#long before either of them were given/took a symbol of leadership for themselves

[lord-squiggletits]

Is anyone talking about Megatronus' cog and how maybe Megatron taking that was also a sign of him being not a good leader.

Is anyone complaining about how Orion got the Matrix going to also complain about how Megatron stole Megatronus' cog out of Sentinel's chest even though 1. he supposedly doesn't believe in Primes and false prophets any more and 2. Sentinel stole that cog from Megatronus' body who he murdered, so Megatron is literally just perpetuating that cycle of treating a dead hero's body parts as a collectible one is owed for having the Vision And Initiative To Seize Power. And being a hypocrite because despite supposedly hating Primes, he still covets Megatronus/his iconography so much he stole his cog and used it for his own despite the fact Alpha Trion (the last living Prime) gifted Megatron a perfectly usable one that he got consensually unlike Megatronus'?

Bc like. If we're talking symbolism into account. Idk it felt pretty symbolic to me that one of Sentinel's evil acts was to steal someone else's t-cog and then what does Megatron do? Steal someone's t-cog. Sure, Sentinel stole it first and was a bad guy so he ostensibly doesn't deserve having his corpse treated with dignity, but like... was it not obvious to anyone else that that act was where Megatron definitively went over the line of "revenge on an evil leader" to "stealing dead a dead guy's organs to suck out his physical power and symbolic presence for himself."

Are we going to talk about that or are we just going to keep bitching about how Orion was given the Matrix while he was dead, not expecting to be given a chance at life again, not seeking power for his own gain, with the consent/blessing of the previous Primes which somehow makes him evil and unfair

[iellarenuodolorian]

Mandoctober Day 9

Darksaber

Summary: The first part of this prompt is dedicated to what we actually know about the Darksaber from the cartoon shows. After the “〰️”is when my AU takes over and I get carried away with how it came to be in a certain someone’s possession.

Words: 3.5k (YIKES sorry ya’ll I got carried away!)

Warnings: war, death, fighting, angst (mild), scattered fluff

Pairing: Din DjarinxF!mandalorian reader

~2BBY

The strangest event had happened. Bo-Katan had returned to your clan with a new gift. It was the Darksaber.

As you stared at the silver hilt in Bo’s hands, you tried to remember what you knew about this legendary weapon.

It was created centuries ago by Tarre Vizsla, the only Mandalorian to ever be part of the Jedi Order. The Jedi must have been different back then for Vizsla to agree to be one of them. No Mandalorian these days would agree to such atrocity. Tarre used his skills as a Jedi to bring peace to the war torn Mandalorians and for the first time in centuries Mandalorians knew what peace was. But that peace did not last, because after Tarre died, the peace he had worked so hard to build was torn apart and Mandalorians were at war with each other again.

After Vizsla died, the Jedi kept his saber in their temple, as a relic. House Vizsla “liberated” it from the hands of the Jedi, and the Darksaber became a symbol of leadership to all Mandalorians after Vizsla had wielded it for so long and lead the Mandalorians to peace. That wasn’t to say that whoever wielded the Darksaber was fit to always be Mand’alor.  Anyone who wished could challenge them to combat for the right to be Mand’alor. Mandalorians had always believed only the strongest should lead, and only the strongest should wield such a relic.

House Vizsla had kept the Darksaber in their clan for many years, and the next Vizsla to have a history with the Darksaber was Pre Vizsla. During the Clone War, he created a group of Mandalorians who believed in the old ways, not the pacifist ways of Duchess Satine and her followers. Vizsla and his group he named the Death Watch, Kyr’tsad, were a rogue group of lawless killers who obeyed no one and only followed Pre because he brought them glory in combat. The goal of Death Watch was to liberate Mandalore from their pacifist enemies and restore the mando’ade to Mandalore. Originally Death Watch aligned themselves with the Sepratists, but after many failed attempts to take Mandalore back Death Watch the alliance is broken and Death Watch sets out to try and build their own army.

Death Watch stumbled upon two Sith brothers, Pre makes the mistake of thinking that because these brothers are Sith they could be allies and be joined by their hatred of Jedi. Little does Pre know that Maul is only using Death Watch to start his own crime syndicate, Crimson Dawn. Maul has his own agenda which does NOT include taking back Mandalore in a timely manner.

When Pre realizes this, he challenges Maul to a fight, that he ultimately loses. Bo had told you this part of the story because she had been close with Pre, once upon a time. Watching Maul kill Pre was horrifying for Bo and because she believed no outsider, aruetii, should rule and wield the Darksaber, she deserted and took a handful of loyal Mandalorians with her.

Bo returned to Mandalore with her nephew to break her sister out of jail, but with no small amount of convincing from her nephew, Korkie Kryze. The small group only managed to escape to the edge of the city of Sundari where Satine managed to send a transmission to Master Kenobi with a plea for help. Master Kenobi showed up some time later, only to also fail in his attempt to save Satine, and Master Kenobi was forced to watch as Maul killed Satine with the Darksaber. Bo and the Nite Owls helped Master Kenobi to escape and told him to tell the Jedi Council what has happened but to keep the Republic from sending troops to occupy Mandalore.

After many years of recruiting loyal Mandalorians to her cause, Bo set out with a small group of her loyal Nite Owls to find a Jedi she had met years before when she was part of Death Watch. Bo had hoped that if she could find this Jedi she could use said Jedi to recruit help from the Jedi council to take back Mandalore from Maul. Bo and the Nite Owls eventually found this Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and recruited her to train in the Mandalorian ways. Ahsoka eventually agreed to talk with her old Masters, Kenobi and Skywalker, and see if there was a way to send troops to Mandalore to capture Maul.

Ahsoka was given command of half of the 501st Legion, and the Siege of Mandalore started. It was a long and bloody six months, with neither side making any sort of gain. Maul eluded capture again and again, and finally, after most of Sundari was in flames, was Maul finally captured. Except the Darksaber was nowhere to be found. Maul must have hidden it somewhere only he knew, and now this ancient relic that could unite all the Mandalorian clans was lost, possibly forever.

The Force works in mysterious ways, you could testify to that from your own life experiences, and the Darksaber was not lost forever. A member of House Wren, Clan Vizsla, had come across a shrine on the planet Dathomir dedicated to the late Duchess Satine, and on a pedestal was the Darksaber. Having stolen the saber from Dathomir, this member of House Wren was reluctant to learn to wield it. She knew the responsibility and power it carried and felt that she didn’t deserve it. But after accepting who she could be, Sabine Wren accepted that the Darksaber had come to her for a reason. Sabine was dedicated to the Rebellion, and knew she could not divide her loyalties between her Mandalorian family and her Rebellion family. She passed on the Darksaber to Bo-Katan to unite the clans and to take back Mandalore.

〰️

Bo-Katan traveled to some of the larger clans to ask for warriors to come out of hiding and to take back their home with her. Many joined, only some stayed behind to protect those too young to fight and to pass the Mandalorian culture on to the next generation.

Many thousands of Mandalorians gathered Carlac to form the army that would take back Mandalore. You were an anxious mess, knowing at some point Din Djarin would show up and you would be able to see him again after more than a year of being apart. In the last decade you had only managed to spend a few days with him once a year, in a cold dark corner of space hiding from the rest of the Galaxy in stolen moments of passion. The passion was like a supernova, burning hot and bright for a short period of time, only to implode into a black hole with the loneliness and depression of being separated again after such a short time.

It was two days before the attack was to take place, and you were going over plans and cleaning your armor and weapons. You had spent the day training and catching up with Ailyn to distract yourself from the fact that Din still had not come to join the attack group. Ailyn had to end the session early, you were taking all your frustrations out on her. You were so focused on polishing your helmet and checking the wiring in your HUD you failed to notice someone sneaking into your tent. You whirled, blaster aimed, ready to tackle the intruder when he threw his hands up shouting “Hey, its just me! Udesii.”

“Jare’la di’kut.” You lowered your blaster and sighed to yourself in frustration. You watched Din take his helmet off and gently toss it onto your makeshift cot. His arms reached for you at the same time as yours and you wrapped each other in the tightest of embraces, holding on to each other for as long as possible, afraid this was only a dream.

Din began pressing kisses into your neck, as your hands found his curls, gently tugging and pushing the curls around. Din kissed his way up your jaw, and finally his lips found yours. Not wasting any time you eagerly pushed your tongue against his lips, just begging to taste him. It had been so long and you had almost forgotten what his kisses were like.

After you had finished reacquainting your mouths with each other, armor was removed and set at the end of your bed. You had gone out for food and brought it back to your tent, so you and Din could share a meal in peace and catch up.

“How are things going with the Bounty Hunters Guild these days?” You asked him.

“Work is work.” He shrugged as he took another bite. “I keep busy, nothing is too challenging. Sometimes it's almost too easy. But then I remember I’m getting older, and my back loves to remind me of that fact.” You laughed at his statement, almost spitting out your bite of food.

“You are not old! Because if you are old, then so am I and I am NOT ready to accept that fact of life. We are just hitting our prime!”

The rest of the meal was spent with Din telling stories about some of his more, eventful, bounties while you shared that you had not been doing much but traveling to the different hidden clans making sure they had enough supplies and that no one was trying to kill each other. Bo-Katan had given her Nite Owls the task of making sure the clans were taken care of in hiding.

It was late when you had finished telling your stories, so you curled up next to Din under the blankets. Using his shoulder as a pillow, you curled up next to him trying to be as close to him as possible. You would only have tonight to enjoy him as much as possible, tomorrow night everyone was to load up and head out to make the jump to Mandalore. You played with his hair until if put both of you to sleep, and for just one gloriously perfect night, you slept peacefully.

You wished you could always wake up to Din in the morning, his bed head was legendary. You weren’t sure if it was from sleeping, you playing with it in your sleep, or both. Either way his face in the soft morning light made you wish for just a moment that you both had different lives and that it was possible for you to always wake up like this.

The day was spent doing some light training with Ailyn and Din, making sure everyone’s weapons were functioning at 110%, armor was polished and functioning properly, and everyone’s munitions belts fully stocked with charges and spare power packs. When everything was as ready as it could be, you, Din and Ailyn went to your respective ships to start the pre-flight checklist. Your secure comlink connection to Din’s helmet kept you entertained through the checklist as you talked about silly memories to keep you distracted from the nerves of the coming battle. It was entirely possible that one of both of you would not return from this mission.

You were leading the squadron of Gauntlet fighters to the underground tunnels in Sundari. Your group was tasked with taking the tunnels while Ailyn was taking a group to secure the loading docks. Bo-Katan was taking another group to the Palace to capture Saxon, and secure the throne.

As soon as your group came out of hyperspace, something in your mind was screaming, “trap!!” The recon and intel that had been gathered for weeks before the mission had to be accurate, there was no way that the Empire could have changed anything in such a short amount of time. You would have to trust your training, which was more like automatic reflexes, and trust Bo-Katan and her strategy.

Suddenly, a Star Destroyer came out of hyperspace on your port side. I have a bad feeling about this, you thought to yourself as swarms of TIEs came streaming out of the Destroyer.

Bo-Katan’s voice sounded over your speakers, “All fighters head for the surface! Only engage if you have to. We need as many troops on the ground as we can get!”

After dozens of close calls, minimal damage, and only one Gauntlet lost along the way, your team made it to the surface. Your thoughts momentarily wandered to Din, wondering if he had managed to make it to the surface with Bo. He was part of her group responsible for taking the Palace. But you had to focus leading your own group through the tunnels so that you could set as many traps for later when Imperial troops were fleeing.

The Imperials were more than prepared for your attack on the tunnels. The nagging feeling in your mind that something was just wrong kept pushing its way to the front of your thoughts. You were met with squads of stormtroopers at every junction in the tunnels, and it was taking far too long to try and flank them to get around and to the central drain that would lead to the surface of Sundari. You knew the surviving members of your group would need to be split between reinforcing the loading docks and helping to secure the Palace. But something was just wrong about the entire situation. The stormtroopers seemed to know every move before you even made it. If you didn’t know better you would have said that whoever was leading them had a book on Mandalorian tactics and had studied it very well.

After what felt like days of fighting, your group had finally reached the main tunnel that led to the surface. With your comm working again, you reached out to Ailyn to see how her fight was going at the docks. Her group had things held down for now, but Ailyn had not heard from Bo-Katan in hours. She should have checked in by now with a report, good or bad. And that was when the nagging feeling hit home. Something had gone terribly wrong in the Palace, and the two people who meant the most to you in the Galaxy were stuck in the trap. You had to come up with a plan, but what?

You couldn’t just charge into the Palace, shooting at anything that moved and being a one woman show. The Mand’alor was in there, probably held captive by Saxon, and surrounded by troopers. Ailyn pulled up a holo of the Palace, and together the leaders of the four squads that were going to pull off this rescue mission.

With a plan in place, you took your squad on the long route to the throne room. Ailyn was going to create a distraction with an attack at the front, one squad served as the backup for any team that needed extra firepower, while the last squad was being saved as the last effort to save the mission.

You were amazed at how many troopers were stationed in the palace, far more than there should have been after the estimate you had added up in your head from your own experience in the tunnels and from what Ailyn had told you from the docks. The only way that there could have been this many troops to reinforce the original recon numbers was if a Moff or someone higher than that in High Command had pulled strings to make sure Mandalore did not fall.

The nagging feeling in your mind only grew stronger the closer to the throne room that your squad came. You knew Din was still alive, and you hoped that Bo-Katan was alive too. Without her the clans would surely fall into civil war again, and this time it would be a civil war that ended the Mandalorian culture.

Upon finally reaching the doors to the throne room, both yours and Ailyn’s squads stormed the room, taking out the troopers stationed around the spacious room with ease.

Your eyes fell to the throne, and the man sitting on it. That man was not Tiber Saxon. Who was this man with dark hair and dark skin, and black stormtrooper armor?

“My name is Moff Gideon.” A baritone voice drawled. “You may remember me from years past as the Imperial Security Bureau Agent in charge of rounding up and executing Mandalorian traitors to the Empire. As you can see I managed to escape from that pitiful prison the Rebels tried to hold me in. You do not know the extent of the powers I have, nor the powerful friends I have in high places. You have underestimated me. And now you will pay for your costly mistake.”

He ignited the Darksaber, and held it to Bo-Katan’s neck. “Lay down your weapons and surrender if you want your precious Mand’alor to live. I have no qualms using this blade to kill her, and the rest of you for that matter.”

With a glance at Ailyn, you knew that your final contingency plan was going to be called into action. Din wasn’t too far away, with a jump and a quick burst of your jetpack, you should be able to protect him from what was about to happen.

“Lower your weapons. Now.” More troopers began filing in from behind the throne, and slowly you and Ailyn signaled to your troops to set their blasters on the floor. The audio sensors in your helmet had picked up the sound of the jetpacks of the fourth squad, and your jump to protect Din had to be timed perfectly or it would give the whole plan away. 3… 2… 1…. JUMP!

You wrapped Din up in your arms and curled your body around him as much as possible to protect him from the missiles that were being sent into the throne room from the Mandalorians outside. Ailyn made a jump similar to yours  for Bo-Katan, and in the chaos of the dust and blaster bolts the Mandalorians made their escape.

Back on the base at Carlac, you and Ailyn sat down to talk about what happened with Bo-Katan. She would need several days rest before she could be moved back to her clan’s hiding spot.

“Who was that man and how did he manage to defeat us so easily?” You asked her.

“Many years ago, in the first Siege of Mandalore, when we asked the Republic for help in dethroning Maul we made the mistake of thinking the Republic was on the right side. It turns out we only made it easier for the Empire to occupy Mandalore after the Clone War ended. Gideon was put in place to oversee the submission of Mandalorians to the Empire. When we refused, we were imprisoned and killed. Gideon spent his time interrogating his prisoners before he would kill them, so he could learn as much as possible about us to make it easier for him to wipe us out. And now he possesses the Darksaber. I fear Mandalore is lost, for without the Darksaber to unite the clans there will be civil war again. We must go into deeper hiding, to protect ourselves, our families, and our way of life.”

After saying goodnight, you and Ailyn left Bo to sleep for the night. Tomorrow would come and be a new day to look at the problems facing the Mandalorians.

You told Ailyn you wanted to check on Din before heading to your tent, and admitted you would probably end up staying with him for the night.

As you walked into his room, you saw he was already asleep. The droid had told you outside that he would be fine, his wounds had already been healed with some bacta slave. The only injury that would require a bit longer to heal was the broken ribs. You walked over to his side, and kissed his head brushing a few curls off to the side and running your fingers through to the ends a few times. Tears formed in your eyes as you thought about everything that had happened the last few days, and how you could have lost him. You refused to let more than one tear fall though, because he was here and everything was going to be fine.

You pulled up a chair next to his bed, and laid your head on your arms next to his legs, and wrapped your hands around his and fell asleep with your face next to his hand.

In your dreams, you had visions of a man in silver beskar’gam, wielding the Darksaber. He felt familiar to you in the way that dreams tend to blur the line between reality and dreamland, but in dreamland grasping at familiarity is like trying to smell colors in reality.

Aruetii- traitor, foreigner, or outsider [ah-roo-AY-tee]

Mand’alor- sole ruler [MAHN-dah-lor]

Mando’ade- sons and/or daughters of Mandalore [mando-AH-day]

Kyr’tsad- Death Watch (lit. Death Society) [KEERT-sahd]

Udesii- take it easy/calm down/relax [oo-DAY-see]

Jare’la di’kut- you’re asking for it dumbass [jah-RAY-lah DEE-koot]

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

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Thank you for taking the time to read my silly little story!! It mean the world to me 💙💙

[prettygraceful]

s2b pseudo progressivism pt. 2

ok, so it was total baloney when the downworlders were framed as being in the wrong if they didn’t support the shadowhunters in 2b. just cuz siding with the seelie queen was a bad choice, it does NOT make siding with the institute- a branch of the prejudiced clave- the right choice. the showrunners/ writers chose to frame this as an either-or situation, when it was just not that simple.

the downworlders were promised- at the council meeting in 2x14- that the shadowhunters would not keep secrets from them then anymore under alec’s new leadership. but then 3 eps later- in 2x17- the writers made him follow in his predecessors’ footsteps and do just that. so regardless of the fact that alec’s intentions were better, they still made him take the same actions. and magnus had defended alec’s leadership to the other downworlders several times, only to be made to look a fool. and magnus was just tortured by the clave in 2x12- it was an accident, but it still happened. so given all of this- he had every reason to fed up with the shadowhunters as a whole, and their system of doing things.

but then the writers- in a bullsh*t narrative move typical of their biased mindset- framed magnus as being the unreasonable one. they wrote luke and raphael- 2 downworld leaders who had previously taken a firm vocal stance against the shadowhunters- to suddenly just go along with them, despite being lied to. that was very OOC for the both of them. remember this quote- “so you're saving the downworlders from themselves? we never asked!” luke said that to clace when they condescended to him by saying they had decided what was best, instead of showing him the respect of allowing him to make decisions for himself. so why is it that when alec makes the same mistake clace did- and then magnus’ reaction was the same as luke’s- was magnus framed as the bad guy here?

i mean, in 2x19 the writers literally had everyone glaring at him, side-eyeing each other, and shading him both to his face and behind back- at magnus’ loft, at the meeting with the seelie queen, and in the jalec/ luke scene after that. all those he had helped so many times before- without hesitation- were now acting fed up with him. clary wasn’t treated like this when she made bad choices in 2x05- or when more fallout of that happened in 2x08/ 2x09- or in 3x07 after all that 3a clowning, or in 3x20 after all that 3b clowning. yes, she did all that under duress, but so did magnus here so... yikes to this obviously unbalanced writing.

so the showrunners/ writers took this clearly political disrespect and framed it as merely boyfriend drama, which undercut the importance of 2b’s main theme: shadowhunters versus downworlders and the obvious racial symbolism in that. they took that allegory, and then framed it like as long as the shadowhunters’ (white people) intentions were good, the downworlders (POC) should simply accept that as enough. but actions speak louder than words- rhetoric alone never has been and never will be true, real progress. and the writers’ usage of luke as their mouthpiece- with the whole “alec’s trying” bit in 2x17- was just their embarrassing attempt at framing a narrative, which is telling us that baby step progress is sufficient. that the shadowhunters wanting to do good was fine for now, and it was unreasonable to expect them actually, you know, doing it...

ok, this is part 2. the 3rd and final part to this topic will be posted soon. thank you to those who take the time to read my thoughts. i appreciate it very much :)

[sleepyfan-blog]

Family Secrets

Discord request fill! Continuation of this.

ES!IBVS is by @onebizarrekai

characters and pairing: Nevin Jovel, Isaac Beamer, Edward Quinton, Drew Jovel, Grandma Jovel, Nevaacward

warnings: none

word count: 2,035

summary:  After everyone is in the right body, Grandma Jovel explains some things to Drew and Nevin.

tagslist: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi​ @therandomskelekey @capisnotonfire

“You… You have magic, grandma?” Nevin asks, his eyes huge. Drew looks just as confused as he feels. He’d thought that he had to hide his new nature from both his grandma and Drew in order to protect them - he didn’t want any of this supernatural crap causing them problems as it had for him… But apparently grandma had magic… And a lot of it, if the silent, amazed and/or slightly terrified staring that his boyfriends were doing was any indication.

“Yes, moonlight.” She said with a fond smile, chuckling a little bit as she walked over and gently ruffled his hair “I had originally planned on telling the two of you about the magic that you two possess and what it all means on your sixteenth birthday - as your powers would have fully awakened then, but… You were bitten by a vampire, and I have been trying to figure out how to speak to you both about that for months without you fleeing. This whole body-swap thing was quite helpful in that, although I do not know who cursed you.”

“Uhm… Nev’s been what?!” Drew spluttered, his eyes widening in worry as he runs over to his twin brother, hugging the other tightly “Does that mean that you need to drink blood? I’m guessing that’s why you suddenly only drink lunch from that mysterious stainless steel thermos of yours.”

“I… Yeah. I just… I didn’t want you to worry, and we’re not supposed to talk about this stuff to normal humans and I… I wanted to protect you.” Nevin admitted quietly.

Drew scowled a little and huffed at that - he hated that answer. But he also understood that Secrets were important “Fine… You know I would have helped you, if I’d have known about this earlier, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Nevin sighed, a small smile appearing on his face. He felt better, now that the secret that he’d been keeping from his family was out in the open. He felt… Lighter and calmer. “So what’s this about magic? I’m completely comfortable about talking about these things in front of Ed and Isaac - unless it’s some sort of family secret that must not be revealed to others sort of thing, even to other magical beings?”

“If you truly do trust them, you may tell them later. But, I would rather tell the two of you of your birthright and what that means privately. It will make more sense once I have explained all that I can.”  His grandma responded with a gentle, but firm smile “Besides, those two should probably head home and reassure their families that they are themselves again. The fighting between werewolf packs and vampire clans haven’t been bloody in decade, but still…. Old hurts and suspicions still linger, though it does warm my heart to see young ones like the three of you loving and caring for one another without reservation or fear.”

Edward and Isaac both blushed at that and nodded. Isaac is the first to speak up “Alright, Mrs. Jovel. We’ll go. See you later, Nev!” The two of them got up and left the Jovels’ place, heading to their respective homes, very curious about what they’d just discovered about their boyfriend’s family,

~

“Please sit down both of you, this is going to be a long conversation - but a good one, or so I hope.” Their grandma encourages the two teens. Drew settles down on the couch next to his brother, and the two of them lean into one another a little. She smiled a bit at that, clearing her throat, before saying “First thing’s first - if asked by other magical beings, I and other members of our clan generally either pretend to be unknown humans, or if we were seen using magic, claim to be either mages or witches. That is a lie, but one that has been very helpful in keeping us safe, and not being bothered or hunted by those who would terrorize us into submission, or kill us as our powers offend them.”

Nevin and Drew both tensed at that, pressing a little bit closer to one another, and Nevin’s eyes narrowed a little, as a low growl rumbled in his chest. Like hell was he going to let anyone hurt his brother.

“I am glad that the two of you understand the seriousness of this. Now, we are not mages nor are we witches. We are emotion elementals.” Their grandmother explains, confusing both of them “We have human-like forms, as it is easiest to blend in with such forms, and our spirits are far less prone to being captured and either sealed into various objects or gemstones to power certain kinds of weapons or defensive structures, when we inhabit a physical form. Twins are extremely rare and… I am sorry for the pressure that your mother put on the both of you when you were younger. As soon as I found out that the two of you were twins and what was going on, I took the two of you away from most of our clan.” She paused for a couple of moments, a sorrowful look on her face.

Drew shifted a little and asked quietly “Why… Why did they seem to expect so much out of the two of us? I mean, we weren’t the oldest nor the youngest of us and our cousins… So why did we… Were we watched so closely?” and why was Nevin in particular focused so intensely on, scrutinized and scolded for every perceived thing that he did wrong - whether he did it or not. Among other things.

“Because… You two may be the reincarnations of the leaders of our clan. They were a pair of twins as well. The two of you share have the potential to share quite a few of their powers. Their names were Nightmare and Dream Nightmare fell into the darker side of his powers and caused a great deal of chaos and suffering, though he was doing what he thought was best to protect everyone... Eventually Dream and he ended up in a climactic battle that ended up killing the both of them.” Their grandmother explained with a quiet sigh.

“... Don’t your friends and sometimes your boyfriends call you Nightmare, Nev?” Drew asked quietly, his eyes widening a little bit. There was something… Awfully familiar about what she was telling them, btough he’d never heard of any of it before now. At least… Not in this life. But it explained the nightmares that he occasionally had.

“Yeah, they do…And our friends also call you Dream from time to time. But that doesn’t mean that we’re the reincarnations of those people.” Nevin huffed, hugging his brother closer “No matter how we argue, I’d never hurt you seriously, much less kill you.”

“Neither would I hurt or… K-Kill you…” Drew responded back, hugging Nevin back tighter, tears in his eyes at the thought. Both of the twins shuddered and hugged each other tightly.

“Even if you are their reincarnations, the actions of what your spirit did in a past life does not affect what you will do in this one.” Grandma responded firmly, a determined expression appearing on her face. She sighed for a moment “However, there is a way to check to see if you are their reincarnations. The clan will want to have the two of you trained in how to use your powers and for the leadership of our clan - and perhaps to see if the two of you can lead our clan to greater political promince and other such nonsense, but that is not something I feel that either of you should be forced to do. The two of you show great promise and could be quite powerful, but no matter who you might have been… I love you both. And I will love, care for and protect you both to the best of my abilities, while encouraging each of you to be the best version of who you want to be, not who others may wish or expect for you to be.” She stopped talking for a little while, for which both of the twins were grateful, as they processed the information that she’d given them.

Drew fidged a little with his hands, before asking quietly “You said that there was a test to see if we’re the reincarnations of these past leaders? What… What is it?”

Nevin was curious as well and murmured “Would anyone else in our… Clan? As you called it? Be able to perform this test, or is it something specific?”

Their grandma sighed, and answered “You would need to be able to open and wear… Something. I will bring the boxes out.” She responded. She got up and walked out of the room, before returning with two applewood boxes with brass latches and hinges. On the lids of the boxes was the symbol of a massive apple tree. On the face of one of the boxes was the symbol of a stylized star, the other a crescent moon.

Drew and Nevin froze for a moment as she set the boxes on the coffee table in front of the both of them. Drew reached for the box with the sun symbol, while Nevin reached for the box with the crescent moon. The latches opened without any effort and without meaning too, the twins grabbed the golden circlets inside of them, putting them on. They then grabbed the robes - violet and gold for Nevin, bright blue and gold for Drew. The two of them got up and left the room in a daze, blinking as they changed in two different bathrooms.

Nevin stared at himself through the mirror - the cloth felt so familiar to him. Light, yet impossibly heavy. For a brief moment, his eyes glowed a bright cyan and he swore that he could see a pitch-black, shadowy figure looming behind him, reaching out for him…. Nevin ran out of the bathroom without a second glance, and nearly collided into Drew, who tackled him as Nevin fled all the way back to their grandmother, carrying his twin brother in his arms.

Drew meanwhile… He had stared in shock at the surprisingly elegant robes that he was in - as well as the yellow cape that he was wearing. A sudden wave of worry for Nevin had hit him and he’d sprinted straight for where he knew Nevin was changing, utterly certain that the other was in danger. Once the two of them reached their grandma however, the feeling of danger and fear passed, and both of the twins were calm again.

Their grandma looked at the both of them, a soft sigh leaving her before she walked towards the both of them, wrapping her sweet grandbabies up in a tight hug “I had hoped to avoid this for a little while longer. But this is your birthright. Do you wish to know more, or would you rather wait and process what I’ve told you?”

Nevin and Drew glance at one another before answering at the same time “Could you please hold off on further explanation for a little while? It’s a lot to take in.”

She smiles kindly at both of them and nods, hugging them closer to her “Of course.” They hug their grandma and one another until Nevin’’s cellphone goes off.

It’s his boyfriends, who are reminding him of the date that they’d agreed to in a couple of hours, asking if he was still going to come. Nevin hesitated for a moment, but both Drew and their grandma encouraged him to answer with what he wanted to do, so he texted back [can we reschedule? Grandma gave me a lot of info and I’m trying to process it all. Not sure how much more stuff I can process today.]

Isaac answered first [no prob - my mom is threatening to keep me in the house for the rest of the day anyways.]

Edward answered a couple of seconds later [that’s fine - I can’t imagine how all of this must feel. Love you, Nev. Love you, Ink.]

Nevin smiled a little and texted [thanks. I love you both.]. He’s not sure what all of this might mean, but the texts from his boyfriends had helped him feel a bit more grounded.

[soyforramen]

They all wanted her to be something she wasn’t.

It wasn’t hard to see, not when the entire institute was in the national spotlight, and her thrust into the middle of it.  After the bad publicity surrounding The Brotherhood and Apocalypse, Ororo needed some way to show the world that mutants weren’t a threat on their own.  She needed to prove that not all mutants wanted to take over the world.

But with Scott and Jean gone, she was left standing in the spotlight alone.  She needed someone to show how normal mutants could be.  And who was more wholesome than a couple who stayed together, who loved each other without being able to communicate it through touch?

Rogue and Bobby were the natural successors to Scott and Jean’s public image.  From all outward appearances they were deeply in love, partners in public and private.  They’d found love in a hopeless world.  And it wasn’t long before they were being groomed for leadership, him in the field, her in a public-facing role. 

After all, his mutation was useful in a fight and in recon.  Hers was defensive, plain and simple.  And who had a need for a mutation such as hers with all the side effects that came with it?

Ororo had done the math and discovered that Rogue was better suited to stand strong against the public onslaught.  They’d gain more sympathy for the cause if Rogue was at the front.  A girl with a mutation no one want for themselves or their children.  She was a girl who couldn’t touch.  A girl who could kill just by touching someone.  A tragedy that would break Shakespeare’s heart.

That was why after she’d graduated high school along with her peers, she’d been the one ushered into an administrative role.  Enrollment, contact with donors, invitations to private fundraisers.  She was no longer allowed into the field, her training sessions ending with Logan’s disappearance. It was expected that she juggle this full time job along with her class load at NYU, her major chosen for her in furtherance of the school’s mission.

Meanwhile, Bobby was traveling the world to put out fires in the name of mutant equality.  The only expectation put upon him was to be Ororo’s second in command in the field.

It was enough to make a girl scream.  She’d dreamed of more than this.  More than being a secretary, more than being someone else’s mouthpiece, more than being someone’s girlfriend, more than having to force a smile when all she wanted to do was scream.

She still hadn’t seen the Grand Canyon, or the Eiffel Tower, or the Rocky Mountains.  

Everyday she played her part.  She stood in front of cameras, microphones, and plead for peace and equality.  She kept up her grades, joined extracurriculars, and stood by Bobby’s side.  Because despite their mutations, they were still able to live a semi-normal life.  They’d stood together against homicidal maniacs, narcissists, and politicians.  He was willing to stay together despite her mutation and she… well that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Why was she even still here?  Together, with him?  

There’d always been rumors.  She’d ignored them at first, ignored John’s warnings, ignored Jubilee’s pointed looks.  He’d been discreet enough the rumors dissolved on their own.  Hangouts, and hugging, and talking, and long glances had been dismissed as paranoia, jealousy.  And besides, they’d said under their breath when they thought they were alone, could you blame him if he had?

It was all swept under the rug as easily as her own feelings about it.  Even when he and Kitty stopped speaking one day.  Even when he’d go out late at night and come home two days later.  Even when…

Before he at least loved her enough to hide it.  Now he didn’t seem to care.  And the longer they were together, neither did she.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.  To be thrown over so easy hurt her pride.  Her ego.  Her sense of self.  He’d done what she’d always feared, sought solace and comfort in someone else because she couldn’t give him what he wanted.  Because he was too afraid to try.

Behind closed doors he didn’t try to act like her boyfriend anymore.  They were still friends, but only that.

The flame between them had long ago died out between his cold lips and her cold heart.

It would have been easy enough to have kept on like this forever.  Bobby chasing other girls while she lied to herself.  It was a contented life, even if it wasn’t a happy one.

Then he had to destroy it all by proposing to her in front of the whole institute.

He knew she hated this type of public confrontation.  They’d never talked about marriage.  They’d never broached the subject of the future.  

And yet.  Perhaps she should have seen this coming.  They’d been together six, almost seven years now.

It was silent in the foyer as they watched for her response.  No one blinked an eye when Kitty stormed out of the room.

It wasn’t the first time Rogue wished they could switch places.

She’d said the only thing she could with that many people watching.  And now Bobby was pushing for a spring wedding.  He wanted the symbolic renewal of hope, a tribute to those who’d died.  The wedding was supposed to stand for everything but their relationship.  He and Ororo had already begun the planning long before he’d asked.  

The only input she was asked for was what type of flowers should be on the alter.  When her response didn’t come quick enough, they’d chosen peace lilies and irises.  Peace and hope for the future.

Rogue had always wanted oleander and magnolias.

That day wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to up and run from this ‘perfect’ life.  And it wasn’t the first time she’d run away.  Because that was what she did when she was unsettled.  Anxious.  Lonely.  It was what she was good at.

Running.

Just like she had when Bobby wanted to take a ‘break’ from their relationship.  He’d found Betsy, she’d found Montana.  Just like when Logan disappeared and nobody could speak his name, she disappeared to Mexico and spoke the name of everyone she’d met.  Just like when Bobby had asked for her hand in marriage, she’d run to the boot of Italy,

And when it became public knowledge that Bobby was stepping out on her with a teacher from a sister institute, Rogue ran to Escape.

For the first time she ran towards the problem.  To find Bobby.  She knew he was here.  He’d left his phone on the bed while he went to work out, unlocked and open to her message.  All it took was a glance for Rogue to see who, when and where he was supposed to be that night.

Maybe Bobby wanted to escape too.

It didn’t take long to pack what little she owned.  Her mother’s ring, Logan’s dog tags, and the clothes she’d brought to the institute where barely enough to fill her purse.  Everything else she’d left behind.  The rest of it wasn’t hers anyway.  Not really.  It was either a gift from someone now dead or gone, or purchased with the institute’s money.  

She’d left a note and Bobby’s ring behind.  He wouldn’t need a reason, but Ororo would.  She owed her that much at least.

No one noticed as she left through the front door.  Everyone knew her by name, but no one cared to know her.  Those who did were long gone, graduated and out living their own lives away from this place.  

On the way to the club, she keyed in John’s number, desperate to hear from him.  An apology was on the tip of her tongue, a need to tell him how badly she’d missed him.  He’d never pick up, though.  Not with her number attached to the call.  She wondered for the thousandth time whether she’d made the right choice with Bobby.

When she arrived, she found Escape to be a club like any other.  Loud music, bright strobe light, dark corners, and free-flowing liquor.  It’s only distinguishing feature was a sign on the door that said ‘Mutants Welcome.’  Money was still money in places like this, no matter who spent it.

A couple jostled her on their way to the dance floor, and she moved around the edges of the room.  Her eyes scanned the floor, sweat beaded between her shoulders.  

She used to love clubbing.  The driving bass, the churn of strangers, the limbo where life outside meant nothing.  It was so easy to lose herself to the music.  

Bobby never wanted to go.  He claimed to hate the crowds and the loud music.

Turned out he just hated going to clubs with her.

There, on the dance floor.  Strong, sweet, tender, cheating Bobby.  His arms were wrapped around a lithe blonde woman who barely wore much besides snow white stilettos.  Hands on bare skin, arms pulled her tights, lips traced the curve of her collarbone. 

His movements held all the unspoken promises he’d never given Rogue.  

Her heart broke and mended all over again.

A man suddenly at her side broke her reverie.  She ignored his proffered drink.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m Benny.  What’s you name?”

“Not interested,” she snapped, her eyes never leaving Bobby and the woman he was wound around.

The man cursed at her and wandered off to his next target.  

The sound must have caught Bobby’s attention because he turned and caught her eye.  It took a moment for his confusion to turn to panic.  He whispered something to the blonde and fought against the crowd to reach her.  

Rogue shook her head, a signal that he shouldn’t bother, and left through a side door.

She should be feeling pain, betrayal, heartbreak.  Something to show she cared.  Instead, she felt light enough to fly.  The future, her future, without Bobby, without the institute, without the X-Men lay ahead of her. 

Nerves drove her to run towards the street, exuberance kept her from standing still.

“Lookin’ for somethin’, cher?”

She turned to find a man smoking at the entrance of the club, leaned up against the brick wall.  He looked like something out of a bad 80’s film.  Long tousled hair that draped his face, held back by a knitted cap.  Dark shades and a leather jacket.

‘Freedom,’ she thought.

“I’m a mutant,” she said.  It was the first thing she’d learned would fend off any unwanted attention.  And if that didn’t, an explanation of her mutation would.

The man only tipped his head forward to look at her over his glass.  Coals of ember against infinity.  

“S’funny.  So am I.”

“Rogue,” Bobby’s voice echoed through the alley behind her.  “Rogue!”

“Do you want to get out of her?” she asked, breathless and wound up and ready to run.  

She’d taken a cab here, and there was none to be found.  By the time she ran to the end of the street, Bobby would find her.  She chewed on her lip and silently begged him to answer.

The man raised an eyebrow as Bobby’s voice grew closer.  

Just when she was ready to turn tail and run, the man reached towards her, a snake quick enough to bite, and tucker her under his arm.  The world went black around her and she reached up to find he’d tugged his cap over her hair.

She ducked her head into his jacket when Bobby came around the corner.  He passed them, still calling her name.  Whether the ruse worked or whether Bobby ignored her didn’t matter.  What mattered now was that she was free for the first time in her life.

Gravity couldn’t hold her down, not with this bubble rising in her chest ready to burst her into a million pieces.  Giddiness brought with it it’s own high, one that even that reality of her situation couldn’t touch.  All that could be sorted out later, for now she was her own woman for the first time in years.

Wrapped up in her own joy, she’d forgotten the man next to her.  

“Guessin’ you changed your mind,” the man asked.

She turned, expecting to find disappointment that she’d asked as a cover, anger she didn’t really want him.  Instead she only found a smile.  Laughter danced at the edge of his lips.

It was contagious, his smile, so she returned it ten-fold.  She shook her head.  Tonight, she didn’t want to go anywhere with anyone.  Tonight was hers and hers alone.  

Rogue handed him his cap back and slipped back into the club.  The music threaded through her blood, thrummed through her veins. She’d didn’t know where she’d go from here, but tonight she’d keep dancing on her own.

[theveryworstthing]

Rabbit Marriage Part 2

part two of today’s rabbit wedding post. warning, this one gets less fun dark, more ‘history sure does suck sometimes’ dark.

Terrible Mating And Marriage History: Rabbit marriage hasn’t shifted very much in the time that its been a thing. But when it did. Oh man.

The biggest mistakes are always the arranged marriages. They work fine for some races but rabbits just never had any luck with them personally.

Arranged marriages don’t even exist on the island anymore, as they were abolished after the fall of the Warren Kings. Rabbit history with arranged marriages is weird, it mostly existed as a blip of bad population control tactics in the far past before widespread birth control became a thing. When it did become popular it was because of the Warren Kings fucking stuff up.  Oh, and then there’s the mainland cult. They still do arranged marriages but. You know.

Anyway, here are some bits of history about all those things.

Population Control And Lotteries: Sometimes in the old old days things got cramped. This didn’t actually happen very often believe it or not. Between the predator mortality rates and modern medical practices just starting to get going, rabbits didn’t really have to worry about having too many rabbits around. Problems only arose in that tiny window where reliable birth control wasn’t a thing but life saving medical procedures were. Again, this was a very small window, probably like twenty-something years. Rabbits have been trying to stop having so many dang rabbits forever. Now all that life saving knowledge meant that all those lives were now just…hanging out. Living. So to combat overcrowding and the problems that came with it, some warrens instituted rules for mating and marriage.

Very little knowledge is left about these rules since there are very few necromancy-worthy skulls left from that era and the ones that are available don’t speak the form of lango known today. Plus these rules varied from region to region and some of them were only tried for a short period of time before they were given up on. A lot of population control seemed to be throwing things at the wall and seeing what stuck, and boy did very little stick.

From what historians have gathered, in some warrens does and bucks were simply segregated and only allowed the privilege to marry and mate by lottery. Anyone who disobeyed the lottery was banished outside the warren to fend for themselves. In other areas, if you were born in a litter over a certain number your parents were forced to pick one or two of you to carry on the family name. These chosen siblings would go out and marry/reproduce as normal, while the rest of them were either:

A: Marked as symbolically sterile, meaning any pregnancy they’re apart of or even suspected to be apart of turns into an abortion (plus a castration for any buck involved). This was only popular in regions with a lot of doctors and crowding and the mark was only given after a few months to make sure they didn’t accidentally take a Midwife out of the gene pool. (Bonus fact, if rabbits commit infanticide its usually a few months after birth unless they really really don’t want that baby because saving potential Midwives has been so ground into them socially that they have to be sure.)

Or B: Loose ‘match’ betrothals where the rabbit was allowed to choose their partner, but could only choose a rabbit of the same reproductive role. This was especially prevalent with second litters.  Much better than the sterilization thing but a stray pregnancy still meant banishment at best.

Needless to say, there were problems with all of these solutions and rabbits had a tendency to buck against the system just enough so that none of them really worked for long. The lottery systems were especially bad because it was a gamble if your chosen kid was infertile or even ever wanted to be chosen at all considering that all rabbits aren’t straight and all rabbits aren’t cut out for parenthood. Then you went into a weird population drop and people left and it was a mess.

Now fast forward a whole lotta years.

The Warren Kings Are The Root Of So Many Problems Jesus Christ: Holy crap these dudes. After the whole establishing a monarchy thing evolved from a few narcissistic jerks wanting a more rigid class system to terrible crushing dictatorship, Warren Kings straight up stopped having interest in allowing others into their empires. They didn’t quite truck with the usual cross-warren upper class alliance marriages anymore because even THEY knew you couldn’t trust Kings and their families. They needed to Trust the rabbits lucky enough to share their bloodline, and their inbred paranoia made it so they didn’t trust anyone outside of their warren lands. This made upper class courting prospects pretty slim, especially when  they couldn’t ignore the genetic downsides of the whole marrying first cousins thing any longer. So they started arranging marriages with the much more genetically diverse commoners, which was terrible for a couple of reasons.

Reason 1: These marriages held no benefit for the chosen rabbit’s family. When a warren king married your daughter they were mainly in it for the kits, those were the only relations of their mate that they would tolerate. As far as they were concerned, the rest of her family didn’t exist unless they were super useful in some way. Like, literally, it was not uncommon for brides or grooms being taken into royal families to be declared orphans.

Reason 2: The reason the commoners were more diverse is because some of them were secretly still traveling and interacting with other warrens like normal people. Trade still has to happen somehow. Now, the kings were very insular and very hyper focused on predator and enemy defense. Making sure they had the safest, biggest warrens is how they kept their power in a time of civil wars and weaponized wolves. This, combined with their paranoia, distanced them from the people. If they didn’t need anything from the commoners, then their actual day to day welfare wasn’t their problem. Strangely, this hands-off ruling kept them in power longer because the people dealt mostly with warren staff and only had to come in contact with the royal family’s awfulness during special events. This paranoia and ignorance about how people lived made it so if your royal suitor caught on that you had living family or friends outside the warren and you actually interacted with them, it would rock their entire world. Then it was a 50/50 chance that they would either murder  your family for treason, or imprison your family for treason. They would still marry you if they judged you appropriately sorry about all the treason, but you’d probably live out the rest of your life literally chained to either them or an escort at all times. It would be a nice chain. But still.

Reason 3: I’m sure you’ve caught on by now but the royal families were just awful across the board. They were dismissive of rabbit culture. They treated people beneath them like expendable assets. They kept civil wars going on purpose so that people would feel too unsafe to leave for other, possibly hostile, warrens. They almost wrecked the trade system. They tried to  destroy rabbit skulls and writing and anything else historians and necromancers could use to call them on their crimes. The only blessing about their rule is that it was short and survivors of it did everything they could to make sure it never happened again. I’m not gonna elaborate very much on how they treated their commoner spouses, but you can probably guess that it wasn’t great! Having a necromancer around specifically to watch over the harem and revive disobeying does who caught their king on a bad day so they could keep up appearances at dinner was a thing.  Straight up disappearing spouses who were never to be spoken of was a thing. Princess Lily the Pure was said to have had at least 120 husbands. They were all taken from a king-less warren her father had taken control of and historically most of them are just…gone. A few half-burnt skulls were found, each saying how many had come before them mixed in with a few broken phrases about blood on her hands. That’s it. No one is quite sure what went down, but evidence suggests that she was either the unluckiest girl in the world, or the most dangerous serial killer ever born. Choose your own horrible horrible adventure.

Reason 4: As stated before, one of the reasons the revolution wasn’t sooner was because the people had little to no contact with their kings. The marriages changed that. People were being torn away from their families, treason was being declared, the royals were demanding  inspection of all engaged rabbits just in case they wanted the future bride or groom for themselves. It was terrible. Marriage became less about love and more about protection. The royal family wouldn’t take anyone already married. Being with a commoner was bad enough, but what if there were commoner kits  related to their kits hidden away somewhere, ready to challenge them for leadership? Unacceptable! Can’t take that chance! So parents started marrying their children off earlier and earlier in what were known as ‘Snow�� weddings. Snow meaning they were impermanent, meant to melt away with age until they found their real partner and sought a divorce (a process which literally lasted the time it took to walk their Snow partner to their new beau on their wedding day, leaving a time gap any wider was risky) . This actually worked pretty well for a while. A few people were killed so their ‘spouses’ could be taken but the public uproar was enough so that it was very rare. Trouble really arose when the royals started kidnapping attractive pregnant couples and imprisoning them so that they could take their offspring and betroth them to their own young children. Luckily this was towards the end of the the kings’ reign. So when the revolution hit, a few of these couples and their children had lived long enough for rescue.

After all this, you can see how rabbits on the island might think that arranged marriages are Not On.

But wait. There’s more.

Lapindary Rabbits And Breeding ‘Perfect’ Hybrids On The Mainland: The Lapindary Order is a group thought up by two of the original rabbits involved with the inner circles of the Warren Kings. They were in charge of trade for the kings and didn’t really live on the island, preferring to stay on the mainland for business reasons (and because they wanted to see if the monarchy thing would work out before they had to face the rabbits they were helping screw over). Lucky them, they missed out on the whole guillotine business when the people rose up. Unlucky them, all their power on the island pretty much vanished over night and it was a good bet that they could never return without having a date with the aforementioned guillotine. So they started over with another power scheme, because that’s what power schemers do. With the help of a ridiculously wealthy 1/64th rabbit-blood widow named English Ivy, they began the Lapindary Order on the mainland. The original goal was a small secretive match making club, devoted to marrying hybrid mainlander rabbits into positions of wealth and funneling that money back to the founders. It of course got out of hand, as these things do, and quickly became a legit cult that believes in a future where rabbit/mainlander hybrids are recognized as The Best of both races, taking their proper place beside the King and Queen themselves.

Back in the day (not that much has changed), rabbits that married into mainlander houses were considered trophy wives/husbands. They weren’t usually involved in ownership of businesses or control of the estate unless their mainlander spouse was indisposed and no mainlander family members were around to take over. Only mainlanders really knew mainlander affairs after all. Hybrids didn’t have it much better, it was (and still is) a gamble of which way your features lean. Plus your class and your gender and where your rabbit parent was born and the mainland’s weird view of rabbit attractiveness…its complicated. And frustrating. The Lapindaries took advantage of this, and sought to enlist the most ‘perfect’ rabbit half-breeds (low or attractive mutations, good health, strong rabbit features, susceptibility to the spiel) for breeding stock in their society climbing plans. Long story short, the order continues today as a web of intricately arranged marriages, some meant to eventually gain access to the royal houses, some meant to simply hold attractive public positions and turn out the prettiest possible hybrid kits. They’re still a secretive and selective club with only a few chapters and most people believing them to simply be a religious order headed by wealthy rabbits. They’re mostly joked about, like an attractive and harmless Illuminati. No one outside the order knows their true purpose.  No one knows about the notebooks or the curses or the poisoned wine glasses or the unnamed kits who aren’t born up to ‘gem standards’ either. No one is ever going to know.

They’ve spent too many years making sure of that.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 14)

“There are those who say you must simply accept what you are given and make the best of it, but we here at Atlas reject that notion,” one of the speakers at Atlas Primary Combat Academy had said—Diana couldn’t remember who, there had been so many of them. “When faced with adversity, with grim prospects, with danger that threatens our very existence, be it from without or from within,…

“We survive. We adapt. We rise.

“Because there are those who say we should all be content, being at the mercy of Fate and the Gods, but here at Atlas we leave nothing to chance, we leave behind outdated and ignorant ideas and beliefs, we leave behind the boundaries of what everyone else once thought was possible.

“Here at Atlas, we shape our destiny with our own hands.”

Diana supposed that they would have been so deeply disappointed in her for simply leaving Nick’s office like that, for not letting Blake have her turn before she marched straight back in, retracted her earlier agreement, and put forth a new, much more powerful and convincing argument, going back and forth with Nick for as long as she needed to till he conceded the leadership position to her.

But then again, she supposed they would have been even more deeply disappointed to learn that she had enrolled in Haven, not Atlas Academy.

Diana had made her decision, however, and she was just going to have to live with it—or more immediately, live with her new teammates, in their new dorm. She stood in front of the door, her scroll in one hand, and the power core in the other, staring at the well-worn and ancient wood, the bronze plaque with their room number.

“Hey there, Diana!” Amanda called out. “Lock yourself out of your room on your first night?”

Diana turned to her, her expression turning concerned as she saw Yang and Jaune with Amanda. The two ladies had suspect smiles on their faces, while trapped in-between with both his arms locked with his teammates, Jaune had the expression of a man being carried off to the firing squad, a rabid pack of Grimm waiting to tear him to pieces, or perhaps even disapproving in-laws.

“… No, no I did not, actually...” Diana replied. “I’m just… hesitant to enter.”

“Well, we’re off to go have some New Team Bonding down in the lower levels, and since Sucy’s not allowed out, you want to be our fourth instead?” Yang asked.

Jaune looked at her with the shocked but delighted face of a man who had just been hit with a small ray of hope in what was once pitch-black darkness.

As Diana looked at him and considered his predicament, Beatrix’s words came echoing in her head: “Sometimes, you will see someone in great and dire need, someone you will want to drop everything and rush to aid, but you must stop yourself, for they are beyond saving, and any attempt at rescue will only doom yourself along with them.”

“… I appreciate the offer, but no thank you,” Diana said.

You could almost hear the shattering sound of Jaune’s hopes getting crushed.

“Eh, suit yourself!” Amanda said. “Guess we’ll just find a fourth once we’re there anyway!”

Jaune looked at Diana as he was carried past her, the face of a man who did not blame you, but dearly wished you had acted anyway. Diana mouthed “I’m sorry,” before she swiped her scroll over the lock, stepped in through the door, and closed it behind her.

She stopped as she noticed Ruby and Akko sitting in the center of the still undecorated room, the latter holding the Shiny Rod in her hands and staring at it with such incredible intensity, as if she were trying to unearth its deepest, most guarded secrets...

“Umeboshi!” Akko cried. “It’s pickled plums, isn’t it?!”

Ruby shook her head. “Nope! Strawberries.”

Akko frowned. “Are you sure it’s not pickled plums?”

“Nope, definitely strawberries.”

Akko groaned as she laid the Shiny Rod across her lap, Ruby took out her scroll and started taking notes with her “quill” stylus.

“What in the world are you two doing…?” Diana asked.

“Oh, Diana, hi!” Akko said, waving and smiling. “Ruby here was just trying to teach me how to talk with the Shiny Rod, like she can!”

“It’s a really good way to both teach her the skill, improve my own understanding of it, and try to figure out the exact mechanics of its communication!” Ruby added as she wrote. “Well, in a very subjective, topical sort of way, but it’s better than nothing, and you don’t need to fully understand the mechanics of something to apply it.”

Diana nodded slowly. “And how’s progress…?”

“Terrible!” Ruby chirped. “The Shiny Rod seems to be incapable of the abstraction and symbolism involved in written and spoken language, and can’t comprehend words or even just single letters when we tried to go through the alphabet. Now we’re just testing for images, ideas, and emotions associated with certain objects, but it seems something’s lost in translation within the Shiny Rod, as it’s accurately replicating the signals and sensations it gave me but Akko is misinterpreting them, it’s heavily reliant on the mind and knowledge of its current wielder in its attempts to communicate, or some combination of one or more of those theories!

“I think this mistranslation happened because I was banking on strong emotional associations—strawberries are my absolute favourite—and it seems that it either brought up pickled plums for Akko because that’s her favourite food; its attempts at replicating the concept of small, reddish fruits frequently had for snacks here in Mistral was misinterpreted by Akko as pickled plums; it’s incapable of understand the concept of sweet vs salty and sour for its own lack of taste buds, or again, a combination of any of the above!

“It’s all really confusing, and hard to make sense of.”

“It’s okay to tune out when Ruby’s explaining so your head doesn’t hurt, by the way!” Akko said. “She doesn’t mind.”

Diana nodded again. “Thank you for the advice… I can’t help but notice you still seem to be in great spirits, however.”

Ruby chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be? We’re potentially breaking new ground in weapons engineering here! Or is this more a subset of archaeology considering that the Shiny Rod is a pre-War artifact? Or is this both, as this could potentially be an artifact reforged or modified using modern day equipment and techniques, seeing as Shiny Chariot wasn’t exactly shy in using a LOT of tech for her shows, before she stopped performing?” she looked deep in thought, before she she started scribbling and writing in her scroll, the world around her clearly completely tuned out.

“It’s a real shame that she took that break from performing,” Akko said as she held up the Shiny Rod. “Maybe we could have asked her about it...”

Diana sighed softly, her expression falling. “Akko, I understand that your love for Shiny Chariot is probably beyond words, but for the sake of having a peaceful four years together as a team, I ask you to please keep the fawning and the adoration to a minimum, at least when I’m around,” she said as she headed to their shared closet, where Weiss’ luggage and Diana’s own bags were waiting.

Akko blinked. “You don’t like Shiny Chariot?” she asked, putting a hand on the floor as she turned look at Diana.

“No, no I do not!” Diana said as she slid open their closet, noted the unclaimed shelves and overall space. “Fair warning: keep pressing the subject at your own peril,” she said as she laid out one of her two suitcases, the “click-click” of the locks audible for how silent it had suddenly gotten.

Ruby put her scroll and quill down on the side. “Hey Akko, you want try talking to the Shiny Rod again?” she asked, oblivious. “I’ve got a new idea that might...” she trailed off as she watched Akko suddenly get up, walk over to the closet, and sit beside Diana.

Diana noticed her, slowly put her neatly folded clothes back in her suitcase, closed the lid, before she turned to her, her expression serious.

“Why don’t you like Shiny Chariot?” Akko asked.

“Many reasons, but chief among them is her irreverence, turning the sacred institution of Huntsmen into a gimmick for entertainment. About the only festivity that should be tolerated are the regional tournaments and the Vytal Festival, and aside from the fact that they’re only once or twice a year, they serve the purposes of fostering unity among the kingdom’s peoples, and driving huntsmen and huntresses to always better themselves and never rest on their laurels.

“In other words, they have a practical, useful purposes.”

(“Girls…?” Ruby asked weakly, watching them with a worried frown.)

“Oh, and making people happy isn’t something worth doing in your eyes?!” Akko cried as she threw her arms up into the air. “Grimm are literally attracted to despair and misery—Shiny Chariot was giving people hope and happiness, how is that a bad thing?!”

“It’s not! I would have enrolled in Atlas if I thought the arts and culture were mere frivolities, and the fact that I’m here in Haven arguing with you already proves my point! What I’m trying to say, is that there are things and acts you may commodify and make circuses out of all you like, but your being a huntress is not one of them!”

(“Girls!” Ruby called out, nervously clutching her cape. “Akko…? Diana…?”)

“Shiny Chariot was the reason I became a huntress, too!” Akko cried. “She’s why I enrolled in combat school, suffered through training and the curriculum no matter how hard it got or how much it sucked, why I fight as hard as I do and keep on going in spite of what happens!”

“Oh, and are you going to follow exactly in her footsteps, too?” Diana snapped. “Graduate, and instead of slaying Grimm and helping people out in there in the real world, you’re going to spend your days destroying mechanical constructs for the delight of people safely holed up in the major cities?!”

“Why was is it so wrong that she did what she did?!” Akko screeched, tearing up now.

“I could explain it to you, but seeing as you obviously will just be arguing with me until one or the both of us die, why don’t you ask the Shiny Rod? Did it EVER occur to you that the reason you’re holding it right now, why we found it deep inside that cave out in the Celestial Hills of all places might be related to why exactly she mysteriously dropped off the face of Remnant a decade ago?!”

Akko looked like she had been just been slapped across the face, her tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

Diana saw, and looked horrified, before she turned away, got up and made for the door in a hurry. “… I’m leaving now…” she muttered, barely audible.

Diana slammed the door on her way out for her rush; the sound echoed in the room for a few moments, no other noise but Akko’s sobbing.

Then, she turned to the Shiny Rod. “… Shiny Rod…?” she asked as she held it up. “Why were you in that cave, and why am I holding you instead of Chariot…? What happened a decade ago, before she stopped performing…?”

Nothing.

“Ruby…?” Akko asked. “Can you… can you ask the Shiny Rod for me…?”

Ruby hesitated. “Uh… I can try! But, uh… are you sure you really want to know…?”

Akko opened her mouth, closed it, before she sniffed, and looked down. “… I… I think…” she frowned, and shook her head. “No: I need to know.” She looked up at Ruby with a determined expression, thrust the Shiny Rod out to her. “Ruby, ask it for me.” She sniffed, still crying. “Please.”

Ruby hesitated for a moment, before she took it, held it in her hands as she closed her eyes. “Shiny Rod, why are you here with us right now?” she asked quietly. “Why did we find you in that cave? And what happened between you and Shiny Chariot so many years ago, why did she stop performing, and why did she disappear…?”

Akko waited, until the silence kept on dragging on, and her fidgeting grew worse and worse, until she could finally take no more. “Well?!” she asked frantically.

Ruby opened her eyes. “Two theories: one, the Shiny Rod is trying to communicate with me right now in a new, incredibly complex and unfamiliar way unlike all my earlier attempts at talking to it, because of how much more information it has to transmit to me. Or two, it’s giving me the silent treatment.”

“What kind of silent treatment?”

“The ‘You’re better off not asking ever again and just forgetting the question entirely’ sort of silent treatment, I think—kind of like when I asked Yang what an Inappropriate Steamboat was!”

Akko groaned.

“Want to go back to trying to figure out basic communication again…?” Ruby offered.

“No...” Akko muttered.

“Do you need a hug?”

“Yes.”

The Haven Library.

Diana’s mother, and indeed, Beatrix herself just couldn’t say enough good things about it, one of the largest, most extensive, and diverse collections of almost every piece of culture in Remnant, stretching from ancient times to the present day.  

Possibly even more than that, however, they loved the atmosphere: hard wood floors and walls, delicate carvings in the moulding and the bases of the columns, antique gas lamps providing a warm light that was perfect for reading and relaxing; luxurious rugs, antique wooden chairs with overstuffed cushions, lovingly woven fabrics providing hammocks or hanging perches; and of course, pieces of art on display everywhere, portraits and landscapes, sculptures, installations, relics, and what have you, modern or ancient, all of them protected by the expansive and extensive security system.

“There’s just something so comforting about being around so many old books and things, so lovingly taken care of, most of them still allowed to be touched and enjoyed by just about anyone,” Bernadette said.

Diana could have pulled out any number of those texts students were allowed access to; continued to catch up on the lessons she was missing; or even just wandered and gotten lost in the stacks, see where the winding and branching paths and stairs took her, as her mother loved to do.

But still, she just could not get the Shiny Rod out of her head.

Why did Shiny Chariot wield such an immense, great power mostly just for shows and entertaining people…? Why was its manifestation with Akko so different? Why was it so picky with its wielders, choosing her and Ruby alone? Why was it so violent and clear with its rejecting people it deemed unfit? Why be able to “talk” with just Ruby, and not Akko, even if the latter had possession of it the most? Why the vehemence that it not be taken to the Forge and examined properly? Why did Shiny Chariot lose it, and how did it find its way to that cave?

And most importantly of all: just what was it, why was it here, and why was it letting Akko and Ruby use it…?

Diana frowned, found the nearest information terminal—one of the few modern amenities allowed to “blemish” the ambiance—and started searching for the “Shiny Rod.” As she scrolled and scrolled, finding only news pieces about Shiny Chariot, declassified school records back when she was just Chariot du Nord, and not much else, she sighed, and started changed her search term:

“Ancient Weapons and Legends.”

It was unscientific, like Ruby had said, but it seemed Diana’s only real lead, too. And really, if myths and ancient texts alluding to direct dust infusion and ancient medical prostheses lead to her mother’s greatest work, it wasn’t entirely without merit.

She wasn’t surprised to see students at the appropriate section—many of the professors were infamous for insisting their students take advantage of Haven’s library, CCT research only for checking if the information was outdated or corrected. She was, however, surprised to find one of the professors there, several books and scrolls already stacked in her arms, the look on her face telling that she wasn’t particularly looking forward to reading them.

“Professor Ursula, may I help you with that?” Diana asked as she came over, already reaching out.

Ursula smiled. “Oh, that will be much appreciated, Cavendish, thank you!” she said as she unloaded off some of the lighter tomes. “May I ask if you’re here for school, or just pleasure?”

“Neither, actually,” Diana replied as she took them into her hands. “I’m here to see if I can’t find anything about the Shiny Rod.”

Ursula’s eyes widened, before she chuckled. “Ah, what a coincidence—that’s what I’m here for, too.”

“Would you mind if I join you in your research, then?” Diana asked as she gazed at the shelves and all the leather-bound books, paper scrolls, and the odd stone tablet.

“The offer is appreciated, but you really don’t need to,” Ursula replied cheerfully. “Dr. Schnee insists that I be as thorough as possible with any leads that may be even remotely connected to it, which makes me thankful the cafe here is open 24/7...” she muttered as she pulled out a new book, began to add it to her stack.

“Oh, but Professor Ursula, I insist,” Diana said as took it from her, took note of the title and the cover. “I feel like I won’t be able to get any sleep until I get at least some inkling of understanding about the Shiny Rod—perhaps even just what it’s really called, as I doubt that it’s true name...”

Professor Ursula chuckled. “Well, alright—I wouldn’t want to contribute to my student’s sleep deprivation; you’re already going to have quite a lot of that from all your reading assignments alone.”

“I’m well aware of, and prepared for that,” Diana replied.

They spent a while collecting more books and scrolls, until Professor Ursula thought that they’d had enough: two stacks of assorted texts that tested their respective upper body strengths.

“Still sure you want to help?” Ursula asked. “I won’t mind if you change your mind, and just help me bring all these books to a table.”

“I’m still sure, thank you for asking,” Diana said, feeling a bit of sweat begin form on her brow.

“Do you want to go call the rest of your team to help?” Ursula asked as they walked. “I’m sure Akko and Ruby would be interested.”

Diana frowned, hesitating for a moment before she replied, “No, no thank you; they’re busy with their own research with the Shiny Rod, actually. Ruby’s trying to teach Akko how to talk with it, you see.”

Ursula noticed. “I wish them luck in that endeavour, then.”

They walked and scanned the tables in silence for a few moments, before Diana broke it. “Professor Ursula, may I ask you a question about Shiny Chariot and the Shiny Rod?”

“Go on ahead,” Ursula replied as she slowed down.

“It’s just… I’ve been wondering, Akko managed to demonstrate the sheer extent of its power… why do you think Shiny Chariot used it mostly for shows, instead of keeping to the field, fighting Grimm? It seems the latter was a much better purpose for such a weapon, especially since it’s picky but not entirely exclusive with its wielders.”

Ursula got a thoughtful look. “I don’t know, Diana. Clearly there’s a lot we don’t know about the Shiny Rod… maybe its power was incredibly limited, it was more Akko’s power than it back in the Celestial Hills, or some other reason we can only guess at.

“Here’s to hoping our research turns something up!” she said as she finally found a suitably empty table, set all her books down.

Diana followed suit. “Here’s to hoping...” she muttered as she rubbed her arms, before they both got straight to work.

[fakesam]

Madden 18′s Story Mode Has Aged Poorly

Of all the bizarre plot twists 2017 has thrown at us, the NFL becoming a battleground in the political discourse is… actually pretty low on the list. It’s been that kind of year. But it is still very weird. The Cheeto-in-Chief has made a habit out of picking nonsensical fights, spewing vitriol in the direction of everyone who dares to disagree with his agenda. The spray-tanned septic tank had bleated his displeasure about exiled quarterback Colin Kaepernick before,an easy appeal to his supporters to whom an admonishment of a dissenting minority is a reinforcement of national values. To love this country is to accept the word of our tiny-handed fascist wannabe unquestionably, accepting his every word without discerning between facts and the ramblings of an elderly hate-filled loon.

The Kaepernick “issue” had already been made inert anyway. Colin Kaepernick has yet to, and likely won’t ever be, signed by a NFL team despite relatively impressive numbers on a bad 49ers team, almost assuredly due to his insistence that unarmed black people shouldn’t end up dead after encounters with the police as often as they do in this country. America’s problems with race have been embedded in the core of this nation from the very beginning, but avoiding difficult, self-examining questions about itself is America’s most unshakeable habit. The dozens of videos revealing needless violence against citizens at the hands of their alleged protectors should speak for themselves, and yet the societal uproar over a person kneeling during the anthem often sounds louder than the cries from black people pleading for the establishment to give the slightest fuck about this civil injustice, at least in certain circles. Every argument against Kaepernick - that he’d be a distraction, that you’d have to rebuild an offense to suit him, that he’s somehow worse than Blake Bortles,Josh McCown, or Andy Dalton - wilts under the slightest whiff of scrutiny. But much of the furore over his unemployment had subsided, given way to disappointed acceptance by an industry that is much more comfortable exchanging takes of various temperatures anyway. The league’s stance is clear. Domestic abusers will receive second chances, someone who becomes the symbol for increased civil engagement in sports will not. Cool.

And then White Patriarchy Incarnate referred to Kaepernick, and all players who follow his lead, as sons of bitches at a rally in Alabama supporting Roy Moore, a probable child molestor.

This rash disparagement led to a spirit-lifting dragging session led by Lebron James, and galvanized dozens more football players to voice their opinions on the state of the country, forcing the sports media machine to bring potentially awkward race debates to the willfully ignorant. The death of sports as an apolitical sanctuary away from the rest of the world is a necessary one. To many, watching sports has been the primary escape hatch from the suffocating news cycle where you could just have fun, try to win a fantasy league, and not think about the crumbling state of society. This was always a false comfort, an illusion for people who have the luxury of not worrying about how the new regime might seismically reconfigure your daily life. The national anthem and the co-opting of patriotic symbols was a choice (It’s not a coincidence that the NBA and NFL’s official logs are utilize a red, white, and blue colorway.). Taxpayer money is used to build stadiums because no one needs financial help more than billionaires. Sports are still the most foolproof way for poorer people to break through the increasingly reinforced glass ceiling of class stratification. It’s all been there, it was just easier to look past before the last year happened. The commotion has died down again, but the impact is long-lasting. In spite of everything, Colin Kaepernick still won.

This is not the world Electronic Arts planned on entering, but it was a motivating factor for me to watch a playthrough of Madden NFL 18’s new single player mode. (Money’s tight and I don’t want to put money in the NFL’s pocket. Still think my opinion is valid.) Longshot tells the story of Devin Wade, a prodigious quarterback talent that loses his way after the death of his father, played by Mahershala Ali. The addition has received plenty of praise in reviews, mostly for the portrayal of the friendship between Devin and his ride-or-die best friend, Colt Cruise, natural and lifelike even as the tension between them becomes strained and tightened by their situations. There are several character moments that I found really endearing. But the further I got into the story, the more difficult it became to view the narrative through the lens of its creators, divorced from the controversial reality that has forever warped the NFL’s image.

Longshot was clearly made by diehard football fans - the phrase “football is family” is uttered by a character at one point -, but the ways it glosses over the problematic elements of the game to focus on football’s tendency to self-mythologize is the large elephant in the room. Football is seemingly the only source of happiness for these people, except for perhaps the lovably villainous slimeball executive running the show who is attracted to the money and high ratings that come from a connection to America’s favorite game. High school football games are the main event in this small Texas town, with and Wade and Cruise’s past triumphs easily recalled by them and their less athletic friends. There’s a visit to a military base for Wade and his crew, reinforcing the strange relationship between the NFL and the armed forces. This exaltation of football culture feels misleading in this climate. Devin Wade’s inner torment over the death of his parents is mostly left offscreen, framing sporting success as his only salvation. What Longshot does decide to depict traffics in tired stereotypes that should’ve went extinct years ago.

It’s established early on that Devin Wade is a superstar talent who was destined to make it to the NFL if not for his breakdown while at Texas. But it also makes it clear that he is the least knowledgeable football person in the game by a distance. He doesn’t know how to direct an offense, read formations, or even the most basic levels of game theory. It defies belief that a dude who doesn’t know that running on second and one is the smartest play for an offense is some unpolished diamond with the capacity for greatness. Longshot plays into this depressingly persistent idea that black quarterbacks, without proper teaching and moulding from coaching staffs - staffs who tend to be overwhelmingly white - are nothing but imprecise flourishes of talent, succeeding in spite of their lack of intelligence because of their “natural talent”.

Black people make up most of the NFL’s population, but the sight of a black QB is still incredibly rare. The position sits atop the highest pedestal in the game, with its occupants expected to be the leader and face of their franchises. America’s reticence to progress could only lead to one conclusion. This is a direct quote from Warren Moon, the first black quarterback inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, via The Undefeated:

“Despite the fact that there were a lot of African-Americans playing in the National Football League in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s, there was a stereotype that we weren’t capable of succeeding at certain positions. If you played those positions in college and you got drafted, you knew you were probably going to get moved in the NFL. Supposedly, we weren’t smart enough or had the leadership qualities or whatever it took. At every position, for African-Americans, conquering that myth at quarterback was so important.”

The stereotype is slowly eroding, although after seeing the flak Cam Newton caught in the past for celebrating himself and Colin Kaepernick got for speaking out, it’s clear that flagrant displays of confidence from black people still stirs up some uneasiness. It’s likely a mistake of oversight rather than malevolence. I don’t believe that the writers of Longshot had designs on making the one living black character in the game to be so dumb because he’s black. But when you create a story that uses sports movie cliches as a launching point, the origins of those cliches should be scrutinized.

EA’s workaround for Wade’s airheadedness is to allow his supporting cast to shape him however they see fit. Devin Wade has very little autonomy once he begins to practice with retired coach Jack Ford, a man who initially objected to Wade’s progression through the TV show, after failing to convince the higher-ups that another qb contestant was a better candidate (The tv exec overruled him because Wade would draw more viewers.). Wade’s rough edges eventually push the coach to the brink of quitting, only to be convinced to keep working with him by Cruise, who was brought up to help speed up the learning process. Wade’s lack of polish is a longstanding issue, he explains, and the duo work together simplifying the playbook to fit Wade’s skillset through an all-night montage, without any input from the star of the show. His success is only possible due to the machinations of his white cohorts working behind his back.

Everything falls into place after that. Wade’s prospects pick up after that, as the coach-player duo resolve their differences and truly become a team in order to progress through the show, the final test being a televised scrimmage against NFL washouts. Next comes the draft, the results of which are predicated on your performance during drills and some of your dialogue choices in conversations. Either way, both of them make it onto a roster. The ending of Longshot makes it clear that a sequel with the same characters is in play. I would be curious to see where Devin Wade’s life goes from here. This is the first time Electronic Arts has written a narrative for their football game, so growing pains are to be expected. While the business partnership with the NFL potentially complicates the scope of the story, I hope we see more of the issues complicit with Wade’s job now that he’s made it to the league. It’s not like they’re going away anytime soon.

[sosayset]

My Little June 6th Social Media Exchange

I’ve got a friend, a former teammate on a hockey team, who is fairly right leaning.  I made a post on June 6th, the anniversary of the storming the beaches of Normandy,  about my feelings on the Republican Party and their current state of true awfulness.  He didn’t respond directly, but definitely threw down on his own so that I could see it.  So I responded to him.  Harshly.  And this isn’t an exchange.  I called him out, didn’t do anything other than to acknowledge there was a response that I ignored, actually multiple because I’m sure that I was mentioned by more than one other mouth breather, and then I doubled down.  And now, because I am still mad, I’m making it public to my audiences.   

My response to his shameless defense of the Republican Party and conservatism in general. 

<My Dude>, on your side of the political divide there are unabashed racists. On your side, there are actual Klansmen. On your side there are actual, literal Nazis; we're talking "wir müssen die Juden ausrotten," Nazis. This isn't up for debate, either, this is absolute FACT. Now, and this is important, this isn't me being accusatory, but me pointing out the bare bones of the issue. These horrible people agree with you and your point of view. They are comfortable with you and your point of view. They *identify* with you and your point of view. They are comfortable with you and standing alongside you and supporting you and your perspective and your political point of view and everything you espouse. Actual f***ing Nazis are there with you, shoulder to shoulder. And this is an undeniable reality of irrefutable empirical evidence.

And all of this begs the question of pretty much anyone who might find themselves in a similar position, in a space where the most contemptible, most reviled, most deplorable, people can find comfort and sanctuary; "what does this reflection say about my values and what I believe?" If actual Nazis are on your side, and your first reaction is NOT to take a step back and ask yourself why they are comfortable on your side and not afraid to be beaten within inches of their life, you are in the WRONG. "Why are Nazis comfortable with me and being in my space?" The answer is, "I'm wrong about something, I need to figure out why and shut the hell up until I know exactly why." That's it.

Me? I'm pretty much okay punching them in the face, no questions asked, and leaving them on the ground bleeding. But that's me, and how I feel with the idea of actual Nazis being on my side...on June 6th...in the US of A. I am not a conservative or 2021 Republican so I don't have to make those decisions.

<My Dude>, take a moment. Take your step back. Take a look at things from the outsider perspective on things, both as they are and through the lens of history you keep saying you have. And then please reevaluate yourself. From where I see things, you are in the bunkers on that beach aiming your weapons at those landing vehicles, repeating to your brothers in arms how right those Austrian and Italian f***s in charge of their nations were and that it was and is worth killing and worth dying for to grow their ideologies, and standing in staunch opposition to those storming that beach in defense of democracy. You ARE on the side of Nazis now, how can you possibly believe or defend the idea that your would not have been 70 years ago?

Personally, I believe you are better than that, given a more lucid frame of reference then where you actually stand, as it is. But for now, it is what it is. It can't be stated more plainly; it is 2021 and you ARE on the side with the Nazis and you would have been 70 years ago, too.

As I said, there was a response.  Maybe more than one.  I ignored them.  I posted this article (the transcript I used, and sources, are all below)

If you've read through this <article> and the source material, or at least given some of them a brief look, you'll know that the consensus definition of fascism in the sources says it hasn't *actually* existed after 1945, and I am inclined to agree.  At most it has morphed into lesser versions espousing *similar* ideological tendencies.  And that's my point in all of this.  We've taken minuscule baby steps away from blatant racism as a foundation, but the idea that there are some who belong, and some who don't, while defined less clearly than the past, still exists, and that mentality still serves as a primary motivator for specific beliefs and even prejudices.  

That said, <my Dude>, I read all of things you post that the algorithms of this site allow me to see regularly, and I can tell you, that through the scope of that version of neo-fascism outright predicated not on race but on the sense of some belonging, and some not, is reflected in all of your rhetoric CONSTANTLY.  All the time.  And maybe you believe it, or maybe you don't, that's not for me to say.  But the fact remains that, as I said before, you are a vocal supporter on the side that has Nazis.  You are on the side that this article basically breaks down as pro-fascist in its core beliefs.  

I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt by saying you're actually NOT of that mindset, but to look at just where you're sitting.  The Germans have a saying that goes something like, "if you see a Nazi sitting at a table, and ten other people sitting with him, you see a table of 11 Nazis."  

And my overall point remains unchanged; recognize the table you are sitting at, right now.  

PS- I didn't bother to read yours, or anyone else's responses.  You're sitting at a metaphoric table with those most ideologically aligned currently with 1930s and 40s fascism, along with modern Nazis, and I am calling it out, that's all.  Any response, it either agrees and like me, are asking you to reevaluate, or they are trying to defend sitting at that table without such a reexamination, which isn't worth my time

Be well. 

____

What Is Fascism?

Since before Donald Trump took office, historians have debated whether he is a fascist (1.).

As a teacher of World War II history (2.) who has written about fascism (3.), I’ve found that historians have a consensus (4.) definition of the term, broadly speaking.

Given the term’s current – and sometimes erroneous – use, I think it’s important to distinguish what fascism is and is not.

+Race-first thinking+ Fascism, now a century old, got its start with Benito Mussolini and his Italian allies. They named their movement after an ancient Roman emblem, the fasces (5.), an ax whose handle has been tightly reinforced with many rods, symbolizing the power of unity around one leader.

Fascism means more than dictatorship, however.

It’s distinct from simple authoritarianism – an anti-democratic government by a strongman or small elite – and “Stalinism” (6.) – authoritarianism with a dominant bureaucracy and economic control, named after the former Soviet leader. The same goes for “anarchism,” (7.) the belief in a society organized without an overarching state.

Above all, fascists view nearly everything through the lens of race (8.). They’re committed not just to race supremacy, but maintaining what they called “racial hygiene,” (9.) meaning the purity of their race and the separation of what they view as lower ones.

That means (10.) they must define who is a member of their nation’s legitimate race. They must invent a “true” race.

Many are familiar with Adolf Hitler and the Nazi regime’s so-called Aryan race (11.), which had no biological or historical reality. The Nazis had to forge a mythic past and legendary people. Including some in the “true race” means excluding others.

+Capitalism is good+ For fascists, capitalism is good. It appeals to their admiration of “the survival of the fittest,” a phrase coined by social Darwinist Herbert Spencer (11.), so long as companies serve the needs of the fascist leadership and the “Volk,” or people.

In exchange for protecting private property, fascists demand capitalists act as cronies (12.).

If, for example, a company is successfully producing weapons for foreign or domestic wars – good. But if a company is enriching nonloyal people, or making money for the imagined subrace, the fascists will step in and hand it to someone deemed loyal.

If the economy is poor, the fascist will divert attention from shortages to plans for patriotic glory or for vengeance against internal or external enemies.

+Might makes right+ Important to most fascists is the idea that the nation’s “patriots” (13.) have been let down, that “good people” are humiliated while “bad people” do better.

These grievances cannot be answered, fascists say, if things remain under the status quo. There needs to be revolutionary change allowing the “real people” to break free from the restraints of democracy or existing law and get even (14.).

For fascists, might makes right.

Since for them the law should be subservient to the needs of the people and the need to crush socialism or liberalism, fascists encourage party militias. These enforce the fascist will, break unions (15.), distort elections and intimidate or co-opt the police (16.).

The historical fascists of Germany and Mussolini’s Italy (17.) extended the might-makes-right principle to expansion abroad, though the British fascists of the 1930s, led by Oswald Mosley (18.) and his British Union of Fascists, preferred isolationism (19.) and preached a sort of internal war against an imagined Jewish enemy of the state. What fascists reject

First and foremost, fascists want to revolt against socialism (20.). That’s because it threatens the crony capitalism that fascists embrace.

Not only does socialism aim for equal prosperity no matter the race, but many socialists tend to envision the eventual extinction (21.) of separate nations, which offends the strong fascist belief in nation states.

Along with getting rid of aristocrats or other elites, fascists are prepared to displace the church or seek a mutually beneficial truce with it (22.).

Mussolini, Hitler and the Falangists in Spain (23.) learned that they had to live with (24.), not replace, the church in their countries – as long as their regimes weren’t broadly attacked from the pulpit.

Fascists also reject democracy, at least any democracy that could potentially result in socialism or too much liberalism (25.). In a democracy, voters can choose social welfare policies. They can level the playing field between classes and ethnicities, or seek gender equality.

Fascists oppose all of these efforts.

+Fascism grows from nationalism+ Fascism is the logical extreme of nationalism (26.), the roughly 250-year-old idea that nation states should be built around races or historical peoples.

The first fascists didn’t invent these ideas out of nothing – they just pushed nationalism further than anyone had before. For the fascist, it’s not just that a nation state makes “the people” sovereign. It’s that the will of righteous, real people – and its leader – comes before all other considerations, including facts.

Indeed, the will, the people, their leader and the facts are all one in fascism.

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