the show. But when it comes down to it Ozpin is the true Big Good while Ironwood was simply a pretender. Ironwood has always been a narrowed focused character that cares about the conflict itself instead of the people that are caught in the crossfire. And unlike Ozpin who has based all of his decisions and plans from experience and human nature, Ironwood had based his for a need to simply be right and in control.

In short Ironwood had wanted to be the next Oz as he believed he was more suited to do what Ozpin couldn’t even though he lacked the skills, experience, and power to do so which brings us to the next foil.

Ruby Rose

This might be stretching a bit but when it comes to the plot there is no greater foil between characters than who is the real hero of the story. In this case is the hero of the series Ironwood or Ruby? To help answer this inquiry we need to know what exactly a hero is. Webster's dictionary defines a hero as a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent, endowed with great strength or ability.

While other sources would say what qualifies A hero can be as simple as a person that saves lives and stuff, but a hero can be anyone that does something they have fear of but are brave enough to still do something. Bravery is usually the biggest trait of any hero. This person has usually overcomes huge obstacles to survive or to rescue others.

A hero is selfless, a genuinely good person, and someone gets the undivided attention of all of us and causes change.

A hero takes action to help others at considerable risk to themselves, however, if that action also helps themselves, then they are not a hero because they are acting out of self-interest. Courage is admirable, but unless it involves risk or sacrifice in order to help others, then it isn't heroism.

So in short the true hero of the series is actually Ruby not Ironwood or any other character in the series. Not because she is one of the main characters or because this is a story from her perspective but because she has the ideal and pragmatic skills and abilities needed to handle the current situation of the plot as well as doing what Ironwood has failed to do himself confront fear and be brave. As I stated in paranoia over reason most if not all of his choices have been based on fear rather than actual logic, reason, or bravery. Which is further highlighted by facts discussed in I am power that Ironwood is really nothing without the military and doesn’t stand a chance on his own.

This is indefinitely a stark contrast to ruby as she has proven since her introduction to be capable of handling the threat of Salem as she has the talents skills abilities power and above all the spark that inspires others that compels them to do great things for the right reasons which Ironwood failed to do as all of his action have had a certain goal that would only benefit a certain few with him being the one who would benefit the most. This is mostly due to how the 2 have responded and chose to handle the situation.

When it comes down to it the main plot is defeating monsters that dominate the world who happen to have a leader controlling them. Remember the whole reason why Salem is even a credible threat is because she can control said monsters and the first premise before she came on screen for the first time was learning how to fight grimm. This is something that Ruby was training and preparing for since she was a kid with the added bonus of having the powers needed to handle the situation with ease while Ironwood has only been preparing for a war with other people rather than monsters and crush rebellions rather than being a guardian peacekeeper that Oz meant for him to be.

Because of this Ironwood has contributed more to the problem more so than Ruby did as his actions were done in favor of Atlas and his own self interests were as Ruby makes honest mistakes out of ignorance and optimism. Which brings me to the next foil that Ironwood shares more qualities with than anyone else

Salem

I know I'm going to get a lot of heat for this but if you think about it Ironwood is basically a syfy dictator version of Salem’s fantasy dark lord. Face value it doesn’t seem likely but given what we know about their current lore, history, personally, and world building these two can be twins to some extent. The examples are as followed;

They’re both headstrong and blunt individuals who go too far in their endeavors when simple and easier solutions were present

They’re both isolated however Salem is isolated by circumstance and force while Ironwood is isolated by choice and paranoia which is ironically the results of their cold upbringing and history

They both lead organizations with questionable intentions that border on dark and immoral with goals that are based on self entitlement rather than rightfully justified or earned

And to top it off they essentially command armies of soulless killing machines

From these examples we have plenty of foils between the two with them being pride, isolation, tragedy, authority and probably the most important foil in regards to the plot War & Conflict. However when it comes down to it Ironwood is on the short end of these foils when compared to Salem.

In terms of tragedy these two have let their past misfortunes dictate and influence their decisions resulting in a sense of entitlement that they have been wronged now the world has to compensate them for things to be right. For Salem she had a cruel upbringing for unknown reasons and life being unfairly cruel while Ironwood was lifely forced into servitude and was never really himself as he wanted to be. Salem’s tragedies are the result of grief and dealing with forces that she couldn’t comprehend. While Ironwood’s is the result of unchecked ambition and ignorance.

Similar to Oz, Salem has more experience being a leader that can exert their authority and will over others while Ironwood lacks the experience and therefore can’t do the same. The Grimm under Salem’s command are more of an oppressed hivemind that she leads with little to no resistance unlike her human subordinates. Thus Salem has more direct control and authority over those she commands and has the abilities necessary to keep them in line with her goals. While the people under Ironwood’s authority have a voice and mind of their own that don’t align with his ideas. Due to this he isn’t much of a respected leader as he thought he was. Because of this Ironwood is mostly kept in power by rules and regulations with everyone blindly following suit.

As for war Ironwood was without a doubt unprepared for it. This is mostly due to 4 reasons;

He had no idea of what he was doing

His opponents are of better a quality than anything he can make or round up

He was preparing for the wrong war that should never have come to pass.

He was to prideful and sure of himself that nothing can go wrong

When it comes to the 1st reason Ironwood was more or less a pseudo soldier in a time where militaries are pretty much obsolete. This is because militaries are used as power projection of a nation and convey the message to another nation to not cross them. Due to the timing there was no real reason or excuse to justify having a military during a point in time where people are more interested in developing a culture and living life rather than fighting in needless conflicts. As such there was no practical reason, competition, or threat to justify Ironwood’s demands for a large military when he came to power or ensure that it was of a better quality than whatever hypothetical enemy that he would face.

Salem on the other hand has had experience commanding armies before and probably has instigated several wars and conflicts prior to the founding of the current 4 kingdoms thus Salem would have at least accumulated centuries to millenniums of war experience that surpass Ironwood’s brief 30 years of service in the Atlas military. Given that Salem was already a crafty and manipulative person during a time when gods were still around, she most likely would have seen the mistakes and flaws that Ironwood has made and exploited them.

Leading into the 2nd reason Ironwood was pretty much in command of a terrible military. As stated in the 1st reason there was no real threat or competition that encouraged those in power besides Ironwood to remilterze. As well as the current military most likely being filled with people who don’t want to fight a war and most likely enlisted for economic reasons. Because of this and his paranoia Ironwood had to find a surrogate army to prepare for his war that in his mind could happen at any time. However this resulted in cheaply made Androids that can be assembled fast for quick deployment. Due to this Ironwood traded quality for quantity as not only was no one going to fight in his war but believed war was on its way soon. Out of misplaced desperation Ironwood hastily assembled a low quality army that never stood a chance.

In comparison to Salem’s main military force there aren’t that many differences. However the Grimm are slightly a better quality than what the Atlas military has to offer. This is mostly due to the fact that the Grimm are a semi sapient species that are capable of learning and adapting as well as possessing some level of self preservation with individual grimm being around longer than most of their kind becoming even more deadlier than them. While the androids that Atlas uses aren’t as they were made to be cheap and disposable and are mostly effective in large numbers.

The 3rd reason for why Salem is doing well during this conflict with Ironwood is mostly due to the General preparing for the wrong type of war than the war that he is actually fighting in. After all is said and done Ironwood has solely been preparing for a war with other people rather than for monsters. This is because the Atlas military before Ironwood took charge wasn’t meant to fight a war. Not all militaries are formed or created to defend the people. Atlas is the type of military that serves only in favor of the best interest of the state of government rather than the people.

Because of this Ironwood had spread misery and divided the people turning them into enemies. Salem would later take advantage of this division that Ironwood created as he was more focused preparing for war than managing the welfare of his citizens. This is speculation but most if not all of the weapons like penny and the Atlesian knights were solely made to fight human opponents as opposed to the grimm that Salem commanded. This is because Ironwood feared and distrusted people more than the monsters he fought.

The 4th and final reason why Ironwood never stood a chance is due to the fact that he believed in his own hype more than he should have. From key dialogues to certain character interactions and in universe lore Ironwood has always presented himself as this towering figure with unlimited power; A god among men so to speak. This shows us that ultimately Ironwood’s ego and pride have been inflated to the point that his overall common sense is non-existent. This is further explored and shown in the control tactics that he uses specifically these ones; Strength and Intimidation in Numbers;

Some aggressors like to dominate a situation by having a number of associates or friends present to support their position. The superior numbers alone may constitute an intimidating presence. They can also back each other up and challenge an individual in turn during a proceeding. In addition, they may also put pressure on a person to make a decision before they're ready. At worst, the strength in numbers tactic may be used for direct or indirect bullying or harassment.

Ironwood's overall strategy is simply sowing fear and doubt into an enemy that he doesn’t understand with large and unnecessary shows of power wasting resources to cover a wide variety of unknown enemies that pose a threat to him regardless if they are with Salem or not. This is best seen with the thousands to millions of cheaply made androids that are only effective in large numbers and the one ship of the line that was too big to be suited for warfare as they function as more of a forward operating base with their great size giving them the intimidation factor without other supporting fleet vessels like frigates or corvettes.(FYI by my count from V6 ep13 there were at least 41 of those ships hovering above Atlas doing nothing)

This is even confirmed by Ironwood in V3 ep3 where he claims this to be the case with this line of dialogue;

“The people of Vale needed someone to protect them, someone who would act. When they look to the sky and see my fleet, they feel safe, and our enemies will feel our strength.”

This sort of tactic would probably have been useful if it was applied in a conventional warfare plot with people being his opponent as this is a real life tactic used in militaries and the navy especially in the modern era. The problem however is that the plot isn’t about conventional warfare nor is it a battle between people but with monsters where these tactics are meaningless to them. These tactics are ineffective when compared to Salem’s psychological hit & run terror tactic being used in a setting like RWBY’s are quite effective and more useful than anything Ironwood can come up with. Even though they rely on opportunity and time to become a practical threat the end result is a huge payoff to the one who applied them with that being Salem.

To sum it up when it comes to the foils of war between these 2 characters all you really need is the right tactic, strategy or plan and everything falls into place regardless of whether you have an army or a handful of misfits all it takes is careful thought and patience something of which Ironwood has shown to be lacking.

In conclusion what we learn from these foils are Leadership, Heroism, and War and how no matter what Ironwood was always on the short end of these traits and was never going to reach his ideal scenario for each of these ideas as he had set high expectations that were well above his capabilities and now he’s paying the price.

The Atlas Meta Narrative’s influence on Ironwood

Based on my research and what I have stated before; the greatest source of Ironwood’s flaws and antagonism is largely due to the influences of his home kingdom; Atlas.

Just like Ironwood Atlas is also a foil setting and culture to the other kingdoms and the rest of Remnant. The reasoning for this is best explored in the established lore and other expanded material. To help better understand, here is a brief summarized history and development of the Kingdom of Atlas;

Before Atlas came to be it first started as Mantle who began as a group of desperate people trying to survive. Taking advantage of the cold climate of Solitas they were safe from the Grimm and had an unknown amount of time to develop both their technology and culture without restraint or interference. Eventually this progress was stalled due to a Grimm incident in Mantle that forced the current leaders of the kingdom to make radical and unnecessary regulations that suppress basic human emotions and rights instead of putting the effort to protect the people.

When the Great war started Mantle joined only to ensure that its like minded imperialist ally Mistral would supply them the resources needed to survive. Because of this and the extreme measures they enforced on their citizens to control them prior to the war Mantle was most likely considered the most evilest faction during the war. When the war came to an end with Mantle suffering an embarrassing defeat it led to an age of cultural segregation and discrimination upon Mantle in the post war era.

Following the war Mantle entered an age of isolation and economic depression due to distrust and suspicion from the other kingdoms as they would only view them as this inherently evil and tyrannical force that can’t be trusted. Because of this the lingering scar of the toxic ideology of pre-war Mantle survived and is echoed in its spiritual successor; Atlas where it continued what Mantle couldn’t survive and thrive under the same core ideology that they had 80 years ago when they were still Mantle with only minor changes made to prevent the other kingdoms to intervene and possibly destroy their so called perfect culture.

After they lost a scar had remained and an echo was created that still lingers to the present. Due to cause and effect Atlas at its core was developed to be this amoral conservative xenophobic dystopia that was being led by corrupt individuals that were in pursuit of their own self-interests rather than serving their citizens and were kept in power by blind followers that couldn’t see their real intentions. As a result Atlas became a culture of exploitation, expansion, repression, and subjugation for the well being of the political entity that is the state at the expense of its people and others.

In relation to Ironwood as I stated before is a byproduct of this system and is simply one of a long line of blind followers that eventually supplanted the leadership and chose to continue the machine that is Atlas and replaced cogs needed to keep it running as he was once forced to do throughout his life because he doesn’t know of anything else.

Because of this upbringing and the history of his origins Ironwood was more or less viewed as indifferent in the eyes of his own people and evil in the eyes of others. Leading to a clash of beliefs within Ironwood that resulted in conflicts with others and the main meta narrative theme that we were meant to learn from him; The essence of Being.

The Essence of Being

Essence is defined as the core nature or most important qualities of a person or thing. Essentially the narrative lesson that we can learn from Ironwood is the age old lesson that has been echoed from R.T. longest running series but with a more individual focus. That's right, Ironwood's journey and arc in the story is an inverse and modification of the classic RVB question; “Do you ever wonder why we're Here.”

But in the case of Ironwood it's more focused on an individual person asking and the age old question of Why am I here and what is my purpose and how do they justify and understand it.

As I stated before Ironwood was simply the wrong character in a different genre from a writing and story perspective. But in universe from the perspective of Ironwood it's simply a matter of him asking; “Why am I alive and here, and why am I this instead of that in a world like this?” At some point everyone questions the reality and circumstances of their situation and it's probably common questioning on a world, setting, and reality like Remnant. For Ironwood it’s possible that he’s asked these questions more than anyone. As for the reasons why he would question his existence go as follow;

Why was I born in Atlas?

How do I prove I'm good when others think I’m evil by proxy?

Why I’m I so weak when compared to more skilled & powerful people?

Why was I made to be reliant on others that can’t rely on themselves?

I’m I respected only for the rank or the man?

Does anyone really care about me or I’m I being used by sycophants?

Will anyone care when I’m gone?

Why won’t anyone give me a chance?

How do I justify and understand the reasons why I'm here?

Does any of this matter in the end?

The core of Ironwood’s journey, actions, motives, and story wasn’t about saving the world, the balance of grey morality of people, or even the preservation of a certain culture, but instead is about cementing a legacy to escape the harsh reality that everything we do will eventually be undone. It's such a freighting thing to fall but is even more freighting is to admit it

In a way Ironwood's story is somewhat relevant to this line from Monty Oum in regards to immortality; “The goal isn't to live on forever; it's to make something that does.” CRWBY has even stated that Ironwood is a forward thinking individual/ A dreamer if you would. Because of this Ironwood was more focused on where he was heading rather than focus on where he was and what he was doing Causing a lot of problems to happen and escalating events to the point that we see them in the shows present. This oversight and negligence is because he continued to believe that, like everything else in his life, it would be righted by the sheer force of his will.

But sadly he is just only one man put on the world for a brief moment of time that is rather minuscule and insignificant on a cosmic and meta level. Everything changes and legacies are either forgotten or are repeated. In the end time and death are the ultimate victors as they undo everything and the cycle repeats itself for better or worse and individuals like Ironwood are just caught in the middle repeating and doing the same thing that has probably already happened and will probably happen again. All it takes is just a matter of time.

My Thoughts and conclusion

For the most part I was pretty much cautious when it came to the character and felt that he was more or less a side character trying to be a main one. The problem with that however in my thoughts is that well he doesn’t really have much to go on to warrant such a status. As well as how the plot has been structured Ironwood was never going to get what he wants. He may have had good intentions but at the end of the day he is only human with his own wants and needs.

Overall I do feel that his part in the story is over. Mostly because he tried to take the lead of it. Meta understanding aside Ironwood’s time is coming to an end and I hate to say it but it probably would be for the best. Not just everyone else in the show but for himself as well. As I stated Ironwood’s life is Sad because well it never was really his to begin with. It's illogical because he was ill equipped to be a part of the setting that he was in. His death is more than guaranteed because he has nothing left to contribute to the story that can’t be done by anyone else. At this point with the overall message of death in the show it would be mercy and relief for Ironwood as Death is not the worst thing that can happen to you.

I still hold hope though as I’ve come to understand and see why people are fascinated by his character. But for that hope to be possible Ironwood has to let go of Atlas as it has been the main source of conflict between him and everyone else.

Well that's it I’m done for now as this is an analysis of Pre V8 Ironwood and maybe after V8 I may add more research of V8 Ironwood and see how much i got right in the initial analysis. After doing this I hope to do an analysis on Qrow Branwen and other RWBY characters hopefully in a much shorter amount of time as opposed to the months it took me to do Ironwood.(then again this was my first character analysis) Until then be on the lookout for additional bonus content for Ironwood such as;

Character comparisons from fiction

Character comparisons IRL

How you can fight & Kill Ironwood

A more indepth look of his new cybernetics

What Ironwood should have done

His relationship with other characters

The possibility of an Ironwood spin-off

That's all for now. Let me know what you think and thank you all who helped made this analysis possible.

#rwby #rwby ironwood #james ironwood #general ironwood #rwby8 #rwby analysis #rwby theory #rwby thoughts #rwby atlas #rwby salem #rwby ozpin #rwby ruby rose #qrow branwen #rwby spoilers #rwby qrow #Ironwood analysis

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sloppy-butcher · 5 years ago

Note

Whats your hcs for Frank, Evan and Herman?? They are my 3 loves so im curious... (love your work ya poes

how old are you sir? I must ask to see ur ID. a babey can’t be using language like that >:(

anyhow, the 3 boys eh? I’ll gladly write anything for them uwu. I’m going to be doing general relationship hc’s so things will probably get fluffy and maybe a little angsty. i can’t help myself sometimes. I’m going to try include one NSFW hc for each of the 3 stooges, so be prepared. it may be bad. the reader will be left as ambiguous as possible

edit: i write way to much :/ i think i should only do 1 or 2 character requests from now on T_T

hope you enjoy!

General relationship HeadCanons

The Legion (Frank Morrison)

With Frank, there was no real start to your relationship. There was no moment in time, no exact, pinpoint instance when one could say that that is when you two starting everything. It kind of just happened. Maybe it was when Frank first kissed you, it felt like fireworks and the snow in Mount Ormond was no longer cold. Or maybe it was when he first saw you dancing along with Suzie to one of her favorite songs, the twirling of your feet mixed with perfectly timed head slams dazzled him and he wanted nothing more than to have you give him a private dance. In the end, these are all speculations and the truth may never be known.

Around others, he was hesitant to show his emotion. You two could be sitting right next to each other your thighs all but alined when out of nowhere Joey sticks his head in. Frank snaps like a mousetrap, retreating back away from you as if he was embarrassed. You confronted him about this, you told him everything’s okay and that no one would judge him for being human. He refused you and, not to lie, it really hurt. But one day, just as you were walking away you felt his hand snake its way into yours. He hesitated for a moment, afraid you might reject him but of course, you gladly wrapped his hand in yours. You heard Joey wolf-whistle from somewhere behind you and Frank very enthusiastically tossed a middle finger at him. You couldn’t see it, but Frank was blushing under his mask.

Franks, not a romantic guy so don’t expect flowers or gifts or really anything nice. He grew up with virtually nothing so the idea of wooing someone with items of material affection is very foreign to him. He believes that if his presence and physical affection aren’t enough to prove to you that he appreciates you, then nothing will. But you never cared about gifts. All you ever wanted was Frank and he couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

!NSFW! Frank was a pretty vanilla guy. He doesn’t have much experience when it comes to the department of extremely intimate affection and therefore knew literally nothing about the pleasures of the flesh. But the keyword here is ‘was’. After meeting you and your guiding hand he blossomed into a very wild and very hungry individual. His favorite position though is when he gets to look at you. And if you call his name he will instantly crumble. Afterward, or during the act you need to reach out and caress him. Touch and explore his body, mainly his face and he’d moan even louder. Your hands are so soft and gentle and when you touch him he floats with elated glee. He feels alive when he’s with you.

The Doctor (Herman Carter)

You would have to be extremely special or out-of-the-ordinary in order to catch the eye of the Doctor. But somehow you managed to do it. Herman was a man unhinged, incapable of empathy and compassion. He never looked at other humans as people with feelings and conscious ideas and thoughts. He only ever saw them and you as test subjects. But something about you was off. You did something that made this machine of a man halt in his pursuit of human torture. What exactly did you do? Well, nothing really. As he approached you, electrical energy between his hands flexing and growing ready to turn your brain to mush, you never screamed, never flinched away and never took your tired eyes off him. The first few times when you welcomed death he didn’t notice and it was only after a significate amount of encounters that finally Herman realized he had never heard your cries of fear and pain.

He would amp up his power when he would find you in trials. He would kill you much more violently than he would the others, make your liquified brain ooze out your ears and make your heart stop and start like a busted old car. Sometimes he would even through away the whole trial upsetting his boss greatly, just to get to you. But no matter what he did, you never offered him what he wanted. You had seen and experienced much worse than him and when death never gives you a release, torture becomes mundane and repetitive. When Herman finally understood that you weren’t afraid of him, he relented, snuffed out his power and walked away. He had his attention now.

Whenever you would visit him during off-time he would follow you as you wandered around the massive mansion known as Léry’s. Sometimes he would lead you, taking you to the rooms which he liked the most (operation rooms). Herman can not talk, the contraption in his mouth has stretched his lips to the point that they can no longer function and his voice box is beyond repair, damaged thanks to his constant flow of electricity that would otherwise kill a man. But he doesn’t need to talk to you. You always seem to know what he wants without hearing a single word.

!NSFW! Sex with Herman is out of the question. The man is pumped with endless volts of electricity and if you were to so much as touch him, your body would recoil and spasm painfully from the contact. If you ever wanted to experience pleasure from or with the man, he would have to try rein back some of that overflowing energy. But the man is too prideful and would never dare try to cull some of his ability. Unfortunately. But maybe after some time, he might learn to listen. There is no time in the Fog, only eternity and humans were never meant to live for that long. Our minds dull and our intentions warp from the time spent existing and maybe even someone as mad and determined as Herman could learn that it’s not so bad to let others into his life.

The closest you could ever get to kissing Herman is probably just planting a soft peck on his cheek. A dangerous move considering the possible consequences of actually touching him with such a sensitive part of you, but a risk you were willing to take. One day, however, in the silence and fog of the mansion Herman would reach out for you. He would lean down to your height and very slowly take your hand. There was no static shook when your skins met. He was telling you that he was calm. He would then guide your hands to his mouthpiece and he would tell you to take it off. Delicately you would peel away the metal from flesh and his mouth would furiously bleed and dretch his teeth with red. When he was free you would quickly meet him and you would hungrily kiss his chapped lips. He would kiss you back, his lips unable to keep up with yours but his tongue is wild and eager. However, after only a minute he would shove you away violently. As you feel the connection between you two break, the space around Herman lits up and crackles with mad energy. You would have to wait for him to calm down again if you wanted to continue your endeavors.

The Trapper (Evan Macmillan)

Despite being one of the most diligent and consistently brutal killers in the realm, when Evan is alone and the only eyes watching him are yours, he is a gentleman. He would speak to you softly, asking about your day already knowing that it was pretty shit. He would hold doors open for you and he would always make sure you were warm, either with a spare blanket or a seat extra close to a fire. He would fuss over you. Your soft skin, so clean and pure, untouched by the horrible and evil ways of the world made him marvel at how human you were. To him, you were what humans were meant to be, good and kind, whereas he was a monster charred and broken, unworthy and incapable of affection and of all those things that were meant to make life wonderful. He wanted to protect you, preserve that softness of you and although he couldn’t do anything to help you when the camera’s all turned back on, during this time he would smother you with whatever cautious and motherly behavior he could muster.

He was drawn to you because of your confident behavior. He found your energy alluring and would always find himself somehow infected by your hope and optimism. You were like a fire, burning everything in your path and he just happened to be close enough to catch alight. In the beginning, Evan would become very annoyed by your seemingly endless ideas of survival but as time went on and you never seemed to dampen like the others he found that his annoyance turned into curiosity. A part of him wanted to know what it was like to be under your light of hope. It yearned to be rescued but a bigger and much louder part of him, a voice oddly resembling his fathers, drowned it out. However, that didn’t stop his feet from walking towards you and it certainly didn’t stop you from staying with him.

In the early stages of your relationship with the mountain of a man, you had to the one initiating affection. You had to be the one to reach out and grab his hand. He would look down at you and you swore you could hear him gasp. And when you would want to hug him, you would either have to wait until he sat down or you would have to climb atop a box. It’s not that he was afraid to reciprocate your feelings, he just felt like he didn’t deserve it. He tried to remain stone-cold and distant hoping that it would detour you and make you give up on him but you weren’t known for ‘giving up’. Eventually, when you refused to leave and he had to accept that you wanted to be with him, all you needed to do for a hug was open your arms wide and beckon him closer with your hands. He would roll his eyes and very stiffly lean down for you. You would eagerly wrap yourself as best you could around his neck and, if you were laughing or in an infectiously good mood, he would engulf you in his own. Sometimes he would even stand up and sweep you off your feet. He would bury himself into your neck, trying his best to smell you through his bone and metal mask.

!NSFW! This has been said many times before but Evan has handles. Those large pieces of metal piercing his shoulders and down his back. It scared you at first when he suggested you hold onto them, they looked so painful and the skin around the puncture wounds were all puffy and red. He reassured you and explained that he doesn’t feel much of anything anymore. When he said that you looked at him confused then, without thinking, you lean forward and gently place a kiss on the wound. He tries to watch you as you trail butterfly kisses over his exposed chest. “Feel better?” You ask pulling away for a moment. He couldn’t respond, his throat welling up with shook, disgust and absolute fascination. You clearly didn’t care about what he looked like, what kind of monster he had become, and it gave him so much more confidence. Hold on to his handlebars, pull and yank them as he thrusts into you, he likes to feel your weight vibrate through the bars into his ribcage. Evan enjoys the feeling of control he gets when he is the one giving you pleasure and also foundation.

BONUS! Drag your tongue along one of the bars. Make sure his eyes never leave you and when you finally lick the whole length of the metal, plant your lips firmly on his mouth. He will kiss back passionately, amazed at how dirty someone so pure and good like you could be.

#dead by daylight #dbd imagines #dbd the legion #dbd frank morrison x reader #dbd the Doctor #dbd herman carter x reader #dbd the trapper #dbd evan macmillan x reader #this is too long #but i love you #ask

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goodluckdetective · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: smile, you’re trending

Ship: Jon/Martin

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567242

Warnings: Canon typical violence, alluded past child neglect, alluded past police brutality, horror, off screen gore, brief mention of body horror, mentioned past character death

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt comfort, protective Martin, Lonely!Martin, one shot, character study

Characters: Jon, Basira, Martin

Rating: PG-13

Length: 9K

Summary:

Post 179 but not episode centric

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see.

For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Author’s Note:

Formally “a matter of perspective” and then I realized that was an episode title and felt very silly. This is the tumblr version because I forgot to post a version here, I only posted the link, whoops.

Big thanks to Impatiens_capensis on AO3 and lamella who served as editors to this piece so it can beheld without taking psychic damage. Their input was a massive help and I cannot thank them enough for their time. Big thanks to namiofthesea as well for advising me on the small details of beauty youtube. Your cursed info was essential.

Fic below the cut:

Jon knew they couldn’t die in this new world they inhabited, but he wasn’t quite sure about the specifics when it came to being harmed.

His new powers were useful despite being unwanted, but they had their limits. Hypotheticals were the biggest one. He could tell what path was safer to take, but not if an Avatar might change their mind to follow them. He knew Basira’s gun would always have bullets in it, but he didn’t know if that would apply to any other weapon she picked up, or if her gun would always work against what chased them. And he knew they could not die, at least not yet, but he didn’t know what would happen if someone tried to kill them.

“So if I shot you,” Basira said as they took a brief rest to light a fire between a domain of the Stranger and the Vast. She’d met up with them just outside of London after their brief split with a few new scars and a heavy tread to each step. But she was alive and that was something to celebrate. “Your wound would just heal?”

They made camp in a domain of the End, a giant graveyard that while unpleasant, wasn’t the worst place to rest. There was a fallen tree that made a good enough bench to sit on for Martin and Jon, and Basira sat across from them on a rather large boulder.

“Given past experience, that seems the most likely,” Jon replied, ignoring the look Martin gave him at the comment. They had discussed his attempts to make an anchor before he went to Jared, and Martin turned out to be fond of all ten of his fingers. After the incident with Daisy, Martin fussed for a full day as it healed up, even offering to carry him across a few domains. Across from them, Basira looked nonplussed. “The best guess I can go on is my leg and that managed to heal up within the day. But I can’t be sure if that will be the case everywhere.”

Basira scowled at the mention of his leg. It was a painful reminder for the both of them. Jon’s pant leg was still stained with blood and rips from the incident. “Because it’s a hypothetical?”

“Something like that. That or the Eye thinks Knowing will take away all my fear of it and doesn’t want to spoil the fun.”

“It’s spoiled enough fun already if you ask me,” Martin said, just under his breath. Jon allowed himself to smile and reached over to squeeze Martin’s knee in response. They weren’t big into public displays of affection as it was, but with Basira around they’ve tried to keep snogging to a minimum. It might be the apocalypse, but awkwardness apparently lived on.

Basira ran her thumb across her chin, deep in thought. She was less outright hostile to them after they met back up in London , but there was an edge to her that told Jon she still wondered if he was worth trusting. “And we can’t die either?”

“No, at least not for good. At least not now.” Jon paused after that and closed his eyes. Since Daisy, he knew more about the laws of this new world, how it shaped and bent around emotional logic. The specifics on how that logic changed from place to place was what he struggled with. He tried to Know the specifics, reaching out for that endless pool of knowledge but he came back empty handed with the taste of battery acid on his tongue. “I don’t know anything more than that.”

“Another hypothetical?”

Jon looked up at the sky. “I think more trying to keep the fear of not knowing fresh.”

He explained what he meant by that later, when Basira was asleep and he felt less watched despite the thousands of eyes in the sky. Martin was a good listener and patient when Jon struggled for the right words. After being a mouthpiece to others’ horrors Jon still found it difficult to voice his own.

“You think after everything, I wouldn’t be able to feel fear anymore but… I can,” Jon said, lying on his back with his eyes closed. He could still see the eyes in the sky, he could see everything around them, but if he focused very hard on a domain of the Vast, he could sometimes pretend the stars from that sector were the ones actually in front of him. Back before Basira joined them, he would sometimes list the constellations to Martin who in turn would tell him the mythological stories behind each one. “I still do. I don’t think I’d be able to be the Archivist if I couldn’t.”

Martin was next to him, side to side, his hand holding Jon’s tight, thumb brushing across his knuckles. Somehow he managed to remember how to be gentle despite everything. “You don’t seem scared.”

Jon turned to him, opening one eye to look at him properly. Martin looked tired, bags under his eyes from lack of restful sleep, but he watched Jon with rapt attention. It was calming, seeing those brown eyes focused and fully present. One of Jon’s worst memories of the Lonely was Martin staring at him with pale empty blue irises that looked so close to that of Peter Lukas.

Jon forced a wry smile on his face. “Would you believe I’ve become a fantastic actor?”

The raise of one eyebrow that Martin gave him in response was easy to interpret without Knowing. Jon sighed, and closed his eyes again, rolling closer towards Martin. Martin’s arm reached around his side in a loose embrace and Jon made a mental note to move within 10 minutes or his arm would fall asleep.

“Fair enough,” Jon said, voice somewhat muffled by Martin’s shirt. “I suppose it’s that a big part of fear is the unknown. I am scared of the pain fire can cause, but the fear of dying from it or being burnt by it permanently: that’s gone now.”

That was true. The entire time Jon faced down Jude Perry, the fear in his bones was only that of pain, not what might come after. It was such a contrast to the fear he’d first felt facing Jude, that he’d been almost power drunk on it, reveling in the fear coming off of her in waves that Jon himself no longer felt.

Jon didn’t want to ever admit it out loud, but sometimes it was intoxicating to be the predator instead of the prey.

“That takes some of the edge off, knowing what is coming, at least for me. No, it’s the fear of what I don’t know that is still sharp. And that’s what the Eye wants, I think. The fear of what comes next when all you know is that there will be a next.”

“After all this, it’s still feeding on you,” Martin said, rubbing Jon’s back with the hand under Jon’s side.

“I don’t think it ever intends to stop.”

Martin was quiet before he pulled Jon in closer for a proper embrace, resting his chin on the top of Jon’s head. It reminded Jon of lazy mornings in the cabin, back when they thought things might actually be alright. Comfort might no longer exist in the world, but if there was anything close to it left, the sensation of being loved and protected was the next best thing.

“Think if we find a domain of the Desolation, we can dig up a rocket big enough to fire into one of those pupils?” Martin mused, his hand still rubbing Jon’s back.

“It wouldn’t-“

“I know it wouldn’t do anything, Jon; I mean solely for the satisfaction.”

Jon did consider it and he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. He Knew the eyes in the sky wouldn’t even blink if they tried it, but picturing it anyway was indeed satisfying. “I’ve never lit fireworks before.”

“Neither have I.”

“I don’t know if the Eye will allow me knowledge on how to prank it.”

“Good thing we’re likely clever enough to figure it out ourselves. And if not, Basira can probably put it together. She might even like it.”

“Maybe she will,” Jon tried to picture Basira smiling under a display of fireworks. She hadn’t smiled since Daisy and Jon found he missed it. Despite their current antagonism, Jon never wanted her miserable.

Daisy wouldn’t have wanted that either. She told Jon once that Basira and her would go for pubs on weekends. Instead of drinking, they would play trivia and laugh whenever they got an answer horrendously wrong. Jon Knows what that was like, he can even tell you the smell of the peanuts on the floor mixed with spilled beer, but he wished he could have seen that laughter for himself.

“You aren’t responsible for the world, Jon.” Martin whispered into his hair.

“Are you sure you're not an Avatar of the Eye with that insight?”

“No. I don’t know everything. I just know you.”

Jon opened his eyes and looked at Martin before craning his neck up for a brief kiss. It hurt his neck to do it for too long, but the kiss was sweet and reassuring. He moved Martin’s arm so he was no longer lying on top of it and smoothed his hair back.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Martin did. As he rested, twitching with nightmares he never remembered, Jon thought about what he was still scared of. The Web for sure, the strings he couldn’t see. Jonah, for what he did to him and what he could still do. He feared for Melanie and Georgie’s safety and if they hated him as much as he thought they should. He worried if Basira would ever be okay again, if he ruined everything he touched, if she was right to sometimes look at him like he was something dangerous.

And Martin. He feared Martin’s devastated expression if they killed Jonah and this hell still stood. He feared the Lonely, coming back and telling Martin that being alone was better than being with a monster. He feared losing Martin’s hand in his, the sound of a soft snore at night, and the whistling as they walked when the landscape was particularly horrendous and they needed a distraction.

Love was the only thing that could prompt such overwhelming fear, Jon thought. That was why it was so powerful a feeling: no one would dare to risk that horror of loss otherwise.

No, Jon Sims was still scared of so much. It was hard to quantify all that fear: Jon sometimes felt he could drown in it. Martin helped keep him afloat and in turn Jon kept him from being lost in his own quest devastation. They were each other’s safe harbor.

“Lord, I’m becoming a poet,”Jon said to himself, amused. He glanced at Martin who began to mumble under his breath about the cold. Carefully, as if not to disturb him, Jon grabbed his discarded jacket from next to them and laid it over Martin. It didn’t stop the muttering but there was less of it than before. Small miracles. “I suppose there are worse fates.”

With that, Jon began his watch as his comrades slept on.

______________________________________________________________________

The thing was, Jon never considered what would happen if he ran into another Eye Avatar.

The domain they walked into was one Jon chose as the most safe. When it came to domains, the Desolation and the Corruption were best avoided, so when Jon found himself picking between the two and then the Eye, he went for the Eye. It was a smaller domain, a former multimedia office turned into multiple hallways and rooms of endless monitors. It seemed the Eye had a fondness for the digital age.

The domain belonged to a former internet influencer by the name of Irene Hatchette. In her mid-twenties with a relatively popular makeup series, she fed on the fear of exposure. Her relationship with the Eye began as a child by tattling on her step-sister before the took the same scheme to school where she would steal her classmates cell phones and told everyone what she found, while implying even more to let people come to their own worst conclusions. In university, she learned to make fake accounts and emails to lure people into sending her things she could publish widely out of context, and as an internet star, those fake identities triples as she used each to speak to her rivals, invade their fan groups and personal pages for information she could sell to gossip magazines or twist for her own use. Once, she had to spend months pretending to be a therapist to get scoop on someone’s past hospitalization involving horrendous burns, which she dug up medical photos of by calling the right stupid hospital tech about changing “his corrupted password.” Once she published the pictures all across the internet, well, the rival stopped being a problem. It was business, sure, but there was a thrill to it too, much like pinning a still living butterfly to a corkboard to put on display.

Before the Change, she found rivals would now just tell her things behind her new identity of the week, their greatest insecurities without months and months of building a fake persona. It was like they wanted her to know, like they wanted her to tell everyone about how little they deserved what they had, and she took full advantage. It was a minor power, but a useful one for her line of work. She’d started going after just regular people before everything started, wrecking them with perfect pieces of information when she found someone who deeply feared being seen. Now her entire domain was dedicated to the practice, a full multimedia center for her to broadcast whatever she wanted.

The statement Jon gave after he walked in followed the format of an online video tutorial script. When Jon told them this was a domain of the Eye, Basira decided to stay behind to listen to the statement. Martin plugged his ears and hummed a song Elias used to complain about them playing in the Archives. When the statement was done Basira stared at him, looking like she smelled something rotten.

“What?”

“I may have nightmares of you saying “remember to like and subscribe” in that tone.”

Jon couldn’t blame her. The instructions to “make sure to peel away the skin so you can expose their heart to the viewer! It’s important to be authentic: well it’s important for them to be authentic. Your job is just to watch ,” was particularly vivid. He was glad he never got into social media with all the mess happening in the Archives if this was even a little what it was like.

The dozens of television monitors and screens around them show a different person’s secrets, twisted into a show. The man who edited his photos to hide his ache scraped of his skin with a rusty razor on one screen. A woman who claimed she lived in luxury was buried by her piles of bills in her crumbling apartment. On a monitor right behind Basira, another man removed each tooth from his mouth by hand. The like counter in the corner shot up with every howl of pain he made.

“Another Eye Avatar?” Martin asked them after Basira gave him a recap of the statement.

“Yes,” Jon said, pulling his gaze from the screens.

“You know, it’s surprising we haven’t run into one before now,” Martin said. “Unless you’ve been keeping us away from them?”

“I haven’t.” That was something worth considering later, Jon thought. Martin was right: it was unusual this was their first one.

“So this domain is what?” Basira asked as they headed down the halls and through a room full of even more televisions. They had to walk slow from the hundreds of cords and wires that littered the floor. “The fear of being exposed?”

“Something like that,” Jon said. “Imposter syndrome too. It doesn’t have to be a real secret to be preyed upon.”

“And the Avatar?”

“In the media room. She shouldn’t be a problem: she’s setting up a new stream,” Jon said, glancing at one of the monitors in the room that had a countdown on it. He didn’t envy the poor soul who was about to grace the captive audience.

Most of the walk through the domain was quiet, nothing but the hum of technology and the noises coming from each screen. It was a small place, just hallways of computer monitors cataloguing fear to a delighted audience. If they hadn’t been interrupted, they wouldn’t have been there for more than an hour relatively speaking.

Later, Jon would suspect Jonah to be behind what followed. Or perhaps the Eye was his blind spot, the one place where he couldn’t quite see. Regardless, he only knew the Avatar was coming right when she appeared at the end of the hallway, phone in one hand, headset around her neck. She was small, smaller than the three of them, with pale skin and a slender build. She looked mostly human. Only two things were off: there was an artificial light to her, almost like that of an edited photo. That and her eyes were a brilliant bright green.

“So you’re the Archivist,” she said. She had an American accent (came over for Uni for a degree in business, able to afford cost of London with her parent’s income, learned secrets were the best weapon for attention by ratting out her step-sister and- focus, Jon, not now ), blonde hair curled up into ringlets and nails sharpened to pointed tips. When she spoke, there was a sneer to it that reminded Jon of his wealthier classmates at Oxford who wanted everyone to know how many zeros graced their bank accounts. “I was expecting someone… older.”

Jon heard the tape recorder in his backpack click on. He could tell Basira and Martin heard it too by the way they stiffened. Something was going to happen here and the Eye wanted to watch.

“We are just passing through,” Jon said. He knew what she wanted now, and he cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner. He should have known an Avatar obsessed with her self importance would take offense to anyone she deemed ‘competition.’ “I’m not here to intrude on your ‘production’ here.”

“Then why walk in like you own the place? She said. “And what’s with the extra luggage?”

“Luggage?” Martin scoffed. “That’s the best you could do, really?”

She ignored him. “I’m just saying, walking in without an introduction is rude. I mean, don’t you know who I am ? You know who everyone is.”

“I know who you are,” Jon said. “And I swear we are just walking through.”

“And if I don’t let you through?” The Avatar took a step closer. Basira pulled out her gun, aiming straight ahead.

“Don’t move.”

The Avatar didn’t look phased. She tilted her head to the side, curious. “Or what you’re going to put my down like your Partner?”

Static grew in Jon’s ears. He turned to Basira. “She’s baiting you.”

“I know that,” Basira snapped, through gritted teeth. The Avatar didn’t move, staring at them with bright green eyes. It wasn’t the same effect as being stared at by Magnus but it was similar, an itch under the skin of being terribly seen.

“Does he know that you thought about shooting him instead for a second?” The Avatar said. “You thought he could be lying, about not being able to bring her back. Maybe killing him would have fixed this. But you picked his word in the end. Sided with the other monster—”

“If you think you can pick me apart, you thought wrong,” Basira’s aim was steady, but Jon could tell she was tense by the grit to her jaw. “I’ve already lost everything. There’s nothing left for you to put on your screen.”

“Jon, I know we’re trying to move away from Kill Bill but we might have to this time,” Martin whispered, his hand on Jon’s shoulder. Jon nodded watching as the Avatar took another step towards them.

“I know.”

A shot rang out as the Avatar took another step in their direction. Jon watched as it passed through the Avatar, the image of the creature only glitching from the attack. Basira shot again and the second bullet was just as ineffective as the first.

“Shit,” Basira said, jumping back. Looking down, Jon saw the cords that lined the hallways twist up and reach for Basira’s ankles, wrapping around one with a tight grip. She yanked her foot loose with another pull but he could see the other wires begin to writhe beneath them like maggots feasting upon a corpse. Some of the cords plugged into monitors disconnected from their respective screens and rose up coiled like snakes. Electric sparks spit from the plugs, more dangerous than any venom.

Jon watched the Avatar take another step, the gaze in her eyes one he’d seen in Elias’ and on his own when he passed reflective surfaces. She was hungry.

Martin and Basira would look like the perfect meal for the Eye.

Jon straightened his shoulder, grabbing his tape recorder which was still recording, focused on the static in his ears and the endless gaze of the eyes above that were watching, always watching. He stared at her, drinking in all the information he could, about where she came from, what she feared, what she had done. The tape recorded whined. “ Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon —”

The Avatar paused mid step. Jon could see some strain to her face as the Eye looked down at her. But unlike the other Avatar’s he’d done this too, the strain looked like an annoyance rather than imbolizing. It didn’t make any sense: she wasn’t stronger than the others he’d faced so far. Then how—

Then he Knew. This Avatar was of the Eye, Jon destroyed the rest by using the power of the Eye against them but in this space that power was hers as well. How could you destroy someone with the power of Knowing when they were already known?

“Jon? What’s wrong?” Martin asked. The Avatar’s smile grew wide, all teeth as she stared at Basira. Basira who was not entirely steady with how her hands shook.

“Run,” Jon said, grabbing both of their hands and taking down a hallway at the same moment the Avatar ran at them at full speed.

It was a short chase. The many cables made navigation difficult when walking, let alone running. As the Avatar passed a monitor, she stuck her hand in it, pulling out a large piece of glass with a very sharp end. Perfect, Jon thought, for gouging out his eyes.

“See that guy: I heard even his mother didn’t like him. I mean, how shitty of a person to you have to be for that to happen? You know there has to be a reason behind it, right?” The Avatar’s voice was different then earlier, an airy sort of tone to her voice was layered with false concern.The monitors chimed in unison, showing a picture of a woman who had Martin’s eyes but none of the warmth of his expression. Comments with wild speculation ( he’s a liar, no he’s a fraud did you see his CV, no it’s because he’s petty about the smallest things it’s so annoying, or maybe he’s just stupid he never even finished university, I can’t believe he put his own mother in a home and barely visited how heartless-) popped up beneath it, blocking the image except for the woman’s empty eyes. “I could never do something like that to my Mom.”

Chirping noises of notifications and comments rang from the monitors covering the walls, high and shrill as more responses rang in. The noise consumed the hallway, painful in volume and pitch. Jon looked to Martin who was keeping his gaze away from the screens and focusing on the floor.

“And her-” The Avatar continued. “I feel so bad for people who have to work with her, it has to be so hard. I mean, she just strikes me as so self righteous. Look at me, I’m the law, I know best for the whole world. I mean, maybe she’s just trying to help, but like, she’s also such a hypocrite, you feel me? I mean, did you see what she said back there? If that’s how she greets her allies, I’d hate to be her enemy.”

The monitors changed again to that of Basira, pointing her gun at Jon in the forest as another loud shriek of chimes came from the monitors. Another round of comments appeared (she was just in it for the power anyone can see that, no loyalty whatsoever too did you hear what happened to her partner, I bet she’ll find someone new to blame next time she always does nothing can ever be her fault) . Basira turned around and fired another shot, this one going through the Avatar and hitting one of the monitors behind her.

“Keep running, a left and a right and we’ll hit the exit-” Jon said. He lagged behind the other two; his running abilities still the worst of the three. All seeing Eye powers did not provide sudden physical fitness. That wouldn’t matter once they were out. Outside her domain, she wouldn’t have the advantage. They were so close.

"Hello Jon.”

That voice from the monitors, in just the right intonation and tone that Jon heard from his own mouth on the worst day of his life, caused him to misstep. He tripped over a bundle of cords, falling down with a loud thunk. They wrapped around his legs as he fell, securing him to the floor.

“Jon!” He heard Martin shout from ahead of him. He began to struggle to his feat but before he could, the other Avatar was upon him, the glass shard held high right above his face.

“What makes you the king of this new world?” the Avatar growled, her image flickering like that of a hologram, each pixel looking to be made up of a different colored eye. The concerned tone she had from earlier was gone, envy dripping from every syllable. “You don’t even want the power. It’s wasted on you!” She stabbed down and Jon barely dodged the attack by craning his neck to the left. A cord came up from the ground and wrapped around Jons’ neck, not tight enough to choke him but tight enough to hold him still.

“You weren’t qualified for the job you had, you never were and now we’re supposed to lay our hands off because you were the key to the door? That’s all you are: a shitty old key. A piece of metal! He made you that way, made sure every scar and mark was another notch in your useless body to force open a door. Why do you get to be in charge when all you do is open people up to their own nightmares?”

The fog consumed the hallway before she could finish her sentence. A small wave rushed in across the tiled floor under Jon’s hands, replacing the endless path of wires and cords. The taste of sea salt coated his tongue, and when he waved his hand in front of him, the Avatar was gone. All that remained was mist and empty space.

Jon’s stomach dropped and the chill that entered his body wasn’t just from the cold. He stumbled to his feet and looked around. All he could see was Basira, running towards him in a full sprint.

“Jon, are you hurt?” She reached out as if to inspect his neck but he turned away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Basira, have you seen Martin?”

She shook her head. “No. Last I saw he was running at you. What happened?”

“I think Martin did.”

Basira frowned. “He’s still tied to it.”

“He always will be. That’s how it works: the trauma doesn’t just leave you. It just gets quieter.”

“This isn’t quiet, Jon.”

“No, it’s not. Can you see enough to not get lost here?”

She nodded. Jon turned to head into the fog.

“I’m going to find Martin.”

He didn’t stay long enough to hear her reply.

______________________________________________________________________

It took around five minutes of searching to find another figure in the Lonely. He could see them just barely at first, a lone person curled up on their side in the endless mists, but as he gets closer he can make out a better shape.

The figure in the shallows isn’t Martin. It’s the eye Avatar. Her makeup is gone, washed off her face from the waves and she sits curled into a ball expression blank. Around her the fog curls up into figures of people Jon has never met, staring down at her with a blank expression. With each roll of the tide she fades more and more.

“This is my apology video,” the Avatar said, voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m not actually sorry, no one is when they make these, but this is what people want me to be sorry for so I have to pretend to be. That’s all my life is, pretending. It’s probably the thing I’m best at.”

Jon tried to take a step away but he found himself frozen. This statement was different from her first one and the Eye wanted to drink it in.

“I don’t know who my real father is: Mom always told me it was a famous celebrity or something but I’m pretty sure that’s a lie. She’s the one who taught me how to lie; she was the best at it. Before she married my Step-Dad, she talked so much about how she always wanted to be a step-mother and how happy she was that I’d have a sister. I knew she was lying; she never wanted me, and she didn’t want Odessa. But she wanted my Step-Dad and that’s what mattered—”

Jon watched as she continued to speak, the fog around her shifting and forming into rooms and people she once knew. He listened as she talked about how lonely she was in the big house they moved into, how her stepsister helped but never replaced that void of parental attention she craved. She talked about how when she was ten she realized confessing to her mother how Odessa broke a treasured vase made her mother shower her in praise for being a good for, how joyed her mother was to tell her stepfather how much his daughter was a liar. Her voice began to echo as she recalled how she began to tell her stepmother every secret Odessa trusted her with for those scraps of praise, how it made her feel terrible but not as much as it made her feel adored. How when her stepsister found out and stopped talking to her, she was forced to read her diary for scraps of intel.

“Mom convinced my step-dad to send her to a boarding school for troubled kids when we were fifteen.” the woman who was once Irene Hatchette said as her story wound to a close. “And then I had no secrets left to steal. So I watched the housekeepers and my classmates and my teachers and then my competition because nothing was worse than being ignored. And now everyone can see me on their screen except they don’t see me at all, not really. That’s fitting I guess. I can see everything but no one can see me. Isn’t that funny, guys? I think it’s funny.”

Another wave washed over the ground and the Avatar vanished leaving nothing but an imprint of her silhouette in the sand behind her. That would soon be gone with every wave that passes. No record that she ever existed would remain.

“God,” Jon said. Statements of Avatars always got to him. They were always the strangest mix of evil and pathetic.

It scared him to think that his would likely be the same.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that thought. Instead he looked around, really looked, and Martin was there, only a few meters away looking down at the space the Eye Avatar once occupied with a blank expression. The fog swirled around his feet like a cat, cozy and content, not feeding at him but waiting at his beck and call. It made Jon’s stomach turn.

“Martin.”

Martin looked up. His eyes were a glassy white blue, the color of sea foam. Jon was beginning to hate that color. “Jon.”

Jon walked towards him stopping right in front of Martin. He reached out for him on reflex and then pulled his hands back as one passed through Martin’s side. “Time to stop this. She’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?” Martin’s voice had an edge to it that told Jon that he knew exactly what Jon was talking about. Like he was making a wry joke. Martin had always been petty and snarky but in the Lonely those twisted again in the mists to make him cruel.

“... fair enough. But time to let the Lonely go. This isn’t—”

Jon cut off. This isn’t you, that was what he wanted to say. But that wasn’t quite true. Martin had such an affinity to the Lonely because it was a part of him, just like Jon’s thirst for knowledge had always made him a part of the Eye. Martin would always find himself feeling alone in a crowd, Martin would always have a bitter edge that came with years of cold air for comfort. To deny that would be wrong.

But Martin’s loneliness had also encouraged his depth of empathy, his unwavering compassion and his helping nature. It was the reason he reached out to others who looked lost, and the reason he brought a fresh cup of tea to his grumpy boss each morning because he always seemed so isolated. Martin would always be tied to the Lonely, yes, but it didn’t have to be who he was.

Jon reached up a hand to cup Martin’s face. He was cold to the touch, eyes the same pale empty blue that reminded Jon far too much of Peter.

“This isn’t who you have to be,” Jon said, swiping his thumb across Martin’s cheek. Then, stronger. “This isn’t who you want to be.”

For a moment, nothing changed. The fog lingered, swirling at their waists and there was no sound but the rush of an empty ocean and a ticking clock. Then Martin closed his eyes and the fog receded, blown away by a gust of wind. The ocean smell faded, the sound of the ticking clock was replaced by the hum of multiple monitors.

When Martin opened his eyes in the monitor filled hallway, they were brown once more.

______________________________________________________________________

They fled the domain quickly after that, spending little time after finding Basira to escape. When they made it outside, they all stopped to catch their breath, a wheeze coming from Jon who was still no good at running.

“Are you alright, Basira?” Jon said between gasping breaths.

“I’m fine. What the fuck was that?“ Basira gestured to Martin. Fog still clung to his ankles and he exhaled more every breath. While now solid, the edges of him blurred like a mirage. He was glaring at Basira, that cold edge to him still apparent in his expression.

“Me, saving our skins.”

“By summoning the Lonely?”

“It was the best idea I had. She was hurting Jon! Not that you’d care about that.”

“That’s not—” Basira cut off shaking her head. “Since when could you do that anyway?”

“Basira—” Jon started but was soon cut off by Martin.

“I don’t know, I’d never tried it before!”

“Martin—” Jon didn’t get to say anything more than that before Basira responded.

“Do you even know how it works? What if it just consumed you instead? Or Jon?”

All hopes Jon had for this conversation ending civilly died with that question.

“I would never hurt Jon. Not like you planned to. We all heard what it said back there.” Martin almost growled. When he spoke next, his voice echoed. “Why are you looking at me like that, Basira? Thinking you put down the wrong monster again?”

“Enough!” Jon’s shout was enough for Basira and Martin to both take a large step backwards. “Martin that was uncalled for—” Jon kept talking as Martin began to argue. “And Basira, I’d appreciate it if your first reaction to Martin saving our lives wasn’t outright suspicion. We’re all tense with what happened. We need to cool off.”

Basira turned away first, walking towards the street where some burned out cars were. Martin watched as she went and ran his hand down his face.

“Shit,” he said, the echo in his voice still present but not quite as obvious. “You should probably go talk to her. I’ll go sit over there and check our supplies.”

Jon grabbed his wrist as he began to walk away. Thankfully despite the blurring edges to Martin’s form, he was still solid enough to touch. “Do you need me to come with you?”

Martin shook his head. “No. I just need a bit of time to… think.” His eyes were still brown, and Jon felt his pressing concern fade. “I’ll keep in sight just in case. Deal with Basira first. I don’t want her splitting off again: it’s too dangerous. Even if I’m pissed with her.”

“Okay,” Jon said before pressing a kiss to Martin’s cheek, just to feel the cold skin warm a degree. He was worried, but he also trusted him. With that, he let go of Martin’s wrist and walked over towards Basira who was glaring at what was once a car.

“What Martin said was uncalled for.”

Basira nodded. “It was.” She brushed some dirt off her pants before turning to look at Jon. “But I get why he’s pissed. Given what she said back there.”

Right, that. Jon hadn’t forgotten what the Avatar said about Basira’s opinion on him. “So it’s true then?”

“Don’t you know that already?”

“I told you I wasn’t looking,” Jon said, irritation bubbling over. He’d assumed as much, he wasn’t oblivious, but he’d never looked to know for sure. Having it confirmed wasn’t a surprise but hearing that Basira assumed he was looking stung more than he cared to admit. He couldn’t do this right now, he thought, and turned on his heel to go after Martin.

“Wait, no, Jon—shit this is not how I wanted this to go.“

Jon stopped at the tone in her voice: still stern but not hostile. Instead he waited, still staring back at the empty building where they came from. Did Basira look at him and just see a monster just like the Avatar they had escaped from? A man obsessed with information that he could wield like a knife and rip people open?

Did Basira see him and just see another Elias?

“You don’t talk about yourself much,” Basira said.

“Neither do you.”

“No, I don’t.” Basira was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. “What that woman said—about you being a key to a door—true?”

Jon clenched his bad hand, thumb brushing over the burn scar there. A key notch, that was what the Avatar compared it to. He hated how right the comparison felt. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried,” Jon snapped, curt. “You didn’t listen.”

He was surprised by how angry he sounded. He thought he was used to this by now, resigned to not being listened to. Basira wasn’t the only one who did it: she was just another person in a long line who decided Jon was better worth blaming than hearing out. And to be fair, she had plenty of reason to, after some of the things he did. She had more reason than most.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“I’m listening now,” Basira said, her voice sure and steady. Jon took a deep breath through his nose, burying down the anger under layers of guilt that left it at bay. He turned to look at her. She hadn’t moved any closer or farther away. Her hands were at her sides, open palms facing her knees.

“And why is that?” Jon’s voice was quiet. Basira was silent for a few moments and when she spoke next, it was with a hesitance Jon rarely heard from her.

“You said with… Daisy… it was the first time Jon heard her say Daisy’s name since everything happened. A pang of grief and hurt washed through him as he remembered two versions of the same woman: the one who held a knife to his throat with hungry eyes and the one who sat with him in his old office and taught him exercises to stop the phantom pain in his bad hand.

He missed the friend he had and he feared the monster who hunted him. Neither canceled out the other.

“You said that I couldn’t hunt a monster I refused to see.” Basira said, drawing him out of the memory. “I think the same might apply in reverse.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t find a human when I’m determined to see a monster. So I’m listening. If you want to give it a try.”

She looked sincere. Part of Jon was afraid this would go like it always did, that he would finish this story to be told he only had himself to blame. Yet, the opportunity of a different ending is enough of a temptation to give it a try. So he does.

He explained Elias’ plan and how he fit into it, the ways he was kept in the dark, the marks he needed to have the perfect notches for the door Elias wanted to open. When she asked about the marks he goes over each, some quicker than the others, sparing the least amount of time for the boy and the book. It wasn’t like a statement, he didn't linger in the emotion of it, but it bleed through in his tone when he wasn’t careful. The whole explanation couldn’t have taken more than 15 minutes but it felt like hours.

When he finished his story, Basira spoke first.

“So you were 8 then? When it started?”

Jon’s voice was not steady when he answered.“If you consider the first mark the start then yes.” For a second he could feel the smooth paper of the book under his hands, and the gasp of breath as he ran away from the house that would haunt his memories well into adulthood. All of his past traumas are like that now, as an archive he feels each memory as vividly as it first occurred, but the Web remains the worst one to revisit.

“Daisy was 11,” Basira said.

“What?”

“She didn’t talk about it much,” Basira continued. “I don’t know the details, just that she was young.”

Jon instantly Knew without trying. He saw the creature on the top of the stairs, he felt the fence dig into his back and leave a scar there that will become Daisy’s nickname, he tasted the fear she felt seeing every new report of Calvin’s escalating violence. All the trauma flooded his head in a matter of seconds.

“Oh,” Jon said, when it was over. “I didn’t know.”

“She didn’t like to talk about it,” Basira shrugged. “I assume she didn’t know about you and the Web either.”

“No. I—”Jon’s mouth felt oddly dry. “I...I hadn’t told anyone until a few months ago. Unless you count the tapes.”

Jon didn’t count the tapes. They listened but they never responded, an impassive audience. Not like Martin who upon finding Jon frozen in front of a spider web outside their cabin, pulled him gently inside, made him a cup of tea just warm enough to drink without burning him and said “It’s not your fault what happened. I promise, it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t hate you, Jonathan Sims,” Barisa said. Jon turned his gaze down to his shoes. The blood on his pant leg from Daisy’s attack makes his stomach twist.

“You should.” He thought about the Avatar back in the building, how she’d peeled open his biggest regrets and laid them out for display. How pathetic he was, to have ruined everything so badly.

Basira took a step closer, still far enough away to give Jon space but close enough that Jon could see the mud and tar caking her shoes.

“I think I’m the one who gets to decide that,.” she said. “I am angry; Ithink I might always be. You dragged me into your mess and you’ve hurt innocent people. That doesn’t just go away.” She took another step forward, close enough to reach out if she wanted. “But it doesn’t make you a monster either.”

“What does it make me then?”

“What I wish Daisy got a chance to be; someone who decided to make a different choice before it was too late.”

“Who says it isn’t too late for me?” Jon looked up at Basira. She raised her hand up over Jon’s shoulder but didn’t touch, waiting for a sign the gesture was welcome. Jon gave a slight nod, and she held his shoulder gently and gave it a light squeeze.

“It might be. But I’d like to think you’re the one who gets to decide that.” She removed her grip from Jon’s shoulder and took a step back, giving him space once more. “You should probably talk to Martin: I doubt either of us is feeling friendly right now.”

“I’m sorry for what he said,” Jon said.

“You still apologize too much,” Basira said and a small hint of a smile passed her face. “I’m going to do a weapons check. I’ll join you after.”

Jon watched as she got down on her knees and began to open her pack. In another life, he thought, they could have been friends, joined by their mutual love of books and mysteries. He didn’t think that was a possibility now, after everything that happened. This world was not conducive for new friendships.

After this conversation, however, maybe they might find something close to it. Not quite friendship, but understanding at least.

With that thought in mind, Jon went to follow Martin.

______________________________________________________________________

He found Martin sitting on the ground next to a half-rusted bike and a few empty plastic bottles. He looked less faint around the edges, more solid than when they left, but when Jon got closer he could feel the chill that still wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Martin,” Jon said, sitting down next to him. Martin’s gaze was fixed on his shoes but when he spoke there was no echo to his voice. That was good.

“Jon. How’s Basira?”

“Pissed at you but otherwise better than expected. We had a talk.”

The chill intensified, just a fraction. Jon Restrained the urge to shiver. “What kind of talk?”

“The good kind. I think we’ve reached an understanding, if that makes any sense.”

Martin nodded and the chill went back to how it was when Jon first arrived: enough to be noticed but not enough to demand a jacket. They were silent for a while, Jon making sure he was close enough that their arms were touching. Just enough to provide a weight of presence.

“I’m sorry. About Kill Bill.”

“What?”

Martin still didn’t look at him, twisting his fingers together. He did that when he was nervous, one of the gestures Jon could now read without any supernatural knowhow. Normally he would reach out and with slow movements, drag one of those hands free for a kiss. Martin looked too upset for Jon to try it now.

“For trying to encourage you to go all avenging angel. Back when we first left the cabin and all. I’m sorry.”

Jon was rarely shocked by anything these days, but this threw him off guard. He thought they covered this a long time ago. “Martin you don’t—”

“No, no, I—” Martin breathed in deep and Jon was elated that he couldn’t see the other man’s breath. Back when Martin first escaped the Lonely, a winter fog followed every inhale for at least a few days. It made it hard for Jon to take his eyes off him, so scared he was that he might disappear. “Back then, I thought it would be good to get rid of them—”

“I know—”

“Let me finish.” Martin untangled his fingers to hold up his pointer finger. Jon stopped speaking at the gesture. “I thought it was good to get rid of them, that we could maybe help people or something.” His shoulders slumped, and Jon could read shame in the slant to them. “But I also thought it would feel good, for the both of us. To not be chased around for once by things we can’t stop, to finally turn the tables on the things giving us nightmares for years. Let them know what it’s like. And when I wasn’t the one doing it, it kind of was. Not entirely, but just enough to feel right.” He kicked one of the empty plastic water bottles forward. “But back there… When I did it myself, I just felt—”

He finally looked up at Jon and Jon’s heart twisted to see the stricken expression on his face. “I just felt terrible Jon. That woman was objectively evil: she used people’s darkest secrets against them for clicks on the internet and her own amusement. The fact that her childhood was shitty doesn’t change that. But when I was there making her feel just as lonely and isolated as she deserved to be, all I could think about was how I sounded exactly like… exactly like… him.”

Jon didn’t have to ask who Martin was talking about. Instead he reached forward and placed his hand in Martin’s squeezing tight. A reminder that Jon was there, that Jon was listening, that Martin was not alone, not anymore.

Martin kept talking, squeezing Jon’s hand back, “I’m not saying we’re the same: Peter threw people in the Lonely for tribute and I only did it to save you. Our reasoning was entirely different even if the end result was the same. I’m not Peter Lukas because of that.” He said that with more confidence, the tremor from earlier gone. “But I think doing that, while it doesn’t make me more like him, it doesn’t make me better either. It makes me—”

“Feel worse?’

Martin leaned against Jon, resting his head on Jon’s shoulder. It was awkward with how much taller Martin was, but not unpleasant. “Yeah. So I’m sorry, for not getting it.”

Jon thought back to the power he had with Jude and with Jared. How the rush of finally being in control would fade to a rush of shame. “It’s hard to understand.”

“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have tried sooner.”

“You’re not like Peter, you know,” Jon said. “Not even close. Not now, not then.”

“Thank you.”

They sat there for a few moments, quiet in each other’s company. Martin still ran cold, but he warmed up with the contact. Jon listened to his heartbeat, the reminder the Martin was still alive, that he still had a heart, that he hadn’t lost him to death or the Lonely’s endless waves. Jon was not a lucky man but for as long as he lived, he would be thankful he had just enough luck to have this, even if just for a little while.

“So you’re not going to cast Elias into the Lonely then?” Jon asked after a period of quiet. Martin shrugged, the gesture causing his hair to brush against Jon’s chin.

“I don’t even know if it would work; I think he’s too self absorbed to be lonely properly.. If your thing doesn’t work and I have no other choice I’ll give it a go, but otherwise I’m thinking the traditional route might be best.”

“Oh?”

“I have two hands and the institute probably has some loose pipes in it still. I was thinking I could take a page from his book.”

Jon snorted. His worries about his powers not working on Elias faded to the back of his mind, a matter of concern he could examine later. There would be time to think about the implications of what happened with the Eye Avatar. For now, some banter would suffice.

“How’s your swing?”

“Not bad but I’ll make sure to practice on the way there. I can see how I do against some stop signs.”

“The domain of traffic laws won’t see you coming.”

They both laughed, quiet but strong. When Basira came over to join them, Martin stiffened but with a look from Jon he kept his mouth shut. Knowing the pair of them, Jon thought, they would respectively apologize to the other soon enough. All it would take was some time.

He wasn’t sure how much time they had left, with Elias waiting for them at the end of it. The Eye could only tell him so much and it had no intention to tell him how this would all end. If the world could be saved, if they could survive this ordeal would remain unknown until it happened, leaving Jon to marinate in the fear of what could be.

For now, Jon was content to stay in the dark, the man he loved humming an old song with his head on his shoulder and Basira quietly watching them with something that was close to fondness. The man who understood him best and the woman who was making an effort to try. It wasn’t the worst moment to be in, at the end of the world.

It was something almost like peace.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #sometimes you forgot to make the tumblr version it happens my dudes #welcome to the plot is just a train for character development and we're gonna ride it #tma 179

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kob131 · 4 years ago

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https://sssn-neptune-vasilias.tumblr.com/post/620377137095049216/blakes-honestly-just-a-bad-mouthpiece-for-this

https://sssn-neptune-vasilias.tumblr.com/post/620375255340466176/blake-belladonna-as-shes-been-written-in-the

Remember when I said that RWBY tends to get bitched out by people for basically not adhering to their political views?

Well, who’d like to see some examples?

Blake’s honestly just a bad mouthpiece for this story. She’s a bad vehicle for this entire subplot. She wrapped up her ears for a whole year, knowing that she didn’t want to deal with the consequences of being a Faunus in a human academy. She didn’t want the dirty looks, or the racism, the anger, the resentment, so, like Ilia did initially, she hid. She hid and let Velvet and Sun be victims of racism, because arguing that someone else doesn’t deserve to be called dirty names was easier than arguing about herself. But Blake doesn’t get to come down from her ivory tower, and her giant mega-mansion on an island where “space is a commodity” and tell people who’ve been orphaned from Dust Mine collapses, who’ve had friends and families lynched by angry mobs, who’ve actually experienced the worst that racism has to offer, that their anger is wrong. She doesn’t get to use her privilege to silence those who don’t have any. And I refuse to listen to her for as long as she tries to. Someone who shucks and jives and apologizes to some drunk racist asshole spew his hate and lets a Schnee- another daughter of privilege- stand up for her, is someone who’s story I’ve heard too many times, who I’m too tired to listen to. Where’s my Sienna book, because as far as I’m concerned she’s the only one who ever actually stood for something

... So?

So what Blake hide her ears? No rational person wouldn’t try to hide something that they think would land them in serious trouble? Not to mention it has nothing to do with what Blake fights for (equality for her people.)

She never ‘let’ anyone be victims of racism. She was openly hostile to Cardin and went out of her way to humiliate him. She fought with Weiss because of her racism towards Sun. Nobody got away with it. Unless you mean ‘Blake should have physically assaulted these people’ in which case: that’s illegal for good reason, Cardin could just use it to get Blake in trouble, it would have REINFORCED Weiss’ racism and Velvet and Sun are their own people, who can decide to confront them or not. Just because you’re a violent idiot doesn’t make it right or smart.

And guess what? Not only did Blake never actually say their anger was wrong, their ACTIONS were. (You know, like mass destruction).

Not only does Blake NOT have more privilage than these people (her family being well off doesn’t matter here).

This was Martin Luther King Jr.’s birth home. ... Pretty fucking good, especially for his time huh?

You don’t refuse to listen to Blake because of ‘privilege’: You refuse to listen because you’re a violent idiot, thinking that ignoring some random drunk guy being racist is bad even though he’s fucking drunk and random, why the hell would Blake CARE about him? Reminder that Blake WAS NOT HAPPY that Weiss did that.

Blake was being the bigger person: something you, a real person, failed to be.

P.S. Funny you don’t mention Adam here. What’s wrong, did you figure out Sienna basically MADE Adam?

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Blake Belladonna, as she’s been written in the series so far, would see what’s going on in America right now, and would leave her gated community to perform a citizen’s arrest on some rioters who were looting an insured Target to show that “we need to hold each other accountable before we can expect the police to stop murdering us in the streets” and that’s exactly the problem with this show right now. The entire racism subplot of this show focuses so heavily on weeding out the “few bad apples” from the White Fang to ensure that it remains completely peaceful to the point of impotency, but refuses to show- let alone prosecute- the racism and racists that TWF were rallying against in the first place.

“Peaceful to the point of impotency-”

You know SSSN, I know you’re conflating “Peaceful” to “Impotent”. I don’t know why you think trying to avoid that is helping anything.

And yes, you should be doing that. You should’ve been rooting out the bad dapples in your fucking movement. Because otherwise you get shit like this, where people of all races are flipping the rioters the bird (including other black people) because they hate the violence and destruction. To say nothing of how white supremacist rhetoric was all but DEAD before this shit started years ago and is now rising up. Almost like being a violent jackass to everyone creates wounded people racist prey upon.

P.S. I guess Jacques Schnee doesn’t exist since apparent there’s no racism. Funny, I swore I could have remembered him being in about 80% of the last Volume.

RoosterTeeth has been targeted for a LOT of issues the past couple of weeks, and have come out and actively apologized for their tonedeafness and their inaction and their compliance. But if RT really wants me to believe that they’re trying to change- besides standing up for their black employees first and foremost- they NEED to take a closer look at this show and realize that the message they’ve been sending isn’t a good one. It’s the message of people who see any disruption of “peace” as more egregious than the racism that’s gotten more people killed than the rioting or looting ever could.

Yeah, I don’t know what happened there so I don’t care.

And that wasn’t the message. Disruptions of peace that didn’t involve harming the innocents was shown as good and progressive. It was the massive amount of violence that was shown to be the problem. It was made pretty fucking clear, they’re not masters of subtly here. You’re just violent.

I was willing to come on this journey while Blake was leaving the White Fang behind because she couldn’t agree with their methods.

Proof.

I was hurt when the show kept using TWF as base level grunts for nearly every major altercation that we’d seen up to season 3.

If I said “I’m hurt when they portrayed all the humans in this conflict as racists with no redeeming qualities”- Guess what you’re reaction would be? because I’m pretty sure it’d be what I’m thinking here.

I still hugely disagree with the “reveal” of Adam’s character, and I’m still extremely upset that they would choose to write someone like Adam as not only a high ranking lieutenant, but then the LEADER of the White Fang with nearly ZERO dissent from the rest of the group.

*points to the riots* Is it really that hard to believe?

Murdering Sienna Khan before she’d even gotten to explain her stance on violence was a godawful choice.

SHE DID.

Sienna: I was one of the first to suggest violence where violence was necessary. Peace bred complacency and acceptance of our place in the world. I will not allow humanity to push us down without pushing them back. But the destruction of the Huntsman Academies crosses a line! The loss of the CCT has brought global communication to a crawl! And the White Fang is more of a target now than ever before! You have justified humanity's campaign against us, and for what?! Empty promises from a group of humans? Humans we still know nothing about, and come and go as they please! These are not examples of strength, Adam. They are examples of your talents being diminished by shortsightedness!

Finding out just how privileged Blake actually is due to her family’s status was my final nail in the coffin for Blake’s roll as a mouthpiece in this story.

It’s almost like standing against racism has nothing to do with privilege, it has to do with making things better for other people and empathy.

Blake’s conversion of Ilia to her “peaceful to the point of impotence” stance on this issue despite Ilia’s very real and valid reasoning for being THROUGH with peaceful protesting was TIRING.

That being she thought there was no other way even though it doesn’t seem like it was active for very long.

Having characters like Marrow and Sun and Neon and Velvet and all the other Faunus we’ve seen thus far who aren’t a part of TWF be completely silent or dismissive of the issues they’re facing- as if they couldn’t give half a shit, as if it was all happening to other people so standing up for their community isn’t a top priority- is really getting tired.

Because it was. They're not a collective, they’re individual people with their own lives and shit to deal with.

And Sun wasn’t dismissive: he was hostile towards the White Fang. Probably because they were violent and cult-like.

We’ve had more “racism” aimed at Penny for being a robot than we’ve had aimed at all of our Faunus characters since this show started

Number of times penny has been discriminated: ... Uh... Zero.

It’s officialy: SSSN doesn’t watch the show.

And if RT really wants me to believe they’re trying to change, they need to look at these issues and decide where on the side of history they want their story to end up; because right now, it’s on the same side as the people who just wanted MLK to stop marching because he was “upsetting the peace.”

As opposed to you, who would call his movement ‘impotent’ and become a walking example for the KKK to use to make black people look like thugs?

This shit is why I hate you: you only defend Sienna because she’s the closest to your position, never realizing how close Sienna and Adam really were. Reminder that Adam became the way he was because SIENNA USED HIM to push her methods, YOUR methods, forward. Adam becoming a racial supremacist and radicalizing the orgnazation towards endless violence? That happened in the real world, with it becoming a belief that everything in US is racist, causing people to lash out, making the government stop them and using that as proof that the US is racist.

Instead of becoming better people, both the fictional White Fang and the real life movements became walking cesspools.

And before you try calling racism: One look through my blog shows I’m against the police in this issue and I recently tried talking down one of my friends who tried to imply white people have it worse. Face facts: you’re an entitled brat, thinking that reform should be immediate despite how unrealistic and dangerous that is and you think your media is owed to be on your side.

Grow the fuck up.

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lenixsocial · 5 years ago

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👇🏻Here’s why DWTS doesn’t work anymore 👇🏻

First off, let me begin by saying I am by no means an expert. I am just a fan of the show and have been watching it (and reviewing it) with my wife @entireoranges on our podcast @3pn-official for the past ten seasons (excluding the abbreviated Atheletes season). So I feel I have at least a decent feel for the show.

Sure there have been some shock eliminations and you might even argue those eliminations are rigged or planned in some fashion (hey, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch). But it’s just one issue in a steady, long list of grievances I feel I personally need to air out about why I feel this show no longer works as it once did.

1. Family Dynamic - the show used to have this in excess. No matter your feelings on who the contestants were or what their station in life was the dynamic of deep friendship and family permeated the show. Cute little interludes were filmed, a lot more of the rehearsals were included as an edited package to show the growth the couples had together. The banter between the hosts and the judges and the hosts and the talent didn’t seem forced and awkward. It had a real family/friends vibe going. The new edits and the new packages have essentially ruined that dynamic. On top of another grievance which comes next.

2. Shocking or Salacious “Stars” - When you have a show that includes such people as Geraldo Rivera and Rick Perry you might be tempted to go and get Sean Spicer. The major issue here is that while the other two I just mentioned are problematic; both are low-end on the spectrum and aren’t as visible per say as Sean. He wasn’t just another toadie he was the mouthpiece for a corrupt leader and he lied to the people daily. He was the virtual face of that administration. That makes him a touchstone. People who support his ex-boss will flock to him and vote no matter what. Bad dance? Who cares...gotta win at all costs. People who don’t support his ex-boss feel the show is now a farce and can’t be trusted because his fans (actually supporters of his ex-boss) will vote for him regardless of how well he dances. On top of that there’s the whole morality angle to contend with. On top of this his ex-boss took the opportunity to direct his supporters (many of whom are likely bot farms) to vote for Sean. That’s right...a world leader has instructed people to vote for Sean. I’ll let that stew in your mind for a second and go on to number three.

3. Removal of Fan Favorite Cast Members - Sharna, Keo, and Artem are like family. They’re fixtures. Sure others have left (and technically Keo is still hanging around) but the way in which Artem was publicly wronged and the whole bad vibes in the Sharna situation just doesn’t sit will with fans. They are all entertaining in their own ways and the public like seeing them. A lot of people were probably turned off on them not being around. I know I was.

4. Cheapening Productions - The bombastic overblown numbers with smoke and props may have upset Len Goodman to no end but the return to technical prowess as the lead point of DWTS is well...boring. I don’t know if the other versions of DWTS in other countries are more technical and that’s where they got the idea for this ridiculous change but the American sentiment has traditionally been “wow me with things”. The spectacle is part of the show. Yes, prior to me watching the show it was more like it is presently but so many fans hopped on board in the past ten to twelve seasons and watched the show blossom. It became a production heavy show. To just rip it off like a bandage? That’s harsh.

5. Expectations of Stars - You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You can’t one moment claim it’s a dance competition and go hardcore on that to no end and say it’s terrible, and give reasons why it is sooo bad and carry on and on then smile and give the contestant a 7 when they deserved a 3. The joke has always been the show rates on a scale of 6-10. You rarely see any number below a 6. No matter how awful the critique the judges might give. There it is again...a score of seven. If this is a dance competition, then treat it like one. Score them based on your comments. Don’t give a four rated dance a seven. Part of the scores on who goes home supposedly is the judges and they blame the voters when they judge straight 7’s. If they’re bad give them lower scores!

6. Bring Back Mandy Moore - I cannot stress this enough. The new intro dances and interstitial dances are weak. They look unbalanced, and admittedly out of synch. This leads me to two more things...

7. Music - Stop picking music that doesn’t match the dance style. It’s got so much worse this season. It’s hard to dance a samba to a song that doesn’t have a rhythm that’s even remotely like a samba. In the past they at least attempted to make the song sound like the kind of music you’d use to dance to whatever dance was being performed.

8. Camera Operators - I mean are they drunk? It seems like this season they hired a bunch of interns to operate the cameras and then numbed their hands with a healthy dose of Novocain before they shoved them out into the studio.

9. Voting - The new voting effectively eliminates the west coast (for those of you in conspiracy theory mode there’s a lot of liberals on the west coast and without them voting Sean gets more votes). In reality I highly doubt it really makes much of a difference at all. I’m pretty sure some feel the show is rigged and always has been. Most reality tv is. Voting is just a way to make the public feel involved and little else. But I always at least felt the voting was fair and I’m just not getting that vibe anymore. The show needs to upend the voting to where the eliminations are done on a different night or the following week. Or not at all. Maybe just let the judges judge for a season. The instant delivery seems really rushed and well...disingenuous. I’m supposed to just trust their results tabulated that fast when I know what went down with Val and Zendaya? Yeah...still feeling that one!

10. Heart - It’s sorely lacking. The show seems concerned with ratings and not the people. Len is much harsher than he needs to be. The audience is louder than they need to be. The complete lack of care in the emotional stability of the stars is abhorrent. I lost my mother when I was 18. She died of Cancer. I feel Lauren Alaina’s pain. Her stepfather died and she loved him dearly. I’ve been there. I know how emotionally compromising it is to lose someone you are close to and love to have them wrenched from the picture like that and the feeling of watching them slowly die in front of you and knowing that there’s nothing you could’ve done to save them. So carrying that around is hard enough. Performing is even harder (in my case I performed a song at my mothers funeral on guitar). I bawled after it. I was a mess. That was only a week after she died. It doesn’t go away. You may look alright but you aren’t. You feel that. She danced in front of millions on TV. And she went to the security of her mother’s arms immediately afterwards. The show could’ve just glossed over that and gone to break or shot up to Erin in the lounge or whatever but no...we got Gleb awkwardly trying to wrench her away from her mother to hear the judges reactions for a few moments then her standing there wholly unable to speak without crying exposed and in the spotlight. Then she began hyperventilating and couldn’t breathe and still they had her standing there. No chair offered, no rushing her off stage to get help. Made to stand. Mercifully Tom Bergeron is a decent human being and gave her tissues and a little comfort but even I saw him basically disobeying the orders from the booth in his ear when he went to commercial for her sake. It was awkward, greedy, and well...disgusting to watch. I got an instant feeling of revulsion which stands to this very moment. That alone should have made me stop watching but I realize it’s all about money anyway. But even so...have a little fucking heart, DWTS. Jeez!

All of this being said I know there will be some who get all “well if you don’t like it then don’t watch it” and yeah, that’s a fair assessment. But I do like it. I just want it to get better so ABC doesn’t cancel it and from what I’m hearing fans aren’t impressed with the changes that have been made.

I have enjoyed this show now for ten seasons and there have been some absolutely stellar moments and there have been some missteps but this season thus far is a complete train wreck. I’ll continue watching it but I really hope they at least revert back to the way it was last season (if they avoid cancellation).

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politicaltheatre · 5 years ago

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Rock Bottom

We have a problem.

That's the first step, right, admitting it? Everybody knows that. But is that enough? Have we reached a tipping point? Have we, in our long addiction, finally hit rock bottom?

Probably not.

That’s the thing about addiction. The whole world can see the addict and his addiction for all they are, but until the addict sees it himself and realizes at long last that he has no choice but to break it he will keep on going, lying to himself and others that it is not what it is and that they have nothing to fear.

Of course, we do.

To be clear, our addiction is a psychological one, not a chemical one. None of what you read from here on out is meant to denigrate physical addiction or to suggest that beating that is as simple as beating a psychological one, which itself is neither easy nor fast.

If only this was as simple as a single man's psychological addiction to one thing. Even then, the variables of how he slid into it and why are his and his alone. It's the constants of addiction, the root needs and ultimate ends, that we need to focus on. They are the same for everyone - that's why they're constants - but getting past the fog of the wheres and whens of addiction's start and end takes an effort few can bring themselves to make.

So, instead, we end up focusing on variables; in this case, guns and violence and revenge. These are the manifestations of our addiction, not the addiction itself. A step further, a level beneath those, we find the root cause. That is, we find it if we dare to look.

Our addiction is to avoiding accountability.

We've had it easy for so long. We have so many options, so many excuses, so many others to blame. When everything’s good, when we have no worries, the ride is so much fun. It never feels like it’s going to end.

And then it does, and it feels so bad. We must pay our bills. We must accept that others have a right to what we want, that we must be accountable to them, too.

To go from that feeling of certainty to an equal and perhaps even greater feeling of uncertainty is terrifying. Give us a fix, we beg, take care of us and make it better. The fantasy isn’t real, we know that, but we’ll take it.

Just looking at this past weekend, there are so many examples at play, all showing how we are locked in our worlds of fantasy:

• There is the world of the shooters, fetishizing guns and the rush of violence and revenge against invented enemies, foreign and domestic. They get to dream up a story, placing themselves at the center as hero or villain, always in control, never wrong. The killing is a means to that end, and to an end to their story they believe they can control, either by living or dying as martyrs to their cause.

• There is the world of the Trump and NRA supporters, who have invested so much of their identities in these external authorities that they don’t dare reject them for fear of rejecting themselves. Does anyone really doubt that Trump or one of his latest mouthpieces don't understand this? The racism is a means to gaining and maintaining control, just like the millions the NRA pays to politicians to toe the line and spread their talking points. A rational mind knows this, but an addict's mind has its own logic and that couldn't be easier to exploit.

• There is the world of those opposing them, stuck cycling through the same rituals of anger because they, too, want quick and easy solutions, not that they can admit it. The hard work, personal sacrifice, and patience required are more than they can bear, or maybe just more than they literally can afford. It's easy being angry. It's easy staying angry. It's easier still if that's all you ever do. You get good at it. It becomes a safe place, one you never have to leave.

• There is also the world of those trying to make that change, taking the risks, pushing and pressing the world around them to try to take any small step it can to save just one life. These are the ones investing themselves in hard work, personal sacrifice, and patience until they have exhausted all three. They burn out because the audience they needed to reach, the addict and those around him fearing risk themselves, just weren't ready.

• And then there is the world of the rest of us, slowly numbing ourselves to the pain and suffering of others because we tell ourselves that the power to solve it is beyond us. It's the kind of acceptance that friends and family members of addicts know all too well. It is well practiced and so common we barely give it a conscious thought, if we do at all.

If you know addiction then you must see excuses and evasions for what they are. It’s always some other thing, a thing over which nobody could possibly have any control. It’s always someone else’s fault, some easy scapegoat already an outsider, be it someone who is different or something, such as the government, which is untouchable.

They're all variables. They always will be. Take away one scapegoat, you find another. Take away one focus of your addiction, you find another. If there is always another thing, there is never control, and if there is never control then we don't have to feel shame for the damage done.

There is no high like having to be accountable to no one. There can be no low like crashing from that high.

What we do know is this: We don’t think of our country as a family. We don’t even think of it as a community. For far too many of us, sharing space and resources with each other is considered an inconvenience at best and an invasion at worst.

We lie to ourselves, choosing to believe that crime happens to others, that the heat and storms of climate change are happening to others, that lack of adequate health care is happening to others, and that economic inequality is happening to others.

It all "happens", a beautifully passive word. It allows us to be passive. It allows us to tell the lie that its cause is beyond our complicity and its solution beyond our ability. And so, the cycle continues.

For the shooting in Dayton, racism and white supremacy don’t seem to have been a motive, but right there we run into trouble with another word, "motive".

Racism and white supremacy are means to an end, that end being a feeling of control and a denial of accountability to others. However different they may appear on the surface, the shooter in Dayton had his own means to those same ends. That those ends have become normalized is what made both shooters dangerous. That they had access to automatic and semi-automatic firearms is what made this a tragedy.

Which brings us to "the party of personal responsibility”. They demonized the term "gun control" because a well paid marketing firm found a way to make it sound evil. The truth is everything we choose to do or not do about firearms qualifies as gun control.

We, the people, who elect others to represent us and our best interests, we have control over guns. Any law passed or not passed is done through that representation. Any law currently on the books, even one stating that a certain class of guns cannot be regulated, is gun control because, in fact, guns are regulated by that law.

So, let's skip distracting ourselves with that. Whatever we do next, it will control guns in some way. We just have to decide what we want from that control and who we should trust to exercise it.

Which brings us to Donald Trump.

For the shooting in El Paso, we can and should blame Donald Trump. Whatever official statement he put out yesterday or may put out today, he has used racism and the violence of white supremacists as a means to gaining and maintaining power. The evidence is so far past overwhelming that our inaction in the face of it is shameful.

Trump's defense-by-omission of the gun lobby and scapegoating of mental illness not only put the lie to any condemnation of hatred and bigotry, they bring unpleasant reminders of demagogues of the past stoking racism and scapegoating the mentally ill.

Is that what it will take for us to hit rock bottom? Must we, like Europeans and South Americans before us, fall fully and completely into the abyss of fascism and civil war before we learn what we must learn? The next election will answer that as well as anything.

The Democrats may win back the White House and the Senate in 2020, but it’s looking more and more like it will be the result of Trump, McConnell, and the rest of the Republicans in Washington finally going too far, or finally being seen for how far they refuse to go, than anything the Democrats have to offer.

But hasn’t that always been the pattern?

The right wing, the pushers in this analogy of addiction, offer short term thinking with easy solutions to difficult problems. They use division and bigotry as means to gaining and maintaining power. Finally, as society collapses, they point the finger at anyone else, not just to avoid their own accountability but because it enables those clinging to what they offered to avoids their own.

The left wing, the sober grownup at the party, demands accountability in all things, including from themselves. Thinking long term, they get shunted aside in the short term, a canary in the coal mine listened to only to gauge the threat but not to avoid it. Only when the threat is so near, when there are no more others on whom to cast blame or burden, do we finally ask them for help.

That’s when we elect the left wing, to clean up our mess. Are we ready? Have we hit rock bottom? We're close, and it seems getting closer everyday.

- Daniel Ward

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valkyrieelysia18 · 7 years ago

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My RWBY Volume 6(and beyond) Wish List

Hello everyone! Sorry to both my Tumblr followers and any who might read my stories. My personal laptop has technical issues and I’m currently doing everything on the home computer. Added to that I do have a college class I have to do work for. Anyway, I decided to do something smaller for this post.

RWBY Volume 5 wrapped up quite a while ago and it was....something. Seriously guys, I’m enjoying reading the fan fiction than I am watching the actual show. Now Miles and Kerry have responded that they are looking at the fans’ responses and are moving with that going forward, but that still doesn’t change what they’ve already done. So, I decided to throw in my two cents, or rather ten points, of what I want to see in Volume 6 and beyond. These aren’t ranked in any particular order and keep in mind these are my personal opinions. If you agree that’s great, if you don’t be polite about it. Common courtesy, you know.

1. Show, Don’t Tell; Less Exposition Please.

One of the biggest complaints of Volume 5 is the overabundance exposition, often with the same information being repeated with little to no visuals to go along with it. I understand exposition is often necessary, but in a visual medium it’s incredibly important to show these things. Show us Faunus discrimination in Remnant, show us the mines of Mantle and how dangerous it can be, show us the devastation of the battles of The Great War and how it still affects the present. DON’T just talk about it and leave it at that.

2. More Care in the Writing and the Fight Scenes

You know it makes sense that I would complain the former, but the fact that I’m complaining about the later is kind of a bad sign. Anyone who has read my writing would know that I SUCK at writing fight scenes and the fact that I find the Battle of Haven’s fights terrible is just sad. I’m not asking for Monty levels of quality (that will never happen), just some more polish and improvement. Also, with Rooster Teeth’s other shows and its new ones, I’m concerned over whether Miles and Kerry can really give RWBY the quality care it deserves. Perhaps they should think getting a professional fantasy/sci-fi writer to help.

3. More World Building

Whatever you feel about Volume 4, the one thing it definitely has over 5 is the world building and that was not just confined to the World of Remnant videos. We were introduced to Menagerie, saw the upper crust of Atlesian society, touched on religion, and we saw how life was like outside of the kingdoms. As for World of Remnant, I actually rather like the series as its a way to give exposition without grounding the show to a halt to tell it to the audience. Volume 5.....not so much. Which is a same because the city of Mistral could have been amazing location to explore and interact with so a lot of missed potential there. For example, most of Mistral we’ve seen seems to based on Central Asia, but Pyrrha was more Greco Roman and explaining this would have made Mistral a bit more complex than Vale is. Or perhaps the group could have taken a break from training to do some shopping, sightseeing, or take in a show and perhaps run into some familiar faces like the rest of team SSSN or team ABRN. It would have allowed us to care more about this city and be more concerned with protecting it. I really didn't care so much about the city so it was hard for me to really get invested in the Battle of Haven. Any good fantasy writer will tell you that your world is just as much of a character as its inhabitants.

4. Give Ruby More to Do

For being the main character, Ruby really hasn’t been doing much to live up to the role. In fact, her adversaries have been getting more development than she has. I mean, she got a small scene with her and Oscar discussing how she’s handling losing Pyrrha and Penny, but we need more than that. She needs to do more than simply going along with things. Have her develop her silver eye powers, let her learn more about her mother and her past role in the conflict, put her in a situation that makes her question if what she is doing is the right thing to do. While the show is technically named after the team, that doesn't change the fact that Ruby is the focus character and needs some serious development.

5. More Oscar, Less Ozcar

Another complaint I have with Volume 5 is how Oscar really wasn’t given much time to be himself bar that one scene with Ruby, mostly serving as Ozpin’s mouthpiece to the group. Which is a shame because it would have been great to see him interact with Jaune, Nora, and Ren. It would definitely allow Oscar to grow and be his own character that way, showing that while he and Ozpin may be like minded souls, they are not exactly the same and they won’t always agree. I’m looking forward to how the aftermath of Ozpin taking over against the farm boy’s will is handled. That is not something that can be just brushed aside and never talk about again.

6. No Backtracking on Renora

For all the issues with shipping in the RWBY community, no one can deny that Ren and Nora are absolutely adorable together. Which is why I want to see their relationship continue to grow and develop. Have them go on dates so they can just be cute or offer relationship advice to the other members with their own possible developing romances Though another thing I feel that needs to be touched on with these two is Nora’s backstory. It was noted in the flashback in Kuroyuri that Nora didn’t look like a native of the town, so how did she get there? Was she orphaned or abandoned? How did she go from a scared quiet girl to the exuberant pancake loving hammer wielder we know today? Also, if the two were originally from Anima, why did they enroll at Beacon? All good questions I hope will be answered in due time.

7. Jaune and Ozpin Talk

This is a talk that feels like a long time coming. While Cinder may have been the one to kill Pyrrha, it’s very clear that Jaune still holds Ozpin and his inner circle partly responsible for his partner's death. As a result, I feel like a talk with him and Ozpin would be a good way for Jaune to be able to vent his frustrations in a much more healthy manner as well as allow him to understand what really happened those last few days before everything went wrong. Perhaps it would lead to a talk on how a leader’s duty is to help as many people as he can and sometimes that means sacrifice. I think that’s a good lesson for our blond to learn as he is the tactician and semi healer of the group. The other thing that I feel needs to be addressed is Jaune’s transcripts. I covered in a previous post on how there’s no way Ozpin didn’t know about it and this would be a great way to address why Ozpin let him into Beacon in the first place as well as reassure that what happened with Pyrrha was not his fault.

8. More on the Schnees

Since we’re going back to Atlas, I’d like to see more from Weiss’ family. Whitely could use some more development beyond “Jacques’ faithful little follower” and I would really like to see their mother make an appearance. Heck, it would nice to hear more about Nicolaus. Winter as a subordinate of Ironwood would play a role in the affairs in Atlas as would Jacques’ position as the head of the Schnee Dust Company. If anything, I would like to see Jacques realize that there is nothing he can do to make Weiss fall in line and have his actions come back to bite him. HARD.

9. More on the Villains

The thing about villains is that it is just as important to develop them as the heroes. While RWBY’s villains have been very good at messing things up for our good guys, their motivations haven’t been as well fleshed out. Now some villains like Roman Torchwick and Tyrion which are delightfully evil don’t need much of an explanation for why they do what they do, but the others do need some development. I have no problem with Hazel’s motivation being a personal one so much as it being a WEAK personal motivation. I mean, a training accident at Beacon doesn’t really translate to it being completely Ozpin’s fault and him being “evil.” I really hope there’s more to this situation. And then there’s the other questions to answer. What led to Watts being “disgraced?” Why did Cinder have such a fixation on power, acting as if she deserved said power by right? What does Adam want to make humanity pay for? Above all, what happened between Salem and Ozpin to cause this all in the first place?

10. Team STRQ

There’s so much on this team that I really want to know. What were their dynamics back before Raven left and everything went wrong? What were Tai and Summer’s weapons? Their semblances? What’s Tai’s feelings on all of this? If Team STRQ was what interested Ozpin, what was Tai’s role? What was the nature of Tai and Summer’s relationship? Is Ruby really just like Summer or are there some notable differences that haven‘t been discussed yet? I feel like we’re due for a Team STRQ flashback some time in the future.

Well, that’s all for me. If you got anything add, don’t be shy. Next time, I hope to do a drabble that involves a head canon of mine.

#rwby #wish list #please Rooster Teeth

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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I Care a Lot: Peter Dinklage is the Scariest Gangster We’ve Seen in Years

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This article contains I Care a Lot spoilers.

J Blakeson’s I Care a Lot is one of very few films where everyone in it is a villain. In the lead role, Rosamund Pike ushers in a new amoral high mark as conservator con artist Marla Grayson. Peter Dinklage meanwhile mines the standard Hollywood heavy role for an unexpected haul of gangster gravitas. And with his turn as Roman Lunyov, the former black sheep of the Lannister family in Game of Thrones joins the likes of Robert De Niro, Marlon Brando, Wesley Snipes, and Humphrey Bogart as memorable cinema crime bosses.

However, this isn’t Dinklage’s first turn in a mob movie. He got his button in Find Me Guilty (2006). The film was based on the true story of Lucchese crime family soldier Jackie DiNorscio, played by Vin Diesel, and the longest mafia trial in American history. The movie was co-written and directed by Sidney Lumet, who not only helmed such crime classics as Dog Day Afternoon and Q&A, but was one of the original Dead End kids when the proto-gangster social drama was still on Broadway. Dinklage didn’t play a mobster in Find Me Guilty. He played a lawyer.

Dinklage’s Lunyov Family isn’t strictly going up against law enforcement in I Care a Lot. Rather Pike’s Marla Grayson and her partner in crime (and life), Fran (Eiza González), are court-appointed guardians from hell, and they represent a rival outfit. They are also operating a lucrative racket.

This guardianship gang war could be seen as similar to the scenarios which happened when Italian, Jewish, and Irish mobs moved in on the Harlem and Chicago numbers games in the 1920s and ’30s. Or how Michael Corleone’s first order of business as head of family in The Godfather was to take over the casinos in Las Vegas. Like Don Vito Corleone before her, Marla’s also got judges, such as the sympathetic Judge Lomax (Isiah Whitlock Jr.), in her pocket. Eldercare racketeering dominance is also comparable to the prohibition fights of The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, and the body count is just as high. The take is just as sweet.

Edward G. Robinson set the standard for cinematic mob rule as “Rico” Bandello in Little Caesar (1931). Dinklage’s Roman Lunyov, by contrast, is more of a Czar. He heads a family in the Russian mafia and purports himself like a descendant of the Romanov dynasty. But he’s got Cossack in him. It’s in his DNA and cascading down his chin like the tail of a cavalry horse.

On Game of Thrones, Dinklage’s Tyrion Lannister was part of an insidious dynasty whose roots intertwined with every twig of the ruling class. The modern Russian mob, on screen and off, can boast even more branches.

Netflix’s World’s Most Wanted dedicated an episode to Semion Mogilevich, the reputed head of the Russian mob (aka Bratva). While Moglievich is allegedly tied to arms dealing, international trading scams, and countless murders, the cops in the documentary series compare him to the Keyser Söze character from The Usual Suspects. He’s a respected, low-key businessman who likes to smoke. He lives in a mansion next to the head of the Communist Party in Russia. His activities aren’t merely state-sanctioned, they are apparently encouraged.

Dinklage’s Roman is all these things, even as his identity is actually more elaborately guarded than Söze’s, and his tastes run toward elitist’s treats.

But then Russian mobsters are always ruthless on screen. These are the guys who killed Denzel Washington’s seemingly indestructible narco cop Alonzo Harris in Training Day (2001). You never prepare for that. When the “Three Wise Men” who always have your back tell you to skip town, you know you’re dealing with folks in a rough trade. On Netflix’s Orange Is the New Black, Galina “Red” Reznikova (Kate Mulgrew) would rather go to jail for keeping bodies on ice than say she was keeping them fresh for the Russian mafia in Queens.

Dinklage’s big bad leans into this mythic image of Russian mobsters, with Roman appearing cut from the same cloth as the New Jersey-based operators who could make even Tony Soprano take pause in The Sopranos. Albeit if Dinklage’s character ever actually visited the tough guys in the Garden State, he would probably need to rethink his man-bun. After all, Tony Soprano couldn’t even get away with shorts.

When James Cagney had fist fights in his early films, he was always matched with a bruiser twice his size because the studios thought no one in the audience would accept him being remotely challenged otherwise. Dinklage also doesn’t display a traditionally imposing physical presence. But he is no lightweight. His own thugs cower at the very thought of a cross word. In the Lunyov family, it’s best to bring a gun to a food fight.

Roman’s personal attorney almost wets his briefs when he screws up. That’s because Roman is as unpredictable as Cagney’s Cody Jarrett, the gang leader in White Heat, Cagney’s most psychopathic role. Dinklage’s introduction as Roman shows him asking how many mules died on the last drug run. He calculates them coldly, as part of business, with the sociopathology of a Chief Executive Officer. But his biggest similarity can be found in oedipal complexities. Like Cody Jarrett, Roman Lunyov loves his mother.

We don’t know much about Jennifer Peterson, the nice old lady played by Dianne Wiest. She’s got money, a nice house, no living relatives, and a doctor who will exaggerate dementia symptoms in court for a stock payoff. On the surface Peterson seems to be a competent business woman who retired after a successful career. Now under the less than sensitive care at the Berkshire Oaks Senior Living facility, we realize her chosen field was career criminal. After all, any of these sweet old ladies could have had criminally scandalous youths.

When Marla finally asks her ward who she is, all Jennifer has to say is “I’m the worst mistake you’ll ever make.” We learn she has more than one son in the Russian mob. She could be a post-Glasnostic Ma Barker from the Prohibition era. Barker’s fictional approximation in White Heat, Ma Jarrett (Margaret De Wolfe Wycherly) tells her son she can take care of herself. And while Jennifer may have been declared legally unable to do just that in I Care a Lot, she is quite adept at a choke hold, eschewing the standard garrote assassination for her own elbow.

Marla doesn’t romanticize her mother, calling her a psychopath and offering her up as the collateral damage of closing costs. Her single-minded opportunism is more sociopathic than Pike’s Amy Dunne in David Fincher’s adaptation of Gone Girl. She employs a cutthroat logic that’s in the same territories as bad-mannered comedies, but with the ruthlessness of the shark in Jaws.

Roman’s black-on-black dress code ensembles, by contrast, broadcast a desire for stylish power games. Marla is not interested in gangster chic; she prefers classy monochromatic suits so brightly focused they attract moths like flames. Her crew is all business as usual. Dr. Amos (Alicia Witt) is the fixer. She picks the “cherries,” elderly cash cows who can be milked in the retirement home. Sam Rice (Damian Young) is the monster at the center of the center. Everyone’s got a soulless nature except Eiza González’s Fran, who is also the only one to see the wisdom of getting the fuck out of there.

Dinklage is fearsome in one of the scariest screen gangsters in recent years. This guy can dispatch troublesome community angels easier than a creamy éclair pastry–and he loves those treats. He even takes a last loving bite of a chocolate-covered, custard-filled house specialty before he tosses it onto the cold concrete of an underground parking garage.

When he ends negotiations with Marla, his only caveat is to make it look “organic.” Georgia Lyman, who is only credited as “the Assassin,” is I Care a Lot’s Luca Brasi, sharing duties with a few “heavies.” The film’s Fredo is Alexi Ignatyev, played by Nicholas Logan as if he’s always waiting for another shoe to drop. Even Ms. Peterson laughs and calls him an idiot. She laughs a lot, and it’s not just the steady drugs she’s being forcibly and legally dosed with, it’s the glee of power.

Roman’s power lies in his legal team, and the Lunyov family’s Tom Hagen is Dean Ericson (Chris Messina). One thing you have to admit with the Russian mob is they do appreciate innovation and sophistication. Ericson can’t help but be impressed by Marla’s scam. His lowball offer of $150,000 is an insult, but an understandable one. His veiled threats are as subtle as his suits are ostentatious.

Marla doesn’t seem to appreciate the power the Lunyov family wields, but she does appreciate the irony.

“If you can’t convince a woman to do what you want,” she says, appraising the fine print under the mouthpiece’s exploratory offer, “then you call her a bitch and threaten to kill her.” Marla pays it forward by calling the Lunyov matriarch far worse and threatening extreme discomfort, which she promises will last until the day she dies. As restrained as her venom may be, Marla is a proud femme fatale. Though also a stereotypical “ice queen” villainess, and heartless materialist. We’re almost sorry to feel bad for Marla when she is tied to a chair during last minute negotiations.

Director Blakeson, who made the science fiction action movie The 5th Wave and the noir thriller The Disappearance of Alice Creed, sets up I Care a Lot like a horror movie.

“There’s no such thing as good people,” Marla Grayson says at the start of the film. The opening is exquisitely unsettling as Jennifer is guided through a process of enforced institutionalization, followed by her house being emptied, painted, placed on the market, and sold. The plot thickens as keys are traced to a safety deposit box containing millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds, which officially don’t exist. Most gangster films aren’t driven by this kind of mystery, but Roman is a new kind of gangster. Though cheap, dead drug-mules are an unnecessary expense, the Lunyov family want to make a difference in the world.

Blakeson wanted to highlight all-too true stories of elder abuse and the perils of court-appointed conservators which could even bring The #FreeBritney movement calling. But he captures the allure of the anti-hero and the all-American dream of a corner on the market. Roman Lunyov has one final thing in common with Michael Corleone, and many of the traditional gangsters: He wants to earn money legitimately. This is not to be confused with wanting to go legit.

Those of us who root for the “bad guys” will find a wealth of insidious characters, and a very original caper, at the heart of I Care a Lot. Peter Dinklage’s Roman Lunyev may go against type, with his eastern bloc nobility stunted by the limits of black comedy. But as a movie mob boss, he is Street Regal.

I Care a Lot can be streamed on Netflix.

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swan2swan · 7 years ago

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A Ramble on Religion

Over the years, I’ve come to see a different side of the “separation of church and state”. In my high school years, I was more or less taught from a number of influences that the separation of church and state was a great threat to religion. It was mostly being exploited as a way for our country to become “less religious” and that it was a “threat” to religion (which I’ve come to realize lately is laughable, because I highly doubt that God would be so sloppy in laying out the framework of his religious orders as to make it so that everyone would just stop believing, and honestly, when you realize that a lot of Christianity’s worst parts came out because people lost their faith and decided that they needed to protect Christianity because somehow God needed their protection, a lot of things make sense, but that’s another conversation), and thus I was always leery of that one.

But lately, I’ve come to see that the “separation of church and state” is actually a safeguard for the church itself. The more the lines between a religion and a government blur, the more beholden a religion becomes to the government. When your president spouts that “we need to protect God’s children”, a Christian cannot immediately say “this is the wrong thing to do”, because yes, we do need to protect God’s children...and even if this Christian realizes in another second that “protecting God’s children” means murdering another human being, it’s too late, and a moral dilemma has already begun. If a man (or woman) of faith sits upon a seat of worldly power and wishes to do what is just in the eyes of the Lord, they should not have to invoke God’s name in order to do so: what they do should be done simply because they know it is righteous.

But any nonbeliever can stand before a crowd and scream “God Bless America!” Then the faithful, who truly wish for God to bless America as well, will cheer and shout their assent--even if what preceded these words was anathema to every view they had. Thus, they become deceived, and the deceiver who stands before them has twisted them to follow a will that is not God’s, but his own.

Much of this epiphany was aided by Hillary Clinton’s book, What Happened. In its pages, Hillary talks about how prayer helped to get her through the times after the election, and about the times she prayed during the election, and about all that she did in working with churches and her local pastors. She exhibits insight that demonstrates a clear faith and calm...and she has nothing to gain for this. If her faith and statements of “God Bless America” were simply political posturing, such introspection would be nonexistent or unconvincing. There would be no need for pretense anymoe, since she no longer intends to run for office.

But I remember how Donald Trump never said “God Bless America” on the night of his victory. He never thanked God, or gave any deference to a higher power. It was all him, and to some extent, his voters. On that night, more than any other time, I saw through him. And I know that if he had ghostwritten a book called What Happened (he wouldn’t), he would have made no mention of his prayer or humility. If he did, it would have been just as false and transparent as everything else he does.

And yet he is the one who claims to protect religion. He is the one who claims to be doing all that he does in the name of God, that we are one nation united under one God, and that he is the one who can protect our faithful and their institutions. Perhaps he believes it, in his own Ozymandian way...but it’s not true. Christianity will survive with or without him. God does not need bathroom bills or federal funding to churches in order to protect His children. I’ve had my faith secured far more by the sight of Steven Colbert proudly announcing that he is donating one million dollars to Puerto Rico after a two-week long fundaiser than anything Sarah Sanders has said from her podium. And it’s not because I trust in money or human nature, but because Colbert makes no attempt to hide his Catholic faith. Most importantly, his Catholic faith shone through most when he was sitting in shock and horror last November, struggling to find the words to describe a situation he had never conceived possible...and he spoke quietly about how he still believed in everyone, and about how he would do his best to help in the future. “The Devil cannot abide mockery”, he said. And in that moment, as I watched a man close to breaking call upon his faith, I knew I could trust him. He wasn’t using Catholicism as a way of showcasing his quality and his righteousness, but as a source of strength and hope...how it’s supposed to be done. And when he threw his hands in the air and proclaimed that he was going to donate a million dollars to hurricane victims, he never invoked God or praised Jesus or tied it into his faith or religion...he simply did it.

That is a man who has been given many talents by his Lord, and he is using them to help others. He does not bury them, he does not hide them for himself, but he shares them, plants them, talks about them, confesses his faith and then moves on to shine light in the world simply because he knows it is the right thing to do. He could stand up there and try to use his faith as a mouthpiece to those in the Conservative party, stretching out and saying, “Hey, I’m a Christian, and I think this, so you should, too!”...but he doesn’t, because that’s a cheap tool that politicians use to manipulate people.

Governments have, and will, always use religion to achieve their own ends. It’s their easiest tool, because it allows them to reach straight to a person’s soul. By asking citizens to use faith in their reasoning, they bypass facts and logic (because that’s how faith works), and can easily sway them to their side. “Having guns is our God-given right!” people cry, because a politician doesn’t say otherwise. “The people of this country have turned their back on God!” a speaker cries from the podium, and because the faithful know that they have not turned their backs on God and the speaker is not addressing them with that statement, they know that it’s everyone else who has turned their back.

It breaks my heart.

Because they’re my people, my family, my friends, people I aspire to be--confident enough to thank God every day for their blessings, never too shy or timid to say “I believe in Jesus”, and always eager to go to church...and yet I see so much wrong with their practice. I see hatred, and bigotry, and intolerance, and an unwillingness to forgive, and it festers and manifests into political ideology. Swastikas and angled crosses filled with stars, hurtful words and pitiless faces, haughty smiles and backhanded mockery...all performed by the faithful, because men and women who claim to be of the same faith have deceived them. Men like Trump, Huckabee, and Bannon don’t want to be faithful servants of the Lord...they want power, and wealth, and everything this world has to offer. They want fire, they want authority, they want gold, they want the masses who writhe beneath them to turn upon each other while they feast at the top. And all they have to do to achieve this is to step in front of a microphone once a day, clear their throat and say three words. Three words devoid of meaning, hollow, words that creep inside the ears of the vain and stoke their pride while twisting into the faces of the doubter and the nonbeliever and sowing hatred.

Because they have married the church and the state, and as long as the state lets the church believe that it is in control, the state can lead the church down any path it choose. Nuclear strikes against millions of innocent people, distrust of refugees fleeing a war-torn nation, protections for men who rape and murder, disdain for islands impoverished by greed, fear of people whose bodies are different, outrage against people who only want to feel safe...what the state says, the church will believe.

Especially if those words are “the greatest threat to the church is those who call for the separation of church and state”.

#religion #christianity #politics #long post #swan rambling #largely written because I missed church for the third time in a row and I feel guilty #but every time I go I'm frustrated because we continue with the traditional prayer for the ''health and prosperity'' of our president #who really has enough health and prosperity #and I know we extend the same prayer to every president but it just causes a lot of conflict #and conflict and anxiety just don't mix #I have faith that we'll get through this #but I pray for the people who will suffer #and I long for the day when people see through the deception

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nanyoky · 7 years ago

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I missed wednesday cuz I was at work until 1am and then yesterday i was tired and needed a bath BUT IT’S TIME FOR SOME HOKEY GREASER NONSENSE BITCHES

oh thanks god Juggie’s narration is back. i didn’t realize it at the time but the more i thought about it last episode the more anxious it made me

holy shit did toni sleep over?! i mean- WITH him??? i should wait to get all the answers before i clutch my pearls shouldn’t i

awwww man- she switched her ringtone

walking by a graveyard in the fog during this conversation because this show is a GIFT

penelope is a fucking monster but she’s being a very stupid monster right now does she not remember “QUIETLY and with my BLESSING”

also nice to see third degree burns heal in like a week and leave zero scarring that’s chill i guess

cheryl’s “EVERYTHING’S FINE” and smile is the exact thing i’ve been doing at work lately so you know she plannin shit ((disclaimer: i’m just looking for a new job because i hate mine nothing this dramatic i promise i’m not going to beat someone up with a girlband or send a serial killer after them))

of course toni just couch crashed i mean i knew it but also i was pearl clutching a bit cuz the kiss was one thing but we all know jug and betty haven’t boned down yet and so i’d be wagging my finger at him if he rebounded THAT hard before cooling off and getting all the facts

okay so they fooled around a bit but toni is bein hella mature about this good girl

“more into girls anyways” WOOP THERE SHE IS

“people at the farm are going to help polly disappear for awhile” UM UM UM I DON’T LIKE THIS. I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL. I WANT TO GET OFF NOW PLEASE

of course they see jughead and toni talking at pops but SURPRISE the literal lines they are seeing but not hearing are “so girls in fuzzy sweaters and lipgloss right?” “RIGHT. yes. agreed. what about pastel converse? cutest thing in the world right?” “totally. right up there with cheerleader outfits.” “damn i love girls.” “same.”

omg the three different conversations happening at this neighborhood watch meeting i love this

“bughead is no more?” kevin once again the audience’s solid gold pov character but what about joaqvin i really want someone to say that just so i can see kevin’s eyes lift exasperatedly to the heavens

there’s a whole STORY that people KNOW about the mugshot everyone shut up hiram bout to DRAG

“some gangmember on the southside...” goddammit reggie why are you like this

**side note: i’ve been worried about my professional prospects recently but this week i had a dream that reggie (unclear in the dream if it was the character or the actor?) was rubbing my shoulders and assuring me that i would find a great job soon and everything would fall into place, so i’ve been rather fond of him lately, even if he is a trashbag hot mess

“what does it matter not all serpents are drug dealers” archie bringing his classic “too little too late” damage control in god love’m but he’s so ineffective at least you’re pretty hun

JOOOSSSSSIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE god her big beautiful eyes have so many FEELINGS and EMOTIONS i can’t even look at her

told you this “jughead writes for the school paper” plot was going to last all of two seconds

oh lord mayormackers, papa keller. why you two this way.

*delicate cough* nice how they make sure a black cop arrests toni so we know this isn’t at all racially motivated profiling *sips tea skeptically*

okay i kinda thought veronica was reading that something was up with betty’s outburst but maybe i was wrong. or she’s just got too much going on right now so she’s taking it at face value at the moment and sussing things out later

“The Sugarman” is both cringy-hilarious and TERRIFYING as a drug supplier name

archie has got to give jughead some more hints than “you should maybe talk to betty” because yes it’s not his place to explain everything but also we are BARRELING towards a shakespearean misunderstanding at about 800million miles per hour

cheryl serving LOOKS once again i love this. love her hat. her glasses. the fact that she’s clearly supposed to be sunbathing but she’s in FULL SHADE. LOVE this. LOVE her.

i can’t see the title of her book i’m just assuming it’s wuthering heights or flowers in the attic- only options

they make sure there’s a guitar in the andrews’ living room to remind us that archie does music sometimes still

“i’m upset with you for doing drugs but i know that was probably an isolated incident for you. what about jughead are you checking in with him to make sure he’s not making a habit of that kind of thing? how are your friends son i’m asking for their sake because i care about them as not to assess what kind of influence they are on you” fred is just so incredibly DECENT it’s overwhelming

their having a PARLAY with a RIVAL GANG and jughead being the king’s son CARRIES WEIGHT i am OVERWHELMED MY FRIENDS

So Tall Boy is the king regent now, with the true king in jail and the crown prince too green to take real responsibilities. i don’t ahve any speculations or comments i’m just translating gang culture into a language i have more experience with carry on-wait no i do have thoughts- so joaquin was like- the king’s own squire right? is that a coveted position or sort of an accidental “you have nowhere else to go and your young an impressionable and unlikely to stand up to me here help me shove this body of a kid your age into a freezer” kinda thing i have QUESTIONS about how the serpents operate and the slices of relationships we have seen so far

okay i am getting a STRONG byron vibe from this ghouly fellow

there is just- SO MUCH happening in this scene. first off- tall boy uses words like “parlay” and wears two earrings and now he’s lit with soft orange candlelight he is a literal pirate right now i’m having so much fun

then mr. nell’s-hair-texture-but-somehow-better-also-wearing-an-open-kimono-because-i-am-lord-george-byron and his.... whole deal. is he wearing GAUNTLETS with his OPEN KIMONO and SKINNY JEANS?! GOD I LOVE THIS SHOW

ALSO. tall boy just stood up to say some bogus “this is war” nonsense and there’s a ram’s skull hovering just over his shoulder in the shot HAHAHAHA SUBTLETY.

i was just going to say we haven’t seen cheryl PROSTRATING HERSELF IN GRIEF over jason in awhile but here she is looking at old photos surrounded by red carpeting and iron candelabras bless

oh man. i dunno but the more time passes the more solid the “sheriff keller is crooked” theory is. just they way they cut from cheryl looking at the drawing of the sugarman to the sheriff at the diner i just oh dear. oh honey. i want to believe you’re just spineless and ineffective. for kevin’s sake. don’t hurt kevin any more by having his dad be either a drug smuggler or a serial killer. OH GOD HE JUST SAID “ONE QUESTION” I AM UPSET. could be a red herring almost seems too easy but STILL.

“there isn’t a sane excuse. so tell me the insane one” knew veronica was too smart for this deception she reads people well and knows betty atta girl way to be the anti- version of a character put in this trope

“Girl i would have given nick’s name and then happily treated myself to a facial” veronica poppin in as the audience’s mouthpiece while kevin is off duty

yasssssss beronica is BACK my friends i missed this are they going to break into someone’s car and definitely make out after the scene cuts like last time please say yes

yes 911 send help it’s the year of our lord 2017 and part of me is still a lil bit into skeet ulrich and i can’t tell how much of it is 90s nostalgia and how much is fp’s hot but deadbeat dad vibe

also fp’s prison number is 24601 because these lit references CAN’T BE STOPPED SON

also i’m sorry i’m going to say SO MUCH ABOUT THIS SCENE because this is my JAM you guys. the tired king helpless to stop the uprising of his people who he once thought loyal but now is seeing just how quickly he can be forgotten GOD there is so much henriad in here i can’t handle it season one was act I without the politics and solely focused on the familial tension with the warrior king favoring the company of the rough upstart over his own intellectual son ((obviously very different characters, but from jughead’s pov, it had to have hurt that fp basically abandoned his real family for the serpents and had little sidebars with joaquin every other second), but now this season is fully into the politics the rebels are merging with the scots and it’s all hal i mean jughead can do to offer himself, the combat-green prodigal son, as a prize fighter compromise GOD I LOVE THIS SHOW

also he called the ghoulies “fops” that byron vibe is def deliberate

he has to say “crazy retro” to excuse the fact that the rest of this episode is (presumably) just going to get stylized as hell for zero in-world reason and 100% because these creators know we all love greaser aus and a show that brings our time period aus to life will have our hearts pretty much forever

speaking of i only went looking for fic for this show once and it was to check to see if there was a kevin/joaquin grease au and i want you all to know i’m disappointed in all of you

cheryl’s outfits are KILLING this episode dead

“i never told you those stories” oh my god. oh my god. i’ve said it so many times before but when this show does subtlety right it REALLY does it. because there is barely direct discussion of cheryl and jason being abused as kids but holy shit do we all know clifford and penelope were abusive as fuck or what

reggie is constantly ducklipping i honestly can’t even tell if his mouth is naturally like that or if the actor is HILARIOUS oh reggie. oh darling. rub my shoulders again that was a nice dream.

these two are over the top but in a delightful way they’ve solved the “flirty asshole persists after disinterested hottie” trope by making all reggie’s flirtations about HIS OWN BODY rather than josie’s which eliminates what makes that trope so skeezy and now instead we’re all just having fun right we’re into this i’m into this they pretend it’s all drunk hookups and eye rolling in public but behind closed doors they have a lot of cute giggly fooling around and even some sweet snuggles

god even this rando drug dealer is beautiful why is everyone so pretty

Oh god core four not in a good place in byron’s sexpot cave right now

yes juggie offering up people’s (including your own) LITERAL HOME is a great plan i mean i say including your own because we’re clearly supposed to see this as self sacrificing because the trailer is all jughead has but HE’S NOT THE ONLY FUCKER IN THE TRAILER PARK IS HE JESUS CHRIST

“Sharon” hahahahahaha i hope the black hood swaps his testes and eyeballs

also i think his face has healed too? what is in the WATER in riverdale?????

also too lets get real again a sec i’m really glad we’ve finally dropped the rape bomb because it’s a word that’s been absent from the dialogue so far and it needed to be said

I hope pop pissed on his fries

YASS GREASE MONKEY BETTY WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR IT AND WE FINALLY MADE IT WE DID IT GUYS

overalls. i’m kinda mad that no one was on board when i tried to make them cool in highschool and now apparently according to riverdale costumers they are A Thing

yass cheryl claws out i dont actually have anything worthwhile to say i just love my trash gothic eris daughter

this is possibly my fave veronica outfit holy shit it is so..... me.

also typical fucking parent reaction to sexual assault: “these things happen.... unless it’s to my own daughter then it’s inexcusable”

hermione and hiram be like “babe i’mma interrupt you real quick before you admit you’re a psychopath to our daughter” “thanks babe”

kevin fully acknowledges the hotness of byron which reminds me that the creators are clearly trying to get us all to forget about joaquin by throwing all these ethnically ambiguous pretty boys who dress like they’re in a band at us and it’s not working i tell you it’s NOT but i’m a little offended by how easily they keep pegging My Type like goddammit why am i so fucking predictable

byron’s hair every day is like my hair on like my best hair day of the year god i hate him

again i’m not much for cole sprouse face-wise but the all black is a DAMN good look on him everyone should just be in all black ft. leather jacket all the time it ups your hotness by at least three points

god i love how there is zero explanation for everyone’s adorably retro outfits to fit with the cars GOD i love this show

omg cheryl clearly channeling miss lana with another KILLER outfit god the girls are just KNOCKING IT OUT OF THE PARK in the wardrobe department this ep actually no you know what? the whole production design crew was having the time of their fucking lives all episode and i want to take a moment to thank each and every person on that crew for the tremendous job on such a fun episode theme

if cheryl and toni don’t bone down i’mma be cross

is byron’s second zayn malick? ((that’s the one i’m thinking of right? i don’t go there))

cheryl renders all sexualities meaningless with dem shorts

oh god jughead barely containing his glee while archie shrinks in terror in the passenger’s seat is such a Big Mood

that was... such an archie solution. poor boy. good boy. dumb boy.

hmm betty seems like she doesn’t recognize the name she doesn’t sound shocked or scared i was sort of suspecting someone we know

this is the BEST way dark!betty could possibly go holy shit man i was not about that plot line in season one but now i’m HERE for the good girl owning her darkness with agency not in a sexy goodgirl gone bad for our viewing pleasure kinda way but in a genuine way in which she has full ownership and control over herself fuck me this is some GOOD SHIT PREMIUM STUFF

OH DANG did not suspect that one. makes sense tho right.

oh no.... fred.... we know where this leads... nooo....

LODGES GOD. LODGES. FRICK.

dammit black hood.

Episode scorecard (i keep forgetting to do this):

# of sick beat drop rhythmic editing moments: One that i counted- the drop/reveal of the sugarman’s identity

do I still miss joaquin: yes

episode hair mvp: Cheryl all around, but particularly her lana del ray headband and swoop

episode outfit mvp: four way tie between cheryl’s sunbathing outfit, cheryl’s black dress with the embroidery and choker, cheryl’s lana del rey outfit all together, and veronica’s plaid pencil skirt/lace up back top number that is like a better version of one of my most iconic outfits and i’m real jealous. honorable mentions to toni, betty and jughead at the race, as well as bryon’s ghouly den kimono ensamble, betty’s overalls, hermione’s “oh no so tragic to hear about this car accident” outfit, penelope’s extra af lace collars, cheryl’s patterned pants and many more this was a good episode for clothes.

cast and crew mvp: production design was having the time of their fucking lives in this one and it paid the fuck off. the costumes as mentioned above, but also environments like thistle house interior and the ghouly hangout really stood out with their detailing and strong genre motifs. standing ovation team. beautiful work.

#riverdale spoilers #riverdale season 2 #riverdale #nell liveblogs #unsubtle highschool suburban gothic of my dreams #garbage warrior king #ginger Eris trapped in a gothic novel #nell is in production design professionally can you tell #that makes me sound more successful and cool than i am #but #technically true #long post

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fapangel · 7 years ago

Note

And what is your take on the media finally reporting on Antifa, and the people who have gone strang my silent while comparing them to Indiana Jones or th soldiers of Notmandy

It's a perfect time to answer this question,because in the last few days, the media has begun to tentatively trydigging up Charlottesville again, such as this utterlybugfuck headline in the Atlantic, lastweek's WaPo op-ed digging it up again, and CNBC's horrifiedscreeching over Trumppointing out how his comments on Antifa were vindicated. Thusthere's no better time to stuff this narrative right back down thebastard's throats by reviewing how they went from praising anddefending violent anarcho-communist insurrectionists as freedomfighters to condemning them as thugs in the space of only two weeks -all because of Trump.

Nobody seems to have grasped the significance ofwhat happened in the last two weeks of August. It's high time thatchanged.

The Power of the Media

It all started, of course, on August 13th,when Trump's initial statement on Charlottesville pointed out thatthe IllinoisNazis weren't the only ones that came to Charlottesville looking tostart trouble. The ensuing savage attacks by Democrats and theirmedia establishment was routine and expected - as was the usualgibberingpsychopathscalling Trump a jackbooted Nazi - but then theestablishment GOP rushed to gore him in the back in a veritableRINO stampede, followed by CEOs on his “advisory councils”resigningwith grand flourishes of self-righteous back-patting. The“mainstream” media and associated attack dogs had been callingTrump Hitler from day one, andyet people that had stuck by himthrough monthsof that unrelenting slanderwere now running scared.

The biggest tellwas Trump himself - the man who'd weathered over a year of beingcalled a racist, homophobe, Islamophobe, sexist, and rapistwithoutoncebacking down, flinching or even blinking, utterlycaved after only 48 hours of constant attacks. Thethorough shredding of their own credibility and the democratizationof information has stripped the media of most of their onetime power,but their ability to tell lies of omission - to exclude entire topicsof conversation from the public sphere - was still enough to sendTrump's most loyal admirers and the majority of the establishment GOPrunning in a panic,andbring to heel a man that'd shrugged off a 13-month campaign ofnonstop hate, character assassination and viscous slander. Thisis also the power of the label “Nazi:” once the media finallymanaged to make it stick - even a little - they got exactly what theywanted; Trump standing before the nation reinforcing their narrativethat Illinois nazis, and onlyIllinoisnazis, were the problem.

Itwas a mistake, of course - the media rewarded Trump by squealing withdelirious glee, then attackinghim allover again with twicethe frothing, foaming-at-the-mouthsavagery, as anyone with a brain could've told him would happen.

Trumprealized his true error almost immediately - andsaid so in as many words on Twitter, stating the obvious: Thatthe Fake News Media were malicious bastards that would never, ever besatisfied by any capitulation he made. Thatpublic tweet was a harbinger of things to come - but not even Iexpected the sheer brass balls Trump displayed when he walked intothe next day's press conference swinging.

The Absolute Madman Actually Fights Back

On August 15th, Trump walked into aTrump Tower press conference and didsomething no careerpolitician would've had the sheer steel balls to do -he stared down the mainstream media jackals that had routed hispolitical and social allies in only 48 hours, and calledthem out as the partisan, lying bastards they were. Thetruly incredible thing was that he didn't walk in with preparedstatements - he counterattacked into the inevitable bad-faithquestions that had fuck-all to do with the point of his pressconference (infrastructure.) He started by calling out the fleeingCEOs out for being job-exporting thieves putting their personalprofits before the national interest, pointed out the partisanship ofreporters and their penchant for timeliness over accuracy, and thenhe dropped the bomb.

Hecalled out Antifa and theblack bloc.

Hechallenged their never-questioned blanket slur “alt-right,”demanding they define it, hepointed out that there was an “alt-left” at Charlottesville thatcharged into the fray swinging clubs,he called a reporter Fake News, like it was their name, (whiletelling them to shut their yap,) and nailed the media for theirdeliberate omission of truth regarding “both sides” atCharlottesville. He even got digs in at McCain and Obama withoutbreaking stride - all of it completely unscripted and in full-contactconfrontation with a hostile media gaggle.

Butby far the most important thing he did was call out the black bloc:

“Now, in the other group also, you had somefine people but you also had troublemakers and you see them come withthe black outfits and with the helmets and with the baseball bats.You had a lot of bad people in the other group too.”

It was arguably betterthan calling them out by name - because he was describing whathe'd seen, as he said, “in the same pictures” we'd all seen. In afew minutes, Trump had blown months of willful media silence andconcealment wide open.

The media did what theyalways do, of course.

They doubled down.

Withindays, the WashingtonPost was stridently defending Antifa, painting them as heroic“anti-racist” activists, their savage violence, oppression anddomestic terrorism as self-defense, and comparing them to WWIIfreedom fighters. That boot-licking pack of lies - written by self-admitted Antifa ally and apologist Mark Bray (a Californianprofessor, of course,) was regurgitatedad nauseum by this long-winded screed as well. Then there's thisalleged “news” story painting Antifa as mostly a fantasy oflunatic right-wing media, (including those dreaded murders theNRA!) and thisopinion story striving to deny any moral equivalency between onegang of race-obsessed, club-swinging totalitarian thugs and theother. Oh, andthis opinion story which shed more whiny bitch tears thanHillary's campaign staff on Nov. 8th. And thislong-winded pile of lies again trying to label antifa thugs asinnocent “protesters,” offering as evidence a twitter video clipby “Unicorn Riot,” a packof left-wing propagandists who leaked the Denver PD's riotmanagement manual, an especially helpful bit of intel for theviolent assholes in Antifa who's black bloc tactics revolve aroundfighting, assaulting, and escaping police riot control techniques.Theyhave a complete fucking tactical manual for such things. (It'sa real scream to read, too.) Therewas also thisarticle claiming Trump was foolish to try fighting the media -this one, as they say, “didn't age well.” Andif all of that wasn'tenough, havethis stirring call from another extremist professor tellingpeople to “start throwing rocks” to stop the “ancientevil now standing unhooded.”

Andthat was the Washington Post alone.The truly insaneoutlets, like Slate, didn't mince words - outrightpraising Antifa as heroic defenders of the innocents against the eviljackbooted fascist stormtroopers, in addition to thisass-kissing, massive feature article that's little more than amouthpiece for an antifa activist to - and I quote - “explain[Antifa's] strain of left-wing militancy to a fascinated but deeplywary wider world.” Fascinated.You can hearthe drool dripping fromthis writer's slack-jawed, star-struck awe. Thenthere was oldreliable the Atlantic asserting the “no moral equivalence” lieonce again. Time magazineexemplified the standard tack for any media (i.e. most of them) lessbatshit fucking loco than the WaPo inthis article, introducing Antifa as some milquetoast, generalized“anti-fascism vibe, man,” whitewashed their violence and savagebeatings of bystanders as mere “window-breaking” vandalism (alongwith parroting their apologies, “the media's picking on US!” and“but they fight back sometimes!”) and talking about the blackbloc's black clothing without naming the actual reason for it - toevade police arrest via anonymity. (CNN'ssimilar puff piece was so savaged for its “peace through violenceheadline” that they hastily changed it.)And it didn't stop there, of course - theRINOs caved again like the craven cowards they are, Trump simplydissolvedhis business advisory councils before any more CEOs could makeself-aggrandizing shows of their resignations, and the arts committieresigned en-masse completewith grade-school theatrics in their maudlin resignation letter.But the absolute best partwas when they started comparing violent anarcho-communist thugs toAMERICAN SOLDIERS STORMING THE BEACH AT D-DAY.

Yes,really - startingwith the Editor In Chief of the Atlantic himself, butsure as hell not stoppingthere. Even CNN couldn'tresist the dank meme. They had gone all-in, lionizing theseCommunist thugs - adherents of the ideology that'd go on to murdertens of thousands of American soldiers and servicemen in Korea,Vietnam and elsewhere - as American heroes. Within a few days ofTrump's doubling down, the mainstream media was erecting Antifa onthe plinths they'd just torn Confederate statues down from, anointingthem with the blood of fallen American soldiers, and praising them asfucking heroes.

Two weeks later, it blew up in their goddamn faces.

That Didn't Age Well

On August 27th, a small “No Marxismin America” rally in Berkeley, consisting entirely of unarmed,peaceful protesters, weresavagely set upon and beaten by a much larger pack of Antifa blackbloc thugs after Berkeley riot police let the bastards into theprotest site without a fight. Since the violence waswitnessed by an AP wire reporter, even the WaPohad to mostly report the facts for a change. That AP footageshowing single conservative rallygoers being viciously beaten andkicked by five or six masked, black-clad thugs apiece proved Trumpright in dramatic and undeniable fashion - but more importantly, itproved the media absolutely, utterly, and horrifyingly wrong.

After piling thatpack of lies as high and wide as they possibly could for weeks, themedia was forced to swallow every ounce of their own shit.

Amere two weeks after churning out that disgusting pack of lies,apologies and outright praise for Antifa I partiallysampled above, the WaPo had to publish thisofficial editorial board op-ed condemning them. The Berkely PD'swillfully allowing the violence to take place must've been especiallyawkward, given the WaPo's twoseparate articlesblaming the Charlottesville PD's lackluster response for the earlierviolence.

Theshit-eating just kept going and going. Mark Bray, the aforementionedAntifa historian, apologist, and cheerleader, was himself disavowedby his own college's president forsupporting a pack of violent thugs, followed by the WaPo'slengthy review of his book which ended with the telling line“The inherent contradiction of antifa is that, if America isindeed so irredeemable and hypocritical that violence is the answer,then what exactly are you fighting to preserve?” Theyalso ran thiscolumn explicitly refuting their earlier denials of moral equivalencybetween antifa and Illinois nazis, which pointed out that theUnited States defeated Nazis andCommunists (onetime ally of the Nazis) but that only Communists areroutinelydefended by the New York Times. Even this defense of antifa bythe WaPo's own media columnist (which blames antifa's sudden bad rapon a Vast Right Wing Meme Machine) opens by admitting that antifa'snewly-tainted name was suddenly everywhere- anda week later they were running demandsfor specific Democraticpoliticians todo the ritual denouncing of The Enemy,for a change. EvenNancyPelosi herself jumpedon the condemnation bandwagon. Even the Mayor of Berkely, JesseArreguin (opensupporter of one of the most violent and cultlike of Antifagroups, By Any Means Necessary,) whowas responsible for ordering Berkeleypolice to stand down on prior occasions (resulting in violence,)went on-record to demand Antifa be classifiedas a “gang.” (The FBIopted for rather stronger labeling.) Eventhe partisan, serial liars at the Southern Poverty Law Centercondemned them, though they refused to apply the “hate” labelthey rubber-stamp almost everyone else with. Even the Chicago fuckingTribune, one of the most consistently rabid anti-Trump publicationsI've seen this side of the WaPo openly criticized Democratsfor their conspicuous silence regarding the Communistinsurrectionists among them.

Theentire debacle was a glorious comeuppance without peer - the entireDemocratic party and mainstream media smear machine caught dead torights in their ghastly, bald-faced lies and forced to choke themdown again.

Amedia smear machine powerful enough to coerce CEOs of massiveinternational corporations, powerful career politicians and even -momentarily - the most powerful man on the planet.In the waning days of August, two weeks after they bent the Leader ofthe Free World to their will, they weren'tjust humiliated and discredited - they were also forced to openlyacknowledge the violent political terrorists that had benefited sostrongly from their willful veil of silence, de-masking them forever.

Andit was all the work of Donald J. Trump.

Hope Rides Alone

Trump knew exactly what he was doing.

His tweet the night before his bombshell Aug. 15thpress conference proves his (most impressive) loins were well-girdedfor combat before he walked before the cameras in Trump Tower - hewas ready and willing to offer battle. He knewthe press (as they always, always do)would be launching questions at him completely unrelated to the topicat hand, questions calculated to do him the most damage - and hechose that as hismoment to engage, rather than working it into his speech as preparedcomments. He countedon their malice to give him the openings he needed - and in a fewminutes of unrehearsed, ad-hoc debating, gave the mainstream mediathe poke needed to set their zealots fervor ablaze. I hate the mediawith such horrific passion that I've said nicer things about anglerfish and Windows ME andeven I wasleft astounded at the media's rush to lionize club-swinging communistterrorists as freedomfighters and heroes - butTrump wasn't. Thecourage to take on the people - and the lies - that'd sent hispolitical allies running like craven cowards not 48 hours earlier isnothing short of astounding, and the kind of risk no careerpolitician would ever entertain. I could've told you that the mediawould paint themselves into a corner with their hysterical, manicscreeching, and that they'd be proven for fools (again)when Antifa inevitably committed a new act of barbaric thuggery, butTrump hadthe sheer brass balls to bankhis very fortunes on it.

And he hitthe jackpot.

Anyonewho thinks Trump isn't playing “4D chess,” or that he's “cavingto pressure” after the lastweek of August is either a boomer crewman, Amish, or a raging idiot.The metric asston(ne?) ofshit the media was forced to eat was absolutely, entirely thanks toTrump's August 15thpress conference. He took their greatest victory over him to-date andturned it into their most bitter defeat in only two weeks time. Onlya fool could doubt the man's brilliance at this point.

Thenext time you hear some Bannonite drone screaming to the high heavensabout DACA, remember the last week of August.

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brookeap3 · 7 years ago

Text

Unexpected Encounters

A casual evening takes an interesting turn when Maleficent suggests she and Robin smoke some of her herbs and they end up getting high together. Hidden desires come to light. Dragon Outlaw with hints of DOQ.

{ ffn } { ao3 }

A/N: For my Dragon Outlaw partner in crime, @the-alpha-incipiens I hope this adds to your birthday, dear. Thanks to D for the inspiration for this little indulgence.

It's an odd sort of friendship they've formed in last few months. When the dragon had arrived at the Queen’s castle out of the blue (much to the surprise and confusion of nearly every member within their party) Robin would have expected her to want to enact revenge on him and his men for their transgressions against her. It would seem, however, that years of imprisonment in Storybrooke have mellowed her out rather than sharpened her claws.

Oh, she is still plenty feisty. Can hold her own better than anyone he knows, save perhaps for the queen herself. But as Robin has gotten to know her he’s discovered that as thick skinned as she might be, Maleficent has a soft side. For some inexplicable reason, she’s deigned him worthy enough to be witness to it, what that reasoning might be, he will likely never know.

Their relationship makes no sense to anyone, but, still, it's a friendship nonetheless. Or… we'll it's something.

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't had a few rather improper thoughts where Maleficent is concerned, the occasional rather intimate dreams of her smooth, pale skin. Limbs bare and trembling beneath his attentions as he runs his mouth over every inch of her body. Those always leave him breathless and aching, force him out of bed in the early hours of dawn to work out his frustrations with his bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Of course, those are the days he tends to run into her majesty as well. Encounters that are filled with barbs and sharp retorts, endless bickering that can be described as nothing short of sexual tension. There's something about her that pulls at him, makes him want her with a desperation he's never felt before in his life. Those days only lead to a jumbled array of feelings and emotions, desires he hasn't quite determined how best to handle for two equally fiery and passionate women mixing and merging into one.

It's been a confusing few months for him to say the least.

But while Robin doesn't appear to have made any progress in turning Regina’s opinion of him in his favor, Maleficent is a different story. She likes him. Has told him as much, but it's still nice to have his presence in her life acknowledged.

They dine together. Sometimes with the Merry Men, Roland animatedly telling her of his day and his many adventures. Mal is wonderful with him, a pleasant surprise and not something he would have expected of a dragon like herself. But she has a natural ability with children it would seem. It’s only later, when he’s truly gained the privilege of her trust that he learns of the daughter she’d lost. It would seem she and the queen have a bit more in common than he realized.

He spies Regina eyeing them with an expression he can't quite decipher almost always on these evenings. Immediately turning to draw Snow into a discussion as soon as she realizes he's watching her watch them. But then she and Roland have their own special bond as well. Maybe that’s the reason for the hint of jealousy he glimpses in her gaze before she turns away.

Other times it's just them. Sitting alone together at one of the many tables scattered throughout the great hall. Sometimes they discuss ways to protect themselves and these people from the Wicked Witch, but more often than not that end up speaking of life and love, friendship and family.

This is how their curious friendship forms. In the quiet moments of the day, between bites of bread and sips of wine as they get to know one another as human beings rather than natural enemies.

Tonight they’ve had a bit more wine and ale than they usually indulge themselves in, though they’re just barely edging on buzzed, and when Maleficent had suggested they retire to her chambers for a while, Robin had easily agreed. Little John’s already offered to put Roland to bed, so Robin has nothing to concern himself with except the woman now sitting opposite him on the cushions surrounding her hearth, a roaring fire heating their skin. She brings the wine with them, pouring them each a bit into the goblets she conjures with a flick of her wrist.

“Cheers,” she offers, a sly smile on her lips as Robin clinks his cup with hers.

He takes a sip, lets the rich liquid slide down his throat, through his limbs as he watches the firelight flicker over her skin. His mind wanders for a moment, imagining what it might be like to brush the tips of his fingers over her flesh, down the exposed skin of her bicep, but he’s startled out of his musing as her next words reach his ears. “Pardon?”

Maleficent smirks, sweeps her tongue out to wet her lips and repeats calmly, amusement coloring her tone, “Have you ever been high before, thief?”

Robin has to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat at the unexpected question, taking another small sip of wine and clearing his throat. “As a matter of fact, yes. Though not for quite some time, I must admit. But I’ve been known to dally in certain herbs and substances in my rather darker days.”

Those last few words cause Mal to chuckle, two rich clear laughs as she tells him, “I would have liked to have known you in those days.” Her tone drops, turning low and husky. “I bet Dark Robin was especially fun.”

He shakes his head. “Oh I don’t know about that. I’m sure you and I could have gotten ourselves into a world of trouble had we been friends in those days.” Indeed, it would certainly have made his life all the more interesting. “But that was quite some time ago, I’m not the same man I was then.”

“Hmmmm,” she hums, leaning in closer to him, her breath ghosting over Robin’s mouth and chin as she murmurs quietly, “Let’s bring him back.”

Frowning, Robin struggles to comprehend exactly what she means by that until he watches her wave her hand with a flutter, a bowl and violet colored pouch appearing in the palm of her hand with a swirl of her magic. Ahhhhh, so that’s what she’s about this evening.

They shouldn’t. They’re grown adults and he has a child to care for, though Roland is surely sound asleep and safe under John’s supervision. So Robin supposes there’s not any real legitimate reason that they can’t indulge themselves a bit more. What harm will it do?

“Alright,” he agrees impulsively, pleased with himself when a slow smiles spreads over Mal’s lips at his answer.

“Excellent.” Mal flips her long hair over one of her shoulders, adjusting herself a bit on the cushion she sits on, drawing her knees further beneath the long hem of the dress she wears. Robin watches as she loosens the drawstring of the pouch, pulling out a portion of the herbs within and packing it into the hollow end of the bowl. In a matter of moments it’s ready and Mal pulls the strings again, laying the pouch back down on the floor between them as she lifts the bowl.

There’s a hint of mischief in her gaze as her blue eyes lock onto Robin’s, never wavering as she smirks and then purses her lips together to form a tiny ‘o’ shape and lets out a small, steady stream of fire, lighting the mixture up and quickly wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece to breathe in before the spark dissipates.

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that. A pang of desire stabs him deep within his belly as he watches her take the hit, gaze glued to her red lips. She closes her eyes for a moment to enjoy that initial feeling of letting the smoke fill her lungs, exhaling slowly, and Robin uses it to try and rein in his hormones a bit. He’s not supposed to be having these thoughts about the woman opposite him.

“You’re turn,” Mal tells him with a grin.

When she hands it off to Robin, he pinches it between his fingers, brings the glass opening to his mouth and pauses as Maleficent leans in, their faces mere inches apart as she daintily blows another stream of fire through her lips, lighting the herbs on fire for a moment as Robin inhales. And god, it’s so sexy. One perk to having a dragon for a friend Robin supposes, inappropriate as it may be.

They continue like that for the next several minutes, passing the bowl back and forth between them, taking turns, Maleficent lighting it each and every time. By the time the collection of herbs she has initially packed has dwindled away, Robin can’t quite help the evidence of how much he wants this woman, though he does his best to hide it.

But she’s smiling and laughing, hand stroking up and down the forearm Robin has resting along the edge of the chaise. Apparently Maleficent turns quite giggly and affectionate when high, and the knowledge that she’s allowing him to see her this way nearly knocks him on his ass. If he weren’t already on it. The thought has a snicker erupting from Robin as his brain drifts from one nonsequential thought to another, his body feeling detached, mind becoming a touch hazy.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Mal questions, “What’s so funny, thief?”

“Nothing,” Robin responds, another snicker he just barely stifles bubbling forth.

Somehow they’ve shifted closer, their limbs loose and heavy as they lounge on the cushions Mal favors. Their backs rest on the chaise lounge opposite the fire, but it really serves no other purpose than to support them as they grin and giggle at each other. Robin’s hand reaches up to twirl a lock of her long blonde curls around his index finger.

His mind is wandering again, floating almost, and he can’t quite stem the unconscious stream of this thoughts. It’s how he finds himself confessing to her, “Do you realize how beautiful you are?” Immediately, Robin realizes the absurdness of his words and laughs it off. “What am I saying? Of course you do. You’re Maleficent. Fierce dragon, strong warrior,” his speech is a bit slurred as his mind rambles, his hand continuing to wind and unwind that strip of hair around his finger, words spilling out of him, “tempting seductress. You would have to know.”

Lord, he should shut up. Some part in the back of Robin’s brain realizes what an idiot he sounds like, that he’s rambling thoughts that are better kept to himself. They’ll only complicate whatever this delicate friendship they have going is. He’s only making a fool of himself. The trouble is, relaxed as he is, the attraction he feels toward this woman is sharper, harder for him to bury beneath his chivalrous and honorable nature. His desire is more difficult to tamp down presently.

The very last thing Robin expects is for Mal’s eyes to flair with desire. For a minute he thinks it may just be a trick of the fire, the flickering flames toying with his vision and his hopeful heart teasing him. That is until Mal hums, bites her lower lip and stares at him through heavy lidded eyes, then shifts so she can straddle his lap, her knees landing on either side of his hips, hiking up the long hem of her dress to just above her knees.

One of her arms drapes over his shoulder, curling around his neck as her other hands lifts and rubs over the stubble on his jaw, her thumb stroking up and down. Her breath is a little heavier, more so than usual and he can’t determine if it’s from their new positions or the high, but it has Robin’s breath backing up in his lungs. Or perhaps that’s due to the way Mal’s rocking her hips into him slightly, nothing too hard, but it’s enough that he feels himself growing even stiffer in his pants.

His hands grip at her hips, and she’s so tiny, Robin’s fingers easily curl around her body, his thumbs stroking over her hip bones, even through the material of the dress she wears. He’s never realized just how small she is. Of course he knows she’s tall and slender, she has several inches on him after all, but he’s never really thought about it. Not until now, his mind zeroing in on this detail until Mal tips his face back up from where he studies her hips to meet her gaze.

“What are you doing?” Robin questions. Everything’s heightened, his senses sharpened and he can smell the soft scent of her perfume now, sweet and tangy at the same time. It reminds him of honey and suddenly he wants to bury his nose into the soft skin of her neck, to inhale that scent as he peppers her exposed throat with kisses.

But this is new territory for them, and he’s not at all sure of what his next move should be, cautious of taking the wrong step in either direction, despite her bold move to his lap. And try as he might, Robin can’t quite let go of that gentlemanly streak within him, doesn’t want to do anything that would cause this woman discomfort.

Mal trails the tip of her finger down Robin’s throat, her nail scratching lightly over his skin as she hums, “Do you want me, Robin?”

She knows he does, the evidence of that fact is pressing up into her, she’s grinding down into it, grinning mischievously as she waits for his answer. That tongue peeks out to swipe across her bottom lip again and Robin can’t contain his groan as he watches her do it. Ocean colored eyes meet her own sky blue and his fingers flex at her hips. He should stop this, whatever the hell this is. Should go back to his own chambers and take a cold bath, sober up so he can look her in the eye tomorrow morning as her friend.

To hell with that, though.

Robin may be an honorable man, but he’s no saint, and only a fool would turn away from the gorgeous goddess currently perched on top of him. Those hands slide up her sides, wrapping around her back and stroking up her spine as he draws her closer to him. One hand slips into her loose curls, cupping the back of her head as he answers, “Quite ardently, milady.”

Maleficent snorts, dropping her forehead to his, and maybe it’s the root they’ve been smoking or she simply just finds humor in what he’s said but she’s suddenly giggling, shoulders shaking with mirth as she tells him. “That’s such a medieval term. Milady.” She draws back enough that her face is no longer a blurry vision before him, but she wraps both her arms more firmly around his neck in return.

“Excuse me,” Robin scoffs, fingers drawing random patterns over her back, “I happen to think it a term of respect.”

Her lips curve up in a slow smile. “And if I don’t want you to be respectful?”

Oh. Well.

Before Robin has much of a chance to think on that particular statement, Mal’s swooping her mouth down to his, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. It’s amazing, heat arrowing through his gut instantly as she sucks at his bottom lip, Robin returning the favor. Their tongues waste no time in exploring the taste of each other either. Sweeping in and out as their mouths part and come together over and over.

Her nose bumps along his cheek as Robin’s hands stroke up and down her spine, eager to touch every part of her that he can. His desire only sharpening when she moans into his mouth, fusing them together and grinding harder against him, her torso and breasts pressing into his chest.

The lack of oxygen on his already addled brain has is blood singing, head feeling light and dizzy as he drowns in the taste of Maleficent’s mouth. Everything feels surreal. The softness of her lips, her scent overwhelming his senses, the weight of her atop him, her fingers gripping his hair. What on earth had he done to be gifted this moment of existence?

“Mmmm, I knew you were skilled with your hands, thief, but your mouth isn’t bad either,” Mal murmurs into his ear as she finally breaks the kiss, gulping in air as Robin tucks his face into her neck and licks along the sensitive skin there.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms more fully around her slim form and enveloping her in his embrace. “I aim to please, milady.” Robin answers, emphasising the endearment and causing Maleficent to laugh and pull away to grin down at him.

Robin’s own lips stretch into a broad smile, his thumb caressing along the base of her spine until Mal gets that gleam in her eyes again and he knows he’s in trouble. When she loosens her grip on his hair and reaches around behind her to take his hands in her own, bringing them around to cup her breasts, Robin’s mouth goes dry.

“Oh, god.” He exclaims, can’t help from cupping the ample flesh in his palms, kneading gently. Encouraged by the breathy gasps Maleficent lets out, he thumbs over her nipples, flicking against the stiff peaks through the thin material. Dipping his head, Robin takes one in his mouth, suckling through fabric as he massages her other breast in his hand. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, hips circling in a steady rhythm against his. Every moan and shudder he draws out of her shimmers over Robin until he’s ravenous to taste her, all of her.

Suddenly, he shifts them, looping an arm around her waist and laying her back onto the bed of pillows around them. He settles between her legs easily, enjoying the way Mal wraps her leg around his hip instantly and giggles at their change in position.

“Taking charge are you?” she questions.

Robin grins and drops his mouth to the exposed line of her throat, kissing down her chest and the deep v of her neckline to her sternum. “And if I am?” Robin counters. Her skin is soft and smooth and he wants to strip her of every inch of clothing she wears, his mind narrowed to that singular desire above all others. But he can be patient. And Robin doesn’t intend to rush any minute of this strange and wonderful encounter.

Bringing his mouth back up to hers, Robin pecks a kiss to her lips as Mal grins and tells him, “I like it.”

Her hands roam over his back and shoulders, lower to squeeze playfully at his bum, resulting in a groan from Robin as he grinds his erection into her. Arching her back a bit as he skims his palms along her curves, over every dip from shoulder to hip to thigh where he caresses the bare skin he finds, Mal sighs in pleasure. Her other foot rubs along his leg, anchoring herself to thrust her hips against his as their mouths find one another again for what seems like forever.

A gasp that comes from neither himself nor Maleficent distracts Robin from the way Mal’s tongue soothes the ache left behind from her biting at his lower lip. His head snaps up to see Regina standing in the doorway, startled expression on her face as she stares at them. As much as she would like to believe she is capable of hiding herself away from the world, Robin sees every flicker of emotion that plays over her face clearly.

Surprise. Envy. Longing.

Until it finally settles on annoyance and with a huff, Regina crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “Excuse me. I didn’t realize Maleficent was… occupied.”

Robin’s cheeks heat. He hasn’t a clue what he and Regina are to one another. Nothing really by any measure of normalcy, but there’s something that draws them together, however much Regina puts on a show to fight it. And here she’s found him nestled hovering between her oldest friend’s thighs. A hint of shame and confusion flickers through him, but Robin can’t regret anything that’s passed between him and the dragon this evening. Even if he wanted to. He cares for her as well.

The breathy chuckle from beneath him draws Robin’s gaze from Regina’s to Mal’s and she’s tilting her head back to grin at the queen, stroking her hand up and down his bicep as her toes rub up and down his calf. “Robin and I decided to try some of my old herbs, you remember them, little one, don’t you? And, well,” her chin tips down to look at him, delight in her blue irises, before returning her focus to Regina, “have you seen him?”

Regina shifts on the balls of her feet, uncomfortable, pointedly avoiding looking at Robin at all as she spits out, “I don’t care what you two do with your time.” It sounds exactly like the lie it is, but she merely grips her arms harder and sends the blonde a pointed look.

Finally shifting off of Maleficent, Robin sits back on the heels of his feet. He’s still high and his reflexes aren’t quite at the top of his game, but he allows Mal to sit up, keeping a hand lightly on her knee as she turns to study the other woman. Apparently she’s lost just enough of her inhibitions to speak the truth the trio has been tiptoeing around for weeks now. “Now we both know that’s not true, Regina.”

She huffs exasperatedly, but doesn’t deny the accusation. Those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes of hers have darkened several shades, but there’s an edge of desire she can’t hide in her gaze. Robin can see it even from her, and lord help him, but he wants her too. Wants both of them so much he hasn’t a clue what to do or say. His senses are dulled and heighted all at the same time and all he can focus on is his desire for each of these women.

Fortunately, Mal has a better grip on herself and the situation it would seem. She wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind, caressing up and down the side of it as she says, “I don’t believe the thief or I would mind if you joined us. There’s plenty to go around.”

The dual meaning of her words settles over Robin and Regina and leaves them both momentarily speechless. He’s a bit in denial that any of this is happening, it feels like bloody madness. Some hazy dream that he is surely going to wake from any moment now, confused and aching in his bed.

But it’s not a dream. The heat of Maleficent’s body radiating next to his and the scent of Regina’s perfume wafting across the room remind him of that. He’s watching her, trying to decipher her reaction to Mal’s proposition and given the fact she is both still standing there, and appears to be mulling it over, are a shock to Robin.

When Regina drops her arms and that look of annoyance morphs into one of deadly seduction as she saunters over to where they sit, kneeling onto a cushion of her own in front of Maleficent, stroking her fingertips down the side of the blonde’s face and eyeing Robin from beneath her lashes, he’s taken completely aback. Even more so when she murmurs huskily, “I suppose you might be able to make it worth my while.”

It seems tonight is an evening of surprises all around.

#dragon outlaw #dragon outlaw fics #dragon outlaw queen #doq #dragon outlaw queen fics #brookeap3 writing #Regina Mills #robin hood #maleficent

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