#i just realized i actually only follow jewish women????? i never noticed or thought about that until right now....

[shalom-iamcominghome]

So, a lot of my feed is from me following jews, right? But, I never have jewish accounts recommended to me, like my entire explore page on instagram is hijabi muslim women, and I'm just so confused (it's still nice because I want to learn more about other people, but I am confused)

[nimrochan]

I don’t think that my few handfuls of followers on various social media accounts realize that I’m an American-Israeli. I’ve been watching things unfold and staying silent for the most part. I know it’s very easy to have an opinion from the comfort and safety of my home, but too many people are also echoing online opinions without enough information or thought behind them. Although it’s fair to say that I’m biased, I think it’s important to view conflicts from multiple perspectives. Including and especially from someone from the actual region/culture that everyone outside of it suddenly has an opinion on. And I think I’m ready to say what I wanted to say:

Why aren’t people more angry with Hamas?

I’ve spent some childhood years in Israel. Every week on the news was another incident - a bus b*mbing, a car b*mbing, a s*icide b*mber… I remember being terrified of getting on buses, or going to public places. I remember soldiers standing at the entrance of every mall, and I remember hearing how one soldier died while stopping a s*icide b*mber at a mall entrance - both were women in their early 20’s. Until today my father tells me to avoid crowded places, and to always stand in a corner with my back on the wall to observe my surroundings.

When I moved to America I had moved on from these memories and didn’t really think about them. But the attacks never stopped. For DECADES. And over the last few years I did notice that very few non-Jewish Americans were aware of what life is like in Israel - having a barrage of rockets rain on you every once in a while. Having alerts to warn you to head to the nearest shelter. Israel has the protection of the Iron Dome. But it’s not perfect, and some rockets do hit their targets. Also, you know, maybe people shouldn’t be firing rockets unprovoked into another country?? (Don’t even get me started on Hezbollah, too.) No one bats an eye if other countries randomly shoot rockets into Israel, but as soon as Israel retaliates to try destroying the area where rockets come from, everyone comes out of the woodwork to condemn them.

Some of my American family members have an app that dings every time rockets are fired into Israel. I could never bring myself to download it. The number of dings drives me crazy.

In fact, if you ever wanted to buy a piece of jewelry or sculpture made of Hamas rockets, there are businesses upcycling them.

If you’re not from Israel, I just want you to imagine the number of rockets that regularly have to come into your country for any rockets-to-products businesses to even exist. For reasons beyond my comprehension, a lot of political parties in America want to defund the Iron Dome, a system designed solely for defense. But I digress.

Gazans never had an Iron Dome and yet Hamas gives no regard to the lives of their own people when they fire openly from homes, schools, hospitals. When they hide hostages and weapons in heavily populated areas.

I remember frantically texting and calling people on 10/07 to see if any of my family members were harmed or killed in the attack. All while anti-Zionists already rallied on social media to offer no sympathy and blame the attack on the Jews on, the Jews. Right. Luckily, whatever close family I had in the area was far away enough from the attack that they were spared, and they soon evacuated. My second cousin and her kids were only spared because they happened to be away, but their home was in ashes and their friends and neighbors were dead.

Israel is a small and close-knit country. I don't have words to describe how we grieved. 1200 innocent civilians sl*ughtered for no reason. That number is just a little under half of the number of deaths on 9/11, and it was done without the help of airplanes, just men running around killing people. The youngest one was 14 hours old. This is the largest m*rder of Jews since the Holocaust. I won’t even go into detail about how some of their bodies were mutilated because it’s too horrific for me to want to type it out. In fact I left the most disturbing footage out of this post. I had been avoiding seeing the footage of Shani Louk, but it was shown at the exhibit too and I’ll never be able to forget it for as long as I live. It made me sick to my stomach.

Look at the pictures. Look at all those shoes. The last time I felt such powerful emotion staring at shoes was at a Holocaust museum. A lot of item displays included their owners’ smart phones showing their final videos on a loop. The people who attend the Nova festival tend to be laid-back, free spirits. They show up covered in glitter and wearing fairy-wings, waving rainbow flags. They lived next to Gaza because they felt safe there, and they often supported Palestinians. Listen to the unhindered joy in the voice of the man calling his father to tell him he had m*rdered ten Jews. One of the most disgusting parts of this is the fact that people protested outside this exhibit as well.

When I brought myself to browse social media again, over and over I saw posts about how “they deserved it” and “they had it coming.” The same people, the same self-proclaimed “feminists” who would shared the #MeToo and #YesAllWomen hashtags, people with immensely large followings, were now having no sympathy for the Israeli women who were r*ped, basically saying “she asked for it.” People defending and excusing Hamas because they “weren’t created in a vacuum.” When did we start excusing r*pe and t*rrorism for ANY reason? On that note, don’t you think Israel’s aggressive defense of itself also stems from a historical reason, shaped by outside forces?

And then there are many voices still expressing plain denial! This was the most well-documented t*rrorist attack in history, because the attackers filmed it with pride, and yet over and over I also saw people posting about how “it never happened,” “they would never do that,” and how these t*rrorists were just “resistance fighters” with propaganda crafted to “make them look bad.”

In my home state of New York, I saw people marching wearing same types of scarves that these “resistance fighters” wore to commit crimes against humanity so recently, tearing down posters of Israeli hostages instead of hanging their own posters on innocent killed Gazans and sharing in the grief.

I see people over and over calling Israelis “white colonists,” when in fact MOST OF THEM ARE BROWN, dark-skinned just like their neighbors (if I showed you photos of my family in Israel, you'd be surprised to learn they aren't Arabic). We are an ethnic minority on this planet and in every country except Israel, but antisemites love to flip the script and paint us as majority white colonizer oppressors. When the majority of Americans calling for the abolishment of Israel are themselves actually living on colonized land (I mean, really?) When most of North Africa has been colonized by Arab populations, yet everyone seems to conveniently forget that. Most alarmingly, I see people marching the streets and praising Hamas and the actual 10/07 attacks.

These same people probably could never spot Gaza on a map before 10/07. Where were they for the Chinese Uyghurs? Where were they for the mass murdered Syrians? For Afghans left at the mercy of the Taliban? For Iraqis killed after 9/11? For Darfur? Because no news unless Jews, right? How can you say you care about Muslims and then praise Hamas? How can you be Pro-Palestine and Pro-Hamas at the same time?! There is a huge, sick problem in America when college students here are applauded by overseas t*rrorist leaders on goddamn Twitter.

And these “Queers for Palestine”- where is the support for the gayest, most feminist, and most liberal country in the Middle East? (Go ahead and look up which country in the Middle East holds annual Pride Parades.) Where is the support for the millions of Arab-Israelis and other non-Jews who call Israel their home? Where is the support for the Arabs and non-Jews also killed on 10/07? Where are the feminists using their voices to demand Hamas return the hostages that are very likely being r*ped as I type this?

I feel like I’m going crazy telling people that there is a lot of fake news and propaganda being spread by Hamas and eaten up by the West. I am not the kind of person to use the phrase “fake news.” But when I see some extreme footage allegedly showing the IDF doing something especially horrible, I count the hours or days before the news is silently retracted because it turned out to be incorrect. Propaganda against Jews has seeped so far into gentile culture over the decades that people don't even realize it. It’s become sickeningly casual and normalized in all kinds of circles. Hell, I don’t even know who to vote for or who secretly wants me dead - the left side with the pro-Hamas crowd or the right side with their white supermacists .

No, I am not denying that a lot of innocent Gazans are dying horrific deaths. When I see footage of injured Palestinian children, I don’t look away and pretend it doesn’t happen, because it does. But what about Hamas dressing up as civilians, firing weapons among civilians, and continuing to hide the hostages??? What about the 15-17 year old brainwashed children marching with guns? When is enough enough? You know which army doesn’t hide in civilian clothing, or recruit children, or parade naked dead women around after they’ve killed them?? Take a guess.

War is fucking awful. And I'm not trying to justify it, just trying to articulate why this is such a clusterfuck of a situation. Someone please name any other country that wouldn’t retaliate and demand their hostages back after such an ugly, unprovoked attack. Someone please explain to me why the hatred is so intense and out of proportion. Again, DECADES of attacks. Someone please tell me what should be done - because if you do nothing, then 10/07 happens over and over and over again. Israelis are all living, breathing people with families just like Gazan civilians are. Stop dehumanizing us.

Why is it that after the Ukraine-Russia war started, when most westerners were on Ukraine’s side (including myself so don’t jump down my throat), that individual Russians living in western countries did not feel threatened the way individual Jews are being threatened? That war actually seems a way more black-and-white situation to me. Why did the Israeli singer for Eurovision need presidential-level protection from the mob gathered outside her hotel? Why did the other contestants continually insult her? You think every single Jew on the planet has a say in what happens in Israel?

Why am I going on social media to dumb down, only to see posts like “Reblog to increase IDF soldier s*icides” and “Like to # CeaseFire” and “From the river to the sea” (that expression basically means to promote the killing of all Israelis, I don’t care how you look at it). Why are you trying to call a cease fire with t*rrorists who are known to constantly break ceasefire, then make a surprised Pikachu face when they do it again?

Anti-Zionism is a clever cover for anti-semitism. The very definition of Zionism is the pursuit of an independent Jewish state (of which there is currently only ONE - for comparison, there are 57 Muslim countries). A lot of people don’t even know what Zionism is when they call themselves Anti-Zionist. And if you do? Most Jews are Zionist. You can’t separate semitism from Zionism to make yourself feel better. Israel is such a tiny country, it takes 6 hours to drive end-to-end across the longest part. While all over the world, synagogues are being threatened, Jewish graveyards are being vandalized, and Jews are being attacked, you are absolutely telling me and my people that we don’t deserve a safe space. And yes, Jews are indigenous to the Middle East just like Arabs are.

How do people rally against discrimination, but in the same breath act like discrimination towards Jews doesn’t count? You can’t reason your way out of it. You do not get to tell me what is and isn’t antisemitic.

Hamas does NOT give a damn about the actual land that Jews are living on. Hamas’s ultimate goal is to kill all Jews (it's LITERALLY spelled out in their government charter), is that what people want?? And even if you deny it, you think you could theoretically move all 8 million Jews out of Israel to where exactly?

You think other countries want to welcome a mass migration of 8 million Jews? (Remember why Jews left in the first place?) You want literal t*rrorists to have a stronger foothold in the Middle East?

Why do the surrounding countries condemn Israel, yet not step up to help Gazans either? Why won’t they open up their borders?

I’m sick and tired of people who have zero stake in the Middle East and very little knowledge just jumping on the bandwagon and virtue-signaling like it’s some clear black-and-white situation when it’s not. And then having the nerve to lecture ME. I’m angry and I’m frustrated.

Bring them the fuck home.

[i-did]

wait id love to hear your rant about how fanon deals with the race in tfc fics/fanon's of everyone else’s race :0

I would like to start this response with the fact that I do not believe anyone is being intentionally harmful in their race head cannons, simply that people tend to follow Fanon blindly and I believe people should not do that, and remember Fanon is only Fanon and we should make our own ideas and stray from the pack more often.

Okay, my thoughts on common race headcanons for the foxes and how they are often accidentally racist:

I know @bloodydamnit has spoken up about this before, but people specifically portraying Seth as black falls into a lot of unhealthy anti-black stereotypes of black men, especially the lack of development people tend to give him. She has written him and deconstructed these issues from her perspective and me a non-black person don’t think I could ever achieve such a thing and therefore do not headcanon him or will write him as black.

I personally headcanon him as hard Vietnamese and half white and made a long post about him before, I love Seth.

Matt and Dan are also often written as black, this isn’t inherently problematic necessarily, but it does often overlook the issue that people see this likely because of Matt’s history with drugs and Dan’s sex work playing into anti-black stereotypes without a tally going into race theory or redlining or any of the following issues in a way that gives them any development.

I like to headcanon Matt as Filipino, his straight hair is perfect for spiking, and dan as 75% black and 25% Oceti Sakowin (commonly known as Sioux), I want to write about how her leaving the reservation was a big deal for her, especially at the 25% mark which means if she is with anyone who isn’t of the same tribe her kids would not be considered a part of the tribe since the US minimum to register is 25% and this was part of her hesitance to be with Matt as well as other pressures. I like to think the baby her aunt had in the EC she ends up adopting from the foster system and that baby is 75% Oceti Sakowin and Matt is super excited to learn about their traditions and bring in both indigenous Filipino culture that he got disconnected with as well as Oceti Sakowin culture that she got disconnected with into their lives with their unexpected kid.

Renee is often headcanoned as Asian, but typically just generally Asian without nuance or explanation and also this plays into the passivity stereotype of Asian women. I headcanon her has African American, with very dark skin and Stephanie Walker was the first black foster mom she had and they hit it off really well, also Renees hair is a wig, no one can bleach their hair to white that’s just… it melts before it does that usually.

Again I’m not saying Renee can’t be Asian, It can be done right and written well, but overall I think it’s important for people to remember why they headcanon things and not accept Fanon blindly. Fanon often plays into harmful ideas. While people of color don’t have to have a reason for being people of color, I think it’s important to notice why you think charters who aren’t described at all are whatever race you headcanon and think critically. Our cultures and races make us experience the world in a certain way that contributes to who we are outside of blanket diversity, and it is important to think about that.

I often see people saying they headcanon Womack as Native American to make him having the tribal tattoos “unracist”, and to make Nora not racist, but Nora wasn’t being racist by saying Womack has tribal tattoos, Womack having shitty Tates in tattoos, which faux tribal was a huge cultural staple despite how cringe it is from the 90’s to mid 2000’s in America. It’s important also to not just say Native American but to do research on specific groups because each culture is unique and different.

That being said, I bounce back between Wymack just being some 70’s looking dad with cut off shorts to Maori where the swirl tattoos are very significant, and Kevin is white-passing but discovered he’s not white like he thought he was, and becomes an AOA history major (Africa, Oceana, Americas, aka indigenous history major).

Also considering Neil and Allison are supposed to be significantly attractive I don’t like them being white because of that, so I headcanon Allison as half middle eastern, (or maybe Indian I have more research to do before I decide), she was told she was adopted as a kid and often her mom would buy her whitening cremes like fair and lovely as a kid, but later found some papers when she was older finding out her dad actually got a woman pregnant and to keep her quiet took Allison and pretended he was such a good philanthropist and adopted a brown kid. She has a lot of problems with this, and bleaches her hair blond to try and fit in with her family without even realizing it. She never finds out who her birth mom is

I am a bit annoyed at white fans constantly calling Nora racist, while also using the lightest skinned headcanons every time for black characters playing into colorism and Spanish Nickys instead of darker toned people. Also, I think people should really try to critically think about their own ideas before calling out someone else. Do I think Nora is perfectly woke? No, no one is, but Fanon is just as bad but in a different way. There is a lot of colorism I see in both headcanon photos people use for the foxes as well as people tending to draw looser curls and thinner noses for characters they headcanon as black. Not every black person is half white and darker-skinned rep is very important. I’ve also seen people use Reece king as a Nicky face claim before and I wasn’t even surprised.

I've also seen people almost always have Erik be “Aryan” some even using the word to describe him unironically, and as a Jewish person this obviously doesn’t sit right with me. I would like to see less straight passing blond haired blue eyed taller than Nicky Erik sometimes.

Again I’m not calling anyone racist, I just think that people should go outside Fanon and think of their own ideas on who they want the characters to be in their headcanons and why. I'm tiers of the same 4 Instagram model photos being used for every Aftg edit, the same light-skinned Dan’s, Matt’s, and Nicky’s. Also while I’m at it, add some body diversity, they’re athletes all playing different positions, I think all the defense players are at least chubby if not plus size. Aaron, Andrew, and Renee are all fat and proud, Nicky and Matt are bulkier with their bodies good for blocking, while Seth is an awkward string bean, an offensive striker who can slip through people quickly despite his height.

Again I know discussions about race can be tense, I am not trying to sound like I am attacking anybody, and I'm not calling out anyone in particular, I didn't even touch on how nicky is written in fanon or canon and how it can often be both racist and homophobic coming from my prospective as a gay latino.

Okay I'm tired sorry this took me so long to respond lol

[introvertguide]

Goodfellas (1990); AFI #92

The current film up for review is Scorsese’s famous crime drama, Goodfellas (1990). It is the story of Henry Hill and how he lived through the psychotic and neurotic life of a mafia member. The film was nominated for six academy awards including Best Picture and Best Director, but only took one trophy home for Best Supporting Actor (Joe Pesci). I watched the movie 3 times over the last 2 weeks and my opinion changed from one opinion to another as I watched each time and I want to discuss why. First of all, however, we need to do summarize the plot with a standard warning...

SPOILER ALERT!!!!! I HAVE ALREADY GIVEN AWAY THE PLOT IN PREVIOUS POSTS AND I AM ABOUT TO DO IT AGAIN EVEN MORE SO!!!! CHECK OUT THE MOVIE FOR YOURSELF IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY!!!

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The movie begins with three men checking the trunk of their car and finding that the body in the trunk was actually alive. Tommy (Joe Pesci) stabs the man multiple times and then Jimmy (Robert DeNiro) shoots him multiple times. Henry (Ray Liotta) looks on and explains his life in voice over and how the men all got to this position. 

In 1955, a young man named Henry Hill becomes enamored with the criminal life and Mafia presence in his working class Italian-American neighborhood in Brooklyn. He gets a job working for local mob boss Paul "Paulie" Cicero (Paul Sorvino) and is introduced to the entire family. Most important were associates James "Jimmy" Conway, an Irish truck hijacker, and Tommy DeVito, a fellow juvenile delinquent. Henry begins as an errand boy for Jimmy, gradually working his way up to more serious crimes. The three associates spend most of their nights in the 1960s at the Copacabana nightclub where they can impress women. Henry starts dating Karen Friedman (Lorraine Bracco), a Jewish woman who is friends with Tommy’s current date. She is initially troubled by Henry's criminal activities but is eventually seduced by his glamorous lifestyle. She marries him, despite her parents' disapproval.

We follow Henry and his rise in the mafia along with Jimmy and his growing paranoia and Tommy with his constant chip on the shoulder. In 1970, Billy Batts, a made man in the Gambino crew who was recently released from prison, repeatedly insults Tommy at a nightclub owned by Henry; Tommy and Jimmy then beat, stab and shoot him to death. The unsanctioned murder of a made man invites retribution; realizing this, Jimmy, Henry, and Tommy cover up the murder by burying the body in Upstate New York. Six months later, however, Jimmy learns that the burial site is slated for development, prompting them to exhume and relocate the decomposing corpse. At this time, Jimmy begins watching his back, Tommy feels invincible, and Henry takes on girlfriend while Karen stays at home with the kids.

Fast forward to 1974, Karen finds out about the infidelity and harasses Henry's mistress Janice and holds Henry at gunpoint. Henry moves in with Janice, but Paulie insists that he should return to Karen after collecting a debt from a gambler in Tampa with Jimmy. The mafia is all about family and there is no divorce and appearances must be kept. Things don’t go as planned because, upon returning, Jimmy and Henry are arrested after being turned in by the gambler's sister, an FBI typist, and they receive ten-year prison sentences. In order to support his family on the outside, Henry has drugs smuggled in by Karen and sells them to a fellow inmate from Pittsburgh. In 1978, Henry is paroled and expands this cocaine business against Paulie's orders, soon involving Jimmy and Tommy.

In 1979, Jimmy organizes a crew to raid the Lufthansa vault at the JFK Airport, stealing several millions in cash and jewelry. After some members purchase expensive items against Jimmy's orders and the getaway truck is found by police, he has most of the crew murdered. This part of the film is based on a true story Jimmy, in fact killed almost a dozen people in attempt to keep things silent. In his voiceover narration, as dead bodies are being discovered all over the city, Henry theorizes that Jimmy would have killed them anyway rather than share the profits of the heist. Tommy and Henry are spared by Jimmy since they had worked so close together. Also, Henry wasn’t actually involved in robbery and Tommy is going to be a made man and Jimmy wants the connection. Tommy is eventually deceived into believing he is going to be made, but he is murdered on the way to the ceremony, leaving Jimmy devastated.

By 1980, Henry has become a nervous wreck from cocaine use and insomnia. He notices that a helicopter is following him but is trying to visit with his family and deliver drugs at the same time. He sets up a drug deal with his Pittsburgh associates, but is arrested by narcotics agents and jailed. After bailing him out, Karen explains that she flushed $60,000 worth of cocaine down the toilet to prevent FBI agents from finding it during their raid, leaving them virtually penniless. Henry has nowhere to go so he returns to Paulie to ask for help and admits to dealing under the table. Feeling betrayed by Henry's drug dealing, Paulie gives him $3,200 and ends their association. Henry meets Jimmy at a diner and is asked to travel on a hit assignment, but the novelty of such a request makes him suspicious. Henry realizes that Jimmy plans to have him and Karen killed, prompting his decision to become an informant and enroll, with his family, in the witness protection program. He gives sufficient testimony to have Paulie and Jimmy arrested and convicted. Henry is grateful to be alive, but he is forced out of his gangster life and has to readjust to normal life once again; he narrates, "I'm an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook."

The end title cards state that Henry is still a protected witness as of 1990, but that he was arrested in 1987 in Seattle for narcotics conspiracy, receiving five years' probation. He has been clean since then. He and Karen separated in 1989 after 25 years of marriage, while Paulie died the previous year in Fort Worth Federal Prison at age 73 from respiratory illness. Jimmy is serving a 20 years to life sentence in a New York prison for murder, in which he will be paroled in 2004, when he will be 78 years old.

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Even more of an update from the end title cards, Henry Hill and Karen Hill divorced in 2001 and then Henry remarried and fathered one more child. Karen and her kids have lived in hiding and fear they will never escape possible retribution. Jimmy died in prison in 1996 before he was eligible for parole and Henry died in 2012 of cancer. With their history of explosive violence, I am kind of glad that all three of the main men (Tommy, Henry, and Jimmy) have shuffled off this mortal coil.

So I ended up watching this film three times in the last couple of weeks and I liked it less and less each time. So many people have such good things to say about the movies (including me), yet what the movie is most celebrated for is what I like the least. The first time I watched was with my housemates and they talked throughout the movie and laughed at the antics of Joe Pesci. I feel that many viewers enjoyed that crazy performance, and this was probably the reason for the Best Supporting Actor award. I am sure that capturing the volatile nature of a lunatic mafia hitman is very difficult and deserves praise.

I then watched it twice more to take notes on the different camera shots and then to compare to the real story of the Lucchese family and Lufthansa heist. I was not disappointed with the camera shots since Scorsese tends to let his actors go wild and then move the camera in interesting ways to capture the action while telling the story he wants to tell. He uses extreme close up shots and the vertigo trucking shot to represent the paranoia of Henry Hill and Jimmy Burke. He used the tracking shot to bring the audience into the world of the mafia man using the the character of Karen Hill as the “fish-out-of-water.” The choice of music was great including using the Sid Vicious rendition of the classic “My Way” popularized by Frank Sinatra. The colors were so bright in the beginning and became so bleak and washed out by the end. Fantastic cinematography and direction. 

By the last watch, I realized that I did not like Tommy DeVito (real life name Tommy DeSimone) because he made everybody around him scared. It was like having a pet feral tiger and just hoping that he never turned on you. He was not loyal at all. In actuality, he tried to rape Karen Hill while she was married to Henry. He really killed a young bartender named Spider because Jimmy was teasing him. He brutally attacked and murdered out of anger because he was completely unhinged. Just watching Joe Pesci play the part made me anxious and I wanted him to go away every time he appeared on screen. I guess this makes him a great actor, but it also doesn’t make me want to watch his movies. 

I brought this up with the Godfather movies on the list, but do Brooklyn based Italian-Americans act like these people in the movies? Constant noise in which men treat women terribly and the women go off to the kitchen and make food? I can except the loud large families and the giant shared meals, but I sure hope that the poor treatment of women and the huge lack of equality between the genders is fake or at least outdated. I have met some really nice Italian people who are nothing like the people in these films, so I believe it is a stereotype (if this is true, then Hollywood needs to stop promoting these stereotypes).

A final positive note towards the acting, I thought that Lorraine Bracco did a wonderful job as Karen Hill. She played a sheltered girl that wanted a little danger and got way more than she ever wanted. There is a scene in which she realizes that her husband is cheating and that she and her children are miserable and unprotected. She wakes up Henry with a gun in his face, but she can’t kill him because she wants that drama in her life. She is treated horribly and at one point barely walks away from a hit set up by Jimmy, yet she still stays with Henry until she is forced into the boring life of Witness Protection and she leaves him. After wading through the history of all the different characters from the movie, I actually find her story to be the most interesting.

In the end, I still want an answer for the same two questions. Does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Absolutely. It is a well made movie with a strong vision about one version of growing up in Brooklyn and how searching to realize the American dream can lead you down dark and dirty paths. Great vision by Scorsese and a well told story. Do I recommend it? Not really. I recommend doing the research on these American mobsters and get a feel for what these people were really like. I recommend checking out clips on YouTube that show the filming techniques that have become hallmarks of great directors. But don’t watch these portrayals and laugh. They are not fun or funny like they come off in the movie, these are horrible (yet interesting) people that should serve as a lesson/warning and not have their lives glamourized by Hollywood. 

[bushyhair]

❝ then he said, leaning forward: ‘you’re strange animals, you women intellectuals. tell me: what’s it like to be a woman?’ i took my rifle from behind my chair and shot him dead. ‘it’s like that,’ i said. ❞ merlin’s beard, what is ( HERMIONE GRANGER ) doing out at this hour? for a ( MUGGLEBORN ) who is ( 47 ) years old, ( SHE ) really ought to know better. you know, i hear that they’re aligned with ( THE ORDER ), but that could be just a rumor. i do know that they’re a ( CIS WOMAN ) and a ( GRYFFINDOR ) alum who works as a ( POLITICAL ACTIVIST ) though. they’re very ( DAUNTLESS ) and ( ANALYTICAL ) but also quite ( VINDICTIVE ) and ( ACERBIC ), which could be why they remind of ( DESPERATELY SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS THE ONLY WAY YOU KNOW HOW – IN A DARK, MUSTY LIBRARY FILLED WITH ANCIENT TOMES WRITTEN IN LANGUAGES LONG DEAD TO MANKIND – BUT NOT TO YOU; A CEASELESS TUG-OF-WAR BETWEEN YOUR BRAIN AND YOUR HEART, BETWEEN RATIONALE AND COMPASSION; THE CELESTIAL HEAVENS THAT YOU CARRY ON YOUR SHOULDERS NOW THAT ATLAS IS NO LONGER AROUND TO BEAR THE BURDEN FOR YOU ). some people say they’re the spitting image of ( GUGU MBATHA RAW ), but i’ve never heard of them. word on the street is that they’re ( THE ERUDITE ) and their prophecy is ( PROPHECY 54 ), but only time will tell if that’s true or not. [ SARAH, 23, SHE/HER, PST ]

parallels: spencer hastings (pretty little liars), elphaba thropp (wicked), annabeth chase (percy jackson), amy santiago (brooklyn 99), sydney sage (bloodlines), beatrice (much ado about nothing), cristina yang (grey’s anatomy), monse finnie (on my block), jal fazer (skins), peggy carter (marvel cinematic universe)

hermione was something of a miracle baby (and a complete surprise). the couple found each other later in life than most, and they’d long since given up trying to conceive as her father was in his fifties and her mother was pushing forty. nevertheless, even though she was unexpected, her parents showered her with love and affection – they had always wanted a baby girl to call their own. hermione would be their one and only.

[ HOLOCAUST TW ] her parents named her hermione after the virtuous queen of sicily in shakespeare’s the winter’s tale and the only daughter of king menelaus and queen helen in greek mythology. her middle name is jean, which is a female variant of the name john, meaning “god is gracious”. i think hermione is, albeit probably unintentionally by jkr, coded as jewish (her appearance, how she faces oppression for her blood by the death eaters/voldemort which are analogies for the nazis/hitler/the holocaust, how she isn’t shown to have a particular attachment to christmas and rarely goes home for the holidays, etc.). thus, i’ve headcanoned that she comes from an interfaith family; her mom was christian and her dad was jewish, and they raised her with both religions with the intention of letting her pick when she grew older. while she is not spiritual and ultimately considers herself to be an atheist, she’s still very proud of her interfaith heritage. anyways, her parents didn’t actually name her jean because of its religious meaning; they named her after jean valjean from les misérables. much like her parents, hermione is also a fan of victor hugo’s work, and that was why she named one of her children hugo.

her father never spoke about how he was a victim of the holocaust, how he almost didn’t survive, how he lost his entire family to the war. sometimes hermione saw the number tattoo on his arm, and her own battle scars felt like they were on fire. her father was a survivor of the second world war, and she is a survivor of the second wizarding war. now more than ever, she understands the trauma, grief, and survivor’s guilt that he tried so desperately to shield her from. it is the same pain that she now carries. [ END TW ]

[ RACISM, BULLYING, AND ANTISEMITISM TW ] there were almost no black children in the posh neighborhood she was raised in, and hermione always felt out of place among her white classmates at the expensive primary school she attended. growing up, despite being upper middle class and an incredibly well-behaved child, she of course still experienced her fair share of racism due to her black and jewish heritage – dirty looks on the street by complete strangers, mean schoolchildren declaring her ugly for not meeting westernized beauty standards (especially when it came to her hair), shopkeepers keeping a watchful eye on her when she entered their stores, adults assuming she couldn’t possibly be as intelligent as her white peers. not only was it demoralizing to little hermione, it was enraging. she developed an overwhelming need to prove herself and her capabilities – she always had to work so much harder than white children to be properly recognized, but every year, she still outperformed everyone else. of course, young hermione was seen as rather swotty, condescending, and insufferable by her classmates, so she was incredibly unpopular. her only friends were her parents, and the one place where she actually felt like she belonged was the library. books were an escape, a refuge. they offered her some comfort in an otherwise comfortless world. little did she know that this world was not truly her world – that there was something else waiting for her.

hermione developed a strict adherence to following the rules and an unwavering respect for authority partly because of the prejudice she faced from an early age. as a young black girl, she knew that if she did not present herself to be well behaved, responsible, and mature – if she ever acted out in any way – there could be a high price to pay. black children were punished (or hurt – or even killed) for very, very little. while she eventually outgrew this behavior as she found her place in the wizarding world, it took her a little time to blossom into the revolutionist that she is today.

when she first came to the wizarding world, she noticed a stark contrast in how she was treated by most people upon first glance. after all, it wasn’t as though blood purists could tell that she was muggleborn simply by looking at her (even though she didn’t realize that was what it was initially). and because of the difference that she noticed, she had hope that maybe – just maybe – this was somehow a world free of prejudice and racism, a world in which she could finally find belonging in. but of course, the wizarding world was not quite as she first thought. there was still prejudice; it was merely towards a different group of people. mudblood. when draco malfoy first spat out that venomous word in reference to her, she didn’t immediately know just what it meant, but she understood well enough. she’d been called slurs before. hermione was once again rattled with that familiar fury. she was top of her year, with an extraordinary amount of power, but still she was viewed by many as inferior. she vowed to prove her worth and become an instrument of change. she would fight for herself, her friends, her parents, the enslaved house elves, and the other muggleborns. if this world tried to tell her she did not belong there either, she would show them all that she did. she would be the best and the brightest – better than draco, pansy, and anyone else who tried to diminish her. and that was just what she did. it wasn’t enough for her though. [ END TW ]

because while hermione might have been a know-it-all who seemed rather confident in her abilities, the truth was that she was deeply insecure and terrified of failure. identified as highly gifted from a young age, this unintentionally placed an insurmountable pressure on her to overachieve in order to measure up to those high standards – to confirm to everyone, including and especially herself, that she really was as intelligent as they all thought she was. and to make matters worse, whether she was in the muggle world or the wizarding world, she always had something to prove. (in fact, she was only able to attend her expensive private school because of the scholarship that was granted to her due to her high marks and test scores. because while she was upper middle class, her family still wasn’t wealthy enough to send her there otherwise.) she somewhat grew out of her insecurities as the years went by – she’s proud of who she is and knows that she’s capable – but some of her insecurities still linger to this day. that compulsive need to be perfect will never truly go away. it’s an innate part of her now.

[ PHYSICAL ASSAULT TW ] even though she is extremely socially conscious and compassionate, she is very much a paradox and can often be abrasive, insensitive, and overly blunt. she’s also far more ruthless than she appears to be at first glance – this is the girl who destroyed marietta edgecombe’s face when she dared to betray the d.a., erased her parents’ memories, set a professor on fire, imprisoned rita skeeter in a jar and blackmailed her, and left umbridge to the centaurs to rot. while she does have a rigid sense of morals, she’s vindictive and will ultimately do what is necessary to achieve the right outcome. she honestly does not regret any of these actions – the ends justified the means in hermione’s opinion. (aka draco malfoy should consider himself lucky she only slapped his sorry arse so hard that he bruised) [ END TW ]

[ DEMENTIA/ALZHEIMER’S AND PARENTAL DEATH TW ] once the dust settled after the battle of hogwarts, after the seemingly endless funerals and memorials, she left everyone behind for a few months to search for her parents in australia and bring them back home. tracking them down took several weeks in and of itself, but once she finally found them, she quickly realized that she had her work cut out for herself. memory magic is an incredibly intricate process because it involves reconstructing the brain, and without proper training, it can easily go awry. she spent many days working on properly restoring their memories, and even after she was sure that she had done it perfectly, something was still wrong. the doctors ended up diagnosing her father with early stage alzheimer’s. although her friends reassured her that it wasn’t her fault, she still blamed herself for this – her father was well past middle aged, but perhaps his mind would not have deteriorated so much if she hadn’t cast those memory charms. she began distancing herself from her parents early on in her school career, opting to spend her holidays with ron and harry instead of trying to fit into a magicless world she no longer belonged in, and she became wracked with guilt and regret for pushing her parents away even if it was partially for their safety and peace of mind. she thought she would have more time than this, years to make up for it all. there wasn’t. a few years down the line, her father finally succumbed to his dementia and passed away, her mother following very soon after. although she died of natural causes, it was almost as though she couldn’t bear being apart from the love of her life, to go on living in a world without him. [ END TW ]

[ PTSD, DEATH, PARENTAL DEATH, GRIEF, PHYSICAL ASSAULT, AND TORTURE TW ] at some point, she returned to hogwarts to complete her seventh year, determined to graduate with all o’s on her n.e.w.t.s, and of course she succeeded because she’s hermione and she buried herself in her schoolwork, very much as a distraction from her grief, her trauma, the diminishing health of her father, and her newfound fame. being a war hero thrust hermione into the spotlight, and at first, she didn’t know how to handle it in the slightest. through time, she came to use her celebrity status to become a voice for the oppressed – house elves, werewolves, other muggleborns – because again, she’s hermione and she wouldn’t be hermione without her vehemence for social justice.

upon graduation, she landed herself a job in the department for the control and regulation of magical creatures. she stayed there for a while before transferring to the department of magical law enforcement. she never considered herself going into magical law when she was younger, but she soon realized that it was the only way she would be able to bring lasting change to a long broken system. for several years, hermione immersed herself in her work as much as she could. it was absolutely a coping mechanism, especially after her parents passed. as always, she was constantly fretting over her loved ones, asking them multiple times a week if they were alright and reassuring them that she was always here if they need a shoulder to lean on, but she hadn’t quite dealt with the fact that she wasn’t alright, not by a long shot. in fact, she was barely holding it together. rather than living, she was merely surviving, and it wasn’t for herself. her work and her friends were the only real reasons she managed to drag herself out of bed every morning. she hadn’t properly grieved the people she lost, and she suffered from petrifying night terrors, and the worst ones were of bellatrix torturing her in malfoy manor. she tried everything to remove or cover her scars from the incident, but as they were magically carved into her by curses of bellatrix’s own creation, she wasn’t able to. eventually, she gave up, deciding she would wear them as signs of her courage and resilience. but there were still those nights where she woke up from a chilling nightmare, wailing and thrashing. she cast muffling charms on her room every night as a precaution. she couldn’t even bear to visit her parents’ graves, too overcome by guilt, knowing in her heart that their deaths were her fault. she didn’t know how to carry that pain.

eventually, she settled down with ron and had two children with him, and slowly, with her two best friends by her side, she started to heal from her war wounds. there was no orderly, linear process to follow, like the five stages of grief. it was messy, and it was hard, but she pushed through it. she sought therapy at the urging of her friends, learning how to better handle her emotions, especially the ones involving grief. it took time, but she learned to live to again. she was able to move on and finally forgive herself. she healed – only for that arduous work to be undone when the third wizarding war started and the world fell into shambles again.

hermione was angry. she was so angry at the world for putting them all through this again. so many people died to prevent another war from happening, and despite her best efforts to make their sacrifices count -- to make it all mean something -- it seemed like it was all for naught in the end. after all, here they were again -- the same fight. always the same fight, with most of the same people.

and then harry died. then harry, her best friend, died for the second time, and hermione’s world shattered into pieces. it was only her love for her family and her vehemence for justice that gave her the strength to move on--but only barely so. she knew that she would never completely heal from it all. the truth was that when harry died, a part of her died along with him. he was not only her first friend but her true best friend (because ron had always been something else, something much more complicated). she considered him to be a brother, and she always did everything she could to help and protect him. she loved him so much, and she would’ve died for him without a second thought. they all would have. his death -- along with her parents’ deaths -- will always be her biggest failures, and she will forever blame herself for them. what good is it – being so smart – if she couldn’t save the ones that she loved the most? once her boggart was failing her exams, but now it is harry and her parents telling her the truth that she already knows – that their deaths were her failure and her fault. of course, this boggart is as irrational as the one she had in her childhood. harry and her parents would never say such a thing. logically, hermione knows this, but she still blames herself all the same – even if they would never, even if it’s not truly her fault.

then, miraculously, harry evaded death once more, coming back to life like the messiah himself -- but at the price of the life of one of her dearest friends. she’s even more furious now, but that anger doesn’t have anywhere to go. ultimately, she knows that even though it was the foolhardy, reckless knights who performed the ritual, the blame rests on the order’s shoulders. they failed their children. they drove them to this. in a way, she truly understands why the knights did what they did because she missed harry with all her heart and would have given (almost) anything to see him one more time, but still, it horrifies her. she wanted him back -- she is so grateful to have him back -- but not like this. not at the price of neville longbottom’s life. this is beyond anything she could have ever conceived. this is an aberration. it should have been impossible. and yet, here her best friend is, alive and (almost) well. she never expected that she would ever have him back, but now when he looks at her without any recognition in his face, she cannot help but be reminded of her father’s death all over again.

in the end, she will keep going on, and she will fight until her last dying breath to protect her loved ones and the world, but she’s so tired. how many times will they all have to fight the same war? how many more people will have to die for them to finally end this – for good this time? will this ever truly be over, or is humanity doomed to make the same mistakes and fight the same wars forever? for the girl who’s supposed to have all of the answers, even she doesn’t know.

it should be noted that hermione has never believed in prophecies or even divination at all, and even now that harry is alive, she still doesn’t. ultimately, she would argue that the reason why harry came back to life isn’t because it was destined in any way but because the knights truly believed in the prophecy and thus made it happen, much like how voldemort marked harry as his equal out of his doing after he heard trelawney’s first prophecy. in a way, it was almost a self-fulfulling prophecy. in the end, hermione doesn’t believe in predestined fate, and she never will. instead, she intends to shape her own future.

edit: also! i forgot to mention that, before the ministry was taken over, hermione was head of the department of magical law enforcement, but when she was thrust out of her position, she made the decision to dedicate herself to the order fully. hermione has never been minister of magic in this verse. although the ministry was never perfect by any means, she was a strong supporter of minister shacklebolt and worked with him personally for many years. ultimately, she was fairly content where she was at before all of this, but who knows what could happen if and when the war ends. [ END TW ]

[awake-and-strange]

This obituary by Janis Ian about Anne McCaffrey is very A Passion for Friends:

There've been so many mentions of Anne McCaffrey in the post below, I thought to post this homage I wrote for Locus Magazine when Annie died. I miss her, a lot. I kept a few of the most precious books she gave me, but last time I opened one I burst into tears... I feel fortunate to have loved someone so wonderful, to have been loved in return, and to miss her this much. From Locus Magazine: THE MASTERHARPER IS GONE "I have a shIelf of comfort books, which I read when the world closes in on me or something untoward happens." —Anne McCaffrey I miss her fiercely, more than I have any right to miss her. I remind myself of this whenever I run into her at the library and am stricken with tears. She was not kin, was not connected to me by family ties, not even a distant cousin. Not even Jewish. I have no right to miss her this much. And once in a while, when I chide myself for my silly sentimentality, the sudden lightning that pierces my heart gives way to a duller, deeper pain. One I can live with, perhaps. Like today, waking to a terrible cold, with headache and foggy brain I reach for solace. Put on my red flannel comfort shirt, add my favorite PJ bottoms, then a pair of  fleece-lined slippers. Make my favorite tea, cover myself with an old patchwork quilt, and reach blindly for a book on my “comfort shelf.” Of course. I can’t escape her. Hours later, still miserable, I finish "All the Weyrs of Pern"  for the umpteenth time, and scold myself for the tears that fall – first, because she is gone, and second, because I never really succeeded in telling her just how much she meant to me. I’d never heard of her when I stumbled across for "The Ship Who Sang" at my local library. I wrote to her, saying that it had moved me profoundly, wondering how a prose writer could have such a clear understanding of a musician’s soul. Being one myself, I said, a musician that is, and would like to send a copy of my last record in gratitude. She responded with a laugh that she had never heard of me but oh my, her children had, and could we trade books for recordings? And so, we began. I raced through everything she sent – such generosity, so much that it took two large boxes to ship it all. She, in turn, told me that while she appreciated the beauty of my “Jesse” and the clarity of “At 17”, she was writing her current novel to the beat of my one disco hit, “Fly Too High.” I laughed aloud because it made an artist’s sense to me – dragons flew, and Anne flew with them, regardless of the beat. It was the third or fourth email that she began with the salutation “Dear Petal,”.  Petal. Me? I responded that of all the things I’d been called, no one had ever dreamed to name me “Petal”. She answered briskly that obviously, they’d never seen me bloom. From that day forward, I was her Petal, and she my Orchid. We corresponded ferociously, both all-or-nothing no-holds-barred types, Aries to the hilt. Weekly, daily, sometimes hourly. Dropped out at times when one of us was “on tour”, came back to it as we could. The time passed. Her beloved agent died. My parents passed away. She got a scathing review; I sent a few of my own. She was stuck on a chapter, I was stuck on a verse. We got unstuck, stuck again, and through it all we talked, comforting one another as only a “good hot cuppa” can. She picked me up herself in Dublin, leaning on a cane, nervous to meet in the flesh until I ran into her arms and smothered her with hugs. She drove between the hedgerows with complete abandon, a total disregard for ruts or speed limits, while I clutched the seat and wondered who’d get the bigger headline if we crashed. Annie, I decided, for she was truly a two-column, bold print kind of gal. By then, she was always “Annie” to me, or “Annie Mac”. My larger than life friend, who consorted daily with dragons and starlight, her own luster never dimming  beside them. Once, after she showed me the rock cliffs of the Guiness Estate and explained that Benden Hold looked just like that, she asked if I would write a theme for it. For the movie? I said. “Yes”, she said, “A theme. Because if Menolly came to life, it would be with your voice.” I say this not to brag, but to indicate the trust between us – such trust that when I got home, with no film in sight, I began sketching out some notes for “Lessa’s Song”. I wanted it to be haunting, the way her words haunted me. I wanted it to be sweeping, like the thrust of dragon wings. I wanted it to be everything I could bring to her, a gift for someone whose words took me out of my world and into hers. As she said herself, “That’s what writing is all about, after all, making others see what you have put down on the page and believing that it does, or could, exist and you want to go there.” I hope someday to finish that melody. I hope it’s good enough for a MasterHarper to sing. I hope she regarded me worthy of the title. Because that’s what she was for so many of us – the MasterHarper, singing in prose, songs that reminded us of where we’d been, and what we could become. She came and stayed with us in Nashville, bringing a broken shoulder and trusting me to care for her. We visited Andre Norton, Annie insisting I not just drive but sit with them and listen to “a bit of gossip”. These two women—one writing at a time when pseudonyms were necessary for a woman to get published, the other cracking the New York Times bestseller list with, of all things, a science fiction book, and by a female at that!—talked of publishers, rumors, scandals old and new, while I sat as silent as an unopened book, wishing I’d thought to bring a tape recorder. At first, as her health declined, she bore it cheerfully. “I’m bionic now, Petal, complete with metal knees!” she declared. “Better than ever, and no pain.” She kept to her writing schedule, doing what she could to help her body retain its youth. Swam every day, bragged about her granddaughter’s accomplishments at school – “First prize, don’tcha know!” and commiserated over our various surgeries. We sound like a couple of old Yiddishe mamas, comparing whose surgery was worse! I laughed, and she laughed along with me. Neither of us reckoned on the psychic toll. “Old age is not for the faint of heart,” she quoted, as her energy began to leech away. How is it we artists always forget just how hard it is to write? how much work it is? How can we ignore the vast psychic drain that accompanies every act of creation? We both knew it from her Pern books, when going between enervated even the hardiest of dragon riders. But somehow, we never expected it in “real” life. It’s only when we lose that effervescence, through age, through illness, through sheer attrition, that we realize how necessary it is to our work. How fundamental to our beings. “I can’t write.” She confessed the shameful secret to me not once, but dozens of times, as if repetition would prove it a lie. At first, playing the friend, I tried to reassure her. Then don’t! Take some time off, Annie. Restore your body, and the brain will follow. Talent doesn’t just disappear, you know – it lies in wait. But she knew better. “I'm still not writing.  I think I know how Andre Norton is feeling, too, because I suspect that she's finding it very difficult to write, as the wellspring and flexibility that did us so much service is drying up in our old age. And no false flattery. AT 76 I AM old, and she's in her nineties.   It takes a lot of energy to write, as much as it takes you to keep on adding flavor to your song presentation. Sorry to blah at you but you're one of the few people who does understand the matter when an artist questions their output.” I responded in kind. "No worries talking to me about not writing... I sure as hell know the amount of energy it consumes. Every time you sit down to write, it's a performance. Only you don't have the luxury of props - no lights, sound, other actors to step behind when the inevitable fatigue hits. Heck, Annie, I'm feeling it more and more now, and you've got a quarter century on me.  I notice it mid-show; two hours used to be a piece of cake. Now I feel myself flagging at 45 minutes, and I really look forward to that 20 minute intermission, if only so I can have some water and sit for a few minutes. "Same with writing, for me. Used to be able to sit and write for 6 hours at a stretch. Now I'm good for two if I'm lucky. Part of it's my back, but most of it is - I fear - just that I'm older. It sucks." And she wrote back. “Must write. There are IRS problems. You wouldn’t believe. Mouths to feed, people depending on. Advances already spent and gone. Must write.” And so, she wrote, but for a while there was no joy in it. Still, I loved what she wrote, and told her so. I was proud of our friendship, not because she was so damned famous, but because she was so damned good. She even used my name in a book – Ladyholder Janissian in Skies of Pern – and roared with laughter when I admitted I’d been so wrapped up in the story that I hadn’t even noticed. But she knew – as artists always do – that while her ability to plot continued apace, the actual writing of it was becoming an endurance contest she couldn’t hope to win. “Turn more of it over to Todd,” I argued. Her son had a real knack for a sentence, but it was hard for Annie to let go. Of course. What artist can? “His words may not sing the way yours do – yet. He doesn’t have your lyrical grace – yet. But he will, Annie, you’ve just got to let him breathe!” I said it and said it and said it, to no avail. Then came a day when, 25 years younger and an ocean away, I finally lost patience and angrily berated her. “Damnit Annie, quit complaining and just stop! By God, you have created a mountain of work, an incredible legacy that will endure and be read by zillions of people long after both of us are gone – so quit whining about what you cannot do and start looking at what you have done. It’s time, Anne. Take this unbearable weight off your shoulders and stop!” I sent the email off and waited for her response, fearing I’d gone too far. A day. Then another. Finally, sure I’d lost a friend, I called to ask just how angry she was with me. Oh, no, not at all, she’s “in hospital.” She took a fall. She’d write soon. And she did, quoting me and saying “I knew you, of all people, would make sense.” A sweeter absolution I’ve never had. We continued our friendship, bitching about our bodies, menopause, the inevitable “drying up” of everything that comes with the feminine mystique. You cannot imagine the luxury, for me, to have a compatriot a quarter-century older. As an artist, I admired her work. But as a woman, I was relieved to have someone relentlessly honest about what was to come in my own life. We traded constantly. I sent her Lhasa de Sela, Sara Bettens. She sent stories about her animals, and the garden. One spring she changed my salutation to “Dear Crocus Petal – there are eight coming up now!” We planned  to visit Prague together in September ’01, but then came 9/11, and I chickened out. To be brutally honest, I was afraid to fly. Annie gently took me to task, then went off with someone else instead. I will regret that for the rest of my life. She went into the hospital for the last time while I was touring the UK – just a ferry boat and an ocean of commitments away. Knowing how out of touch she’d feel, how fretful she’d be, I tried to call every day. We fell into a pattern – I’d wait until I was in the van, then phone her up and tell an off color joke, a bawdy story, a bit of kindly gossip. Sometimes about people we knew in common, Harlan perhaps, or Scott Card, whose work she admired. Sometimes just a silly series of puns I’d found on line. Whatever it was, I wanted to make her laugh, because I loved to hear her laugh. She died while I was on vacation, just days after the tour’s end. I’d brought a copy of Dragonsinger with me because on vacation, I always brought a few “comfort re-reads.” I’d fallen asleep over it, waking to an email from Gigi. Please keep it quiet until I can reach everyone, she asked. My older brother Alec is still in flight, and we don’t want him seeing it in the paper before I can reach him. I called with sleep still in my eyes and heard the hum of people behind Gigi’s answering voice. It was fast, it was painless, it was everything Annie had wanted. No lingering. A “good death” for her. But not for me. It’s hard to open my computer knowing there will be no “Dear Petal.” It’s hard, after knowing such a warm and giving shelter, to go without. Sometimes I run across a sentence that sings to me, and jot it down to show her. And sometimes, when she leaps out at me from the cover of a book, I remember she is gone, and it hits me like lightning, fast and lethal and completely unexpected. It stops my breath, until I remind myself that she is gone, but I am still here. When the lightning hits, I comfort myself with this. The beauty of Anne’s writing is that she makes it all seem, not just possible, but normal. For men to go dragonback. For women to become ships. For young, unwanted girls to become MasterHarpers. For brains to pair with brawns, and sing opera under alien skies. And for an unlikely friendship to bloom, a pairing no one could have imagined, between a petal on earth, and an orchid in flight.

[ruminativerabbi]

Poway

At the end of the Yizkor Service last Saturday, I invited the congregation to join me in widening the scope of our prayerful focus as the cantor chanted the twenty-third psalm to include not just our co-religionists murdered while at prayer at the Har Nof synagogue in Jerusalem or in Pittsburgh, but also the members of other faiths who have been similarly killed in their own houses of worship. Foremost in my mind, obviously, were the dead in New Zealand and Sri Lanka. But I also had in mind those poor souls executed in Charleston in 2015 by an individual sufficiently depraved to have been capable of murdering people with whom he had just spent an hour—his victims’ last hour on earth—studying Scripture, as well as the twenty-six innocents murdered during Sunday prayers at the church in Sutherland Springs in Texas in 2017 and the six killed at the Sikh Temple in Oak Creek in Wisconsin in 2012. Little did I know that another such outrage would be perpetrated on the Pacific coast in California just a few hours after I was done addressing my own congregation as part of the same Yizkor service at which I was speaking. Or how personal it would feel to me—and neither because Poway is just an hour or so down the road from the town in California in which I used to live nor because Yom Hashoah just happened to be falling this week.

It’s hard to imagine a less likely place for an attack like that than Poway. It’s a quiet place, a suburban/rural community of fewer than 50,000 souls north of San Diego and south of Escondido off of Interstate 15. And although I’m sure many Californians—and certainly most Americans—couldn’t have said exactly where Poway was last Friday, it now joins Sutherland Springs or Oak Creek in our national roster of places people previously hadn’t heard of yet now speak about as though they’ve known where they were all their lives.

Nor was the storyline unfamiliar, at least as the police have pieced it together so far. A disaffected young man, in this case just a teenager, falls under the sway of white supremacist doctrine and concludes that his personal problems—and the problems of his fellow travelers—are being inflicted upon him and them by some identifiable group of others—in this case Jews, but the role also fillable, as we all know all too well, by black people, gay people, Hispanic people, Asian people, or any other recognizable minority. A manifesto—in this case really just a letter—detailing the specifics is composed and posted online or otherwise distributed to the media. And then the young man—almost never a woman although I’m not sure why exactly that is—gets his hands on the kind of gun that can kill a lot of people very quickly. The screed is posted. The die is cast. The killer gets into his car and drives to what he must realize could just as easily turn out to be the site of his own death as well as that of the people he is planning to make into his victims. And then he opens fire and kills none or one or some or many. (For a very interesting analysis posted on the Live Science website regarding the specific theories proposed to explain why so few women become mass killers, click here.)

The next part too feels almost scripted. The police issue a statement and open an investigation. The following day, the front page of America’s newspapers are filled with statements of outrage by public officials of various sorts. A day or a week later, there’s a follow-up piece about the victim’s funeral or the victims’ funerals. The nation shudders for a long moment, then moves on. Except for those who actually knew the victims, the matter dies down and eventually someone shoots up some other place and the cycle of outrage followed by getting over it begins anew. For most, the moving on part feels healthy. And it surely is so that the goal when someone we love or admire dies is precisely to move through the initial shock that almost inevitably comes upon us in the wake of unanticipated loss to a kind of resigned acceptance, and from there to true comfort rooted in a new reality. But can that concept rationally be applied to incidents like the murder of Lori Gilbert-Kaye in Poway last Shabbat?

What surprised me the most about the California shooting is how inevitable it all felt. Indeed, to a certain extent, it felt like we were watching yet another remake of a movie we’d all seen before. There were the expected presidential tweets lauding Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein, whom the President has surely never met, as (of all things) “a great guy.” And there was the expected tongue-clucking by the leaders of Congress and by the chief executive officers of every conceivable Jewish and non-Jewish organization, all of them decrying the fact that this kind of violence directed against houses of worship is slowly—and not that slowly either—taking its place next to school shootings and nightclub shootings and military base shootings and concert-venue shootings and movie theater shootings as part of our American mosaic, and that there doesn’t seem to be anything at all to do about it. The traditional debate about repealing the Second Amendment then ensues. Would such a move prevent this kind of incident? I doubt it—but it’s hardly worth debating, given that the chances of the Second Amendment being repealed in any of our lifetimes are exactly zero.

Last November, after the shooting in Pittsburgh, I wrote about a science experiment I recall from my tenth-grade biology class, one in which our teacher demonstrated that you can actually boil a frog alive without restraining it in any way if you only heat the water slowly enough for the rising temperature to remain unnoticed by the poor frog until it becomes paralyzed and thus unable to hop out of its petri dish to safety. (To revisit those comments, click here.) Is that where we Jewish Americans are, then, in an open-but-slowly-warming petri dish? It hardly feels that way to me…but, of course, it doesn’t feel that way to the frog either. And yet the degree to which we have all become inured to anti-Semitic slurs, including in mainstream media, makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be channeling that poor amphibian’s last thoughts a little more diligently these days.

Just last week, the New York Times published in its international edition a cartoon that could have come straight out of any Nazi newspaper in the 1930s. The cartoon, by a Portuguese cartoonist named António Moreira Antunes, was picked up by a service that the Times uses as a source for political cartoons and apparently approved for publication by a single editor whom the Times has not identified by name. Its publication too triggered a storm of outrage from all the familiar sources, but the response the whole sorry incident provoked in me personally was captured the most eloquently by Bret Stephens, himself an opinion columnist for the Times, who wrote that the cartoon—which features a Jewish dog with Benjamin Netanyahu’s face and wearing a big Star of David necklace leading a blind and obese Donald Trump whose ridiculous black kippah only underscores the extent to which he has become the unwitting slave of his wily Jewish dog-master—came to him (and to most, and surely to me personally) as “a shock but not a surprise.” To read Stephen’s piece, in which he goes on to describe in detail and to deplore his own newspaper’s “routine demonization of Netanyahu,” its “torrential criticism of Israel,” its “mainstreaming of anti-Zionism,” and its “longstanding Jewish problem, dating back to World War II,” click here. You won’t enjoy reading what he has to say. But you should read it anyway.

I’m guilty of unwarranted complacency myself, more than aware that I barely even notice untruths published online or in print about Jews or about Israel. After the Israeli election, for example, I lost track of how many opinion pieces I noticed interpreting the Netanyahu victory as a kind of death knell for the two-state solution. (One example would be the headline of the Daily, the daily New York Times podcast, for April 11: “Netanyahu Won. The Two-State Solution Lost.”) The clear implication is that the Palestinians will only have an independent state in the Middle East when Israel finally decides they can have one. But is that even remotely true? Palestine has been “recognized” by 136 out of the United Nations’ 193 member states. If the Palestinian leadership were to declare their independence today and invite the neighbors in (and not solely the Israelis, but the Jordanians and the Egyptians as well) to settle border issues, and then get down to the business of nation building, who could or would stand in their way? But the Palestinians have specifically not moved in that direction…and surely not because the Israelis haven’t permitted it. That much seems obvious to me, but how many times have I just let it go after seeing that specific notion promulgated as an obvious truth? Too many! Just as I haven’t always responded when I see other ridiculous claims intended solely to degrade Jews or Judaism or to deny historical reality. (When the Times published a piece by one of its own reporters, Eric V. Copage, a few weeks ago in which the author denied that Jesus of Nazareth had been a Jew and suggested instead that he must have been a Palestinian, presumably a Palestinian Arab, I didn’t run to my computer to point out that  there were no Palestinian Arabs in the first century C.E. since the Arab invasion of Palestine only took place six centuries after Jesus lived and died, granting myself the luxury of leaving that work to others. Many did speak up and a week later the Times published a “revised” version of the piece that omitted the offensive reference. But my point is that I personally should have spoken out and now feel embarrassed by my own silence.)

It’s true that the Times published a long self-excoriating editorial about the cartoon episode just this week in which it acknowledged its own responsibility for fomenting anti-Semitism among its readers. (Click here to read it.) That was satisfying to read, but it should remind us that the only useful way to respond to Poway is to resolve to speak out more loudly and more clearly when we see calumnies, lies, or libelous untruths in print about Israel or about the Jewish people…and not to just assume that other people will do the heavy lifting while we remain silent.

[uberoll-oystercrackers]

random larsadie headcanon

so anyway i was bullshitting in a larsadie discord when someone asked for prompts. i was like, lol, “lars and sadie go to church”.

but now that’s it has been like a day i was thinking about it, and.. actually wow!! cute! cutecutecuuuuute!!!! i like this idea actually!!!

idk about all the specifics but i love the idea of Lars being Roman Catholic (the most common religious identity in the Philippines). i can imagine Sadie making an Easter basket for Lars, and coming over early on the holiday morning to drop it off. She goes to knock on the door, but Lars swings it open before she does, wearing a nice short-sleeve dark blue button up and black dress slacks. He blinks down at her, a faint trace of annoyance held at bay by his early morning grogginess. She kinda snorts at first, surprised to see him in clothes like that, but admittedly kind of thinks he looks cute dressed up like that. “Uh, hey. I put together this basket for you and your parents,” she lifts the basket up so he can see. He blushes juuuust a little bit, taking it from her. “Oh, cool, thanks...” is all he can manage to spit out b4 his parents come from behind him, also dressed in their Easter best.

“Oh, Laramie, who’s this?” Martha asks, delighted. “I think it’s that young lady we saw him run into the Universe household with,” Dante says, then looking to Sadie.

“Haha yeah, um, my name is Sadie, actually. Nice to meet you-meet you,” she smiles shyly, realizing she hasn’t really interacted with them to this extent.

“Happy Easter!” Lars’ parents say in unison, and Sadie begins to wish them a happy one in return but Martha gasps, saying, “Oh, we’re running late!” and she scoots her lil mens out the door, shutting it behind them. Lars is still holding the basket, his face becoming redder and redder as the embarrassment of the entire situation starts waking him up fully. Sadie notices his state and steps aside, allowing the Barrigas space to get to their car in the driveway. She tentatively waves, and Lars exaperately waves back, shuffling over to the car. As soon as he opens the back door, his mom cheerfully asks Sadie if she would like to come with them to Easter service.

Lars, of course, turns into a solid block of ice and shatters into about three million pieces. Naturally, he can’t protest like that. >:3c

“Oh, wow,” Sadie stammers, smiling bigger than before. “That’s so nice of you! Really, I, I would like to come, but...” she gestures at her clothes, a plain light grey tee shirt and blue jean shorts. “I feel like this isn’t appropriate attire, heh,”

Lars relaxes just a bit, curling around the inside of the opened car door and watching this interaction with narrow eyes. If he thought he was escaping such an awkward situation as bringing his crush to EASTER MASS with his PARENTS, an already pretty embarrassing situation, well.. he had quite another thing coming.

“Oh hunny, a pretty package doesn’t always need a bow, but...” Martha reaches into her hair, unclasping a white wooden hairclip decorated with beautiful carved sampaguitas (national flower of the Philippines). She leans down, and as though there were much more familiarity between the two women then there truly is, Martha secures the clip just above and behind Sadie’s left ear. “There,” she said, clasping her hands together in giddiness. “You look perfect! You can sit in the back with Laramie. :)” Lars slams himself over to one side of the car as Sadie curiously climbs in their car, fastening her safety belt. Her entire face pink, a small smirk creeping at the corners of her mouth, she glances at Lars’ fumbling hands around the basket in his lap, his flustered expression only revealed to her from his reflection in the window. ‘Guess I better text my mom,’ Sadie thinks to herself as she pulls out her phone.

‘I am SO not going with them next year, oh my god,’ repeats in Lars’ head the entire drive.

---

I thought it would be really cute that after that experience, Sadie might consider why she and her mother aren’t religious. She one day gets the moxie to ask her mother about it, and Barb mentions that she was raised Lutheran Protestant, but as she grew older religion didn’t really have much of a place in her life. Sadie is almost satisfied but then she courageously asks: “Wh... what about, my dad? Was he Lutheran, too?”

Barb lowers her eyes to the floor for a moment, but then laughs warmly. “Your dad was Jewish, actually! Religion was a lot more important to him than it was to me, that’s for sure.”

And thus begins Sadie’s interest in researching Judaism. She follows a few Jewish religion and culture bloggers, she buys a few study texts, and just for fun she learns to count to ten in Hebrew. She mostly keeps this all to herself, but one day she realizes it’s kind of lonely to do communal things without anyone else. Not wanting to put her mother through any stress by reminding Barb of her father, Sadie nervously texts Lars for help with the one part of Judaism he might know about.

“Hey, uh, I know this is kind of coming from no where but... do you know how to make cholent?”

He takes about 20 minutes before he responds.

“y”

Sadie frowns, but rolls her eyes and replies immediately.

“I wanted to make some, but you know a lot more about cooking than I do and I wanted to ask you for help. *angel emoji*”

this time, he responds after only three minutes.

“do u already have all the ingredients”

Sadie wonders why he’s asking that now instead of just answering her question, but she checks her pantry after pulling up a recipe on her phone.

“It looks like I have just about everything except for... pearl barley? Idek what that is tbh lol”

She presses send, leaning against her kitchen counter as she awaits his response.

“b there in 30 mins.”

he sent that one in about 30 seconds, which really took Sadie aback. she didn’t mean she was going to make it today! but, his enthusiasm impressed her a little bit, and she felt good in choosing him of all people.

She sets everything up, and after looking over the recipe again, she starts boiling some water for the beans.

It takes 37 minutes, actually, but the knock on her door after that time passes is distinctively Lars’, a package of pearl barley in tow. Completely in contrast to his performance at the Big Donut, Lars remains methodical and focused, occasionally asking her to read things off from her phone. She tries to help, but he kind of ends up doing most things by himself. She doesn’t really mind, because she can learn by watching him. Eventually she becomes a little embarrassed at the situation, a bit too pleased that he is here and helping her like this. She almost wanted to give him a hug for it... almost.

After a couple of hours they could just set it on the stovetop and wait, and Lars finally seems to snap back into his usual personality and asks her, “Why cholent? I’ve never seen you eat cholent,” squinting his eyes at her, it finally dawns on him that this might be some kind of setup. Was he too eager? Oof!

Sadie blushes, unaware that he’d been paying attention to the things she ate in any capacity. “Well...” she sighs, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and sitting down. She looks at him, the slightest amount of pain etched into her chubby face. Lars’ brows furrow, his eyes opening fully again. He shyly makes his way to the opposite side of the table, flipping the chair around and sitting on it backward. “You remember when your parents kinda... just decided I was going to church with you guys?”

Lars grimaced, “Mass,”.

“Mass,” Sadie repeatedly apologetically. “That’s kinda it, I’m not... I’m not so good at this religious stuff yet, haha...” and she finally begins to tell someone in her life what she’s been thinking about with regards to religion, and how she thinks learning more about Judaism will help her understand herself and her dad better, and that maybe it shouldn’t be so important to her but it just kind of became important to her.

After her lengthy explanation, the stove timer immediately began going off. She had begun tearing up a bit, so she took the opportunity to wipe her face off on her shirt when Lars shot up to take the pot off the burner to rest. He turned the heat off, sheepishly looking over his shoulder back at her, face still buried in the collar of her own shirt. He tiptoed back over, standing about a foot away from her chair.

“Okay!” he announced, surprising her enough to peek her eyes out from inside her shirt, pretty brown eyes puffed and glossed over. “I can guarantee this cholent is going to be amazing, so,” he grabs his arm, digging his fingers in nervously as he struggles to maintain eye contact with her. Sadie fully emerges from the inside of her shirt, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. “S-so, no crying!” he almost shouts, and the subtle crack in his voice at the end makes his blush deepen. Sadie sniffles, smiling up at him from the table.

“Okay,” she giggles. “No crying.”

[revpauljbern]

Ongoing Biblical studies with Author Rev. Paul J. Bern....

Paul and Barnabas Conclude Their Stay in Pisidian Antioch

[Acts chapter 13, verses 42-52]

For a website view, click here :-)

When we left off last week at verse 41 of Acts 13, the apostle Paul was concluding his first sermon as a new convert as he addressed the synagogue in Pisidian Antioch. Pisidian Antioch is located 1 km north of Yalvac in the province of Isparta in southern Turkey. He finished up the greater portion of that Sabbath morning by quoting from the prophet Habakkuk 1: 5: “Look, you scoffers, wonder and perish, for I am going to do something in your days that you would never believe, even if someone told you.” Paul was referring to those present who rejected his message, all of whom were Jews and many of whom were quite vocal about it. Their vocal and vehement opposition to Paul's message of salvation as taught by Christ will come to a climax today as we finish up my final installment of Acts chapter 13. So let's take up where we left off beginning at verse 42.

“ 42) As Paul and Barnabas were leaving the synagogue, the people invited them to speak further about these things on the next Sabbath. 43) When the congregation was dismissed, many of the Jews and devout converts to Judaism followed Paul and Barnabas, who talked with them and urged them to continue in the grace of God. 44) On the next Sabbath almost the whole city gathered to hear the word of the Lord. 45) When the Jews saw the crowds, they were filled with jealousy. They began to contradict what Paul was saying and heaped abuse on him. 46) Then Paul and Barnabas answered them boldly: 'We had to speak the word of God to you first. Since you reject it and do not consider yourselves worthy of eternal life, we now turn to the Gentiles. 47) For this is what the Lord has commanded us: ‘I have made you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the ends of the earth.’”

So the crowd received a Word from the Lord through Paul's message that day, there was no mistaking that fact. The church still has preachers and teachers of the Word who discharge their duties with power and anointing, but we continue to need a lot more of them. What we don't need are more preachers of the “prosperity gospel” or the “pre-tribulation rapture”, where the entire Church allegedly gets a free pass, never having to endure any persecution in the End Times in which we find ourselves. But the people in that Synagogue that morning weren't as stupid and naive as some Christians are today. They knew the real thing when they saw it, and they knew real Truth when they heard it – Divine truth! That is exactly why Paul and Barnabas were invited to return the following Sabbath. That's why the people wanted so much to hear them again. Once a preacher or teacher gets his/her students or audience focused on the things of God instead of that of this world, the scope and depth of their entire field of vision completely changes focus, which changes the listeners forever! And that's precisely what Paul and Barnabas accomplished that morning.

“44) On the next Sabbath almost the whole city gathered to hear the word of the Lord. 45) When the Jews saw the crowds, they were filled with jealousy. They began to contradict what Paul was saying and heaped abuse on him.” It seems supernatural to us now that “almost the entire city” showed up the following Sabbath for morning services. Considering there was no phone, internet or email, Paul and Barnabas relied solely on word-of-mouth, and it paid off really big, just like when Jesus walked the Earth his Father created. When the Jews who were in charge of the synagogue heard Paul's words, they were filled with jealousy and rage. As I have written previously, the Jews of that time – plus many more since – see themselves as exclusive unto themselves, having little or nothing to do with non-Jews. The very thought of equality between Jew and Gentile offended some of them, especially those in positions of leadership. But, they were offended most of all with the teaching of Christ as Messiah.

“Then Paul and Barnabas answered them boldly: 'We had to speak the word of God to you first. Since you reject it and do not consider yourselves worthy of eternal life, we now turn to the Gentiles.” The reason Paul and Barnabas spoke the Word of God to the Jews first is because they were themselves Jewish, as was Christ the Lord. The fact that they were in a synagogue bore heavily in this case too, but there were also many Gentiles present, such as Greeks, secular and Christian Arabs, and Turkish individuals as well. But the way the Bible is translated right here doesn't really convey how animated the discussion surrounding Paul's Sabbath message actually was. It says, “Paul and Barnabas answered them boldly....”

In 21st century terms, this could be written as, 'Paul and Barnabas took all the rejection, snobbery and contempt heaped upon them and threw it all right back in their faces.' The accusatory manner in which these insults were delivered was similarly thrown back in the faces of all the Jews who refused to believe their message, and who were verbally abusive to them. Interestingly enough, there was not a single Gentile in the audience who rejected Paul's and Barnabas' message. They then quote scripture to back themselves up: “For this is what the Lord has commanded us: ‘I have made you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the ends of the earth.’” (Isaiah 49: 6)

In the original Greek text, known as the Septuagint by theologians, “you” is in the singular, indicating that the message is for each individual reader. This is significant because it lines up with the words of Christ, and I quote: “18) Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19) Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20) and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matt. 28: 18-20) And now let's conclude this week's study, starting at verse 48.

“48) When the Gentiles heard this, they were glad and honored the word of the Lord; and all who were appointed for eternal life believed. 49) The word of the Lord spread through the whole region. 50) But the Jewish leaders incited the God-fearing women of high standing and the leading men of the city. They stirred up persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them from their region. 51) So they shook the dust off their feet as a warning to them and went to Iconium. 52) And the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit.”

“....all who were appointed for eternal life believed. The word of the Lord spread through the whole region.” Notice it says “all who were/are appointed”, and that means appointed by God from long before any of us were born. It is a reference to prophecies from the old and the new testaments concerning eternal life (see Psalm 119: 89, Isa. 26: 4, Matt. 19: 16 or 1st John 5: 13, among others). Eternal life is a black and white issue, there is no gray area here. It's not that some have it while others don't. Everyone has a soul, or a spirit if you like, that lives on after our bodies wear out and die. It's where our souls will spend eternity that makes all the difference. Some will spend eternity with Jesus and all the Saints, which is his Bride, the greater church. Others will spend theirs in hell for refusing to believe in God, or at least in his Son Jesus, and for adamantly refusing to obey the commands of Christ. The two foremost commands he has already given us, that we should love God our Creator with all our heart, mind, soul and strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Meaning, those who are lovers of everything else but God and each other will burn.

So the religious leadership there at Pisidian Antioch organized all the political and business leaders and made that new teaching known as Christianity seem like an existential threat. You know, just like the political leaders of any given city, region or country, or just like business leaders do today? Those in positions of power manufacture a problem, always in the form of a group or individual that has interests contrary to theirs, and then present their ready-made solution, which is to forcibly liquidate the “problem”. These people are all a bunch of assassins! “They stirred up persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them from their region. So they shook the dust off their feet as a warning to them....” By now you all must realize that it was only by their reliance on the Holy Spirit to guide them, plus some very sharp wits, that enabled them to survive all the attacks and persecutions they were subject to. Paul and Barnabas weren't just thrown out of the synagogue or out of Pisidian Antioch, they were expelled from the entire region!

But they rejoiced because of it because they had the honor of being persecuted for their belief in Christ as Lord and Savior: “....the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit.” But this was about far more than their own beliefs. This was about fulfilling their mission to tell as many people about the Gospel as they could. Whether their message, the message of Christ, was well received by the listeners or not was left up to them, and to the Holy Spirit. Their mission, and that of the Twelve and all the others with them by this point, was fulfilled once the message was delivered, the healing had been distributed and prayers offered. At that point, it was time to move on to the next town. That would be an interesting life in His service, don't you think? Traveling around from town to town, depending on the weather to be able to preach at outdoor meetings when a synagogue wasn't available, and never knowing what kind of reception you will get – this was the life of an apostle in a post-ascension world. In next week's lesson, as we move on to chapter 14, we will see how all this continues to play out as the early Church continues to grow. Until then....

[knightsarmor]

when: 30 august 2021 where: smith’s bar, manhattan, nyc who: ophelia liebowitz & oliver knight

@moiraxlibs It was an odd succession of events that had transpired that had led Oliver here to this bar. 

First, of course there was the night of the bar fight that had eventually ended with him at the police precinct, being told he was the subject of a missing persons case and that he had a sister. A sister that matched the one on the app and one that he had found on instagram. He had spent most of the subsequent day scrolling through it, learning all he could about her, making sure to do so when Moira wasn’t around. 

From what Oliver learned, she was married and had a young daughter, Leah. Oliver had scrolled through her instagram, careful to not hit any buttons to alert her to his presence (though his own instagram, being as bare as it was, would hardly give her any information or indication of who he was if he did). He learned that she was living in San Bernardino and that she had been married two years ago. Her daughter, it looked, had been prior to her getting married, but it looked like she had married the father regardless. He also learned that she was a veterinarian and the family had at least two dogs and two cats. 

He further scrolled to see pictures of what he could only assume were her parents. It was hard to tell how recent or old the pictures were. If she was posting older photos that she kept or if she was posting photos that were new and taken in the moment. It was only after scrolling through that he realized that her parents were actually his parents, too. What he was looking at was the first glimpse of his blood family he had ever had.

It was only the day after that he decided to give her a call. The conversation itself had started off awkwardly. He hadn’t known what to say, but she made sure to fill the silences, letting him know how happy she was that he had reached out. He could tell that she was trying not to cry from her voice, but she was polite and pleasant. By the end of it, they were coordinating to meet. She would fly out to New York and they would meet in the city, a bar in Manhattan. 

She worked quickly, too, agreeing to meet him just two days later. It seemed she was eager to get to know her brother. 

And so Oliver sat there, already nursing a beer and staring at the label, gently peeling off the edges as he wondered if any of this had been a good idea. Not only that, but he had yet to tell Moira what was happening. The guilt was eating him up, but he had wanted to do this on his own. He wanted to meet his sister and decide how he felt there. He had no doubt Moira would have been anything but supportive, helped him and even understood if he wanted to do that on his own, however, he also hadn’t wanted her influence. He didn’t want Moira to push him in one direction or another. He had decided that he needed to evaluate it without her, without Ben, without Ryan. It was his own thing and so, she was still in the dark and as far as she knew, Oliver had gone into the city for an in-person consult regarding some new software for a client (something she heavily protested too given how badly bruises he still was). 

Oliver was so in his own head that he didn’t realize that a women was standing by his side, not until he heard his name and his heard jerked up and he recognized her instantly. It was his sister, the one he had spoken to, the one he had already learned so much about on the internet. 

Oliver stood up, towering over her. He had never considered himself to be exceptionally tall, but she was shorter than Moira, he realized.

The phone had been awkward, but suddenly, now that they were face-to-face they both hugged each other as if it was the most natural motion in the world. “I can’t believe it,” he heard her whisper. 

“It’s really— it’s you,” she said as they broke apart. Oliver taking his seat again and gesturing to the stool beside him, where she joined him. “You’re here and you’re alive and— you look just like dad,” she whispered. She frowned next. “You look like you’ve been in a fight,” she noted. It was hard not to notice his injuries. 

“Bar fight,” he said as he waved it off. “I don’t get into them often. Or at all,” he added as the bartender walked by, eyeing him. “Some people were saying some shit to me and my— well, it doesn’t matter. You, uh, you want anything?” Oliver said, moving on.

“Yeah, just a martini,” she said. 

Olive was ordering another beer for himself and a martini for her from the bartender. 

“I— this is so surreal, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never thought— I mean, I didn’t even know you. Mom and dad talked about you all the time, though, I hope you know. They only had you for six months, but they never stopped looking.” She opened her purse and took out some photos. Laying them out. They all featured a man and a woman and a small infant. 

Oliver picked them up. Years and years of not having a single baby picture of himself, and all of a sudden, he had several. “I didn’t even know I was missing.” 

“Did you never try looking for family?” she asked curiously. They were brought their drinks and she grabbed her martini. 

“No. I just, I never thought it was worth it. Either I was abandoned, unloved and unwanted in which case my looking for family would be the last thing my family would want, or I did have a family looking for me and I thought they’d just— find me. I think I figured I didn’t want to know if it was the former and if it was the latter, then things would fall into place one day,” explained Oliver. “I didn’t want to deal with the fifty percent chance where I wasn’t wanted by anyone.” 

Ophelia nodded. “I can’t even imagine growing up like that, in the system and having to be raised by people who aren’t ever going to love you the way a parent does. Better to make peace with your truth.” 

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” He looked at her.

“So, why call me then?”

“I, uh, I actually googled you,” said Oliver. “I looked you up, found you on Facebook and instagram and everything.” He cleared his throat. “After doing some research, I guess I just decided you looked nice and what do I have to lose? Nothing, really. Just gain a sibling.” 

“And a niece and a brother-in-law,” she added with a soft smile. “But you probably knew that since you looked me up.” She looked away and took a sip from her martini. 

“Yeah. I saw,” he said. “I guess they’re back home? San Bernardino?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Figured it was better for it to just be me rather than to ambush you with all of this at once. Ease you into it. Or I suppose temper expectations if you weren’t— aren’t— interested in pursuing a relationship further.” 

“No, I think— I think this is good,” said Oliver with a nod. “I, uh, I’m getting married in December. I know it’s not a lot of notice, but you are welcome to come. You, your daughter and husband, of course. It’s a small backyard wedding. Just her family that’s nearby and my friends, the family I made growing up. We can make arrangements. I can give you the details.”

“I think I can make it work,” she nodded. “So, does this mean your fiancé knows about—“ 

“No,” said Oliver quickly. “Not yet. I’ll tell her, of course. I just, when I was at the police precinct being older everything, I didn’t want her to worry and I decided that this is something I needed to do on my own first. Let her know how it all goes once— well, I’ll talk to her when the moment is right.” 

“You think she thinks you’re cheating?” asked Ophelia conversationally. 

“What? No. God, I hope not,” said Oliver as he bit down on his lower lip and his brow furrowed. “No, she knows I would never.” 

Ophelia laughed. 

“Actually,” said Oliver as he pulled out his phone, “she’s an artist. She does this webcomic. It’s really amazing, and she has thousands of people who follow her and who love to ask her about her comics, because, see they’re based on her life, but she keeps a lot of details to herself. We’re private.” He was pulling up instagram and pulling up Moira’s page. “Here, it’s really good. I’m not an artist or anything, but I think it’s amazing what she can do.” 

Ophelia gasped as she looked at his phone. “Oh, I follow this artist, yeah!” she said. “Life of Liebs. She’s really good.” She let out an even louder gasp all of a sudden. “Ohmygod.” She stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re Mystery Boots Man. Mystery boots man is my brother.” Her eyes were wide as she looked away. “This is the most amazing thing. I can’t wait to tell my friends. They’ll be so jealous.”

“Wow, so, she does have her fans,” said Oliver with a nod. “How did you— find her comic? Just out of curiosity.” 

“A friend of a friend,” shrugged Ophelia. “Just got recommended to me. Someone followed her and then mentioned that I might like it because it’s about a Jewish woman and her life and friends and so I did. Plus her art style is just so beautiful. And I love that dog and cat,” she added. “Are they real? How much of the comic is real?” 

“Yeah, Billie and Wolf are real,” said Oliver as he went ahead and pulled up his photo album to pull up pictures of the two. “And I would say the comic is pretty accurate. She pulls from her life and experiences. I can’t speak to some of the stories she’s writing about her friends from college, but everything else she’s just writing about her life and all, maybe embellishing a little for the sake of the comic, but it’s all true to some extent.” 

“Wow,” said Ophelia in silent awe. “You know, she’s up and coming in the web comic world. She’s got quite a fanbase. Has her own subreddit and everything.” 

“No shit,” said Oliver. “Gonna have to look that up later.” 

“A lot of it is speculating about Mystery Boots Man and Knight,” she waved her hand. “Which, I should have known it was you! It’s our name! I just always thought it was like, a knight in shining armor, you know?”

“Yeah, I think that’s probably why she does that,” said Oliver with a shrug. “All the names are pretty close to their real life counterpart, actually.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I— mom and dad—“ 

Ophelia looked at him with the smallest of smiles on her face. “Mom died a few years ago. Heart attack. She lived just long enough to become a grandmother and meet Leah, but she passed away shortly after that. Dad followed shortly after. I think he died of a broken heart, really. He just went to sleep one day and never woke up, really. His heart stopped. He and mom were just— the most incredible couple. They loved each other so much and I think when mom died, he just couldn’t go on without her. I promised them I would never stop looking for you, though,” she added. 

Suddenly her eyes became misty. “It just seems really unfair that you would miss them by just a few years. That they would miss you by a couple years. They just had so much hope that you were out there. They dreamed of the day that they’d be able to see the man that you grew up to become.” She shook her head. 

Oliver looked down feeling suddenly guilty. His family had been looking for him this entire time. He had family out there who had loved him and who had hoped against hope that their young son had been okay. If he had done something sooner, he might have not missed out on meeting them. If he had even just bothered with a DNA test, he might have known his parents. However, it didn’t do to dwell on the past. He couldn’t change it. It was what it was. 

“What happened? Do you know? I mean, how did I go missing?” What confounded Oliver most was the fact that he had been pushed into the system in Northern California but his parents had resided in San Diego. How had he ended up so far away from home? Had it been a kidnapping? 

“Uh, well, from what they told me, they were at the synagogue, it was during Hanukkah and there was a fire. There was just so much panic as people were running and screaming and somehow you must have fallen,” she said. “Mom says you were strapped to her in one of those slings, on her back. Since it was late, and it let her have the use of her hands, and you were sleeping anyway. But, I suppose you fell at some point and they lost you and— well, that’s all we ever knew.” 

“Oh shit,” said Oliver. “So, they still thought I was alive even though I was lost during a fire?” 

Ophelia nodded. “Mom always said she could feel it in her heart. She felt that God had protected you, that no harm would have come to you in a synagogue and during Hanukkah. Not to mention, they never found your remains. I mean, nothing was ever confirmed by the fire department. Of course, they told mom and dad that there was no way you would have survived, that you being a baby, there was a good chance you were completely cremated. Mom always thought someone found you and picked you up not knowing who you belonged to. Might have taken you up north and then let the foster care system absorb you.” 

Oliver sat back in awe. He licked his lips as he ran his hand over his face, still bruised and swollen. “Another beer over here,” he said as he called the bartender over. 

“I’m sure it’s a lot,” said Ophelia. 

“And what are the odds that we would take the same DNA test,” said Oliver. 

“Actually, I did all of the major ones. I figured, it was the best way to find you, if I was in all the databases, then you’d have access to my information no matter what. Even if you chose to not release your DNA to the police, then you would still have a way of— of connecting back to me, if you wanted to.” 

Oliver nodded, taking his third beer of the night and taking a long sip from it. It was a lot to take in. He wasn’t even sure how to feel about it all, but it was something. He was picking up the pieces slowly but surely, putting bits of his once lost identity together. It would never replace who he was now and who he had become, but it would certainly become a new facet of him. 

“So, when’s my real birthday?” 

[ljones41]

“MARSHALL” (2017) Review

"MARSHALL" (2017) Review I have a confession. I had no interest in seeing the recent movie, "MARSHALL", when I first heard about it. I thought it would turn out to be one of those solemn biography flicks about some "great man in history" and his struggles to become successful in his endeavors. But when I learned about the movie's plot, I changed my mind and decided to see it.

Directed by Reginald Hudlin, "MARSHALL" was about a "great man in history" - none other than the first African-American to be an Associate Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, Thurgood Marshall. However, this film focused on his position as a defense counselor for and director of NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund and his role in the 1941 case of "the State of Connecticut v. Joseph Spell". Following the successful end of a case in Oklahoma in 1941, NAACP defense attorney Thurgood Marshall returns to New York City for a rest. However, his rest and reunion with his wife, Vivien "Buster" Burey, is short-lived when NAACP Director Walter Francis White sends him to Bridgeport, Connecticut to defend Joseph Spell, a chauffeur accused of rape by his white employer, Eleanor Strubing. In order to get Marshall admitted to the local bar and defend Spell, a local member of the Bridgeport NAACP office tries to recruit an insurance attorney named Sam Friedman to help. However, Friedman is more interested in keeping his distance from the controversial case, until his brother Irwin coerces him into getting involved. Judge Foster a family friend of prosecutor Lorin Willis, agrees to admit Marshall to the local bar. But he forbids Marshall from speaking during the trial. This act forces Friedman to act as Spell's lead counsel, while Marshall guides the former through the jury selection process and the actual trial. Judge Foster's refusal to allow Marshall to speak proves to be the first of several stumbling blocks in his and Friedman's efforts to defend Spell. Despite the movie's narrative, "MARSHALL" could have remained one of those stately biopics that usually ends up boring me senseless. Thanks to Reginald Hudlin's direction and the screenplay written by Michael and Jacob Koskoff, the movie proved to be a lot different. Instead, "MARSHALL" proved to be a very interesting re-creation of the 1941 controversial case in which a black man is accused of raping a white woman. Stories or real life incidents involving interracial rape - especially that of white women - have been around for decades. Stories about racism in the U.S. South have been around for a long time, as well. However, I have also noticed that in recent years, Hollywood has turned its eye upon Northern racism, especially in the Northeast. In its portrayal of the "the State of Connecticut v. Joseph Spell" case, "MARSHALL"turned out to be one of those movies that exposed Northern racism. I was also impressed by how the Koskoff brothers treated the Spell case as a legal mystery. Ironically, the movie did not begin with scenes that led to Joseph Spell's arrest. I must admit that I had expected "MARSHALL" to begin with a sequence featuring vague details of the crime. Instead, it began with Thurgood Marshall finishing a case in Oklahoma. The audience learned about the Spell case around the same time Walter White assigned him to defend Joseph Spell. This led me to realize that the entire movie was told from the viewpoint of two people - Marshall and Sam Friedman. Some have criticized the movie for including Friedman as a leading character in the film. They believed this situation robbed the Thurgood Marshall character some of his agency as the film's leading character, by having Friedman as a co-lead. Personally, I did not mind occasionally watching the film from Friedman's point-of-view. I found it interesting. And to be honest, history itself set up this situation, due to the trial's presiding judge refusing to recognize Marshall as Spell's primary attorney. However, dealing with a potentially hostile judge and a patronizing prosecutor, and being regulated to secondary attorney for the defense seemed to be a walk in the park for Marshall. He also has to deal with Bridgeport's racially hostile citizens; pressure from the N.A.A.C.P. to successfully defend Spell; and Friedman, who turned out to be a reluctant and wary co-defender, worried about how his defense of Spell would affect his practice. Marshall also has to deal with Friedman's lack of experience in criminal law. But the biggest roadblock proves to be Marshall's growing suspicion that his client is lying about the latter's relationship with the alleged victim. And I thought the movie did an excellent job keeping these aspects of the story balance, due to the Koskoffs' screenplay and Hudlin's direction. I have a minor quibble regarding the movie. Although the movie made it plain that the N.A.A.C.P. regarded Marshall's successful defense of Spell as a means to lure more donations for the agency, I believed that it ignored an even more important topic. A part of me wished that the movie had also touched upon Northern blacks' feelings of being ignored by the agency and the latter's illusion that most of American racism was focused in the South. Another reason why a "not guilty" for Spell was so important was to convey the message that confronting racism from the North and other parts of the country was just as important as confronting as Southern racism. But I get the feeling that the movie's producers, writers and director were wary of approaching, let alone exploring this topic. Considering that "MARSHALL" is not what one would consider a large budget film, I was impressed by its production values. Now I cannot say that any of the film's technical details blew my mind. Well . . . perhaps two of them did. I found Newton Thomas Sigel's cinematography colorful, sharp and lovely to look at. This seemed especially apparent in the film's exterior shots. I also enjoyed Ruth E. Carter's costume designs. Not only did I find them to be a close representation of fashion for both men and women in 1941, but they also seemed to be good representations of the major characters' economic class. As for Richard Hoover's production designs, Kara Lindstrom's set decorations and Jeff Schoen's art direction; I found satisfying, but not particularly memorable. "MARSHALL" featured solid performances from supporting cast members like Jeffrey DeMunn, John Magaro, Zanete Shadwick, Derrick Baskin, Barrett Doss, Keesha Sharp, Rozanda Sharp, and Jeremy Bobb. Jussie Smollett gave a brief, yet subtle performance as the famous poet, Langston Hughes. And Roger Guenveur Smith was effectively commanding as N.A.A.C.P. director Walter White. Dan Stevens did an excellent job in conveying the patronizing and self-privileged prosecutor Loren Willis. James Cromwell gave a very interesting performance as Judge Foster. Although Cromwell managed to convey his character's obvious bigotry, it seemed that some of his character's decisions - including a willingness to allow Marshall to act as second chair for the defense - seemed to express the latter's unwillingness to put Northern racism on display for the world to see. Kate Hudson's portrayal of the alleged victim, Eleanor Strubing struck me as effectively ambiguous. Hudson did an excellent job in conveying mixed signals over her character. I felt anger over her character's charges of rape against the defendant. Yet at the same time, I felt pity toward the character being an obvious victim of spousal abuse. Ironically, Sterling K. Brown also managed to effectively convey the ambiguity of his character, the defendant Joseph Spell. Now, one might wonder why I would regard Spell as an ambiguous character. Brown did an excellent job in expressing his character's innocence. And yet, the actor also managed to convey the air that his character was lying to Marshall on a certain level. I have seen Chadwick Boseman in three other films before "MARSHALL". And I was impressed. But I felt a lot more impressed by his portrayal of Thurgood Marshall in this film. The actor did a superb job in conveying the different aspects of Marshall's personality - his charisma, witty sense of humor, intelligence and more importantly, a slight perverse streak in his nature. Boseman was very subtle in expressing Marshall's arrogance and slight tendency of needling . . . especially with Langston Hughes and Sam Friedman. Another first-rate performance came from Josh Gad, who portrayed Friedman, the man forced to act as Spell's primary defender. I noticed that although Friedman seemed friendly with the head of Bridgeport's N.A.A.C.P. office, he seemed very wary of helping Marshall with defending Spell. I understood this. He was worried how his participation in the case would look with his own clients and Bridgeport's Jewish community. But I realized that if Friedman had truly been that racially tolerant at the time, he would not care . . . like his brother. This is why I found it very satisfying to watch Gad develop into that openly tolerant man who no longer cared about how others would regard his views on race and especially African-Americans. I would never regard "MARSHALL" as one of the best movies of 2017. To be honest, I do not believe in any "best movies of the year" list. But I enjoyed "MARSHALL" so much that in the end, it became one of my favorite movies of that year. And I can thank director Reginald Hudlin, screenwriters Jacob and Michael Koskoff and an excellent cast led by the always talented Chadwick Boseman for making this film so enjoyable and fascinating for me.

[kisathemistress]

Some South Park Headcanons I have

(Because I’m falling for the series again!)

The four main characters:

Kyle Broflovski: 

His personality makes it almost impossible for him to let things go, if it means making someone (other than Cartman) upset or sad. He just want as many people as possible to be happy around him, because if they aren’t he feels like he has failed them. 

This comes from his strict upbringing his parents gave him and from studying/knowing everything (including religious various beliefs) thus he lives his life by the golden rule: “Do not do unto others, that you do not want done to you.”

He believes highly in karma as well, especially the Wiccan belief of karma. Where if you do something kind you will be rewarded with 3 times the kindness, but if you do something hurtful you will be punished with 3 times the misfortune.

Despite being Jewish and claiming his pride with the religion, Kyle doesn’t follow any of the practices most Jewish people do. He willingly eats pork and sometimes attends/helps the local Roman Catholic church (but this could be do to the town only having one church and most of his friends go there.)

Unlike Scott, Kyle’s diabetes isn’t as serious and he can get away with eating something with extra sugars in it without going into diabetic shock. Though he does carry emergency insulin just incase.

Kyle is aromantic and bisexual. He doesn’t know how to react to intimacy or pick up clues that someone likes him “in that way”, he just assumes all positive contact with him is platonic in nature. He has to be directly told that someone is in love with him for him to understand why they are being overly nice to him.

Since he is only an 9/10 year old, he isn’t aware full of his own sexuality, thus acts the way he thinks a “normal boy” should behave. Despite constantly giving away that he isn’t “normal” by his own definition.

Also he still has his pet Elephant, but it has been moved to a Zoo for a breeding program. He goes to visit it him occasionally and is a junior Zookeeper at the park. He’s going to be officially hired to work there part-time once he’s in high school.

Stan Marsh:

He still does drink, but not to the extent that his father does nor does he get blackout drunk anymore. He’s cut back a lot thanks to going to AA, but is struggling with the 12 step program do to his father leaving alcohol in his reach, and offering him alcohol. He’s also the kid that pulls drinks for his friends and for parties, as both his father and uncle Jimbo will buy it for him if he asks.

Stan tries his best to be vegetarian but has no problem with eating meat as long as he doesn’t witness the slaughter and preparation of the animal. (Including fish.) Blood makes him squeamish, and he becomes overly emotional when he sees an animal in distress.

Even though Stan is straight, when he’s drunk he’ll sleep with anybody. Drunk Stan also believes Kyle is his boyfriend and will run to him for comfort. This normally confuses Kyle, especially when Stan rejects everything when he is sober. It part of the reason Wendy decided that she is genderfluid and created Wendyl, thinking it will keep Stan from “wandering” away from her.

Stan is very proud of his gay dog Sparky. He willingly takes him to gay pride parades and events, and voices his support for his dog. 

He still owns that poodle he bought, which he found out was a toy poodle.

If his parents didn’t limit Stan to only 2 dogs, he would have a pack of at least 6, that he’d have follow him everywhere. He instantly can become friends with any dog he meets and feels heartbroken when he can’t take them home.

Stan knows different wolf howls and behaviors, he can almost instantly tell you what a wolf or a dog is trying to tell you. If he ever gets lost in the forest around town. he knows how to find the local wolf/coyote pack to keep himself company.

Out of all the boys, Stan would be the first to go feral if they were abandoned by their parents/society.

Kenny McCormick:

Is literally an Elder God, but only is aware of his immortality. He can’t remember what other powers he has or how to activate them. His real father is Cthulhu, and he hates him.

Kenny cares very deeply for his little sister Karen and older brother Kevin. When he has extra money, he will always buy them something nice. Like a new doll for Karen or powdered doughnuts from the convenience store to share with Kevin, because it’s their favorite treat.

Even though he will do nearly anything for money, he draws the line at eating Hot Rods. (Unless of course eating them would bring his family out of poverty or something...)

Kenny is genderfluid and pansexual. Mostly because he doesn’t care who he sleeps with, especially if their is money involved. Also wearing girl clothing occasionally was at first so he could had it down to Karen, but now he’d proudly admits he does like the look and feel of women’s clothing on him.

He has had pet rats, a pet possum, and raccoon. Currently he’s raising a baby flying squirrel he found abandoned in his yard, and nursing a robin who has a broken wing.

He wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up.

Eric Cartman:

Never thinks things through, and always pays for his schemes one way or another.

Still has a horde of stuffies he keeps in his room and sleeps with. Even having tea parties with them, when his “friends” don’t want to play.

Is an asshole towards Kyle, because he has unrequited feelings for him, but doesn’t want Kyle to know. Most of his plans fall through, because he really doesn’t want to hurt or push Kyle away.

Knows that he should watch his weight and eat better, but subconsciously wants to get diabetes from his obesity so he can be just like Kyle and Scott. He hates that they get special attention to their medical problems at school and thus don’t have to participate in certain exercises in gym.

Cartman is sex repulsed, but is secretly gay. He can’t stand the thought of actually having sex with anyone and believes all intimate contact is rape. 

He once broke up Craig and Tweek when he spotted them kissing at Stark’s Pond, then went on a rant of how Craig was taking advantage of his boyfriend, scaring Tweek into thinking he got all of the STDs.

Kyle has force Cartman to clean up “Zaron” all by himself before, after Cartman broke too many rules they came up with after the Stick of Truth was thrown in Stark’s Pond. Although, Cartman made Butters do it for him instead, when Kyle went home.

Four other boys:

Tweek Tweak:

Wasn’t aware his parent’s put meth and other drugs in his coffee to test the blends into being their customers addicted, until Craig discovered what Mr. Tweak was doing. Though Tweek is too scared to report his parents, Craig has used it as a threat to get Tweek expensive things, like videogames and new brand named clothes.

Tweek is a wonderful cook and baker. He wants to change the Tweak Bros. Coffee, into a restaurant kind of like Tim Hortons, where they serve both coffee and homemade food. Though he is too scared to ask his father to put in a proper kitchen in the back of the store, for him to use. Instead he has convinced his mother to sell his famous cupcakes, he bakes at home.

Even without the coffee and drugs, Tweek would still have his twitching tick. It only acts up when he is stressed out. When he is calm, it’s barely noticeable.

Before he bought Stripe #4 for Craig, he was terrified of rodents, after he fell in love with Guinea Pigs and occasionally will discuss proper rodent care with Kenny. 

Though now he fears that Craig might eat Stripe one day, do to Guinea Pigs being a delicacy in Peru and not knowing what happened to the other three Guinea Pigs Craig has had before Stripe #4. That’s why Stripe is kept over at his house on weekends and not a Craig’s 24/7.

Tweek has a parrot named “Coffee Crisp”, because it’s his favorite snack and the first words the parrot learned. His parent’s bought Tweek Coffee Crisp, to help keep his paranoia in check. 

Coffee Crisp will repeat goverment conspiracy theories do to that fact Tweek listens to them on the radio in his room at night. Coffee Crisp also knows the name of over 150 different types of coffee related products.

Craig gave Tweek a hand knitted Chullo and shall that matched his own, but in green, for his birthday. Tweek is afraid he will ruin them if he wears them, so he only wore the outfit for a day before permanently hanging it up in his closet.

Tweek was questioning his sexuality, but has always been gay. He was just too paranoid about other things to focus long enough to realize this.

Craig Tucker:

Although he behaves like he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, he cares deeply on the inside for his friends. He believes showing emotion is weakness and prefers to internalize everything.

He has broken down in front of only two people ever in his life. The first being Clyde after Strip #2 had died, and the second being Tweek.

Craig is aware he is adopted and his native homeland is in Peru. He’s half white and half Peruvian native, and was sent to the US for adoption after people started trying to worship him as the Guinea God.

He’s also aware that he is a god and has god-like abilities. He just doesn’t like to use them and prefers to live a “normal” mortal life. He is aware of Kenny being an Elder God and his immortality. He’s willing to teach Kenny how to be responsible with his powers if he ever find out how to use them.

Craig has eaten Cavy and knows how to make traditional Peruvian dishes that use it, do to being a deity in his homeland. He likes it on occasion, but would never eat a Guinea Pig that he intends to keep as a pet and has buried his previous Guinea Pigs in the back garden of his home. He even had little funerals for them where his friends attended.

Craig likes to knit and will spend hours in his room listening to music and knitting. He hides this from his dad, because it’s not a “manly” hobby. Though every christmas he gives his family handmade sweaters, scarves, mittens, and socks, as gifts.

He doesn’t like coffee like Tweek, but his favorite drink is French Vanilla Cappuccinos. Which he has with whipped cream added, do to his sweet tooth.

Craig can’t dance, but tries to at parties and has fun regardless at his failed attempts. It makes Tweek laugh anyway.

Finally like Tweek’s twitching, flipping people off is a tick Craig had developed. Do to internalizing all of his thoughts and feelings, he automatically flips the bird when he feels upset or angry over someone or thing.

Clyde Donovan

Is just as pervy as Kenny, but is straight. 

He has problems with over expressing his emotions and is always crying about something. He uses Craig as his emotional support constantly, and sometimes will sit eating ice cream and watching romance movies alone.

He is embarrassed by his colostomy bag and only his friends (and Mr. Macky) know about it. He has one do to surviving rectal cancer when he was five.

He wants to own his own mexican themed restaurant when he is older or a Taco Bell. He was very disappointed when the government canceled building a giant Taco Bell during the events of the Stick of Truth.

His favorite Raisins girl is Lexus and always request her to be his host when he eats there. He wants to ask her out, but is too scared she will reject him.

When the kids play “The Kingdom of Zaron” now, Clyde remains as a separate third faction and the main “antagonist” of the game, when the humans and elves aren’t fighting each other. He rules over all the kids that want to be “monsters” or non-human or non-elf. Humans and elves can join his side if they proved to be “evil” enough.

Clyde has worn women's clothing for fun before. He likes flowy skirts and dresses. He wants to go to prom one day in a dress and maybe convince his future wife to let him wear the bride’s gown to their wedding.

Whenever he hears that Tweek is having a “backing meltdown” he gets excited, since Tweek makes too much and usually shares by giving him three boxes of baking. He hides this from his dad who want him to be careful of his weight.

Token Black:

Likes to buy expensive things for Nicole and his friends. He has no idea the value of money and genuinely gets confused when his friend say they or their parents can’t afford something.

Kenny McCormick creeps him out, and he thinks his family just chooses to live in a garbage dump. Though he does get along with Karen McCormick and had bought her lunch a few times, since he thinks it’s cruel for her parents to not give her money or food for school.

He is the second person Clyde will run to when he is upset, though unlike Craig, he dosen’t really know how to react or comfort Clyde. He normally just stands there with Clyde crying in his shoulder, awkwardly patting his back saying “there, there...” until Clyde feels better.

Contrary to belief (and Cartman) Token doesn’t like listening to Beyonce or hip hop type music. He actually likes listening to old folk music and polkas. 

Weird Al Yankovic is his favorite entertainer and “Just Eat it” is his favorite song by him.

Token sometimes says racist things against his white friends by accident. After which he profusely apologizes if he catches himself or someone calls him out on it.

He rather play chess than play football or basketball.

[textsfromumbridge]

All the men and women merely players (4/5)

Yes, you’re seeing this right, this is the next chapter. 

Warning for Nathaniel having some serious issues (eating) in this chapter. Be warned. 

Chapter dedicated to my girls @catty-words and @rebeccaplimpton - #Sluts4Evah!

....

Chapter four: Nobody does mean like Senior (AO3)

The entire room seemed like it was frozen in amber. No one dared to move, in fear of what would happen if Father noticed that there were other people in this room.

Everyone was still except for Rebecca. She was still standing in front of him, still with her hand on his chest in the aftermath of their dance. Her skirts fanned out around them, with only them in this protective little bubble, the one his father had just shattered with his cold fury.

Her hand slowly slid down his chest, and he gulped. Why did she have to do this to him now?

“Deep breaths,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers.

Was this another panic attack? He felt like he was barely in his body anymore, and things were becoming hazy and muddled.

He then realized he was barely breathing, breath caught in his throat and starting to hyperventilate while at the same time trying to stay absolutely still so his father wouldn’t notice his weakness. Father did not take kindly to anything less than perfection.

“Nathaniel,” Rebecca was still right there, seeing all of him.

“Can’t breathe,” he wheezed, trying to explain, trying to make her let him go.

She kept cool, displaying no sign of her panic to his father - he wished he knew how to do that. Father could always tell when he wasn’t quite his best, and he always chose that very moment to put more pressure on him.

Plimptons were supposed to be able to handle this pressure. He was a fraud, a failure, and there was no way he could apologize for his existence enough - his father had made sure that he knew that.

“Nathaniel,” his father sensed that he was not getting all the attention he was due.

Was he even still breathing? He couldn’t tell, couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his ears and couldn’t see anything past Rebecca. She’d taken up his entire field of vision somehow, which shouldn’t be possible because she was so short.

It was then that he’d realized he’d fallen to his knees, letting go of Rebecca’s hand on the way.

“Sorry,” her voice was scarily gentle. “I know this dress is cumbersome. It makes sense that you tripped on it.”

Lies, all lies. But lies with a purpose: drawing his father’s attention to her and that costume, giving him an excuse other than a panic attack for why his son was on his knees.

How did she know? How could she know exactly what to do, when he didn’t even know and he’d been like this so many times before? He’d snapped himself out of it on the bathroom floor, or his bed… So why not now?

“Hey,” Rebecca’s hand was warm on his cheek.

He held his breath, wondering about how she’d be punished for showing him such kindness - the gods never did approve of it.

After twenty seconds, when no other immediate danger was perceived, he let out a shuddering breath. He felt his breathing go back to normal, slowly but surely, as he looked up at Rebecca.

“Yes father,” he could finally speak again. “I will be right out. I assume they want the costume back.”

Well, that was the end of that dream, of the idea that he could do anything but be the imperfect copy of his father he’d always been. He’d at least wanted to hold up his end of the bargain with Mr. Whitefeather.

The man had been nothing but kind to him since the blackmail, and he owed him a little more than he was getting here. He’d just have to find a new lead, have to find someone to fill his shoes - the uncomfortable costume shoes he’d have to leave behind here. Well, at least he wasn’t sad about the stupid shoes.

Not that he was sad about leaving this ragtag band of idiots - because he didn’t actually care about any of them. They’d put on a subpar show without him, but it wasn’t his job to draw them up from the bare minimum hints of mediocrity.

Coldly he stood up and shrugged off the jacket, folding it neatly and leaving it on a nearby table. He kicked off the shoes, the buckles hitting the table leg.

The sound didn’t jar anyone except Rebecca - all of the others had done nothing, had only moved away from the carnage to let him handle it all by himself. Good, he didn’t want any interference from those losers anyway.

Rebecca wasn’t letting this happen, though. And it made him… unsure.

“Nathaniel,” she just said his name as he took himself into one of the makeshift dressing rooms.

“Bunch,” he tried to turn back the clock to when names didn’t mean anything.

She had no interest in preserving any kind of modesty, she just followed him into the room and did not take her eyes off him for even a second. Even when he took the ornate shirt off, leaving him shirtless and sweaty.

He knew that was a thing for her, and he was absolutely making that work for him. Maybe if she was distracted, she wouldn’t get all riled up about this in front of his father - that would not end well for her.

So he started unbuttoning the pants, smiling smugly at her all the while. It was so much easier to just be an asshole again.

“Don’t do that,” she crossed her arms over her chest - still distracting.

“Don’t get naked?” he slid right back into their old banter. “I’m getting mixed messages here.”

The stupid tight pants were low on his hips, and her eyes couldn’t stop going down - and then going back up every time she was caught in the act. Obviously she still wanted to hit that, and he couldn’t blame her.

But she had too many feelings for him to ever let that happen. God forbid he’d catch some.

“Don’t leave,” she told him, her chin raised to pretend like she wasn’t begging.

Case in point.

“I never wanted to be here, Bunch,” he grabbed his own shirt and buttoned it slowly. “Your dear Mr. Whitefeather forced me to do it. And now I have my way out.”

It was a good escape - he never had his father’s permission, and not even Mr. Whitefeather or anyone in this entire school could do something against his father. So they’d let him go, if only to keep their donations. Perhaps there’d be a Plimpton business wing soon, or some ornate library, just to keep his father happy.

Wouldn’t be the first time. It was why the local hospital had a Plimpton wing.

“Have you ever even told him no?” Rebecca pointedly looked away while he switched his pants.

“Look who’s talking,” his slacks were slightly creased, another slight on his father. “Your mother still believes that you’ll do pre-law in college.”

It was all well and easy to talk to him about just saying no to his father when she’d never even told her mother anything about her college plans, or anything really. Hypocrisy was always easier, he knew that much.

“I never told you that,” Rebecca was immediately suspicious of him.

Ah, he loved it when a plan came together.

“Our housekeeper is Jewish,” he fixed his tie. “Your mom likes to brag about her smart, future Ivy League lawyer, misguided daughter.”

There was no reason for him to stick around in this room. He looked like himself again, like the old Nathaniel Plimpton the Third. The man he was supposed to be. And there was no reason for him to look mournfully at the Prince Topher costume that he’d been wearing before, no reason to feel the slightest hint of regret that he’d never get to dance with Rebecca in front of a crowd, never get to sing his songs with people he’d grown not to hate too much.

It was time to move on from these losers.

“I have told my mom about my future,” Rebecca tried to stop him from leaving the room. “It is just that she refuses to hear it. But I’m eighteen and I’ll do it on my own if I have to.”

That was a naive kind of irrealism that he couldn’t stand by. There was no way that it was feasible - sure, she was talented, but to do this without any kind of support and with the terrible production of Cinderella she was going to headline? She was doomed - she had to see that. She was smart enough for it anyway.

Still she was going to try to do this foolish thing - something about dreams and happiness. A foreign concept for him, that much was sure.

“I’m happy for you,” he didn’t sound bitter at all. “I don’t have that option.”

He didn’t even want to get out from under his father’s thumb - that was what was going to make him the most successful version of himself. He needed to be that version of himself if he was ever going to survive this cruel world - he could not afford to be weak, like his mother. People would use that against him.

People couldn’t be trusted.

“Unacceptable,” she just whirled around in that giant princess dress and marched out of the room with remarkable grace.

It took him a second to follow Rebecca out, too distracted by trying to fix his own brain. He needed to be his true self again, no more thoughts of Rebecca and of how he’d felt when they’d danced together in these silly costumes.

No more. It was time to be his best self.

Of course, by the time he’d left the room, Rebecca had already confronted his father. She was tiny in comparison, but she’d never let that stop her.

“Mr. Plimpton,” she put on her best smile, even though it wouldn’t work. “How kind of you to come visit our rehearsals. Your son is extremely talented.”

Father did not react. He did not even look at her, having immediately dismissed her as someone unimportant.

That left a feeling of wrongness in his stomach, but he’d long since learned to ignore that by doing a couple extra crunches, or eating some more kale. Yeah, he’d start doing that the second his father got done with him.

Smart. Surely his father had seen how fat he’d gotten, because the costume had been so tight. Yeah, he’d need to work on that.

“Let’s go, Nathaniel,” his father had spotted him.

“Yes Father,” he bowed his head to his superior.

His next week had changed, and he was already mentally retooling his schedule so that his father might approve of it. Extra time in the gym instead of rehearsals, straight home after school so the housekeeper might keep an eye on him.

At this very moment, the lock would be taken off his door, because he was no longer allowed privacy after he’d screwed up so massively. His mother would be overseeing it, and her disappointment in him hurt worst of all - who knows how much he’d impeded her recovery this time?

Time to lock it down, time to be the son his mother deserved.

“Goodbye Rebecca.”

He tried not to look back at the look on her face, but he couldn’t help himself. She seemed so small, swallowed up by this gigantic gown. Still she kept her head up as she watched him walk out.

She’d done this before, and he would hate himself for doing it to her if he had any emotion left inside of him.

“You have disappointed me,” Father started as soon as the door closed behind them. “I should have known you were too much like your mother to live without guidance. I figured that since you were eighteen now, you might have figured out what was good for you. Clearly, I was wrong.”

He was not allowed to respond, so he bowed his head and followed his father to the car, trying to maintain his emotionless facade.

Damn, he’d really hurt her - he didn’t even think she cared.

Well, she didn’t anymore. He’d made sure of that.

The show must go on. It had to.

She didn’t have a choice - none of them did. Not after that tragic excuse for a parental figure took their male lead and he’d just let himself be taken away.

Sure, he’d claimed that he’d never wanted to be here, but he was wrong. Maybe he hadn’t started out enthusiastically, and maybe he still didn’t love this place quite as much as she did, but they’d gotten under his skin.

Or at least she thought they had - that she had gotten to him. For a hot second she’d been sure that he’d been halfway to falling in love with her.

Gross, sappy, and seriously stupid, but she’d seen it in his eyes when he said her name. When he kissed her, when he danced with her, and even in his final goodbye. Before he closed himself off to her, that was.

The entire group had been hiding from Plimpton Senior, so she’d been the only one in the room to see that look in his eyes when he turned back that final time.

Those damn soulful eyes of his that had ruined her more than once. He’d looked at her like he was tempted to turn around, but he’d left anyway. They always did.

She’d been expecting him to leave ever since she found out that he was going to be in the show, so she’d almost been prepared for it. Still, she hadn’t been prepared to feel like she cared whether he left or not.

And she really had not been prepared to work with Nathaniel’s understudy.

Freaking Graham.

“Once again,” Mr. Whitefeather regretfully called out. “From the top.”

Not only was the stupid boy terribly unprepared for the part, he had seriously big shoes to fill when it came to charisma, chemistry, and natural leadership. Grant was not prepared to lead anything, let alone a cast of seriously stressed out high school students.

Mr. Whitefeather was even worse equipped to handle this, so she’d had to step up and run this thing - hoping that she wouldn’t just run it into the ground.

Sure, formally speaking their teacher was still in charge, but his lackadaisical enthusiasm no longer hyped up anyone. She was the only one who still had even an inkling of faith in this group.

Well, in anyone except for Geoff.

“From the top means from the beginning of the ball,” she tried so hard to keep a smile on her face, but she was sure that the murder in her eyes still shone through.

“Thanks Becks,” the boy grinned and hopped back to his initial position.

“Don’t call me that,” she reminded him for the umpteenth time.

She hated it when Josh said it, and she hated it even more now. Really, when it came to this idiot, she’d rather he did not address her at all.

He didn’t sound right saying her name. Her character name mostly, but also her real name.

Why was she still focused on that indescribable way that Nathaniel had said her name? It was done, it was over, and she needed to move the hell on.

Not that there was even anything to move on from - it was nothing. A few stolen kisses and a parody of intimacy that had ended a little too quickly, before she’d done something she really regretted, like actually starting to give a damn about this soulless monster. Clearly she’d been confusing the prince and the prat a little too much.

“Stop,” Mr. Whitefeather called before she’d even come into the scene.

Her legs were starting to hurt from all the standing around she’d been doing, waiting for a stupid prince who was never going to come.

But she was not the only one waiting. The other girls were also waiting in the wings, hoping that at some point in the next hour, they’d actually get to the part of the scene they were featured in. It was looking like a long shot though.

Was this another moment where she was supposed to say something encouraging? Would that fix the ever increasing frustration in the atmosphere?

“Nathaniel was always encouraging,” Maya muttered, the small girl seeming even smaller as she curled up in a random chair. “Did you know that he got me the job as head marketer for this show? Hashtag actual prince. Hashtag high school theatre. Hashtag Rebecella slash Nathopher.”

So Maya shipped it. Great. She really needed that extra sting to make her feel even better about what a total failure of a show this was going to be.

No Rebecca, don’t let that show!

If she lost faith publicly, then they’d just have to give up before they even put on the first performance. She was the only one holding this thing together - if she just repeated that to herself enough times, maybe she’d be less quick to anger.

“Well that asshole Nathaniel isn’t here,” she was short with Maya.

And if he were here, she’d have a whole bunch of words to say to him. But that was not the point - he was never going to return. He’d abandoned her, abandoned them in their hour of need like the true piece of trash he was. He’d just let his father take him away without a word of protest.

Why didn’t he fight for her? For the show?

“Whoah, Rebecca, slow down,” Heather intervened before she could really get into it with the freshman girl. “How about we take a little break while Mr. Whitefeather helps Greg run through his first few lines again?”

The idea of a break was starting to sound really good, because with all of the anger and frustration in her, she was starting to boil over. She couldn’t keep sniping at the cast mates that she still had - they couldn’t have more people leave.

It was already bad enough.

“His name isn’t Greg,” she huffed.

“Then what is it?” Heather seemed genuinely puzzled. “Because I’ve been calling him Greg for the entire year and he’s never corrected me.”

Sadly, she would have remembered his name if it had been Greg. Because Greg was competent even when he was a complete mess - and when Nathaniel left she’d been tempted to drag Greg kicking and screaming from Emory to fill his shoes. Clearly Greg could have pulled it off - it was like he was actually made for the part.

Still Nathaniel was her favorite prince - which was a problem. A problem that she was conveniently going to forget about in five, four, three…

Nothing. No change.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged in Heather’s general direction. “I’ve been calling him everything from Geoff to Graham and he’s always responded.”

Really, did this idiots name even matter? As long as he didn’t have any problems with being referred to by any name in the book, they could just keep focusing on the show and she would have a distraction from all these stupid emotions.

This was all Nathaniel’s fault. All of it.

“Identity issues, interesting,” Heather nodded. “Look girlfriend, you clearly need a distraction now that there’s no tall guy around to get you all hot and bothered.”

She was half tempted to take offense to that assessment, but she couldn’t blame Heather for being right about her stupid lusty feelings for Nathaniel. There had been a time or two that she almost would have climbed him like a sequoia in front of the entire cast.

Luckily most of these moments occured when it had been just the two of them.

Pathetically enough, she missed their dances.

“I know it’s wrong,” she admitted it to Heather.

Maya had long since focused on something else, leaving them to talk about things that impressionable freshmen really did not need to overhear. Also, Maya was a little too liberal with sharing certain conversations on various social media - and this thing she might have developed for Nathaniel never needed to be shared anywhere.

“Wrong?” Heather repeated, as if tasting the word on her tongue. “It’s a trainwreck, but the kind that ends with both of you being happy.”

Sure, the trainwreck part of that sentence absolutely made sense to her. He was an asshole and she was seriously ill-equipped to handle any kind of connection with anyone at this moment. It was all doomed to crash and burn.

Except Heather seemed to disagree with that assessment. And Heather was smart, so she was usually right about stuff. So why was she so wrong about this?

“What?” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“He’s an asshole,” Heather explained it, shrugging as usual. “And you can be a bitch some of the time. Remember when you were supposed to look after my starfish?”

Of course she remembered - it had been just a few weeks ago. She hadn’t actually been hanging out with Heather that long, so there was no way she would have forgotten about anything… Except for looking after that damn starfish.

She was a garbage friend.

“You’re lucky V came through for me,” Heather pointed out sharply, before she went right back to her usual mellow tone. “I guess you two just work together - which is probably why Mr. W pulled his whole blackmail scheme.”

Well, she knew that Nathaniel hadn’t actually joined their group voluntarily, but for Mr. Whitefeather to actually have blackmailed him? Sure, inappropriate actions were almost considered normal at this school, but Mr. Whitefeather had always been an exception to the more heinous stuff.

Announcing that he was bisexual at a pep rally (with a song and dance number) had been the worst of his offenses thus far.

“Blackmail?” she hissed, trying to make sure they weren’t overheard.

“It’s kind of cool,” Heather observed. “It’s like he knew the best people for these parts weren’t actually part of the drama club. He’s kinda smart.”

Sadly, this new information left her a little more impressed by Mr. Whitefeather.

Still, she doubted that he’d foreseen that Nathaniel wouldn’t get to be part of this group for long.

Ugh, she had to stop making everything about Nathaniel. The show had to go on without him, and so did she.

That one banana hadn’t been so big before, when he picked it from the basket of fruit the housekeeper had set on the counter.

He could have sworn it had been smaller then, small enough for him to eat in full. But he was just so full, and he’d barely finished half.

No, he wasn’t. He couldn’t lie to himself, because the rumblings in his stomach were getting more and more uncomfortable. He hadn’t been able to keep much of anything down these last few days.

His stupid fat body didn’t deserve all that food anyway.

He had to be his best - this wasn’t his best.

But was his best eating the damn thing, or was it no longer forcing himself to eat? He could feel himself getting bigger with every single bite he took. He knew that wasn’t actually possible, knew that eating that single banana would be the best thing he’d done for himself ever since he’d been confined to the house.

Bar school, of course. Father would never accept him missing even a single lesson.

And Father’s wishes were all that mattered right now - he’d lost the right to have his own hopes and dreams.

He deserved that, because look at what he’d done with his freedom? He’d tried to pursue a career in theater! What kind of foolish career was that? How frivolous, how stupid - no matter that he’d been almost happy for a little while there.

Happiness wasn’t actually important - wealth was, and success. And if he still couldn’t understand that, his father was never going to trust him with the company. He just had seven years of college and law school to go before he could start being useful to his father. That did not mean he could waste those seven years doing theater, though.

The banana seemed even bigger now.

“Nathaniel, dear?” his mother had entered the room while he had been lost in thought. “Are you still here? I thought you were supposed to rehearse today.”

Of course he was still here - he wasn’t actually allowed to leave the house on a Saturday. He could frequent the fitness room and go for a run around the grounds if he was accompanied by a trainer. But he was not to leave.

Wait, rehearse?

“Rehearse?” he echoed, unsure where his mother was going with this.

“Yes dear,” Mother just smiled at him absentmindedly as she rummaged through the drawers and cupboards. “Aren’t you doing that show at school?”

All the alarm bells in his head simultaneously went off - there was no way that his mother could know about the show. Father never would have told her a thing, because she might have actually encouraged him.

Mother just didn’t understand the Plimpton family priorities. It wasn’t her fault, he knew that.

“Why would you think that?” he made himself sound dismissive, like his father’s son.

He was always his father’s son first, and his own person second.

“I talked to your guidance counselor,” she was still absentmindedly looking through the cupboards, hoping to find one of her random things, he was sure. “I was worried about you, dear. You never bring any friends over.”

Now he was the worried one. His mother only cared about him when she was spiraling again, heading towards another breakdown. It was then that she started pretending that they were a normal family and the good son was supposed to bring over friends and have hobbies and maybe even have a girlfriend.

No one had ever told him the perfect way to deal with it. Father told him to pretend she hadn’t said anything at all, and to notify the doctors as soon as possible before this turned into a full-on episode. The doctors themselves had differing opinions, from just harmlessly playing along, or gently making her see that these were rose-colored glasses that she was wearing. This one guy had said he was supposed to call his mother out on her delusions, no matter how harsh he had to get with her. That one he could never do - wouldn’t that just lead to the very episodes they were avoiding?

He just never wanted to walk in on her like that ever again.

“You know what Father says about friends,” he tried to choose a way in between the options, hoping to talk his way out of this.

“Your father isn’t right about everything, dear,” his mother had actually managed to make herself a cup of coffee.

She liked it black - like her soul, she’d say in her loopiest moments, the ones where she refused to take her meds. The ones in which she scared him with off-color jokes and twisted observations.

“Mother,” he shook his head, unsure of what to say.

“Your guidance counselor told me a lot of things,” she continued as if he had said nothing at all. “You got the lead in the show, and you’re really good. She is going to call me when tickets go on sale, so I can get them before they sell out.”

Once Mrs. Proctor called his mother in a few weeks - if she ever did, seeing as he wasn’t actually in the show anymore - Mother undoubtedly wouldn’t even remember this conversation. She’d be forced back into a serious drug regimen, and all personality she’d displayed would vanish.

He knew the drill.

“And there was something about a girl,” his proper and demure mother actually sounded like she was teasing him.

“I do not want to talk about Rebecca,” the name slipped out too easily.

As soon as he said it, he had to look down at his food. A little more of it was gone now, eaten while his mother was distracting him with her odd behavior, but it still felt like finishing it was going to be a Herculean task.

“Rebecca,” Mother repeated the name, a soft smile on her features.

Of course that was when their housekeeper returned, frantically looking for his Mother. This was how it always started.

“Sorry Mister Nathaniel,” she immediately started apologizing. “She just got away from me. I’ll bring her back to her rooms immediately.”

Yes, her rooms, where all the comforts of a mental hospital awaited - just none of the stigma. It was just that much more convenient for his father, and for the business. Sometimes he just wondered if his mother was actually getting all the help she needed.

Even if she wasn’t, there was nothing that he could do. Father’s word was law.

“Thank you,” was all he could say.

Why was he so damn useless in every possible way?

Nothing. He did nothing. Not even for his mother, not even for the woman who’d given him life could he pull his own head out of his ass long enough to make a difference. He just continued to play the good little puppet, the good little son.

He would never go against his father’s wishes, even though every muscle in his body ached for him to just say no at least once. To just give his mother her space and let her think that he had friends and a life out there other than being a clone his father could mould and shape in the exact way he wanted.

What he wanted? Did he even know what he wanted?

Perhaps, to go back to the show, to the complete idiots who’d treated him like a friend and a leader, even when he’d been in full asshole Plimpton mode in every single rehearsal. To go back to school and be allowed to talk to Rebecca again, no matter how terrified she might be that he’d spout some inane words about feelings at her.

Even to eat a piece of fruit without feeling sick and disgusting and so damn fat. To be able to overcome those evil voices again, the ones his father had so firmly re-planted in his head with every reminder of how much of a failure he was.

Maybe if he just stopped eating he’d be a good son.

Maybe he just needed to stop being the good son.

Maybe both of these were wrong, but how was he to know?

He gave the remains of the banana the evil eye and threw the leftovers in the garbage.

Time to hit the gym again.

The conclusion had actually been rather easy to come to, when she actually took the time to think of it dispassionately.

She wanted to get scholarships to several good theater programs, and the way to get these scholarships was to perform an excellent show that was sure to get her noticed. She had all the basic circumstances right for it too: a prestigious public school performance of a musical theater classic, with her in the lead role. The costumes were perfect this year, and the supporting cast had actually managed to live up to their parts - with some more tough love from her, they might even live up to her exacting standards.

Gavin was the only problem - he just wasn’t getting it, coming in late with his lines and ruining the rhythm of the show, and still tripping over his own feet even with all of the extra rehearsal time they’d been putting off.

(She’d been pretending there was no kissing scene, and Mr. Whitefeather seemed perfectly willing to let Grant believe that.)

So she needed another male lead, someone who was truly able to make her shine.

And so far, the only boy (man?) who had been able to get near her level in this production had been Nathaniel Plimpton the Third. They’d danced together as if they’d been meant to do this show - as if it was some kind of destiny.

No, not logical enough. Take a step back, Rebecca.

They’d performed well together, and a show with her headlining alongside Nathaniel was sure to garner a ton of buzz, bringing all the right people into the room where it would happen.

Those people needed to be in that room for her to achieve her goal: the scholarships. Therefore she needed Nathaniel in that room as well. No one else measured up - it had to be him. Logic said so.

Since his father had dragged Nathaniel away, she had to find a way to get him back in the show. She was not going to convince Plimpton Senior - she knew her powers and skills, and they were not going to work against that tyrant - but she knew she held a certain sway over Nathaniel.

He’d wanted her before. Surely, that hadn’t gone away. Her wanting him hadn’t.

But that was not logical. The logical approach was to use this weakness against him by offering him what he wanted if he just did the show with her. Of course he would say yes if she offered him everything he’d wanted before and undoubtedly still wanted now.

No matter how pathetic it was of him.

Well, pathetic or not, it was what was going to set her on the road to her many future Tony Awards, to the career of her dreams. And it was what had driven her to seek him out at the Plimpton mansion.

She hadn’t needed to bribe anyone. She’d just brought the housekeeper some delicious noodle kugel - the gossip at temple was that the woman had a secret sweet tooth - and gossiped with her for a while. And then, when she was supposed to leave out the back door, she instead stuck upstairs.

It took her about three tries, but she managed to locate Nathaniel’s room. And he wasn’t in it, which was disappointing for about three seconds until she figured out that she could prep for her plan much more efficiently that way.

After all, her “good little Jewish girl” dress was not going to impress or seduce Nathaniel. No, she’d have to change, set the right mood for this transaction.

Because that was all it was, a mere transaction. One that would make sure she had the future she wanted.

And she was still kind of attracted to him, so she wouldn’t mind any of the things he wanted to do to her. Or with her.

So she slipped out of the dress and into the black slip that had reminded her so much of her Chicago-infused dream. She moves quickly and surely, not wanting to risk Nathaniel entering his room to see her halfway through the process.

Sure, the ensuite bathroom was an option, but it felt too much like hiding. Like if she were still in there when Nathaniel showed up, she’d just keep hiding and wait him out.

Not that she was scared. Maybe a little nervous now that her logical side was having trouble keeping a hold of her entire brain, but that was to be expected.

She had prepared, and she had prepared well. She was ready - well, she would be ready if she could finish the vixen makeup in time. It made her feel sultrier, and that was totally going to help with the seducing.

Her lips were painted deep, vixen red, and her wide eyes are rimmed with mascara. Her hands were no longer shaking as she finished applying the last layer of makeup.

Then, she heard footsteps in the hallway. Her heart pounded and she almost held her breath as she listened closely - were they approaching this room or was the person in question moving further away? It did seem like the footsteps were getting closer.

With a quick kick to make sure her bag was hidden under the gigantic bed, she looked around frantically to find the best place to strike an enticing pose.

Ugh, what would be a good enticing pose? She really sucked at this, even though she was great at talking a big game about it.

Maybe something that showed off her epic cleavage? She’d always managed to distract Nathaniel that way when she tried it before. Men really were simple creatures, and her boobs really were excellent. She almost didn’t blame him.

Yep, those footsteps were really heading towards this room, and she had to make a decision about her position right freaking now. Her frazzled mind decided for her, and so she leaned against the door to the bathroom and waited for the door to open.

This had better be Nathaniel himself - and he’d better be alone.

The door opened slowly and then all at once, and she was faced with a sweaty Nathaniel who’d clearly just been working out. He closed the door behind him immediately and had already pulled his tank off when he saw her.

“What the fuck?” he hissed, careful not to be too loud even in his surprise. “Bunch?”

She pretended like she wasn’t disheartened by his use of her last name. She’d grown to appreciate him using her first name - she could still hear him say it if she really focused on how his voice sounded before it all went to hell and he left his princess behind, glass slippers and all.

“Hello Nathaniel,” she drew out every syllable of his name.

Goosebumps appeared on his skin as she did so - she really did have a hold over him after all. And it was so easy to see when he was only wearing shorts. She really hoped they were the thin kind again, she’d enjoyed that.

Next he noticed just what she was wearing on her visit to his bedroom. His reaction was probably even better than the one he’d had to her costume. This time he started at the ground, going up her stockings until he lingered briefly at the sliver of bare skin between the stocking and the soft black slip that barely reached her thighs.

After he got a second to take a breath, his eyes moved further upwards, following the lines of that slip until he was faced with the parts of her that had always distracted him: her breasts, pushed up so good that it was almost impossible for him to look away.

He managed eventually, only to finally look her in the eyes. His own blue eyes were dark and stormy - she’d certainly managed to get his attention.

“Fuck, Rebecca,” he’d finally emerged from his stupor.

“That’s the idea,” she smiled teasingly.

Finally she stepped closer to him. By instinct, he took a step back. And then another, and another, until he practically fell back onto his big bed.

Yes, she could use that. She liked that.

“I have to be dreaming,” Nathaniel was babbling nonsensically.

She watched him pinch his strong forearm, and as he waited for the vision of his dreams to disappear (thanks for the compliment there), she looked down at him and waited as well.

“Not dreaming,” he confirmed.

“You’re wide awake,” she agreed, impatient to get to it already. “Now…”

They didn’t actually have that much time left before the premiere, and she needs them to get it on so they can just get on with the show. Nathaniel was a quick study, he’d pick up on the last small changes they’d made quickly and efficiently (the same ones that Graham had never been able to get).

Now he just had to get with the program already.

“What are you doing here?” he was weary, almost harsh.

“I need you,” she pouts a little, trying to make him look at her mouth. “I need your talent.”

Slowly she let herself drop down into his lap, straddling him - well that certainly got his attention in more ways than one.

She ran a finger down his chest, following one particularly fascinating bead of sweat all the way down to the edge of his shorts. He was warm and solid, and he still looked like he was going to rip that flimsy little teddy off her (quite possibly with his teeth). It was no wonder that she felt herself heating up as well.

“Rebecca,” he groaned.

He already sounded tempted to say just about anything if she’d just keep going, which was exactly what she wanted. For him to do what she wanted, not the continuing. Well, maybe it was both. She was a healthy teenage girl after all.

Couldn’t he just say yes already so they could make out?

“I know you want me,” she teased.

Her fingernails, painted bright red because bad girls wore red nail polish, gently scraped at the soft hairs at his nape. She felt the resulting shiver go down his body and tried to keep herself from grinding into his lap.

Logic was a little difficult to follow at this point, but she just had to hold out for a little while longer. When he said yes, she could stop overthinking everything and just go for it.

Holding off seemed so difficult when his face was right there, with those soft lips that had already shown her a good time once or twice.

Kissing him in the name of persuasion tactics was absolutely allowed.

Finally she’d found a position in which she did not need to look up so much to reach for him - her neck would thank her.

Slowly she pulled him closer, kissing him softly and lazily. They could forget about everything else for a little bit maybe, just as long as they kept kissing just like this.

A slow warmth started to fill her, then suddenly speeding up as his right hand found an anchor on her waist, almost burning hot through her thin clothes. What would it be like to have those big hands on her bare skin?

As she held back a second just to catch her breath, she was just about to let that thought sink in when Nathaniel kissed her jaw, and then her neck. It was wet and dirty and he used a hint of teeth as he tried to mark her fair skin.

And she tried to pretend that it wasn’t turning her on so hard.

But that thought was too much, so she pulled his mouth back to hers just so they could kiss some more, his left hand cheekily moving to grab her ass. She let it happen, let herself grind into him. She wanted this stupid, ridiculous boy.

“Nathaniel,” his name slipped out as more of a plea than a command to just keep going.

In response, a smirk started to play on his features, but before she had a chance to scold him for it, he’d kissed her again. He nipped at her bottom lip, making her gasp, before getting right back to kissing her as if he was starving for her.

She would have let him continue into eternity if that cheeky right hand of his hadn’t moved up from its place on her waist to try and grope her chest. That was enough of a distraction to snap her back into logic.

“Not just yet,” she gently slapped his hand away. “I have a proposition for you first.”

Of course he was immediately suspicious of her and her proposition - that was just in his nature, and in the nature of the game of push and pull they’d been playing for the past few months. She’d just have to seduce him back into the right mood.

A kiss on the corner of his mouth had him turn his head in her direction, immediately ready to forget her words and just keep kissing on his bed.

“If you return to the show,” she softly pulled at his earlobe with her teeth, “I will let you do anything you want to me. And I mean anything.”

She pulled back to see his response to that, watching one particular thought cross his mind on his very expressive face.

“Yes, that,” she promised. “Whatever just crossed your mind: we’ll do that.”

He was tempted, that much was sure. She could feel just how tempted he was, and if she just kept going like they’d been going before, she was sure that she could get the right answer out of him.

And find out what he’d been thinking about.

So she could prepare, of course. Not because she was actually curious - or intrigued or interested.

She kissed him again, knowing it would keep him just a little off-balance, and more likely to agree to her demands. If he could just get over his pride and agree, he could have everything he wanted - he liked being the lead in this show. She’d seen it time and time again, even when he referred to everyone in the cast as losers.

He liked playing a part - and he was damn good it. It made so much more sense now that she’d met his father. Of course Nathaniel had gotten good at slipping in and out of character. She wondered if he’d ever gotten the chance to really be himself before.

But that was too heavy a thought when he was kissing her back with such desperate enthusiasm, one hand making its way under her slip to caress the bare skin of her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat, her muscles tensed, waiting for that hand to move, to push the boundaries once again.

Gently, he made patterns on the skin of her thighs, trying to get her used to those warm hands on her skin.

Why was he so gentle about this? Wasn’t he supposed to attempt to tear off her clothes and just get to it? That was what she’d prepared for.

“Say yes,” she whispered in his ear, trying to distract him into complying.

“Rebecca,” her name tasted lovely on his lips.

Pulling him close again, she ignored how her lips were getting slightly swollen from all the kissing and how the thong she’d chosen had ridden right up her butt. Ugh, thongs were the absolute worst.

“What are you doing, Rebecca?” Nathaniel’s voice was hoarse but sincere.

“The show needs you,” she huffed, annoyed at the lack of his usual perceptiveness. “I figured out a way to make you want to come back.”

Nathaniel paled then, gently pushing her away from him and onto her own two feet. This was suddenly not going at all like she’d planned it.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Rebecca! Do you even want to have sex with me?”

Was this an ego thing? Men were so fragile.

“Of course I want to have intercourse,” she looked down at him.

She was kind of nervous about it, but she was sure she’d enjoy it. Maybe not so sure that she was actually ready.

“Your overly formal wording tells me otherwise,” Nathaniel looked almost soft, almost gentle as he slowly got back on his feet. “So you need to put your clothes back on, because I can’t think when you look like that.”

Well, at least that was flattering. The rest of it, she just couldn’t understand. Why was he making her put her clothes back on when he was about to get everything he wanted?

“Thanks?” she was just so confused.

“I can’t come back,” he tried to explain, but even that didn’t make sense. “I’m not allowed to leave the house because I make bad decisions. I have to respect that.”

Was he even hearing what he was saying? He was an eighteen year old adult and his father did not allow him out of the house because he’d made friends and pursued one interest that his father did not approve of.

Bad decisions? Letting himself get forced into being in Cinderella might have been one of the best things this idiot had ever done. But of course if Satan did not see it that way, Nathaniel was not allowed to disagree.

What a mess this family was. What a mess Nathaniel was - he didn’t even see how messed up this was, explaining this as if it were something completely logical.

“You’re an idiot,” she angrily yanked the stupid good girl dress back on. “You could have everything you want. You just don’t want it enough. You can’t let yourself be happy.”

She couldn’t listen to him saying anything else.

As she angrily exited the house, she marveled at the idiot she’d left behind. How could he accept his own unhappiness like that?

He’d really wanted to go to the aquarium - it was like a zoo for fishies - but he’d only just been allowed out of the house for things that weren’t school. The aquarium was probably too big of a risk. So the zoo it was.

At least the zoo was always there for him. They’d missed him these past few weeks, had said so when he showed his membership card at the entrance - not that they needed to see it anymore. They knew his face, knew to expect him whenever possible.

Here, it seemed like people actually liked him - something he was sorely lacking anywhere else.

After what happened in his room, not even Rebecca wanted to be around him anymore. Not that he wanted her to be around. Not at all.

He tried to shake off the denial, tried to shake off the memories, but it was no use.

Rebecca.

Her plan had been… something else. He was trying hard not to say or think something pejorative, but it had definitely been outside the normal bounds of expectation.

Why did she think that what she was doing was okay? Why would she do that to herself, to him? Why would she think so poorly of him? He was suspicious by nature - it had practically been bred into his genes - and there was no way he wasn’t going to question the sudden renewal of her interest in him.

And when he knew, there was no way that he could go through with it.

Not like this, he’d thought, and hated himself just a little more. Because when did he develop something resembling a conscience?

Okay, maybe he wasn’t actually the devil, but he’d been perfectly fine with using girls for sex before. And it wouldn’t have been his first time with a virgin either - he could see it in Rebecca, he wasn’t stupid - so why did it matter this time?

It couldn’t just be because it was Rebecca. She wasn’t special, she might have been a bigger mess than he was. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl in school, and while she was one of the smartest people in their school the only superlative she could call her own would be Most Dramatic.

So what was it that made her different? What was it that made him… care?

Just thinking the word was enough. He really hoped he hadn’t displayed any outward signs of caring for her, because not only would his father actually lock him inside the house until he saw sense, Rebecca herself would use that perceived weakness against him in a heartbeat. Because she just thought that he was convenient and talented and kind of hot.

She was right about that - and the hot part helped silence some of the voices that had caused him to hang over the toilet a few times last week. Nothing had happened, but he’d been so close to relapsing that he’d terrified himself a little.

But at least someone still thought that he was appealing.

Self pity was pathetic, he knew that, but that was why he was at the zoo. To get all of this out of his system so that he could back to his old life and be awesome again. Once he left this place for the day, he would be the best version of himself again.

He would be someone his father could be proud of, forgetting all about how he’d almost enjoyed playing prince charming in that stupid show. Yeah, he was just going to shove those thoughts and feelings back down in the mental box in which he kept all of the things he wasn’t supposed to feel.

It was not going to be easy, he knew that, but it was the right thing to do.

Before he got back to the real world, though, he was going to enjoy his day at the zoo, the sun beating down on him and the animals happily lazing about in their habitats. He could even grab a smoothie later.

His decision made, he headed in the direction of the monkey habitats - he could use a look in their almost human eyes.

A flash of warm brown curls in the corner of his eyes startled him. Wait, was that?

Of course it wasn’t. She would never be at the zoo - she wasn’t the animal type. She was probably too busy trying to teach that Greg guy all of his moves and lines. Yeah, there was no way that he’d actually seen Rebecca in the crowd.

Besides, she wasn’t the only person in the San Diego area who had hair like that. It was just his mind messing with him, because he hadn’t seen her around much. She’d been avoiding him since the incident at his house - not that he’d attempted to seek her out or anything.

It was not like he missed her, or anything. Because that would mean that he cared, and he’d already established that he didn’t care about anyone.

The crowd shifted again, and once again he saw the girl with the curls, closer now than she was before. She wasn’t all that tall, so he really had to work to see her.

He just wanted to be sure that it wasn’t Rebecca.

The girl’s (woman’s?) walk seemed familiar, and that fact alone made him worry. He hadn’t been paying that much attention to Bunch, right?

“Nathaniel,” her voice reached him even through the inane chats going on around him.

“Bunch,” he tried to be emotionless, to be cold.

This was how it would have to be in the future. A good Plimpton son could not be seen being so kind to a random dramatic classmate, could not say her name with actual emotion in his voice. His father never talked to his mother with any warmth in his voice, at least not that he’d ever heard. His son had to follow that example, and it wasn’t like Bunch mattered to him now that he was no longer in the show, so it was completely possible for him to move the hell on and treat her with cold civility.

Really, he shouldn’t even be thinking about her this much, but since his father had yet to find a device that would actually read his mind, he was mostly focused on curtailing the outward signs of any kind of affection.

“Oh, so we’re doing that again,” she was ever too perceptive.

“What do you want?” he got straight to the point. “Why are you here? I thought you only ever stalked Chan.”

Hitting the raw nerve right away - that meant that she’d end up getting angry with him very quickly, which meant that she was going to leave him the hell alone soon. They could re-establish the old normal where he was an asshole and she was a drama queen and they never really interacted, and then she would go.

“Have you ever heard of the word coincidence?” Bunch huffed.

“Not in reference to you,” he retorted.

The meaner he was, the sooner she would let go of this ridiculous idea that he could still come back to the show and fix everything. The sooner she would let go of him - or was that just wishful thinking, that she’d wanted to hold on to him at all?

All she cared about was her revenge on Chan and the damn show. He had to remember that, had to keep reminding himself.

Because he did not care about her. He was just going to find a nice girl here at the zoo and use her to get right back to his scheming and womanizing ways. It could not be called a rebound when there was nothing to rebound from, right?

“Nathaniel,” she just had to say his name again.

Even hissed through her teeth, it still had an effect on him. She still had an effect on him, but he could hide that with a smirk and a well-placed barb. There was no way that she could see through that.

He just had to keep believing that, even though she’d managed to see past most of his heavy walls so far. Maybe this one could be another blindspot. She’d hardly believed it was possible for him to have feelings at first - she could do that again.

“If you’re just here to repeat your offer from last time,” he let the words trail off.

A brief look of hurt on her face was quickly replaced with a scornful glare. He’d been overly dismissive on purpose, and it had worked. Good.

Or was it?

“Just the part about wanting you back,” she bit at him, her tone in sharp contrast to her kind words. “But I see that it’s offensive to you.”

Not offensive to him, but to his father. And that was the person whose happiness mattered most of all in this tangled up equation that was his life.

“God forbid you do something that makes you happy,” she muttered, not soft enough for him not to overhear her.

All the air went out of him, because she had a point and he hated that.

He wasn’t happy - didn’t really remember the feeling all that well, but that was just… the price he paid to live a privileged life with more than enough money to get him everything he ever wanted. The price he paid to keep his father happy and maybe one day even proud of him.

That was the dream.

“We could use you,” her face was softer now, warmer than before. “You were a good prince charming, for the son of the devil.”

Father wasn’t actually Satan, but it didn’t completely surprise him that some people made the comparison. Some of the things he’d heard about concerning the firm had scared him a little, and to contemplate his father being behind those things… it wasn’t that it was hard to reconcile those things with the man he called Father, it was that it was terrifying that one day he would be required to do the very same things.

But that was the darkest timeline he really did not want to consider at this moment.

“Rebecca,” he tried to chide, gently.

“Nathaniel,” she was almost smiling. “You should come back. Those losers are nothing without you, you know that.”

She was using the word losers almost as if it were a pet name now, and maybe in a way it was. The rest of the cast was not terrible, and though he’d hesitate to call anyone his friend, he had grown to like them just a little.

They’d grown on him like a fungus, Rebecca most of all.

He could not keep reminiscing and dreaming with her - he needed some time to compose himself before he was due back home. His curfew was a bit stricter than usual these days.

“You’ll keep them in line,” he released the breath that had been caught in his throat.

It was time to pull his walls back up - somehow she’d managed to knock them all down again in these past few minutes. He could not leave this place so weak, so vulnerable. He could not be at his house when his every emotion was written all over his face.

Time to turn back time into before this show. As if it had never happened.

“Time to go back to being an asshole?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Of course she’d seen right through him again. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it, but he was sure that it would have to be the last time.

“I never stopped,” he shrugged.

She laughed then, slyly agreeing with him. It was nice to see her happy one last time, before he went back to hardly seeing her at all. They’d come far, but it was time to go back to the start.

“Neither did I,” a smile on her face and her skin glowing.

He waited for her to turn around and leave, but it seemed like she wasn’t willing to step back quite yet. She held out her arms, wide open, a smile still on her face. How could he do anything but accept what she was so happily offering?

His arms easily wrapped around her waist, the higher arm landing over her shoulder blades - he forgot how small she could seem sometimes. She was soft and warm and pressed against him, unable to stop her hands from moving back and forth over his back and shoulder blades.

In response he started gently rubbing his upper hand up and down her back. His nose was tickled by a stray curl and he caught the scent of her hair. Filled with warmth from his toes to the top of his head, he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled of vanilla and cherries and sunlight.

Ugh, that was ridiculous, why would he even think that? Sunlight was not a smell.

Still he wouldn’t let her go, and she wouldn’t let him move away. Her hands gently moving, he felt the stress and exhaustion drain from his tightly locked muscles.

Was this what happiness felt like? Because this moment, this was what Patronuses were made of.

But every moment of happiness had to end, and they’d already been clinging to each other for far too long in a very public zoo. People were staring and whispering, and if he kept on holding her he was going to find it impossible to let go.

Somehow her drama queen tendencies had rubbed off on him.

Reluctantly he finally untangled himself from Rebecca and took a step back. He tried to get him composure back, somehow, but it was slow-going and difficult.

At least she seemed equally reluctant to leave - she did give a damn, after all. She smiled at him, only this time it was slightly sadder.

“Goodbye Nathaniel,” her warmth was surrounding him still, somehow.

“Goodbye Rebecca,” he returned, watching her walk away with a sway in her step.

He barked out a laugh, because of course she knew that he’d be watching her leave and she was playing up on her charms like the drama queen she was.

Oh, Rebecca. He’d miss her.

Soon she had disappeared from his line of sight. He finally moved on to the monkey habitats and stared into their almost familiar eyes. He passed Panda Canyon and nodded a greeting at Ron, who was hard at work as usual.

Sadly, he had no time to chat if he wanted to see all of his favorites and still make it home in time for his new curfew.

When he arrived at his favorite place in the zoo to see the cheetahs, he allowed himself a few minutes to just sit down and look at the animals in peace. It would give him time to think, time to reminisce about how nice it had felt to be holding Rebecca and to be held by her in return.

Thinking about what he’d come home to would only bring the frustration back. He’d followed the rules, had tried to make his father proud of him. Would nothing ever be enough? Was nothing he did the right thing?

That hug had been the right thing. Aligning himself with the losers had felt like the wrong thing at the time, but had turned out to be something good. Maybe his father disagreed, but he was starting to feel like it hadn’t been a mistake.

He had to be his best, had to be the best version of himself.

Maybe being his best self did not mean being the perfect son after all. Maybe being his best self meant that he had to let himself be happy for a little while. Maybe being his best self meant defying his father and surrounding himself with the losers again.

It made sense that being his best self would involve Rebecca.

He just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

It was their first full run through of the show, with all the props and costumes finished, and damn Gavin still did not know his damn lines!

Mr. Whitefeather actually was actually waiting in the wings with all the necessary prompts just to make sure that everyone else could just keep going. She was just exhausted from all the extra rehearsals that didn’t even seem to have much of an effect - and watching her dreams for the future go down the drain was getting more painful by the day.

She still wished that Nathaniel would change his mind about coming back, but she knew that it was in vain. They were so close to the show’s premiere now, there was no more time for him to come to a decision.

Every time she had seen Nathaniel in the halls in the past week (a total of three times), he’d been back to his old, asshole self, roaming the halls alone with a superior, haughty look on his face. She hadn’t seen him flirting with other girls, but she’d heard stories from the rumor mill that the old Nathaniel Plimpton was back.

Not that she’d bothered to talk to him, or even to let him see her. No, she went for the avoidance route - it would sting to see him with other girls, to see him act like nothing had ever happened between the two of them. That was just an ego thing, because nothing that had happened with Nathaniel had actually meant something to her.

It did not matter that she could not stop thinking about that hug and how he’d buried his face in the curve of her neck, about how warm and solid he’d been and how safe and comforted that had made her feel. It did not matter that they’d both been equally reluctant to let go of each other, that she’d actually felt him relax while she held him. It did not matter because it couldn’t actually mean anything.

Had it just been mere weeks when she couldn’t stop thinking about Josh Chan and getting her revenge on him? It felt like it had been in another life when Josh Chan had been her soulmate - or at least, when she thought he was her ticket to a happily ever after.

What did it say about her that she’d so quickly moved on from Josh to sharing pieces of herself with Nathaniel? It said that she was fickle in her affections, that she could drop even a soulmate like that.

Unless it hadn’t actually been about Josh, and Josh hadn’t actually been a soulmate as much as an ideal. It was a thought that kept reappearing in her head these days, that she knew now that Josh Chan was never supposed to be the one for her. But it was when she examined what she’d liked about him in the first place that she found the worst of herself.

She had been obsessed with him, tracking him all over time and conveniently running into his mother at the supermarket on the other side of town just so they could establish a rapport - it was important to get along with your future mother-in-law. She’d been there when his sister chose a prom dress - all because Paula was an amazing spy who knew where every member of the Chan family was at all times. She’d made every member of the Chan family love her but Josh.

But when she examined why she’d loved Josh so deeply, all her reasons came off either as shallow or as something idealized that had nothing to do with Josh Chan. He was super cute and buff, and his smile was adorable - that was all shallow stuff that she tried really hard not to condemn herself for. He was popular without being a dick about it, and he was surrounded by friends and people who thought that he was awesome. He had a family that he was close with and who supported him in everything. She wanted those things, wanted them pathetically and desperately - and Josh Chan was her ticket to that happiness.

He’d been kind to her when she was in middle school and they’d taken a dance class together - and she drew it completely out of proportion by being obsessed with him for five whole years.

There was something seriously wrong with her, and that realization was chilling.

While her thoughts got progressively darker, she’d just been going through the motions of the show. She’d played her part and said all of the words that she was supposed to say, because she was a professional.

She’d sat in her own little corner while she hid in her own little corner of her mind, and now they were rapidly heading towards the ball. It used to be one of her favorite scenes to perform, but now it was the scene she dreaded most - it required every bit of her acting ability to sell this scene to the audience.

“No, Graham,” Mr. Whitefeather interrupted them again. “Just hold the script for now, until you start dancing. You keep missing your cue.”

Because of that.

Also, because he kept stepping on her toes in every rehearsal, and she’d started flinching in advance before they even started moving because he’d done it every single time. It didn’t exactly sell romance if she flinched away from her prince charming, right?

Her smile was still glued on despite Mr. Whitefeather’s intermittent shouts of frustration, because she was a good actress, damn it. They should give out Tony Awards for people who’d been stuck with incompetent partners and still managed to put on a good show. And she’d more than earned hers in the last few weeks.

Trying not to let her sheer exhaustion show was another added level of difficulty. They were running through the scenes leading up to the ball, and all she wanted was to get out of here and just curl up and have a nap somewhere.

She could really use a damn nap, seeing as how she’d been running on about four or five hours of sleep every night for the past two weeks. It was starting to catch up to her - the more tired she got, the easier it was for the bad thoughts to start creeping in.

They reached the ball scene, and all she wanted was for Nathaniel to show up, having magically changed his mind. Or time travel - for this to just fast forward until it was all done and she’d made her way to New York. That way she didn’t have to get through the epic fight with her mother either.

Because that was definitely still coming.

“Just drop the script,” Mr. Whitefeather yelled over the rising music. “You can’t dance with your mystery girl if you keep holding that script.”

It took him much too long to react, so instead of waiting around for her scene partner yet again, she threw the script off stage and waited for this idiot to ask her to dance.

And she continued to wait just a few seconds too long, so that they started their movements at the wrong count in the music, and immediately bumped into one of the other couples on the stage. Luckily for her, her dress took most of the impact, but Giles fell on his ass.

Good. It was all his fault anyway.

“Okay, once again from the start of the dance,” Coach Wilson rallied his team, as Mr. Whitefeather had dropped his head onto a table. “Everyone get in position.”

At least Coach Wilson could be counted on for some subtle encouragement - he probably knew the show better than the male lead at this point, and he kept them supplied with healthy snacks to keep them from crashing during the lengthy rehearsals. Especially after that one time earlier this week where she almost fainted. Something about no sleep and barely any food could do that to a person.

Plus, he was kind of a judgmental asshole when he thought that the students weren’t listening. That was everything she needed to make her feel better when the prince was more like a toad.

So she got back in position, hoping this would be the last time they’d have to restart. It was a full run through for a reason. She’d do the damn dance alone if she had to.

“Mind if I cut in?” a familiar, slightly hoarse voice coming from behind her.

She whirled around, unsure if one of Geoffrey’s many mistakes had caused her to hit her head somehow and she now had a concussion. This voice was certainly a very convincing auditory hallucination.

No one else seemed to have responded so frantically to the voice. Everyone else was just continuing with the scene, getting into position as if nothing had happened. So clearly this was all in her head - not that it meant that it couldn’t be real, but still. She’d probably made it happen with sheer force of will, because she couldn’t do it any longer.

Maybe she had to go make that appointment with Dr. Akopian after all.

“Rebecca,” he said, still speaking softly. “Watch where you’re throwing that dress.”

When whirling around, the force of her dress had almost knocked him off balance, but there he was. Nathaniel Plimpton the Third, in the flesh. He wasn’t wearing his costume, but he looked picture perfect apart from that.

Since his replacement was still on the floor, muttering to himself, it was easy to turn to Nathaniel and let him be her prince.

He still knew all of the steps by heart, she noticed as he bent over her head to kiss it. Once again, he didn’t fake the gesture, and she warmed.

“Nathaniel!” she whispered, trying not to disturb the scene.

How did no one else notice this? She’d swapped princes and everyone was still in their show must go on mindset, ignoring anything else that was happening. Or she was dreaming, but her dreams weren’t usually this accurate.

“Let’s dance, Rebecca,” his posture was still ridiculously good.

This was what it was supposed to be like, she remembered as she let him lead her around the floor without even once stepping on her toes. She could trust him to make sure that she was in the right spot at the right time, and she could trust that he’d hold her close in his arms even though it wasn’t strictly necessary.

As they twirled around the floor, she could see that some of the other cast members were starting to take notice of her much taller prince, whispering amongst themselves as they all kept dancing. No one wanted to break this spell.

Even when it came to the final moments of the dance, when she just had to release herself into his strong grip, she had no troubles whatsoever, even though she’d landed on the floor once or twice when his understudy attempted this feat. She just knew that Nathaniel would catch her, and she just really wanted to be in his arms again.

It was pathetic and weak, but it was the very sad truth.

At least he enjoyed it too, she noticed as she pressed herself as close to him as she possibly could, slowly letting him lift her up into a standing position, standing way too close to be proper at a real royal ball.

But this was theater, darling, and they could get away with it.

“Nathaniel Plimpton,” Mr. Whitefeather came running as the final notes of the song played. “I take this to mean that you have changed your mind about appearing in this production?”

Sure, that kind of burst the little bubble they had going on, but she didn’t care as long as he just said yes. If this was just a trick, she might actually murder him.

Maybe she could put on a production of Chicago behind bars?

“Apparently you losers need me,” Nathaniel spoke to her and to her only.

At least, he just did not stop looking at her, even though they were now surrounded by the rest of the cast and he was technically responding to Mr. Whitefeather’s question.

His eyes were so soft again, and she could feel herself starting to smile in return. He was acting like prince charming in real life as well now, saving her and the entire show from the dreaded understudy. He was kind and barely even looking at her boobs, which was another major sign that she was in serious trouble.

Okay, this was getting a little too intimate, and that was bad. Time to fix everything and get back to work. She could totally be professional about this.

“You’re fired, George,” she rushed to say it before Mr. Whitefeather could offer to make any other arrangement out of pity.

If Mr. Whitefeather did not agree with this, she was absolutely going to refuse to perform unless it was with Nathaniel. She’d worked herself to the bone in these past few weeks, and if she had to go on like this for much longer, she might actually crack.

“You got my name right,” the boy was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Wait, fired?”

So wait, his name was George? Then why had he been responding to every other name she’d thrown at him like it was his own? Those kinds of identity issues were kind of bad.

“Look, George,” Mr. Whitefeather was finally using the right name too. “As the understudy, you play the part when the lead isn’t available. Nathaniel is available again, so you won’t be playing the prince. But I am sure we could use your help backstage. We still need someone to help me greet people. We need a good host.”

Wow, nice sweet talking there, mister Whitefeather.

It was a good enough distraction, and she watched the world’s most dreadful understudy walk away from the scene of all the worst of his crimes. She felt nothing but relief when she looked at him go, and then she looked back at Nathaniel.

They were still standing a bit too close, and she had to make an effort to break that connection. She couldn’t keep hogging him, after all.

Suddenly she had to share Nathaniel with the entire cast - everyone was so happy to see that he was back, and even though Valencia gave him some grief for leaving them all hanging until the Saturday before tech week, that was all quickly resolved.

“So, not your boyfriend is back,” Heather sidled up to her.

“He’s not my - oh,” she quit halfway through her quick reply.

Somehow the period dress didn’t look all that weird on Heather - she just managed to make everything work with an ease that was enviable. Yes, she was totally jealous of how Heather didn’t care about most things that made her riddled with anxiety.

“I wonder why he came back,” Valencia joined them as well. “It sure wasn’t just out of the kindness of his heart. He’s an asshole.”

Immediately Heather and Valencia were holding hands. It didn’t last very long, but she saw it happen, and it made her smile. Her friends had found happiness even in the high school jungle - and they’d gotten close because of this show. Mr. Whitefeather had done a pretty good job playing Cupid not only himself, but for his students as well.

“I’m an asshole,” she said, trying hard not to defend Nathaniel too much.

“And so is Valencia,” Heather shrugged, not even bothered.

“Heinous bitch is the term used most often,” Valencia corrected, shrugging off the insult.

She still felt the urge to defend Nathaniel a little, telling her friends that he came back because he liked it here - he even liked the people. But no one would be very happy about that, least of all Nathaniel. He probably wanted to continue to talk a big game about being better than the losers and not liking anyone ever.

He was not going to change - did she want him to? Did it matter what she wanted?

Ugh, why was she even still thinking about stupid Nathaniel?

“Rebecca,” there was the annoying boy man himself.

“Nathaniel,” she was unsure of where this was going.

Clearly there was something that he wanted to say to her out of earshot of these extremely nosy people - and she was not sure if she was ready to hear it. This seemed like a moment for either emotional declarations or him trying to talk about what she’d offered him if he were to come back.

And of course she still wanted to have sex with him. That totally wasn’t the issue with him possibly taking her up on her offer. It was just… Was she ready now? She didn’t know.

But she’d promised, so…

“Go talk,” Valencia didn’t use air quotes on principle, but these were audible.

“Don’t make out where we can see you,” Heather followed.

That made her laugh, because of course it did. Heather continued to be a gift.

Nathaniel had found a quiet corner backstage where they could talk without being overheard by the peanut gallery. She followed, the voluminous skirts of her dress making it less than easy to maneuver in any kind of subtle manner. But she did her best.

“So, you came back after all,” she couldn’t handle the silence.

“I did,” he acknowledged, seeming unsure somehow. “Just don’t tell these losers that I actually like doing this.”

The joke seemed off somehow, too easy or overdone. Was this what emotional intimacy felt like? Because she didn’t like it - it made her feel way too vulnerable and anxious.

There was nothing she could say to this really, just another tired bit of banter, but she was too exhausted to try and be funny. At this point, she was just about ready to fall over onto the nearest reasonably soft surface and sleep for days.

“I don’t expect anything,” he broke the silence. “I just thought you should know that. I didn’t come back for that.”

Was this rejection or him letting her off the hook? She just couldn’t tell anymore, trying to stifle a long yawn that felt like it had been coming for ages. Her legs were a little wobbly, and with the weight of the gown she almost felt like she was being pulled down.

“Are you okay?” Nathaniel reached for her.

“So tired,” she muttered, letting herself be caught. “Have been rehearsing so much. No sleep.”

She felt his chest rumbling with laughter and he just let her lean on him for a bit, here where no one could see.

“Glad it’s not that you find me boring,” he whispered teasingly.

Then, there was a loud crash, startling everyone, but her most of all. Half of their beautiful and detailed castle set pieces had broken apart and fallen on the ground. A lot of it was in pieces. Someone was going to need to fix that within a week.

“Why does this stuff keep happening?” Mr. Whitefeather was not amused.

Well, it looked like she was going to have some time for that nap.

[dannycaing]

3 PERSON WHO ALTERED JESUS CHRIST STORY

THE 3 PERSON WHO ALTERED JESUS CHRIST STORY by Danny Caing Date Written: April 3, 2020

CHAPTER 1 THE OT3P SYMBOL

November 8, 2007: I was one of the great fans of OTEP since I got hooked on her music video, Ghost Flowers (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qO9b5mw381I). I noticed a symbol OT3P with the letter E as a number 3. One afternoon, while I was on fieldwork resting under a mango tree, suddenly I just wrote in my notepad the 3 symbols, OT1P means On The 1st Person, OT2P means On The 2nd Person, and OT3P means On The 3rd Person. There was something about the lyrics of the video "you will know me by the scars I bear." Nothing was coming out in my thoughts about what these 3 symbols mean to me at that time.

February 8, 2008: On OTEP's Eat The Children music video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxdBmH-SyPM), she was wearing a white veil, a moth on the side with the OT3P sign, and the_ascension word below. Then I realized that the three symbols were about JESUS. But who were these three people? Are they the disciples or women of JESUS? In that particular instance, I had a vision about the three symbols which stands for the three people who altered the story of JESUS CHRIST.

From the birth in Bethlehem to the death on the cross in Mt. Calvary, the story of Jesus was altered by Saul of Tarsus (OT1P On The First Person), Constantine The Great (OT2P On The 2nd Person), and Bishop Irenaeus (OT3P On The 3rd Person) .

In the Gospel of Matthew, you will find a word hypocrite seven times. Jesus will never speak this word to anyone, he was a very humble and kind to the Pharisees. Jesus was a Jew.

Saul of Tarsus was a Roman citizen who was converted into a Christian, by the time he claimed that Jesus appeared to him on his way to Damascus. (Jesus had already ascended to heaven and will return on the end of Age.) The Acts to Revelation writings were written by the Roman Empire. Some doctrines in the Acts by Saul of Tarsus contradict Jesus' teachings.

Bishop Irenaeus (Erroneous) altered the story of Jesus who created the conflicting scenario between Jesus and the Pharisee from the beginning of Jesus' story, and that the Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus.

Today, the Jesus Christ Movement is the Roman Catholic Church (Roman Empire). What matters most, the JESUS WORDS on the 4 Gospels are intact. Jesus was born and died as a Jew. The Romans tortured and crucified Jesus. They mocked a sign on his cross as King of the Jews.

It was noontime that Jesus was in the Pilate's courtyard. Romans usually washed their hands after eating. There were thirty-three Romans who wanted Jesus crucified. They were so angry and humiliated when Jesus drove them out of the temple. The Jews crowd were outside the Governor's compound, and the Pharisees stayed at the temple praying.

"The soldiers took Him away into the palace (that is, the Praetorium), and they called together the whole Roman cohort. They dressed Him up in purple, and after twisting a crown of thorns, they put it on Him; and they began to acclaim Him, 'Hail, King of the Jews!' They kept beating His head with a reed, and spitting on Him, and kneeling and bowing before Him.” (Mark 15:16-19)

Constantine The Great destroyed and burn all records of atrocities and genocide by the Romans to the million Christian-Jews. He declared the cross as the symbol of Christianity, not the fish, and established the ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH.

CHAPTER 2 ON THE 1st PERSON - SAUL of TARSUS (OT1P)

The real Saul on the ACTS was a Greek-Jew, a tentmaker, a Jesus follower. He was an eccentric person in spreading the Gospel of Jesus from Jerusalem to Rome. When he proclaimed Jesus as the King of all mankind in Rome, they sent him to the Death Arena to be eaten by the lions. The Romans believed in only one king, the Emperor of the Roman Empire.

However, the Romans substituted a new Saul (Acts 22:25-29) to go back to Jerusalem in identifying all the Christian lairs and communities. Over one million Christian-Jews were crucified and killed for the entertainment in the Death-Arena in Rome.

The Roman-Central-Committee directly revised and altered the story of Jesus in the New Testament (with a little help from their scrupulous friend, the editor named Bishop Iraneaus (Erroneous).

According to Bishop Erroneous, Paul spearheaded in spreading the revised New "Roman" Testament of Jesus in favor of the Roman empire while murdering Christian and Jews at the same time. Over hundreds of thousands of Jews being suspected as Christians were put to death.

The letters of Timothy, Peter, John, James, and other Christian Leaders were the pieces of evidence sent back by fake-Saul to the Roman Central Committee. Immediately Roman troops raided the identified lairs, capturing all Christian families, brought them to the "Arena of Death" in Rome to be tortured and killed for entertainment. (Acts 9: 1-2).

At that time, Christians gathered in a circle by holding hands together, bowing their heads and praying out loud The Lord's Prayer. Then, one of the disciples of Christ (a group leader) would start speaking JESUS SAYINGS as everyone followed every word he/she had spoken. After the JESUS SAYINGS, they all started singing, dancing, praising THE WORDS OF JESUS!

The symbol of The Christian Movement was the fish. "Come, follow ME," JESUS SAID, "and I will make you FISHERS OF MEN." - Mark 1:17

The Holy Mass is a pagan practice of the Romans to their gods. It separates GOD within us, and worship instead of the CROSS, the Pope, the Saints, and the Virgin Mary! GOD IS WITHIN US!

There are at least 24 Paul's (a Roman spy) Contradictions of JESUS teachings.

CHAPTER 3 ON THE 2nd PERSON - CONSTANTINE THE GREAT (OT2P)

Under Constantine's rule, Christianity expanded throughout the Empire, launching the era of the Christian Church's dominance under the Constantinian dynasty. Constantine 1 was baptized only on his deathbed. Constantine's decision to cease the persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire was a turning point for early Christianity, sometimes referred to as the Triumph of the Church, the Peace of the Church. At the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, Constantine looked up to the sun before the battle and saw a cross of light above it (in this sign, you will conquer). Constantine commanded his troops to adorn their shields with a Christian symbol (the Cross), and thereafter they were victorious.

Constantine directed the erasure on the atrocities and genocide records by the Romans against the millions of Christian-Jews. Altered Jesus' stories like Pilate washing his hands to indicate that he was not responsible for the death of Jesus on the cross. The choosing for freedom between Jesus and Barrabas, and Judas Iscariot as the traitor.

Constantine wanted to MAKE SURE that Rome did not put Jesus to death, but instead BLAMING it to the Jews.

In Matthew 21:12, He overturned the tables of the money changers. Jesus was arrested by the Pharisee guards during his outrage He made inside the temple, driving out 33 Roman vendors who were the superior race at that time.

The Jews washed their hands and feet before entering the temple's gate, a holy sacred place. The Roman vendors wanted the Pharisee to crucify Jesus. Judas Iscariot, one of the disciples of Jesus, gave all the money and precious things (silver coins & perfumes) to the Pharisees in exchange to settle down the damages. But the Roman mobs refused to accept the offer and still demanded Jesus to be crucified.

There was no such thing as the Last Supper, although Jesus performs ritual prayers at the supper. The Pharisees, most of them believed that Jesus was a Holy Man who made miracles things, tried to convince the 33 Romans with no avail. Jesus was sent to King Herod because they have no law to condemn Jesus. There was no such a thing as midnight Pharisee Kangaroo court. Jesus was arrested in the morning at the temple and then brought to King Herod before noon.

Upon hearing Judas' mysterious death, the Pharisee later used the blood money to buy grave lots for unknown persons. Judas was stabbed to death and hanged by the Roman mobs.

King Herod sent Jesus to the Roman Governor because he has NO AUTHORITY to condemn a man when it's the "citizens of Rome" who were demanding to crucify Jesus to death.

Pontius Pilate (in order to please his countrymen and also giving a "warning" to the Jews) had Jesus scourged almost to death, crowned with thorns, carried the cross and crucified to death.

In the New "Roman" Testament, the death of Jesus on the cross was highly orchestrated by the angry Jewish crowd. This is according to the Gospel of Bishop Erroneous!

On that morning Jesus was welcome by thousands of Jewish people in Jerusalem - Mark 11:8-10

Actually, there was total SILENCE all over the city when Jesus was punished to death, you can hear women weeping... some were praying... you can hear Jesus SCREAMING OUT LOUD in pain while being scourged in the pillar...

Barabbas was actually released two years after Jesus was crucified in exchange for two slave-women to a Centurion!

During Jesus's trials in the Governor's court, there were no Pharisees present nor hundreds of Jews, only a few 33 angry Roman citizens who were driven out of the temple by Jesus. There were only 33 witnesses in front of the Governor who ordered the execution of Jesus to the cross.

CHAPTER 4 ON THE 3rd PERSON - BISHOP IRENAEUS (OT3P)

He was the editor of the New "Roman" Testament, proclaiming that a Roman citizen named Saul was the leader in spreading the Gospel of Jesus or the Jesus Movement. A ridiculous testimony in Acts 9:3-6 stating that Jesus appeared to Saul on his way to Damascus is, in fact, a "VERY GRAVELY DANGEROUS STATEMENT" overlooked by Bishop IRENAEUS or ERRONEOUS.

In Luke 21: 27-28, Jesus ascended to Heaven after He Resurrected from the dead. It is the faith to all Christian that at the Second Coming of Jesus Christ is at the end of the world. The appearance of Jesus on Saul was an irrelevant issue. Saul being a Roman citizen, a superior race, wanted to justify his conversion from a Christian murderer to a Jesus follower was absurd.

Judas was an educated person and whom Jesus trusted him as their treasurer. In Matthew 26:14-15, Judas Scariot betrayed Jesus in exchange for 30 pieces of silver was an unpredictable judgment and accusation. A very narrow twisted predicament alibi from a loyal man to a traitor.

In Mark 15:12-13, Bishop Iraneus altered the gospels of Jesus by blaming the Jews on the death of Jesus. The washing of Pilate's hands stands Rome position that they have nothing to do on Jesus' death, written ONLY on the gospel of Matthew 27: 24.

Proclaim the POPE as the head of the Church instead of Jesus. Millions were crucified, burned, and killed under the cross emblem. The original Christian movement logo was the fish.

Many Jews/Christians migrated to Europe and South America (now, The Latter-Day-Saints) in fear of being arrested and thrown to the Death-Arena in Rome.

In the Arena of Death, Christians and Jews were put to death as entertainment recess in between the gladiator's spectacle. They were burned alive, bodies chopped into pieces, skinned and boiled them, standing as arrow targets, and feed them to the wild animals. It was a horrifying murderous evil killing arena. You could smell the human blood and watched tens of thousands of inverted cross along the road to the arena, children, young and old Christians, and Jews crucified. The older ones were buried alive (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbAzKRohuvs).

The real story of Jesus in the New "Roman" Testament " was altered and revised by Bishop Erroneous and The Roman Empire Council.

Where is the logic here? A Roman citizen named Saul declaring as the Christian leader spreading the Words of Jesus while the Roman empire was killing millions of Christian and Jews at the same time. And at the end, these evildoers are the keeper of the Roman Catholic Church, not Jesus Christ Church.

The CROSS is the symbol of evil and death. Kingdoms against kingdoms, crusaders, dark ages, witch-hunt, inquisitor, holocaust, the war against other religions and sects, and even Prince Dracula is afraid of the cross, an object eviler than him. Billions of human beings have died because of the symbol of the cross.

Oh yeah wahkokok!

Music Background: "Jesus Words" by Danny Caing & Xzajyk https://soundcloud.com/earth-child-eyes-album/jesus-words-by-danny-caing-xzajyk

All Rights Reserved Copyrighted @ 2020 Wonderful Stories Limited

[himbowelsh]

I've just read your dancing Babe and it's all kinds of perfect and I'm not ready to let go of dancing troupe. Soo prompt for Webgott: Wedding in Lieb's family. Web is his +1. Lieb never seen Web "normal" dancing before. Only the drunk flailing. He expects Web to be kinda awkward and stiff, because Web is kinda awkward. Only to be totally surprised, because Web is amazing dancer and he dances hell out of all Joe's sisters, they all love him and he kills dance floor with Joe's Ma, she's a pro.

Anonymous asked: I cannot not request prompt or headcanon for Webgott and “Liebgott has a gaggle of sisters who terrorize him” when Web meets Lieb’s family. He sees Lieb’s sisters teasing and riling their baby bro and he finally gets it. That’s where he got his sharp wit and his fighty personality.

AN: well, come on, I’ve gotta combine these two, these prompts are perfect for each other!

“Oh my goodness, you’re adorable.”

The very tall, very buxom woman says this two seconds before squeezing David to her chest like some durable plush toy. The next thing David knows he’s struggling to breathe past the crush of breasts, and manicured hands have a vice grip on his shoulder blades. It would be a lot more pleasant were he not: a) gay, and b) two seconds away from being smothered by his boyfriend’s sister.

“Jesus, Sarah, lighten up! You trying to kill him or something?”

Just as quickly as he was pulled forward, David is tugged back into the safety of Joe’s arms. He heaves a lungful of air as Joe pats him down, as if he’s worried his older sister has transferred something contagious to him. Joe is scowling; this isn’t abnormal. He’s been scowling all day long, from the moment they set out on the road to when they pulled in the driveway of Joe’s mother’s cute suburban home.

This is not Joe’s childhood house. As soon as her last kid moved out, Judith Liebgott moved out, bought a one-bedroom near the beach, got herself a convertible, a lapdog, and a rich boyfriend fifteen years her junior. David’s traditional family upbringing is scandalized; the rest of him admires Mrs. Liebgott’s moxie.

So he can understand who Joe wouldn’t be so happy to be attending his own mother’s wedding, but he at least could try to act like it around his family. From what David’s heard of Joe’s sisters, they’re all a very close-knit bunch. They’re bound to notice something’s wrong with their little brother in a second.

Sarah Liebgott has her brother’s smirk – thin, sharp, and dangerous. “Aww, Joe, I’m just teasing. He’s adorable. You weren’t lying when you said he looks like a model.”

“You said that?”

“No!” Joe retorts, cheeks flaring. It’s the most adorable thing David has ever seen.

“Aww, Joey, don’t be shy!” An equally tall women with a thick brunette ponytail comes up and throws an arm around Joe’s shoulders, pulling him against her. Behind her, two other Liebgott sisters come striding up, wearing matching sadistic grins. David isn’t sure what’s more amazing; the realization that Joe is the shortest of his siblings or the fact that his older sisters all seem to share his wicked sense of humor. 

“Look at you!” exclaims one of his sisters as she pinches his ribs. “You look even skinner than before! Don’t you eat?”

“Yeah, probably all crap. You know how his diet works. You still eat poptarts raw, bro?”

“Mom is going to kill you when she sees you, Jo-Jo! You look like you haven’t slept in weeks!”

“You look like a zombie.”

“It’s an improvement, to be honest.”

Joe hisses, bristling like a disgruntled cat under his sisters’ intrusive comments and touches. Crossing his arms, David watches the chaos unfold, unable to keep a smile off his face. He feels like he’s discovering an entire missing chunk to the puzzle that is his boyfriend. So this is where Joe got his firey nature from; growing up in a family like this, he needed thick skin.

“Jesus, Amy, stop with the hair!” Joe whines, twisting out of his sisters’ grips. “Becky, come on, get out of here – hey, Sarah, knock it off!”

Oh, this is going to be the best trip ever.

The actual wedding takes place in a week; the days leading up to it are jammed with preparations, planning, and organization. Some people, like Joe’s oldest sister Sarah, thrive in this environment. Others – like Joe himself – chafe under the closely-packed schedule that leaves him with limited room to breathe.He rebels in whatever ways he can, whether it’s picking petty arguments with his sisters over dinner or sneaking off when the rest of the family is busy. He winds up sneaking off a lot – usually he takes David with him.“If the two of you have sex in one more dressing room, we’re leaving you in the store,” Joe’s mother announces on their way home from tuxedo rentals. David’s cheeks flush a brilliant red that makes him look a bit like a cherry. In the rearview mirror, Mrs. Liebgott shoots them both a crimson-lipped smirk.“I don’t know if you think you’re subtle, honey, but your shirt is on backwards. Fix your hair, too.”“You have a scratch right –”  Joe’s third sister, long-haired Amy, drags out the vowel as she reaches over to tap David’s exposed collarbone. “Here. Joe, you’re a monster.”“I’ve seen what you do to your boyfriends. You’re lucky there’s ever anything left of ‘em.”“If they die, they die happily,” Amy sniffs, turning her attention back to her phone. “He looks uncomfortable. What, did you forget the aftercare?”David shifts in his seat, closing his eyes as he prays for death. Next to him, Joe aims a kick at his sister’s shin which quickly turns into an all-out fight, complete with screaming, slapping, and David caught in the middle.Mrs. Liebgott continues to drive on like there’s no problem. In the passenger’s seat, Joe’s second sister Rebecca turns up the radio to drown out the chaos.

By the time the wedding finally comes, it couldn’t be more welcome.

That’s coming from Joe, who wasn’t thrilled about this whole thing in the first place. Who could blame him? His mom is marrying a goddamn rich kid barely out of his frat boy days, who’s better suited to riding sports cars and living off his daddy’s savings. Bentley (his name is goddamn Bentley) is pretty, unassertive, and stupid-in-love with Joe’s mom. If that last point wasn’t so obvious, Joe would be against this union altogether.As it stands, he won’t begrudge his mother her happiness. She’s earned it, spending a lifetime raising four nightmares.A hell of a lot of stuff goes on at a Jewish wedding, but dancing is always one of the highlights of the night. Joe does his best to abstain from any of the traditional dances (it brings back bad memories of his Hebrew school days). To his surprise, however, his boyfriend doesn’t follow his example.

He’ll admit that he’s never seen Webster dance before. Sure, he’s seen him dance -- at various parties, half-drunk out of his mind, free of inhibition and coordination. Most of those moments involved Joe reeling his boyfriend back from doing anything more embarrassing; he could handle a bit of drunk grinding if it kept Web from canon-balling into the pool from the roof.

So he’s seen Web dance, but he’s never seen him dance. Joe’s not sure what he expected, but this... isn’t it.

Webster does a complicated twist, swinging Amy under his arms. Joe’s sister shrieks out a laugh, hair flying free behind her as she twirls with her partner. Once she’s back in Webster’s arms, he lifts her off her feet and twirls her across the floor as if she weighs no more than a ragdoll.

Joe watches from the sidelines, arms crossed. He’s not glaring -- he sure as hell isn’t glaring, because being jealous of his boyfriend and his sister would be ridiculous -- but he’s not please that Web is showing Amy the time of her life. If Webster should be sweeping anyone off their feet, it’s him -- and Joe never imagined that thought would pass through his head.

He’s able to insist he’s not jealous right up until his second sister, Becky, is in Web’s arms. Becky is an athlete, and she’s got the moves to match; but Web keeps up with her step for step, moving to the rolicking beat with a fluidity that makes Joe feel a bit warm. He can’t help fixating on the brightness of Web’s smile, the light sheen of sweat across his brow, the sway of his hips in those tight tight pants...

He downs another glass of champagne and turns away until the song ends.

It doesn’t end there. Next up is Sarah, with her mop of curls, and her flirting that isn’t at all subtle. She’s like that with everyone, but Joe’s sure he’s going to storm out onto the floor and throttle his sister right then and there. It’s a slower song, and very close. Her hand lingers on Web’s chest, and his grip on her hip looks too firm, too self-assured. Joe swallows down the lump of jealousy building in his throat. Forcing himself to breathe is a challenge, but he somehow manages. Sarah is shameless about a lot, but she wouldn’t try anything with Joe’s boyfriend -- Web wouldn’t let her anyhow. That doesn’t mean Joe’s happy about it.

By the time Sarah breezes off -- leaving a bright red lip print on Web’s cheek, because of course -- Joe is more than ready to step in. He catches Web’s eyes from across the floor, and his boyfriend offers him a bright smile. Joe starts to move. Before he can reach him, however, another set of hands grab Webster and sweep him into the next dance.

Joe swallows back the curse on his lips when he realizes Web is dancing with the bride. Of course his mom would want a crack at Web -- he’s the best dancer here. She used to be a Rockette, for christ’s sake; it he can keep up with her, he can keep up with anyone.

Web’s damn good, even up against the formidable partner that is Joe’s mother. She’s dancing in a wedding dress and heels, so he’s able to keep up with her. The pair still outshines every other couple on the floor by miles. Web spins, twirls, and dips with a grace that draws every eye in the room to them, and Joe’s mother matches him step-to-step. They’re a dazzling sight; even Joe can’t look away, though he’s sure his fixation is more the result of Webster’s moves than his mother’s skill.

By the time the song ends, they’re both flush-faced and grinning. Joe’s mother cups Web’s chin in her hand and murmurs something, too low for Joe to hear. Both their gazes drift towards him; he goes still, realizing they’re talking about him. His mother winks before breezing off (probably back to fuckin’ Bentley) and Webster is left alone.

He’s panting heavily, and looks ready to drop -- but if he can dance like that, he can manage one last slow song. As the first strains of a violin melody pick up, Joe finally reaches his boyfriend, and catches Webster in his arms before he can protest.

“Can I have this dance?” he murmurs in Webster’s ear.

His boyfriend looks up at him and grins bright enough to rival the moon. “I’ve been waiting all night.”

[reactingtosomething]

Reacting to Wonder Woman (cont’d)

Part II: I Am FILLED with Joy/Triumph

The Setup: Find the first half of our Wonder Woman reaction here. 

Also, as you may have noticed, we’re getting more and more easily sidetracked in these things. But also, this conversation surprised Kris, at least, with the stuff we disagreed on, and of course that’s led to longer discussions even when we stay more or less on topic. In this case, that topic will be the god of war. 

Anyway, SPOILERS BELOW, especially after the jump. As always, post-chat notes are in italics, and you can click on the first appearances of our names to see our creative and critical influences.

KRIS: Marchae do you want to dig into the score here a little?

MARCHAE: I do! But can I point out something that happened at the no mans

MIRI: Do it!

MARCHAE: it was such a small shot where she’s prepping to go onto the field and she kind of flexes like a boxer

and it was so micro and so small

and on first thought i said to myself Ali...

KRIS: I loved the patience of the shot of Diana letting her hair down and putting on Antiope’s tiara (?)

MARCHAE: then she does it again and it’s so micro... i couldn’t tell if it was her mannerism or completely choreographed but the second time it made me think of the double gold boxer Claressa Shields

MIRI: Despite the superpowers, they really played to the reality of Diana as a person who can fight and I am obsessed with it

MARCHAE: and just the strength there

it was amazing and kind of a shout out to some really strong women who have over come some serious crap to make it...

that’s all i am sure i am the only human who clocked either of those things... ok we can talk about SCOREEE!

KRIS: In that moment before she goes out, I was expecting Steve’s line about “No Man’s Land” to be followed by basically “I am no man,” but on balance I appreciate that they didn’t go for the obvious line there

MIRI: Oh I highly doubt that! There is so much in this movie to happily obsess over

KRIS: Well I figured the score is so important to this set piece that it’s an easy transition

MARCHAE: I mean sound is incredibly important to all movies... check we know this, but this score is almost its own character

which i found to be completely impressive

MIRI: The score is pretty amazing. I’m not musical enough to pick up on things without being asked to stop and do so

KRIS: Yeah, most scores in this genre aren’t very good anymore

MARCHAE: I don’t know enough about sound or scoring to necessarily speak in an incredibly educated manner

KRIS: There’s a trend of having them blend into the background

MARCHAE: but it was so amazing

KRIS: Which seems idiotic to me

MARCHAE: I think it was important in this film though to further demonstrate her strength

KRIS: Because all the touchstone action movies have very, very distinctive musical identities

I also liked that it was (mostly) an older-school Big Orchestra sound

MARCHAE: OH MY GOD YES KRIS

KRIS: I mean there are still big orchestral scores but they don’t often sound like this anymore

MARCHAE: (i do love me some classical orchestrations)

KRIS: This doesn’t have like a super CATCHY theme, but it has clear melodies

MARCHAE: This was larger than life sounding and it was glorious

MIRI: Ok so I’m listening to the soundtrack but on youtube so it kind of jumps around

MARCHAE: I rarely think to myself I’m getting this track

this was one of those movies

MIRI: And I was just thinking (eh, this song is blending pretty blandly)

KRIS: And everyone’s trying to do the Zimmer-esque percussive thing even with strings

MIRI: and then I looked and it had gone to another DCU scroe

MARCHAE: but i think it had to be this way because this film had a lot to prove to people who didn’t think it would do well

MIRI: Not Wonder Woman

KRIS: But Zimmer’s also written great orchestral scores with clear melodies, like Gladiator

MARCHAE: Gladiator was good!

KRIS: But I don’t think that was the thought process, because I don’t think most people realize the trend of blend-into-the-background scores is bad

I think this speaks to how good Jenkins’s sensibilities are

SERIOUSLY SPOILERS BELOW

MARCHAE: interesting!

MIRI: I’ve never seen any of her other work, I’m going to have to seek it out

MARCHAE: Monster

?

KRIS: So the way I felt about the inclusion of the kinda wacky electric cello theme (introduced in Batman v Superman) was the way this score seems to feel about it: awkward and begrudging

She’s mostly directed TV pilots since Monster

(which I also have not seen)

MARCHAE: Wait?

you haven’t seen monster?

KRIS: no

Speaking of Batman v Superman and monsters

MIRI: Interesting! I didn’t know she’d been doing pilots!

MARCHAE: OKAY what the heck is happening!!!!!!!!

Its one of my favorite movies

KRIS: Well, she wasn’t being offered feature projects she found appealing for OVER A DECADE

MIRI: Right, and she held out for the right one

MARCHAE: she said she had the baby and then the indie industry tanked

MIRI: which I respect enormously 

MARCHAE: meanwhile she’d been trying to get life rights for a film and that didn’t work out

KRIS: But she’s done some really expensive pilots so she said the learning curve on this wasn’t actually insane

MARCHAE: yeah

KRIS: Marchae it sounded like you liked the Sia song in the credits?

MARCHAE: i also read that

KRIS: I didn’t hate it, but when I saw that Florence Welch wrote it that just made me wish she’d also sung it

MARCHAE: I love Sia in general and I think her music is really positive for girls/women

WAIT

as in FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE

WELL DANG IT KRIS

OH MY WORD

KRIS: RIGHT?

MARCHAE: that would have also been equally amazing!

MIRI: HOLY COW

Now I want them to do it as a duet

KRIS: Like honestly one of the best parts of Snow White and the Huntsman is that Florence Welch sings over the end credits

MARCHAE: also another female positive visionary/artist

I just love Florence PERIOD

MIRI: Also a good Halsey song (in the sequel?)

MARCHAE: her voice is so amazing

kris you’ve officially blown my mind of the evening and I will have to see if I can find the demo somewhere to see if Florence sings it!

KRIS: I have other things I want to talk about but I feel like I’ve been picking the topics, so does someone else have a thing?

MIRI: There’s one thing I want to bring up briefly because I haven’t done the necessary research to discuss it more than that, but I would feel remiss in not touching on it

MARCHAE: both of you go!

MIRI: I am uncomfortable with Gal Godot’s reported Zionism

KRIS: (Gadot)

MIRI: (Thank you! She is not a surrealist play)

MARCHAE: (LOL)

I don’t know much about this...go on Miri

MIRI: She tagged a post during a pretty severe IDF bombing that killed civilians with something along the lines of “We are right” and “love IDF”. I don’t blame her for having patriotism and the instagram post was several years ago and people change, but as a Jewish person and a person in general I really believe that a 2 state solution is important

MARCHAE: Wow

MIRI: And obviously I’m not Israeli, I don’t have as much of a stake or understanding. But a lot of far right wing politicians in Israel seem very willing to use the past suffering of the Jews as an excuse to make other people suffer, and I call bullshit on that

As I said, I am NOT well enough informed about Gadot’s actual beliefs to cast any kind of judgment 

I just didn’t want to say nothing about it, as it is important

MIRI: Hamas is a terrorist organization and I support Israel’s right to defend themselves. However, I do believe Israel is wrong in their occupation of Gaza. Please note this is my personal opinion, and not the main focus of this Reaction! There are better informed articles on many sides of this issue out there.

Ok, Kris

KRIS: Yeah

Oh, me

MIRI: What was one of your points? (Unless either of you want to discuss this more)

Yes, you!

KRIS: So, the gods

MIRI: They are dead

KRIS: I did suspect the Ares reveal coming but can’t quite remember which scene; maybe the one where the generals shoot down Steve’s request

I thought that was telegraphed JUST enough

MIRI: Yeah, Casey and I called it before they left london

MARCHAE: Oh wow you all are smart!

MIRI: I’m ok with a slightly predictable story if it’s done WELL

MARCHAE: I caught on a bit later... sorry

KRIS: And this is not an original thought at all but it was a good subversion of our expectations for a War God

MIRI: (Also watching and writing these is kind of what we do)

Yes, I thought it worked nicely

MARCHAE: I do agree

MIRI: And the commentary on the bureaucracy of war worked well for me

KRIS: right

MARCHAE: it was also relevant

MIRI: Especially in the context of WWI and old men arguing about how to send young men to die

(I’m not calling Thewlis old! Riffing on a quote I half remember)

War is young men dying and old men talking - FDR

I also think the gods being dead was very wise from a story perspective

KRIS: And also that whole “You were LYING!” “I’m a SPY!” beat was great

I don’t think the reveal about Diana being the weapon was the BEST executed thing ever, largely because we never see Hippolyta again

MIRI: Because the gods have to have existed for WW’s origins

KRIS: and maybe some reckoning with the Amazons is being saved for later

MIRI: But they can’t have them around in the modern stories

KRIS: What did actually really bother me was that this went with a version of Diana’s origin that erases the goddesses

MIRI: My biggest complaint is that we only got the Amazons for one act and probably won’t get them again

YES

MARCHAE: I don’t know maybe they could... in the show they still exist

KRIS: I’m 70 percent sure the Amazons are in Justice League

K: Only 70 percent because I have been avoiding watching trailers for things (and have been pretty pleased with this decision) and story details for future movies in general, but I feel like I’ve read about this

MIRI: REALLY????

I am FILLED with joy/triumph

MARCHAE: and she goes back to them frequently for advice

KRIS: Yeah, I think one of the Macguffins lands in Themyscira

MARCHAE: she actually has a sister who also has powers and sometimes fights with her

MIRI: Nice

MARCHAE: *hunches shoulders... I hope they come back*

MIRI: More women fighting!

More than one woman on the superhero team please!!!

KRIS: But we can’t really rely on those precedents in the DCEU

MIRI: Right

KRIS: In this version Hippolyta tells Diana she may never return

MIRI: Ok, back to the goddesses barely being mentioned at all: sucked. Not a fan

Right, but she totally could

MARCHAE: that is true...but we know she has to go back

KRIS: Which I first heard as “you might die out there” but I think was meant as “you won’t be permitted to return”

Right, so Justice League

MIRI: Especially if it’s that she never returned between then and the Louvre but then we get to see her finally go back

KRIS: Yeah

MIRI: I really enjoyed that the Amazons were not all white or tiny

Champion boxer Ann Wolfe (26 fights, 24 wins, 16 by knockout) as Artemis

KRIS: How did you feel about the thematics in general, but especially in the third act?

MIRI: And that a lot of them were real fighters/sportswomen

MARCHAE: **CLAPS @ MIRI**

MIRI: hmmmm I do have a concern with the implication that WWI was because of Ares

KRIS: I guess that didn’t bother me, since they went out of their way to show that he was just sort of giving nudges

MIRI: Because while I strive not to overly doubt people as a whole, I also don’t like the idea of pawning blame for genuine bad actions off on some alien force

And with WWII right around the corner it’s weird to me

KRIS: And especially because overall I think Steve’s speech seemed like the main thematic statement

MIRI: Like we’re supposed to believe that Ares was at least nudging ALL the bad terrible things into being, but then a few years later terrible things will happen without those nudges just as much

more even

I guess I’m disagreeing with Diana’s early on surety that the war was all because of Ares

But also the enemy soldiers hugging right after

It’s the danger of using real circumstances, because you have too much context to deal with, I guess

KRIS: I think we’re SUPPOSED to disagree with Diana, because we know what Steve knows, and I’m not sure the Ares thing is really supposed to prove she was totally right

MIRI: Right, I agree with you there

But then (correct me if I’m wrong!!!) once Ares is killed we see a German and a British soldier hug

K, post-rewatch: The German soldiers are mostly hugging each other, and one German hugs Chief, whom we know is non-aligned. The only Allies on the scene are Sameer and Charlie. 

KRIS: Both this and Captain America: The First Avenger also emphasize that the heroes are on secret, i.e. ahistorical missions

K: What I mean by this is that both movies avoid the problematic suggestion that real battles were won only with superheroic intervention. Instead of straight-up revisionism, this is Secret History.

MIRI: And I know some people involved in wars are always there for reasons other than hatred of the other side!

KRIS: I didn’t read that hugging as being related to Ares’s influence so much as seeing the world from Diana’s perspective

MIRI: Interesting

KRIS: Because Ludendorf is the only German we ever really see as Under the Influence

MIRI: But that begs the question of where the f was she in the 40s

I mean obviously Diana is not going to be enough to save the day every time

I’m going too far on this, I know

KRIS: Like they’re just guys, and they all got caught up in the fires and the explosions

K: Caused by Chief, mostly

MIRI: But it made me a little uncomfortable

Right, but they’re also the only on the ground soldiers we’re seeing there so they’re a little emblematic of more than just themselves

But also it’s lovely for them to be able to see beyond their difference and be glad to be alive!

I don’t think I’m making a lot of sense and I’m not entirely sure of why I’m feeling this way, so let’s move on

KRIS: But even when they’re the Bad Guys I don’t think we’re supposed to think Ares is actively manipulating them

MIRI: If I have clearer thoughts after seeing it again I’ll write something up

KRIS: I think the scene when we meet Chief is important for this

He’s smuggling for both sides

MIRI: right

what does that mean to you re: the degree of Ares’s influence? 

KRIS: And we see bad, or at least morally uncomfortable, judgment from British generals

MIRI: I think that judgement is pretty common towards anyone refusing to take a side in reality

KRIS: Ares is nudging Dr. Poison, but he’s also nudging the British in different ways

This isn’t a war that we generally think of in the same Heroes vs Villain terms that we generally frame WW II as

To the extent that it’s even in the public consciousness I think we think of it as Just Terrible All Around

K: And there’s that shot where two of the soldiers take off their gas masks and they’re basically kids

MIRI: We don’t, but I think the British might a bit more

Ah, fair

I’m not thinking that Ares is influencing everyone individually (he is influencing important people very specifically), but the immediate shift after his death does suggest to me that he had a low-grade influence going over The War as a whole

Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s how it reads to me

KRIS: Hmm, I don’t know, I didn’t read it that way

MIRI: Fair enough

MARCHAE: I thought he influenced the entire thing...

KRIS: Well this is interesting to me, because none of those beats really struck me as problematic, but I did still not think the theme entirely landed

MIRI: How did it not land for you?

KRIS: Sort of in the same way that we’ve heard (or I assume we’ve all heard) a war movie can never really entirely pull off being anti-war

Diana SAYS “love,” but she still blows Ares up

MIRI: Of course

KRIS: Though it might be to the script’s credit that the word “love” isn’t splashed ALL over the place

MIRI: And her fighting is glorious/glorified

KRIS: I guess what a lot of the Ares stuff comes down to for me is that Steve gets such a great speech

MARCHAE: I did note that she talks about love... but it is more or less that the POWER of LOVE compelled her to rid the world of Ares and also the man she killed before him

KRIS: (Incidentally this is one of many moments when the woman sitting next to me Nodded so Hard)

“Maybe it’s us!”

MIRI: Right, she’s doing it because of her love for mankind. Mostly lands for me, but it is a little sticky

KRIS: Great line, and great acting on both sides of this conversation

MARCHAE: however I promptly noted that this is at such odds with who the character actually professes to be because she let Dr. Poison live

MIRI: Pine did great work throughout

Well I think there’s a distinction between people and gods there

KRIS: And then “We’re all to blame.” (Vigorous Nod) “I’m not.” (VIGOROUS NOD) “But maybe I am!” (V I G O R O U S   N O D)

MIRI: People can change, or at least be jailed for their crimes

A god will always be a god

And Ares is a bad god to have around

so that didn’t feel inconsistent with he Dr Poison thing for me

How did you guys feel about the love story in general?

KRIS: Right, and I don’t know how conscious/deliberate this was but the Greek conception of the gods positions them as Forces

MIRI: Right! Pretty immutable 

KRIS: They’re humanized and have personalities, but Ares is War Incarnate

MARCHAE: But she killed the general(? I am looking up the guys name...)

he wasn’t a god at all

KRIS: Because she thought he was Ares

MIRI: She thought he was

KRIS: Ludendorf

MIRI: And she’s pretty distressed to realize that he wasn’t

MARCHAE: and to me that’s the thing.. is that she’s technically killing anyone  for that reason

KRIS: And that conception I guess is another reason the Ares stuff generally worked for me; I think in the big picture you can read him as a metaphor

MIRI: I think Diana is ok with casualties in a battle (if they’re actively shooting at her and others) but not a deliberate murder/manslaughter kill

And that tracks for me (within the film itself)

MARCHAE: but she only doesn’t kill the woman because of steve

MIRI: I haven’t seen much else

MARCHAE: I see you both at this point i am “thinking aloud”

KRIS: I don’t think it’s JUST because of Steve

MIRI: Right but killing the metaphore didn’t actually kill it in the world because more wars have happened!!!

K: I think the metaphorical (and sequel) answer to this is that Ares isn’t really dead

MIRI: Well that’s the clear and obvious answer that NEVER EFFING OCCURRED TO ME

K, post-rewatch: I have to stand by my original reading. The concrete things Ares says he does are give ideas and “inspiration” for weapons -- but NOT influence the inclination to use them -- and push for an armistice that he assumes will fail, presumably to increase bitterness and cynicism on all sides. In Ares’s head, he was originally just trying to demonstrate the inevitable corruptibility of man, which is to say: he has the same beliefs as Hippolyta.

ALSO: There wasn’t really anywhere else to put this, so I’ll put it here before the topic switch. There’s a really small but really cool bookend thing Jenkins does with Diana. Right after Diana has left the sparring match where her powers blasted Antiope, and right after Diana kills Ludendorf, she stands on top of something high, closes her eyes, and tilts her face toward the sky, to just catch her breath.

And both times, she hears a sound that changes her world. The first time, it’s Steve’s plane, and Diana gets introduced to the World of Man. The second time, it’s the Germans continuing to move the gas bombs because nothing’s changed, and Diana’s understanding of the world -- and of man -- gets a huge wakeup call.

MARCHAE: someone asked about the love story?

MIRI: I did!

It worked for me

I buy it without them having to give it a ton of screen time

You?

MARCHAE: I was glad it wasn’t overdone

MIRI: Kris?

KRIS: I also liked it for the same reasons that we kind of touched on earlier, that Steve is actually developed as a person independent of Diana

It’s kind of obligatory, but it doesn’t FEEL obligatory

MIRI: exactly

MARCHAE: also i was glad that it ended (which sounds really morbid) but i’ll explain

MIRI: When you do your work in other arenas, only a light touch is needed Please do!

MARCHAE: it just showed she didn’t NEED him to keep moving forward

MIRI: 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

YES YES YES

MARCHAE: *takes bow!*

KRIS: Yeah

It also ended in a way that -- again -- allowed Steve to complete an arc of his own

MARCHAE: YUP and we see her at the end cherish her memory of him and keep it sweetly as important to her

but she definitely has persisted

KRIS: WRITE MORE SUPPORTING WOMEN THE WAY STEVE TREVOR IS WRITTEN, EVERYONE

K: But also write more leading women, obviously

That picture does appear in Batman v Superman

MARCHAE: YESSSSSSSSSSS

AHHHHHHHH

MIRI: THANK YOU

MARCHAE: i am going to have to watch that

MIRI: MOTHER FUCKING THANK YOU

PREACH KRIS

K: Though we love Steve Trevor the Character no less, our convictions on the matter of Steve Trevor the Example have perhaps been shaken, thanks to an initially counterintuitive but ultimately pretty convincing argument made by Friend of Reacting to Something and professional critic Caroline Siede

KRIS: The light touch of the Batman/Justice League framing worked well here

MIRI: And I liked the picture thing

The framing worked really nicely with her VO

It wasn’t too much for me

KRIS: I do have to say, it’s going to be a tough sell to convince me that this Diana is okay letting Bruce Wayne take the lead

I guess we’ll see

MIRI: Yeah, that’s very true

MARCHAE: I hope that doesn

*doesn’t happen

KRIS: I mean Batman is literally the lead of Justice League

MIRI: I know in some comic versions he acknowledges that he could never defeat her if he had to

MARCHAE: (hmmm because I only watch the originals...I suppose that was missed on me)

MIRI: But he’s still team leader

???

Although maybe he has better administrative skills than her

KRIS: Well Superman is traditionally team leader

But obviously that’s not an option

at this point

MARCHAE: I thought so

MIRI: Ahhhhhhh rihgt

right

MARCHAE: but i figured i missed something

KRIS: I actually want to talk a bit about this

MIRI: One way it might work is that Diana isn’t actually great at working with others in this

KRIS: If you don’t mind more BvS spoilers

MIRI: Like, she goes off on her own half cocked sever times

MARCHAE: i do not

MIRI: Go for it!

KRIS: Okay so first thing

is that what I think happened is that everyone over at DC/WB defaulted, as many do, to assuming that once Superman is dead, Batman is obviously the next choice for leader

or at least lead of a movie

And I realized, in a brief Twitter exchange with Caroline, that I had Just Assumed that in introducing the rest of the heroes, Of Course they had to have Superman and Batman meet first

Because that’s how it’s always been

But Caroline had said something like “Basically I wish this movie had been Man of Steel 2 featuring Wonder Woman”

And I was like

OH

MARCHAE: (pause real quick...superman is dead?)

KRIS: Yes

Batman v Superman is a WHOLE thing

of things

and other things

and other other things

MIRI: omg ❤️ 

MARCHAE: so many things

KRIS: I think they’ve talked a little about how JL will end with a resurrection

But where I was going

MIRI: I feel like Clark and Diana would be good friends

Like they both believe in humanity so much

KRIS: well, and here’s one of the problems, not this Clark, so much

or at least he hasn’t particularly been written that way

Some telling rather than showing

MIRI: ????????????????????????

KRIS: We’ll talk about it tomorrow

MIRI: 👍🏻

KRIS: But where I was going was that assuming Batman and Superman have to meet before Superman and Wonder Woman have to meet

MIRI: (I’m seeing Man of Steel for the first time the day after we had this conversation)

KRIS: is not great

It’s really one of those Canon, Schmanon things

And in the context of LET’S HAVE A WOMAN SUPERHERO ALREADY, there’s not a good reason Wonder Woman couldn’t have been introduced first in this cinematic universe

ESPECIALLY since we just had Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy

So that was a ramble, but that was all just one point

MARCHAE: (now I need to see all of this films)

thanks Kris

KRIS: The other thing I wanted to mention is that at the end of BvS, Diana briefly explains to Bruce that she’s been MIA for decades because:

(This is at Clark’s funeral, and Bruce and Diana are watching from a distance)

MARCHAE: (WHY IS SUPERMAN DEAD!!!)

KRIS: Because the movie is a mess

K: I actually like Batman v Superman more than most critics, which I realize is not unusual in America but is unusual for me.

MIRI: And has that fact (men making the world that way) changed or is she now deciding that she must change it??

KRIS: I think part of what the movie is trying to do is say that Superman has reminded both Batman and Wonder Woman of man’s potential

K: It admittedly does not do this very well -- Kal and Diana barely interact -- despite the best efforts of what is a very strong cast on paper. More telling and not showing.

MARCHAE: interesting

KRIS: But also the subplot introducing Diana involves her and Bruce learning about the existence of the other future Leaguers

so there’s a thread of “oh CRAZY shit is happening”

But in this Bruce-and-Diana at a funeral scene (which, despite the overall messy execution of the movie, is still a nice geek-out moment), Bruce Wayne almost literally says Not All Men

MIRI: Oh Bruce

KRIS: I mean what he says is “Men are still good,” we fight each other but we can do better etc.

MARCHAE: I really like batman

MIRI: I mean I don’t disagree with his point, as explored previous

previously

KRIS: Well it’s interesting because there’s so much ground to cover in terms of Diana’s changing views of the World of Man, but there won’t be room for it in JL

K: As opposed to in Wonder Woman 2 or whatever they’ll decide to call it

MIRI: Kris, thank you for being our DCEU historian

KRIS: Let us briefly acknowledge the excellence of Etta Candy

MIRI: So is the ending bookend of Wonder Woman trying to bridge that, a little? Like she’s reminded of the goodness and the good fight with that picture?

KRIS: I think so. I THINK the very end might even be jumping into a Justice League scene.

MIRI: Ok, that makes sense

MARCHAE: so what about a WW sequel

MIRI: And yes, Etta Candy is a fucking champ and I love her

I am not opposed to engaging in a bit of fisticuffs, should the occasion arise.

KRIS: But this did better than First Avenger at making the frame just a frame, and letting the WW I story be more or less closed

MIRI: agreed

KRIS: I think a WW sequel is pretty much guaranteed

Financially

MIRI: Do we know yet if a WW sequel would be in the past as well, or a present day solo adventure?

KRIS: I don’t think they’ve decided

MIRI: Cool

MARCHAE: I know they were in talks but nothing had been called... i guess Miri you reframed my question in a more appropriate way

I was curious how/where it would be set and what would be explored or what you twos predictions were

MIRI: I could definitely see it going either way

KRIS: Yeah

MARCHAE: nice

K: Here is the answer (sort of?, for now?): Jenkins has said period piece, The Hollywood Reporter said contemporary, maybe that actually means another frame story, and presumably this will address Miri’s questions above

MIRI: Can we also briefly examine the fact that some of the Amazons are queer and I love it?

MARCHAE: well i will say this. I was so pleased with this film and can’t wait to see it again in 3D

KRIS: I think there’s a definite risk of WW II fatigue if they go there, but I also think they have to address it at least in dialogue somehow

MIRI: Yeah, if they go modern day they’ll have an easier time with that one

KRIS: Yeah! The treatises on pleasure etc. was obviously a great scene

MIRI: Yes!

I mean that could also mean masturbation and be great

KRIS: Incidentally that got one of the loudest reactions from the women sitting next to me. “They came to the conclusion that men are essential for reproduction, but when it comes to pleasure..." 

"PREACH"

MIRI: hahahahahahahhhahaha

But that is an island of only ladies and it was pretty clear that some had some strong bonds happening

And that makes me very happy

MARCHAE: HA!

KRIS: Greg Rucka has said some Grade A things about sexuality on Themyscira

MIRI: Like one is SUPER upset when Aunt A is killed

Oh, please link to that in the post!

KRIS: (he wrote Wonder Woman several years ago, and recently wrote her again)

I’ll try to find that interview

MIRI: And he’s one of the one’s who is a big fan of the film, right?

KRIS: Yeah

MIRI: Oh, was the article a few years ago? I think I saw that!

MARCHAE: (He’s also the writer of Lazarus which is one of my fav comics)

KRIS: The gist of it was, If having sex and romantic relationships is a normal part of human happiness, and there are no men on this island, then O B V I O U S L Y

MARCHAE: share the link i haven’t seen it

MIRI: I mean I’m sure there are some straight as an arrow Amazons. But not all of them, for SURE

KRIS: http://www.comicosity.com/exclusive-interview-greg-rucka-on-queer-narrative-and-wonder-woman/

MARCHAE: it would make sense!

KRIS: [excerpt from the Rucka interview]

And when you start to think about giving the concept of Themyscira its due, the answer is, “How can they not all be in same sex relationships?” Right? It makes no logical sense otherwise.

It’s supposed to be paradise. You’re supposed to be able to live happily. You’re supposed to be able — in a context where one can live happily, and part of what an individual needs for that happiness is to have a partner — to have a fulfilling, romantic and sexual relationship. And the only options are women.

But an Amazon doesn’t look at another Amazon and say, “You’re gay.” They don’t. The concept doesn’t exist.

Now, are we saying Diana has been in love and had relationships with other women? As Nicola and I approach it, the answer is obviously yes.

And it needs to be yes for a number of reasons. But perhaps foremost among them is, if no, then she leaves paradise only because of a potential romantic relationship with Steve [Trevor]. And that diminishes her character. It would hurt the character and take away her heroism.

When we talk about agency of characters in 2016, Diana deciding to leave her home forever — which is what she believes she’s doing — if she does that because she’s fallen for a guy, I believe that diminishes her heroism.

She doesn’t leave because of Steve. She leaves because she wants to see the world and somebody must go and do this thing. And she has resolved it must be her to make this sacrifice.

MIRI: I remember being really excited about that article when I first saw it on tumblr

The way it plays in the movie I think she’s leaving for Sacred Duty more than for Steve, so I can see her never having had a relationship not being the same kind of problem

But I’m glad they looked at that seriously

And I’m always here for queer superheroes

OH that reminds me Caity Lotz (who plays gloriously bi White Canary in the DC tv universe) was at the premiere

KRIS: So I don’t want to END on a Steve note because the movie isn’t called Steve Trevor, but I do want to return to his goodbye scene

MARCHAE: Thats cool @ kris... Miri representation is always essential!

KRIS: Because it’s great

MIRI: It is so great!

KRIS: God, they gave Steve so many good lines

“It has to be me. I can save today. You can save the world."

MIRI: Pine really does a lot with just a look, too

MARCHAE: OH MY WORD i wrote that down!

MIRI: And I like that he got a great, poignant moment but it is still her film

KRIS: Are you just REALLY good at writing without looking?

MIRI: It really served them both beautifully

KRIS: For sure

MIRI: Yeah, are you taking these notes DURING the movie??

Your handwriting during a movie is nicer than mine ever

MARCHAE: I do take them during the movies

MIRI: hashtag impressed

MARCHAE: LOL

i didn’t want to forget anything

and my notebook is tiny so i can be inconspicuous

MIRI: I really cannot wait to see this movie agin

again

MARCHAE: me too

MIRI: I’m going next weekend

MARCHAE: But i do want to go back to that line... OH MY WORD it could just be me because of all the craziness in the world but it’s so promising and so beautiful and so supportive coming from a male character

and i appreciated that

MIRI: Ok, any more closing thoughts?

KRIS: Yeah, I like the 2009 animated movie but that Steve is a more traditional “cocky a-hole with a heart of gold” type and it’s just whatever

MIRI: I’m so tired of cocky a-holes with a heart of gold

They’re fine but we’ve had way too many in row

MARCHAE: YES

MIRI: Give me more Steve Trevors

KRIS: BUT STOP LETTING MEN NAMED STEVE LEAVE SENTIMENTAL TRINKETS WITH THE WOMEN THEY LOVE TO GET ONTO AIRPLANES

OUR FRIEND CASEY CAN’T HANDLE IT

AND APPARENTLY NEITHER CAN I

K: ALSO, another thing I noticed on my rewatch that I love, and that actually makes the theme land (a little) better for me, is that Diana’s quest both begins and ends with a nighttime goodbye.

The first time, she’s on the right side of the shot -- she’s the one leaving -- and Hippolyta says she loves Diana. Diana says she has to go, because the world needs her.

The second time, she’s on the left side of the shot -- she’s the one being left -- and Steve says he loves Diana. Steve says he has to go, because the world needs Diana more than it needs him.

(And both times, Diana receives a parting gift of purely sentimental value: Antiope’s tiara, and Steve’s (dad’s) watch. She has kept both to this day.)

MIRI: clearly

KRIS: Marchae I am referring again to Captain America: The First Avenger

MARCHAE: LOL thanks!

MIRI: I love that that explanation is necessary

MARCHAE: I did see the first avengers... I didn’t love it though 😊

and steve not fred

got it

KRIS: I wish the climactic end battle had been more like the first and second act set pieces and less like every other third act superhero battle

MIRI: No, ‘The First Avenger’ is the subtitle of the first Cap movie

which is different from the first Avengers film

That’s admittedly confusing

MARCHAE: (ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!!!)

KRIS: But overall, I am very glad Wonder Woman is very good

MARCHAE: ME TOO

MIRI: Yes, I agree!

KRIS: MORE SUPERHERO BATTLES IN BROAD DAYLIGHT

MIRI: The battles did have semi diminishing returns for me

KRIS: MORE AMAZONS JUMPING OFF, OVER, AND THROUGH THINGS

MIRI: because the earlier ones were the more unique ones

and the Amazon one was OBVIOUSLY THE COOLEST

MARCHAE: I loved the spin kick ... I just love fighting in action style movies

MIRI: Like, if a training sequence is more engaging than a battle IT”S CLEARLY TIME TO VARY UP HOW WE DO SUPERHERO MOVIE BATTLES

MARCHAE: ha!

MIRI: I just want a solid 70 minutes of life on Themyscira

Show me them training

show me them having a bonfire

KRIS: I guess we’ve basically said it but I just want to say it as explicitly as possible: GODDAMN, Patty Jenkins can direct action

MARCHAE: I don’t want to see a bonfire

MIRI: show me the election process

MARCHAE: MIRI LOL

MIRI: show me them doing their hair

MARCHAE: she can!

MIRI: just all of it

More Amazons in general

YES all the ups to Patty Jenkins

MARCHAE: So i do have a confession to make

MIRI: It is a spectacular film

KRIS: On top of all the other, more obvious things wrong with some of the reviews written by certain men, the idea that Jenkins’s action direction is not sufficiently engaging is just SOOOO STUPID

MIRI: Make it, and then I have to go pretty soon

UGH STUPID MEN ARE STUPID

MARCHAE: so i thought that the man who played steve

was Yannick Bisson

KRIS: ...

MARCHAE: (hallmark movie star)

sorry

KRIS: .............

Marchae

MARCHAE: for the entire movie

MIRI: hold on, I must google

MARCHAE: I KNOW

MIRI: what really?

Pictured: Not Chris Pine, A-List Movie Star

Ok, I do not see that

at all

MARCHAE: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0084370/

yeah

i felt like it wouldn’t be fair to not admit it

and i knew we were at the end...

MIRI: Well that is mature of you

KRIS: Your honesty is appreciated