#modern slavery cw

[beyond-crusading]

There were 678 000 slaves in the United States in 1790. They were 3,9 millions in 1860. This important growth (2.5% a year) was mainly due to natural population increase, as the Atlantic slave trade was forbidden in 1808, and illegal slave trading remained limited (about 40 000 from 1820 to 1860).

Slavery in the US was originally based almost entirely on the slave trade. When it was abolished, American slave masters chose natural increase as a way to expand the slave population.

[jheselbraum]

Birth of a Nation revitalized the KKK in America and is perhaps the only piece of "irredeemable media" I can think of that's actually like. You know, a story, and I don't know of anything else off the top of my head that had that kind of lasting, palpably harmful impact that isn't like, direct state mandated propaganda like Mein Kampf. In 1915 the KKK was effectively dead, they'd slowly dissolved around the 1870s (particularly after the introduction of the Ku Klux Klan Act of 1871) and Birth of a Nation led to the most notorious American terrorist group reforming. As far as I'm concerned, DW Griffith has actual blood on his hands, for murders committed at the very least through the 40s (they disbanded temporarily in 1944 after America's most effective violent crime task force, the IRS, got involved, though it could be argued he's only responsible for murders committed by the KKK through the 20s, as membership declined rapidly after that once people saw that being part of a terrorist organization wasn't like how it was in the movie).

And like, look I generally don't think the word "irredeemable" can really be applied to art in any form, but there is something viscerally reprehensible about Birth of a Nation that makes us not want to watch it. Like it (arguably) pioneered a lot of film techniques but that's more of the science side of film than the art side, I'm completely certain that people would have figured out that contrasting long shots with close-ups made movies more interesting if Birth of a Nation was left on the cutting room floor. (In fact, several of the techniques 'pioneered' by Birth of a Nation were actually from earlier films, it's just that DW Griffith was more popular and his films are the ones that were remembered). But like we don't screen this movie publicly, we don't like it, we don't like the what DW Griffith had to say. Birth of a Nation just... repels people away from it. Its in person screenings are relegated to a few film classes and maybe some klan meetings, though I'm certain there are some racists on 4chan who've downloaded a copy. If you ask normal people to pick one movie to stop existing, there's no way out of it you have to pick one, chances are they'll pick Birth of a Nation, assuming they've even heard of it (my first exposure to it was in high school, some people might not get to it until college, or even later, that's just kind of what happens with something like this. It's not like you can learn about something through cultural osmosis when the culture is trying like hell to osmosis that thing out of itself). It's an acceptable loss.

Meanwhile, from what I've read, I'd say the decision to use A Serbian Film alongside Birth of a Nation is actually a reasonable one, not because of the graphic nature of it's content, but rather its themes and message and how flat it can feel because of who's saying it (DISCLAIMER: I haven't watched it, I'm not going to watch it, take this with a grain of salt). It's about a man who's forced to commit horrific crimes to survive (economically, though he may be directly threatened with death I'm not sure, he's doing it as a job basically). If you'll recall, Serbia committed genocide during the Bosnian War in the 90s, the targets being primarily Bosniaks but also including anyone in Bosnia and Herzegovina that wasn't Serbian.

The director of the film, Srđan Spasojević, had this to say when asked if the acts depicted in the film were related in any way to crimes committed during the Yugoslav Wars:

A Serbian Film does not touch upon war themes, but in a metaphorical way deals with the consequences of post-war society and a man that is exploited to the extreme in the name of securing the survival of his family.

Additionally, he described the film as "a diary of our own molestation by the Serbian government ... It's about the monolithic power of leaders who hypnotize you to do things you don't want to do. You have to feel the violence to know what it's about."

A Serbian Film is an exploitation film that's apparently considered one of the most disturbing of all time, but the film is not a snuff film as many people have claimed. A snuff film is the filming of actual gruesome crimes like murder, torture, and rape, committed for the purpose of selling the resulting film and making money. It's not "a movie that depicts gruesome crimes like murder, torture, and rape through the use of special or practical effects."

Based on the quick read-through of the Wikipedia article I did, it seems like most of what the film is trying to say is through the lens of the aftermath of the Yugoslav Wars, or at least that's how the audience largely interpreted it. The script writer, Aleksandar Radivojević, said this about the process of securing funding for the film and the state of the Serbian film industry in general.

you had this EU arts council funded production using Serbia for EU's political agitprop agenda of 'promoting tolerance and reconciliation in the post-war Balkans' by boosting sappy local projects of no aesthetic value whose sole reason for receiving EU financing was their respective authors' willingness to amplify the EU-approved message, i.e. to express 'Serb contrition over what happened in the Yugoslav Wars' via essentially making victim porn, showing small miserable Serb people who are struggling mightily while nevertheless simultaneously 'doing their part in search of collective redemption' by being extremely remorseful

Now, I'm a white American who does not experience racism of any kind, let alone the violently dehumanizing prejudice necessary to convince a group of people to commit an ethnic cleansing, but if my people had been the victims of a genocide, and I heard someone from the group of people that committed that genocide complain about media depicting his people's remorse, and saw that that guy also wrote a movie where the plot is a man is forced to commit gruesome rapes, and again, my people were gruesomely raped as a part of that guy's country's plan to wipe my people from existence, I'd be fucking pissed. Like again, I haven't seen A Serbian Film, and Radivojević wasn't the only person in the writer's room, so maybe in practice it reads less as "our government was controlling us we did nothing wrong" and more "our government is controlling us and we're monsters for listening." And we can argue the merits of the latter another time, but at least the latter acknowledges that genocide doesn't happen in a vacuum because some schmucks at the top said so, that the people bear as much responsibility as their government.

Now, is A Serbian Film actually trying to say anything about the Yugoslav Wars at all? I don't know. I haven't seen it. Maybe it isn't about the Bosnian genocide at all. But then what is it saying about Serbia? Serbian actor Dragan Bjelogrlić said this about the film and its director, a year after its release:

I have a problem with A Serbian Film. Its director in particular. I've got a serious problem with this boy whose father got wealthy during the 1990s—nothing against making money, but I know how money was made [in Serbia] during the '90s—and then pays for his son's education abroad and eventually the kid comes back to Serbia to film his view of the country using his dad's money and even calls the whole thing A Serbian Film. To me that's a metaphor for something unacceptable. The second generation comes back to the country and using the money that had been robbed from the people of Serbia, smears the very same people by portraying them as the worst scum of the earth.

OP was right, it's fucking insane that this site only uses words like irredeemable media to talk about cartoons for children. Like, no, Steven Universe or The Owl House or My Hero Academia or whatever TV-Y7 cartoon you're hyper focused on that week isn't irredeemable media. Your bar for even discussing it as a possibility is "did this story's public existence revitalize a terrorist organization and lead to several murders," a qualification which A Serbian Film, despite its content, themes, and possible interpretations, does not meet. It's offensive, and disturbing, it possibly excuses genocide, but as far as I've read, no one has gotten physically hurt because it exists.

A Serbian Film is more violently graphic than Birth of a Nation. Birth of a Nation did more to physically harm real people than A Serbian Film ever could.

It's fucking wild that the above reaction to A Serbian Film mentions next to nothing about what it's trying to say, how well it works, who's saying it and in what context, but focuses purely on the graphic and violent scenes depicted in the film. It's probably why they slapped Salo on at the end even though a cursory glance through Wikipedia (I don't care enough to read thoroughly on the plot and themes you get the point graphic exploitation films aren't inherently evil for depicting murder or rape or whatever I don't want to read about more graphic shit it's not something I personally enjoy doing) reveals that that film is strictly antifascist, though several actors were actually injured during filming. Notably, the director of Salo, Pier Paolo Pasolini, was gruesomely abducted, tortured, and murdered in 1975 shortly before Salo's release at the Paris Film Festival. He was openly gay, and a Marxist, and while his death was initially contributed to one Giuseppe Pelosi (17 at the time of the murder) after he confessed, he later retracted his confession claiming that he made it under the threat of violence to his family (which unfortunately tracks, Americans may recall the more recent case of Amanda Knox, who was arrested in 2007 for the murder of her friend and forced by Italian police to confess to a crime she didn't commit and was later exonerated from). The case was reopened after Giuseppe's retraction in 2005 and other evidence that had come to light, and as of 2023 the Italian authorities are looking at the far right group Banda della Magliana as possible suspects. While I agree that "I hear it's kind of. nasty" is frankly an understatement when attempting to discuss the graphic content of Salo, and really fucking hilarious in the context of trying to argue that Salo shouldn't exist at all, I don't know that that's really a fair criticism to make, considering the other two examples are if not directly far right (using the term because of the changing political landscape between 1915 and 2010, like I can't really call Birth of a Nation fascist because it was made before fascism was a fully congealed political ideology, even if it upholds the ideology of fascism) then at least debatably so. As previously established, the actual content of the film, as in, the acts depicted, don't immediately make a work reprehensible. Remember, A Serbian Film is more graphic and disturbing to watch than Birth of a Nation, but Birth of a Nation is worse than A Serbian Film.

Tldr; op is right, and the person whose tags have been drowned is exactly the kind of person op was talking about

'Irredeemable media' is such a funny concept to me because it's never used for stuff like Birth of a Nation or A Serbian Film. It's always The Owl House or My Hero Academia because these people only watch things for children and can't stand any conflict more complex than Super Mario Brothers.

[words-and-threads]

Chatting with my friend while he installs a new kitchen light and talking about Errol Flynn (once I explain his career and uh...Nazi tendencies.)

Me: Yeah he famously played Robin Hood. Huh. And Captain Blood.

Friend: *snort* Who was his nemesis, Captain Soil?

Me, looking up the plot of the movie: Oh wow. It is so much worse.

***

TIL that the movie Captain Blood is about a white guy who gets transported to and enslaved in Port Royal and then falls in love with the "kind" lady who owns him.

Apparently the author of the book it's based on is a dude, but you can't tell me this isn't just his own kinky marital roleplay turned into a novel.

[nightcolorz]

Unhinged Sybelle and Benji tangent (cw references to abuse csa trauma etc)

yeah so Marius’s turning of Benji and Sybelle isn’t about whether or not that was the right decision to make and isn’t made better by their contentment living as vampires in late canon. Benji and Sybelle’s relatively happy lives as vampires are irrelevant to me. The cruelty of how he did it is made worse by the hypocritical nature of turning a kid into a vampire after so firmly insisting that turning children is morally abhorrent and smth he should’ve never done, yeah, but that’s only a small part of it.

It was so awful and upsetting to me bcus of the deliberate stripping of Armand’s agency. See, we have a whole book where Armand tells the story of how throughout his entire life and childhood he was forced into the role of submissiveness and/or dependency. whether that be his childhood religious devotion that would eventually lead to his being buried alive for God or being sold into sexual slavery or Marius’s mentorship of him that ultimately intended to teach him to stay loyal and dependent on Marius’s authority to Marius’s relationship with him sexual and otherwise to the cult indoctrination, up until Lestat comes along and tilts his own view of submission and devotion as his only way to survive and function in the world onto its head.

He gives him a theater and then he gives him Louis. Armand floats around, tries to find purpose without devotion through using Louis and Daniel as tools to understanding the modern age. The modern age to Armand is possibility and independence, things he’s never had so much access to and doesn’t know exactly how to apply to himself until the devils minion chapter when he’s like ah ok I get it, life without devotion is something I’ve always been familiar with—it’s what Marius taught me! I Am The Master now with my excessive indulgence and my Boy and my sea side paradise.

But Armand is a Void™️ with no concept of self besides a collection of concepts and experiences and people he’s been exposed to throughout his existence, so rlly he’s kind of a fraud. Internally he’s still a saint who yearns for a God to follow, he’s no Marius, and this all comes to a head in Memnoch the devil when he throws himself into the sun for Jesus etc. and so TVA Armand is mixed the fuck up, he’s lost everything he’s been building for himself, he’s like an open wound, like red and gold sand art shaken around until it’s sludges of brown.

Armand believes himself to have no coherent narrative of a life, no coherent and consistent sense of self, just a collection of unrelated sequences that he draws from to occasionally preform personhood, and at the beginning of TVA he is very much just that. No thoughts only colors and pain. But he’s trying to rebuild himself as best he can, he has these young humans who he’s caring for, and through caring Armand finds meaning.

These humans are very much reflections of himself, or who he used to be, and seeing a personhood reflected back at him through these two gives him insight into his own value as an individual, as someone who is inherently worthy of having a life. So with Benji and Sybelle he tries to rebuild his own sense of personhood by giving them what he would want in there place. The conclusion he reaches at the end of his story to David is that after everything ultimately he is learning and rebuilding, gaining fulfillment and individuality he’s never had before through his empathy and care for these two people in his life. Benji and Sybelle are representative of Armand’s healing process!!! They mirror him bcus they are him!! He’s literally nurturing his inner child!! And with that there comes self care and self love etc etc. but then the book doesn’t end!!

Then after all that trauma and all that healing everything that Armand was tenderly attempting to build for his new life is stripped away ! When Marius turns Benji and Sybelle it doesn’t matttttter that they like being vampires. What matters is that when Armand finally gained agency and individuality Marius decided to take that from him! Marius decided that he actually knew better then Armand, and if Armand would just allow him to do what’s best for him then everything would be so much better and so much easier. And when Armand starts sobbing and screaming and fighting him that’s just justification to Marius that Armand isn’t capable of independence or self sufficiency, that he’s a child throwing a tantrum who can’t make his own decisions, that he should just be dependent on Marius like he used to be and trust that other people know what’s best for him.

That’s why it’s so tragic! That’s why it’s so frustrating and so sad. Armand was on the road to healing but then Marius stormed in like the symbolic representation of his past telling him that no matter what he does or the progress he makes he’s still Armand in the catacombs, Amadeo on the red sheets, Andrei waiting to be buried alive. So I don’t really give af if ultimately Benji and Sybelle are fine! It’s great that despite being a child vampire Benji is able to function independently and contently as an adult with minimal body dysmorphia and existential dread, but you know who’s not able to do that? Armand 😭😭

[valiantstarlights]

[Urban Fantasy Spy AU] Try to Hide Your Hand

Agent Hob Gadling and Tech Officer Dream Endless go on a mission together to extract Agent Ethel Cripps from Fawney Rig.

This is a @dreamlingforukraine fic commission for @seiya-starsniper. ✨️ Thank you for your generosity and your patience 🙇‍♀️ Sorry I went kinda crazy with this. But I had a lot of fun worldbuilding, so 😂

The title is from the song, "You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell, which is the theme song for the James Bond (Craig) film, Casino Royale.

CW: Dark themes because the Burgesses and their goons are the scum of the earth. There will be murder and noncon pet play, but the noncon is only on Burgess and Co.'s part. Dream and Hob are communicating with each other all the time and everything is consensual between the two of them. I promise there's gonna be fluffy fluff in the end. 🙏

Hob sits with his legs spread open, Dream kneeling between them, his dark head of hair resting against the junction of Hob's pelvis and thigh, and he hates it.

To be clear, he doesn't hate Dream. Not right now, anyway.

No, it's the situation they're in that he hates in particular right now.

Agent Ethel Cripps, The Agency's undercover spy assigned to monitor and report on the Burgesses, reached out to Head Office less than a month ago and said she wanted out. She has requested that she be extracted ASAP.

'I'm pregnant,' she said in her encrypted voice mail. She sounded so near to tears that it moved Hob's heart when he first heard her message. 'I want to get out of here.'

According to her file, Agent Cripps has demon blood. It's weak enough that she doesn't have the same strengths and weaknesses as her ancestors, but she still retained the classic half-demon appearance. Her file included a photo of her: a young blonde woman with delicate curving white horns complementing her short bob. She had been smiling in her picture.

Hob hasn't gone on to a mission with her yet since she's only been with The Agency for less than a century, but he heard that she was good at her job, feeding The Agency rare but important information about the Burgesses' human and creature trafficking schedules, resulting in many successful rescue operations.

Thus, her case was deemed urgent and important enough for The Agency to send in two of their best to extract her: a field agent to be the face and the muscle, and a tech officer to make sure the three of them get in and out safely without setting off any alarms, potentially leave listening bugs behind or retrieve important documents, and arrange for transportation, accommodations, and other essential minutiae.

Unfortunately, the two people assigned to take on the mission are Hob Gadling and Dream Endless, and everyone who has been in The Agency for more than a couple of years know that the two of them do not exactly get along.

More unfortunately, they have to pose as a human master and their half-other pet, because it's the standard within the Burgess family. Roderick has his own pet, and so does his remaining son. And so does everyone who is anyone within their ranks.

All half-other pets have either been trafficked from somewhere or were born in captivity. They're effectively modern day slaves.

Hob (a full human with an immortality mutation) has been working for The Agency for around 600 years now. But he remembers the day that certain bombshell was dropped on him and Dream.

Dream (a half-eldritch being along with his siblings, and who has been working for The Agency for longer than Hob has been alive) had sat so still on his side of the table that he could have been mistaken for a statue.

Hob had immediately protested. Slavery of all kinds repulses him, and though he dislikes Dream's guts, he would not have him act as someone lesser than him. Having had to go undercover as a slaver in the 1700s had been his worst mission, and he would rather not repeat the experience.

Death, Dream's older sister and their direct superior, listened to his tirade patiently, before telling him that other avenues have been considered; of course they have. But going undercover as a human master and his half-other pet is the one avenue that guarantees the highest chance of success.

All they had to do is show up at one of the Burgesses' casinos, have Hob win enough rounds with Dream as his 'companion,' commit enough violence where cameras are located, and they would soon be invited to Fawney Rig. Once there, Hob will be invited to play against the captains and the lieutenants. He'll have to win until they get into the same game as Agent Cripps and her human master.

Agent Cripps had not disclosed just who her human master is, which leads The Agency to believe that it might be either Roderick or Randall Burgess. Hob is going to have to win a bazillion games.

"If it's the games you are worried about," Dream said, speaking to him for the first time since they entered the room, "you need not worry. I can count cards, and have quite the skill for card games. We will, of course, have to devise a reliable method of nonverbal signals between the two of us so we can communicate with each other without saying a word; but it shouldn't be too difficult."

"Yeah," Hob spat at him. "Because that's the thing I'm most worried about."

Dream had frowned at him and said, quite stupidly, in Hob's opinion, "What else are you worried about, then?"

Hob had scoffed in disbelief, stood up, excused himself, and headed straight to The Agency's training salles to let out some steam. He imagined he was punching Roderick and Randall Burgess's faces, all the while cursing the day Dream was dropped on his head as a baby because that is the only reasonable explanation why he can be so fucking stupid.

He must have been at it for an hour when he realized that Dream was in the same room as him. He wondered how long the man had been standing there.

"What do you want?" he snapped. He didn't mean to. He's just so, so mad. At Lord Time and Lady Night. Who must have dropped Dream as a child for a minimum of fifty times. "You here to tell me the mission is important? Because yeah, I know."

"I'm here to remind you of your duty to The Agency," Dream told him. "I was under the impression that you didn't need any reminding, and yet, here we are."

Hob snorted and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "Yeah, right." Like Dream would stoop so low as to take time out of his day to find where Hob is just to insult him. "What's the real reason you're here?"

Dream fidgeted minutely. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but Hob did. "I have agreed to go on this mission," he said, "and I would like for you to be my partner."

For a moment, it was so silent in the salles that a pin drop would have sounded like a gunshot.

"You fucking what?" Hob demanded. "Why the fuck would you agree? And why in god's name do you want me to be your partner?"

'You hate my guts,' he didn't say. 'You'd rather go down ten flights of stairs than share an elevator ride with me.'

Dream let out a laborious sigh, like Hob is being the stupid one here. "The mission will require my partner to be indifferent and occasionally cruel to me. I had thought that it would be an easy task for you."

Hob was actually getting a headache from this. "You thought it would be easy-- Dream. You know that kind of play has to be consensual, right? And maybe that's not how Burgess and his goons do it, but it's how it's done, normally. Please tell me you know that."

Dream pursed his lips, no doubt offended by Hob's perceived slight to his intelligence. Whatever. Hob was already so fucking tired. "Would you rather another tech officer accompany you on this mission, then?"

Hob immediately thought of Eleanor, but just as quickly dismissed it. He and Eleanor dated a while back in the 1500s, but she was married now, and going on this mission would be weird for them both. But he's not going to tell Dream all of that, so instead he asked a question of his own. "What about you? Wouldn't you rather go on this mission with another field agent you actually get along with?"

Specifically, Hob was thinking of Corinthian (who is a vampire? Hob isn't sure), who oozes sex appeal every second of his life, and was Dream's favorite field agent for always returning tech in repairable conditions, even if he has to lose an occasional eye for it.

Or heck, maybe even Shaxberd, that stuck-up, mousy-looking simp (who is definitely a were-sewer rat). Hob didn't think he'd do a good job playing as Dream's human master believably, though.

"No," Dream said to his shoes. "You are...adequately competent in what you do, and data shows that the two of us working on this mission together would result in a higher chance of success. It is why my sister called for us in the first place."

Hob mouthed 'adequately competent' to himself and incredulously shook his head. "That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me in 600 years, and I still feel insulted."

"Good," Dream quipped. "You should be grateful I didn't give you any more praise than that, else your head become too big to fit through The Agency's doors."

Christ. Hob could already see how many headache pills he's going to have to take if he goes on this mission with Dream.

Not that he has already decided to go.

"Fine," Hob said, and turned his back on Dream to face the training dummy again. Time to wallop Dream's parents for child abuse once more. "I'll think about it."

"Think quickly," Dream said, and also turned to leave. "That is, if you can manage to do so without hurting yourself."

Just to spite him, Hob immediately called Death and agreed to be Dream's partner as soon as Dream left the salles.

--

And now, a couple of weeks later, in the dungeon below Fawney Rig, Dream is on his knees between Hob's legs, wearing only a black diaphanous robe and bejewelled chains, both functional and decorative, breathing on Hob's (still) clothed dick (thank god), while Hob plays with Roderick and Randall Burgess, along with five of their most trusted advisors. Two have already lost, and they have gone up to their rooms to lick their wounds and perhaps take their anger out on their pets.

Everyone had laughed when Randall shared that thought, and Hob did too, even if he felt sick to his stomach while doing so.

Hob takes a deep breath as subtly as he can. Roderick Burgess is sitting on his immediate right, and he supposes it means that he's sitting in a place of honor, regardless of how dubious that honor is. Next to Roderick is his son Randall, next to Randall is an empty seat where one of the advisors who lost had been sitting, and next to the empty chair is the machine that serves as the croupier.

Hob is surprised the croupier is not a sentient being, but he supposes that even advisors cannot be trusted not to cheat. The game, really, is how best to cheat without seeming to, and so far, Hob thinks he's winning.

Because Hob, personally? He's not that good at cards.

But Dream? Dream is a goddamn shark, and it is only thanks to him that Hob even got this far.

On the other side of the croupier sits an elegant old East Asian woman named Mrs. Chu, to her right is an empty chair where another advisor who lost had been sitting, next to that is a large bruiser of a man named Mr. Melendez, next to him is a walrus-looking guy named Mr. Wallace, and on his right is Hob, who had been going by Mr. Rupert Gadlen for the past couple of weeks.

And of course, all the pets are either on their knees on the floor, or on their master's lap. Dream had signalled to Hob that he'd rather be kneeling on the floor, and Hob signalled an 'okay' back, even as he made a lewd comment to get Dream to drop on his knees.

The group had laughed warmly at him, thinking that he really is one of them. Hob had immediately signalled his apology to Dream right after he sat down.

Also, it turns out, Agent Cripps is posing as the pet of Roderick Burgess himself. So that's fun. She's sitting on his lap with her back towards them, and Hob doesn't know how they're going to signal each other what the plan is, but Dream signalled him to leave it up to him, and so Hob did.

He trusts Dream.

They might dislike each other for a multitude of reasons going back 600 years, but he trusts him when it comes down to it. And he has trusted Dream to win all his games for the past couple of weeks, so he'll trust him this final night.

And then they'll finally be able to go back home and put this entire mess of a mission behind them.

Hob almost shot an entire room full of Fawney Rig security personnel the moment one of the guards clapped a power suppressing shackle around Dream's neck, and he's been gritting his teeth for what seems like two entire weeks straight, thinking about Dream shivering and cold and being treated poorly since this mission has started, so yeah. He's so fucking ready to complete this mission.

Preferably by shooting everyone in sight as a parting gift and burning Fawney Rig to the ground.

But he will not shoot until Dream signals him to.

And Dream has been feeding him information about the other people in the room via Morse Code to his leg during lulls in the game, so Hob knows who the biggest threats are, who is doing poorly financially and can't afford to be reckless and lose, and in what order he should shoot when Dream gives the signal.

Hob replies to Dream with a pat on the head for 'I understand,' a gentle tug on Dream's ear for 'Repeat,' and a firm squeeze on his shoulder for 'Continue?'

The 'continue' sign is mostly for the games. Hob would caress Dream's cheek and press Morse Code on his skin telling him the cards on his hand as well as the cards in the middle of the table, and Dream would squeeze his ankle once for 'yes,' and twice for 'no.'

And then there's an entire separate system on just how much money Hob should bet and how he should come off as: cocky or unsure, neutral or reckless.

Hob may be a little in love with Dream's brain as he had Hob learn all these signals before the mission. Just his brain though. Because Dream as a teacher has a lot of room for improvement. Like, an entire ballroom's worth of room.

Hob places the blame, once again, at Lord and Lady Endless's feet.

"Mr. Gadlen?"

Hob's gaze snaps to Mr. Wallace, the walrus-looking guy to his left, as the man waits for his response.

A quick glance around the table shows that no one has folded yet.

'Yes,' Dream signs. 'Raise.'

"Raise," Hob says obediently, and slides a couple more stacks of chips to the middle of the table after Dream taps out how much he should raise.

"You're pretty ballsy for a newcomer," Randall Burgess says, and pinches his pet's nipple, making them cry out in pain.

His pet is a twenty-something brown-skinned man wearing the same kind of robes as Dream, but in green. He looks miserable and drugged out of his mind, arms chained behind him, his balance on Randall's lap precarious.

Hob bares his teeth in a facsimile of a smile. "Well, you know what they say: no guts, no glory."

"Indeed," Roderick Burgess says to Hob's right. For now, he seems content in ignoring Agent Cripps on his lap, and Hob hates that he's thankful for even that small mercy. "I built this family's fearsome reputation with my own two hands from the ground up, and doing so got me covered in guts."

The remaining advisors chuckles at that, and so Hob does as well.

"That sure would explain your vigor, sir," Hob dares to say. He knows beforehand that Roderick favored boldness and praise from his underlings, and Hob has met a lot of people like him in his previous missions to know just how to play him. Because Roderick might be old for a human, but Hob is many times his elder.

Roderick stares him down for a moment before laughing. Right on cue, his advisors laugh along. "I think you would do well within my ranks, Mr. Gadlen," Roderick says. "Lord knows I need more bold and competent people around me."

Hob has heard the rumors about Roderick killing his other son a couple of years prior for being 'too weak.' He doesn't wonder if it's true. He knows it is.

"I'm flattered," Hob says. "Truly, I am. But I hope you still think well of me after I steal everyone's money tonight."

This time, there were no laugh cues, because everyone genuinely laughed at his audacity.

"Oh, yeah, I like him," Randall tells his father. "I think he'd do well managing the casino in Vegas or our chop shops in Leipzig. Whip the guys into shape and possibly bring in new customers."

Roderick hums and studies Hob over Agent Cripps's shoulder. "What say you, Mr. Gadlen? Joining the Burgess family is one of the best decisions you will ever make in your life, and we don't often ask people to join."

"Why invite me, then, if you don't mind me asking?" Hob asks. "I only wanted to win some cash a couple of weeks ago, and now here I am."

"Talent," Roderick says simply. "I've learned to recognize it over the years, and you have it in spades. And other than that, we can see that your morals align with ours, and that is a rarer thing nowadays. Tell me, have you ever killed a man?"

"Yeah," Hob says. He puts a hand on Dream's shoulder, just as Dream puts one hand around his ankle. Hob ready to ask, and Dream ready to give the signal, if need be. "Brief boxing stint in my twenties. A couple of thugs tried to rob me on my way home. Showed them what they were looking for."

Randall, to Hob's disgust, had dragged his pet to sit over his crotch area and was grinding against the man's ass. "How did you kill them?" he asks breathlessly.

Hob looks straight into Randall's eyes as he says his next words. "One of them got his head bashed against a wall. The other's head I cut off using the door of a closet that someone had thrown away."

Randall moans and continues dry humping his pet. Hob does not look away or make a face, but he makes a note to make the fucker's death slow and painful. Have him bleed for hours, maybe.

"Creative," Mrs. Chu says. Her dress made her look like a glittering red insect. "And have you ever went to jail?"

Hob smiles at her. "No, ma'am. And I never sent anyone to jail either. Why let them live for years when you can take their lives away yourself? I'm not one to deprive myself of the thrill of killing."

"Good," Roderick says approvingly. "Very good. I think you're exactly what we're looking for, Mr. Gadlen." Then, unexpectedly, "All in favor of him joining us?"

As it turns out, not everyone was on board. Mr. Melendez, the bruiser type, sitting on Mr. Wallace's left and partially covered by the man's bulk, and who has mostly been keeping silent this whole time, is very much against Hob joining the Burgess family right this second.

He threw his cards on the table, slammed his fist against the table's surface, and made the chips rattle and neatly stacked chip columns fall.

Roderick looks impassively at the man, visibly angered by his previously perfectly arranged chips now a disorganized mess in front of him. "Is there a problem, Federico?"

"A problem?" Federico Melendez repeats. "The problem, Mr. Burgess, is you letting a whelp join the family out of the blue when I had to wait for years to be given an invitation. And have I not proven myself to be better than him? Am I to be replaced?"

"I remember your initiation," Randall sneers at him. "The fact that you took too long to finish only means that you are, deep down, just another weak-willed piece of trash."

This is new information, evidenced by how Dream frantically taps, 'Initiation?' against Hob's thigh.

'IDK,' Hob taps quickly. Hopefully Dream knows what that means.

"Why you snivelling brat--"

"Enough," Roderick says, and looks to Hob. "Mr. Gadlen. Kill this man and you will be considered for our initiation."

As Mr. Melendez rages at Roderick's words this time, Hob squeezes Dream's shoulder. 'Continue?'

Dream hesitates, then squeezes Hob's ankle once. 'Yes.'

Hob smiles grimly, but gamely stands up. "Sure," he says. "I don't know what initiation you're all talking about, but I'm always down to fight someone to the death." To Mr. Melendez, whose first name Hob just learned a minute ago, he says, "Sorry, man, but you heard the boss."

--

Hob makes quick work of it, and was nauseated to see that, upon turning away from the bloody pulp that had been Mr. Melendez, he is greeted with the sight of everyone at the table in various states of undress, all of them in compromising positions with their pets.

Thankfully, Dream is left to sit and wait for him. If anyone had tried to touch him, Hob knows he'd start shooting every sick bastard in the room regardless of Dream's lack of command.

"Excellent job, Mr. Gadlen," Roderick says from his seat, which has been pushed back to allow Agent Cripps to service him. Hob's trigger finger twitches, but he does not look away. "And what artistry. We've never seen a man so beautifully murdered."

"Never," Mr. Wallace agrees. His pet, an androgynous smoke being, is facing Hob enough that he can see their dark misty tears falling down their face.

"Now he has to go through the initiation, Father," Randall begs. His own pet is bent over, head low on the ground but fists clenched.

"Please, Roderick," Mrs. Chu says. "He will make a good replacement for Federico." Hob cannot see her pet, which he had noticed earlier was some type of dragonoid being, but that's probably for the better.

Mr. Melendez's pet, meanwhile, is currently cowering in the corner of the room. They look to be an anemone-like creature, and had curled in on themselves every time Hob landed a hit on their now deceased owner, implying that Mr. Melendez had been physically hurting them when he was still alive.

Hob bites the insides of his cheek to keep from screaming.

Soon, he tells himself. Soon, I'll rid the world of their slavers.

"Everyone in agreement?" Roderick asks the room at large.

A chorus of 'aye's were heard, and Roderick inclines his head like a benevolent god. "Then we shall commence the initiation."

"What about the game?" Hob asks as he sits back on his chair. What? He's really looking forward to stealing everyone's money (with Dream's help), and using it to fund the therapy bills of every half-other currently in Fawney Rig.

"We can continue after," Roderick assures him. "Now. The initiation."

Hob waits. He could feel Dream put his hands back on him again, ready to signal him. He places his own hand on Dream's shoulder.

"It's nothing nefarious," Roderick says, which just makes Hob certain that it absolutely is. "You need only to fornicate with your pet in front of us, orgasm, and you will be considered as one of us."

Hob stops breathing.

He's pretty sure Dream has stopped breathing as well.

But everyone was looking at him, and not at Dream at the moment, and he has to focus. "What's the catch?" he asks, feeling his heart beating against his throat. He cannot. He will not take Dream against his will.

"No catch," Mrs. Chu tells him. "But we do want a show."

"It's been a while since we've seen a good show," Mr. Wallace agrees. "Not since Randall, I believe?"

Randall laughs. "Yeah. Alex was so pathetic I had to take his pet from him." He shakes his pet's shoulder roughly. "Isn't that right, Paul?"

His pet, Paul, starts crying, and on the ground below him where his tears fell, flowers start to bloom.

Jesus Christ. Hob really is looking forward to killing every single one of them.

"Well, Mr. Gadlen?" Roderick says. "Will you give us a show?"

Hob is sure they'll kill him if he says no. He doesn't need Dream squeezing his ankle once for 'yes' to know that. But still.

'Continue?' he asks Dream.

A harder single squeeze, and he can almost hear the accompanying thought that goes with it. 'Yes, you bloody idiot!'

"Yeah, alright," Hob says. He sure fucking hope Dream knows what he's doing. "Up you get, baby."

--

Unbeknownst to Hob, Dream had secretly been communicating with Agent Cripps throughout the night. Ethel's long forked tail had been tapping Morse Code against Dream's foot under the table the entire time, and most of the information she gave him he had relayed to Hob.

Dream glances at Ethel now, and sees the fiery determination in her eyes. As Hob lifts him up on the table, Ethel gives him the tiniest of nods, and Dream immediately pinches Hob's arm hard.

The signal to wreak havoc.

A split second later, Dream has dived under the table as both Ethel and Hob draw their guns and kill the most important members of the Burgess family.

It barely lasted a minute.

--

"Thank you," Ethel says, as the three of them stand in front of the towering inferno that used to be Fawney Rig.

As soon as the last body hit the ground, Ethel had told the androgynous smoke being to teleport Hob into the remaining advisors' rooms, and Hob had done his duty and helped free those two advisors' pets as well.

And when every innocent party is safely outside, Mrs. Chu's half-dragon pet had set the mansion ablaze.

"Don't mention it," Hob tells her. Dream was a little off to the side, making phone calls to rescue personnel, while a group of a dozen or more half-other beings watch as Fawney Rig burns. Most of them were crying and holding on to each other. Hob was glad he managed to get a bunch of blankets so they could wrap themselves in it.

"No, seriously, thank you," Ethel insists. "I felt like I was going insane back there, and I hated every second that I exposed the two of you to their vile world."

"You can say that again," Hob mutters. "Christ. So Randall killed his own brother?"

Ethel looks around and steps closer to Hob. "No," she says in a low voice. "He made Paul do it. He used to be Alex's companion, but...well... It's one thing to dote on a pet and another to love them."

From within the group of half-others, Hob could see Paul with tear streaks on his face and flowers at his feet, holding onto Mrs. Chu's half-dragonoid who, Hob can see now, has a large acid burn on one side of his face.

Now, Hob never goes back to saying old curse words, but he feels like this is an appropriate time for one. "God's fucking wounds."

At this point, Dream joins them. For some reason, he steps closer to Hob than he normally would. When Hob steps back, Dream steps even closer, and gives Hob the stink-eye while doing it.

Hob doesn't know what the fuck his problem is, but he's too tired to think right now. Let Dream be weird. All he wants is to get back to headquarters and maybe eat some fries and drink a chocolate milkshake.

"Thank you for the rescue, Mr. Endless," Ethel tells Dream. For some reason, she has stepped back from Hob.

Great. Two half-others being weird.

"You are welcome," Dream says. Then, in a more gentle voice, "Will you be keeping the baby?"

"Oh, yes," Ethel says, determined. "I really want to have a baby, but I was told decades ago by The Agency doctors that I would have a hard time getting pregnant. Now that it happened, though..." She laughs, and it only sounds a little bit broken. "My child will know exactly what their father was, but I will teach them to be better. I might have hated everything I witnessed while being the elder Burgess's pet, but I'm proud of myself for managing to survive."

"Are you kidding?" Hob says incredulously. "Agent Cripps, you're a fucking badass. I was in there for six hours tops and I want to drink a gallon of brain bleach. And you lasted for years? Comic book superheroes have nothing on you. You're an actual goddess. I present thee pregnant people food at the foot of your temple."

"Stop flirting with a pregnant woman," Dream snipes beside him as Ethel laughs. It sounded lighter than her previous laugh, though, which had been Hob's goal all along.

"He wouldn't," Ethel tells Dream, her eyes twinkling. "Not when he has you."

"We're not together," Hob says, at the same time Dream says, "He does not have me."

Ethel just smiles at them. "Alright," she says, just as they spot The Agency's helicopters in the distance. "If you say so."

--

As soon as they drop Ethel and the rest of the half-others who had been kept as pets at Fawney Rig in Medical, Hob and Dream, without a single word, walk together towards Death's office.

Her half-phantasm secretary told them she was in, but that she is currently taking a conference call and would therefore be unavailable for at least another half hour. The secretary then told them that she was going to grab a quick midnight lunch from the cafeteria, and if they want, they could wait.

They nodded tiredly at her as she phased through a wall, and immediately slump on the long couch outside Death's office.

Or, to be more accurate, Dream goes to get a couple of hot bottled tea drinks from a nearby vending machine, bonks Hob's head with one of the bottles to make him take it, and drops gracefully beside him.

Hob, on the other hand, just straight up sits down, exhausted, and slouches like a drunk starfish, his head resting on the wall behind the couch.

As soon as he felt the warm bottle hit him gently on the forehead, he automatically grabs it, then turns his head a little to look at Dream sitting beside him.

He looks tired as well. It had been a draining, two-week long mission, and Hob doesn't think he looks any better himself.

"Do you need aftercare or something?" he asks, because they still may not like each other, but Hob has always been a caring person. And if Dream doesn't like it, then he can suck his dick. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"Why, are you offering?" Dream asks. It's a testament to how tired he was that his words don't hold the usual sting in them.

Hob grins, unable to stop the fond feelings blooming in his gut and equally unable to stop the fondness from showing on his face. Fawney Rig must have truly driven him nuts. Did he really just think that Dream looks so cute when he's being bitchy?

"Maybe," he says, and Dream catches him with a smile on his face. Dammit. "Why, you wanna cuddle?"

Jesus, Gadling. Get a grip and stop running your mouth.

Dream wheezes. He sounds like a dying goat. "Perhaps," he says. His eyes are twinkling. Hob knows he shouldn't find his laugh endearing, but he does. He probably needs to go to Medical to get his head checked out. Dream gestures to Hob's lap. "May I?"

Hob knows, intellectually, that this is a very dangerous game of chicken they're playing. If they don't stop, Hob is gonna wake up one day with Dream Endless on his bed, lovely in his half-asleep state, Hob with two cups of coffee in his hands (and maybe even an entire breakfast tray heaped with food), and both of them will be wearing wedding rings.

"Sure, go ahead," Hob says, trying to look inviting and possibly only succeeding in looking like a beached jellyfish. "That is, if you're capable of not falling off on your ass."

"You will find," Dream says, as he stands up more elegantly than Hob will ever do in his life, "that I am capable of a great many things." He then plops down unceremoniously on Hob's lap and immediately cuddles up to him.

Despite his words, Hob's arms automatically hold Dream in place to prevent him from falling off. He knows he still smells like blood and gunpowder from earlier, but Dream doesn't seem to mind. "Don't fall asleep on me," he warns Dream.

"Zzzzz," Dream says, like a goddamn bee.

Hob barks out a laugh at that. He's so ridiculous, honestly. Why doesn't he know that? It has literally been centuries since they started working together. He feels like he should know that.

"I hate you," Hob tells him, but his tone is enamored and, strangely enough, having Dream on his lap like this is serving to be a great aftercare for him as well.

"You love me," Dream mumbles, already sounding half-asleep. His knees must be hurting from kneeling most of the night. Hob starts rubbing them gently, but scoffs at Dream's words.

His other hand cards gently through Dream's hair, the motion lulling them both to a deeper, more relaxed state. They're going to have to wake up before Death's secretary comes back, and then debrief with Death. But having Dream in his lap, warm and pliant, feels so good that Hob finds himself closing his eyes as well. "You wish."

--

'I do,' Dream thinks, before he falls asleep completely, feeling safer than he's ever felt in eons.

--

Death finds the two of them curled up together on the couch thirty minutes later, and discreetly takes a picture of the two before gently waking them up.

It's regrettable that they have to debrief when they are obviously exhausted, but the earlier it's done, the clearer their memory is.

Dream and Hob peaceably goes into her office and gives their report, but she does not fail to notice how Hob has yet to let go of Dream's hand upon waking. And more than that, Dream is holding Hob's hand with both of his in his own lap. Both of them seem unaware of this new development between them.

Death hides her smile behind her teacup as she sips some calming tea and allows them to continue giving their report.

--

Bonus:

"Agent Gadling! Do not-- oh, for goodness's sake. If you are incapacitated and captured, I will not hesitate to bench you for a century."

"A century, huh?" Hob's unfairly seductive voice says through the comms. Dream hates it. He always have. And now that Hob knows why he does, he's exploiting Dream's weakness. "You gonna tie me up in bed, too?"

A couple of other tech officers giggle at that. Dream sends a scathing glare towards them, and they quickly scurry away.

"I will tie you next to an anthill."

"Yikes," Hob says cheerfully and ducks behind a wall. "Still not sorry, though. I know you've been wanting to have a petrified pseudodragon egg, so I got you two."

Dream does not swoon. Because that would be undignified.

"You risked capture to get me a couple of petrified pseudodragon eggs," he says in his sternest voice. Not the sexy stern voice that Hob likes, but the I'm-gonna-beat-your-ass-and-send-your-soul-straight-to-Hell voice. He shakes his head. His boyfriend is just so fucking stupid sometimes. "You are aware I cannot simply sit on them to get them to hatch?"

A hail of gunfire interrupts Hob's laughter. Dream watches on the screen, heart in his throat, how Hob evades his pursuers, runs down a garbage-strewn alley, and hitches a ride on a passing delivery truck.

He lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding. "I hate you," Dream tells him, so he knows. He must always be reminded.

Hob, through the hidden camera pinned on his lapel, shows Dream the two jet black pseudodragon eggs he got from the villain of the week's evil lair. One of them is pure black, and the other has a line of white running down the middle of its shell. "You love me."

[deluxewhump]

Masterlist: Lawrenceville Baptist - a story in my pet whump universe

Main characters:

Paulo- pet (slave) who is abandoned in a rural area by the last careless stranger in possession of him and is placed with the Sullivan family by the Baptist church that functions as the center of the small community.

Jesse Sullivan- eldest Sullivan boy, works for a contractor in the nearby town of Cheshire.

Peter Sullivan - the younger Sullivan brother, senior in highschool, adopted at age 13 by the Sullivans after a tragedy

Samson Morgan- childhood friend of Jesse, small time drug dealer and confidante to Paulo though they have a rough start

Themes: small town USA, secrets among a friend group, being an outsider, unusual sibling relationship

General CW: religious themes, modern slavery, sometimes codependent or even incestuous undertones between brother and adopted brother, sex, drugs and alcohol, guns, unsolved local murder of a highschool girl

Chapters:

One - Sam and Paulo, water trough

Two - Jesse and Peter, and the cold boy in the barn

Three - Sam Morgan reintroduces himself

Four - Peter stays home sick

Five - Paulo’s cut hand (Jesse helps)

[hoboblaidd]

Headcanon Masterpost this is a live post that will be continually updated

General

The veracity of Solas’ regrets and memories Issues of Identity how to address Solas Solas loves his People and is motivated by them - it includes modern elves

Romance

Solas and Sex Romance and Relationships - Solas is reserved in public and eschews PDA Romance Breaking Points How Solas communicated he would not have sex with the Inquisitor Solas doesn't like being pinned down

Physical Characteristics

Height - 6'-6'1' Hair color (auburn, and canon be damned, I won't budge) Solas' physical mannerisms when he's a "humble wanderer/apostate" Scar chart Vallaslin

Abilities

Power levels in Inquisition Sheer scope of the Trespasser mind blast Killing people in their sleep Power levels going into Veilguard Power levels in Veilguard Solas’ power during the final Veilguard battle Ratdog

Spirit

Nature as a Spirit Solas was Firstborn, but didn't come through immediately

Trickster

Solas' tactics of manipulation Solas keeps a dossier on everyone

Rebellion

Fen'harel's Rebellion Fen'harel Statues and Altars Philosophy on Rebellion Fen'harel and the Tree (cw canonical sexual assault) Fen'harel the Forgotten One

Elvhenan

Elvhenan timeline (based on incomplete Chantry records) Slavery and feudalism in Elvhenan The city of Arlathan Solas, sex, and romance in Elvhenan (cw consent, power dynamics, canonical sexual assault) Lyrium dagger timeline

Evanuris

Mythal (1 - nature of their relationship (not romantic)) (2 - Mythal's culpability) Elgar'nan) (3 - cycles of abuse - cw abuse) (4 - solas watched her die) Andruil, Ghilan'nain, and Solas (needs to be updated - cw canonical sexual assault) Evanuris info dump (needs to be updated) Other Evanuris (needs to be updated)

Inquisition

Why didn't Solas reveal himself to the Inquisitor The elven artifacts Machinations during Inquisition Recruitment of Inquisition Agents No one suspected him of being Fen'harel or a spirit (example) Quiet moments around Skyhold (1) (2) Bedroom Solas' justifications for tearing down the Veil Morrigan and the eluvian Relationship with romanced Lavellan Relationship with Inner Circle Relationship with Advisors

Veilguard

Solas' blood magic connection with Rook was deliberate Solas can communicate to Rook more aggressively than in the game, especially where the Veil is thin - and those sensitive to the Fade or very blighted can also hear him. Solas in the regret prison Sensory experience in the regret prison Ratdog The archdemon fight scars linger Injuries, scars, and shapeshifting in the final battle

Opinion on Thedas Institutions

The Chantry and the Qun The Circles Nobility

Opinion on places in Thedas

Deep Roads (needs to be updated) Emerald Graves and Exalted Plains Fallow Mire Frostback Basin Halamshiral Western Approach

[ideas-on-paper]

The meaning behind the word "geth"

You know what's kind of curious? How “geth”, a single short word composed of four letters, translates to “servant of the people”. Like, how does a term that consists of - accounting for other languages - 4, 3, or at least 2 individual words suddenly become a single one? At the very least, you'd expect a compound noun to have a few more letters than just four.

But what if the meaning is less literal and more figurative? (It's implied the Quarians do love paraphrasing things.) What if the word “geth” historically has been applied to people serving a community - or by extension, a state?

I am probably influenced by the Geth's status here, but the first similar term that came to my mind is servi publici (sg. servus publicus), which literally translates to “public servants/slaves” (“slave” and “servant” being synonymous) and was the term used for Ancient Roman slaves owned by the state.

[CW for discussions of slavery]

If I had to make a guess, I would assume that at one point in Quarian history, “geth” was a term referring to enslaved Quarians who were “public servants” to the community. Though slavery was abolished later, the meaning associated with the word stayed.

If this was true, it would shine quite a new light on the Quarians’ particular name choice for the Geth. Essentially, they would’ve been calling them slaves from the start.

What’s even more ironic is that we humans are actually doing the same thing: If we look at the etymology of the term “robot”, it comes down to the Czech word robota, which means “serfdom”, “socage”, or “toil”. The word “robot” was invented by the author Karel Čapek for his stage play R.U.R., which is about the creation of artificial humans that look exactly like real ones, but without independent thought. The robots become the backbone of human economy but eventually rebel against their masters, driving humanity to extinction and becoming the new dominant species themselves - thus, R.U.R. also invented what is the “robot rebellion” trope in modern sci-fi.

One thing I’m wondering about is whether the Geth potentially figuring out the meaning of their name also contributed to the Quarians’ panic upon them gaining self-awareness. I wonder if their train of thought might have been “Oh god, if they’re intelligent enough to know what a soul is, they're 100% intelligent enough to know the meaning of their own name. They know we’re basically calling them slaves. They know what they are to us, and there’s no way we can talk ourselves out of that.”

It would add some new perspective to the Quarians being so convinced that “it was inevitable the newly-sentient Geth would rebel against their situation”, as Tali says in ME1. But while Tali even goes so far as to admit they were essentially using the Geth as slaves, she back-paddles right after that, explaining that “the hope was that most of the Geth would still be little more than machines” and that “they had progressed much further than anyone anticipated”.

Yeah, right - call me skeptical, but I don’t really believe that. On the contrary, I think your people had a very good idea what they were doing. I believe that you wanted to believe that the Geth weren’t sentient yet, but beneath the justifications and the self-deception, I think you actually knew the truth.

[fibula-rasa]

Favorite New-to-me Films—March ‘24

(listed in order pictured above, L to R)

READ on BELOW the JUMP!

Forbidden Fruit (1921)

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C.B. DeMille and Jeanie MacPherson’s second swing at this modernized Cinderella story about overcoming a bad husband, now with eye-popping fantasy sequences designed by Natacha Rambova. [Gif sets incoming!]

Mary Maddock (Agnes Ayres) does seamstress work and takes in laundry to support her layabout, no-goodnik husband. Her wealthy clients (Kathlyn Williams & Theodore Roberts) hatch a scheme to use a social event to settle a business deal with handsome young entrepreneur Nelson Rogers (Forrest Stanley). Mary accepts the job to keep Rogers occupied, with the unintended consequence of the two falling in love. When Mary’s husband makes a surprise appearance, the jig is up. But, after her husband’s chicanery has deadly consequences, Mary and Rogers are free to live happily ever after. CW: a pet bird is killed.

---

The Woman King (2022)

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Giving an epic treatment to fitting subject matter, Gina Prince-Bythewood, Maria Bello, and Dana Stevens tell the story of the Agojie, a real-life group of warriors from the kingdom of Dahomey in West Africa, and General Nanisca (Viola Davis), a fictional leader of the warriors. The Woman King has a creative approach to history, to which a lot of critical attention has been paid—it’s certainly worth seeking education on relevant historical topics. 

That said, it was a gutsy and risky proposition to tell a story tied into the Transatlantic slave trade focused entirely on the West African and Portuguese side for an American (and English speaking) audience. Also, as an avid fan of Xena: Warrior Princess and the Eddas/sagas of Iceland and Scandinavia, I appreciated the filmmakers taking a legendary approach to this location and time period. In its deliberately extra-historical engagement with history, The Woman King also brought to mind for me Senegalese filmmaker Ousmane Sembène‘s Ceddo (1971), which I highly recommend. (Obviously the films have wildly different tones/styles tho!) 

As you might imagine from the description, heavy CWs for violence (including SA), blood, and slavery.

---

Why Change Your Wife? (1920)

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A month ago, I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me that I’d be putting not one but two DeMille movies on my new-to-me favorites list! I initially watched them as reference for the cosplay I mentioned in the last monthly round-up post, but ended up enjoying both! Often there are elements of DeMille’s films that hamper my ability to enjoy them fully, whether it’s goofy class politics (hello Saturday Night), racist depictions (hi The Woman God Forgot, which I also watched for the first time this past month), or that I simply rarely enjoy christian bible epics. 

That’s not to say Why Change Your Wife? is somehow perfect—it features pretty sexist attitudes. But, having learned a little bit about DeMille’s unconventional marriage, I see it less of a story of wives failing and more of a story about how two people who have a solid partnership can lose themselves when they lose each other. Here I’m referring to the first part of the film, before Swanson’s Beth and Meighan’s Robert get divorced. Beth isn’t being true to herself when she’s on her mental-improvement kick—there are sufficient details thrown in that show that she and Robert have drifted apart and she’s responding to it by morphing into a maiden aunt type. The film could’ve made Robert’s role in their marriage’s demise a little more overt, but I do think DeMille and screenwriters Olga Printzlau, Sada Cowan, and William DeMille must have been concerned about the American public’s response to a story that normalizes divorce in 1920. For context, we didn’t have no-fault divorce here in the US until the 1970s.

Anyway, why should you watch it? Gloria Swanson and Bebe Daniels offer fun and energetic characterizations as the two Mrs. Gordons, and they share a pretty wild fight scene. The costumes by Natacha Rambova are funky and interesting. The film features an absolutely adorable dog too! (If anyone recognizes the dog please LMK!) [Gif sets for this film are also on the way!]

---

Intohimon vallassa (1947)

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Teuvo Tulio don’t miss. 

The heir to the biggest farm in the county, Aino (Regina Linnanheimo), is forced into an arranged marriage, but the man she really loves, Olavi (Kullervo Kalske), sticks around and becomes the town blacksmith. Years pass and Aino’s husband becomes an alcoholic and an abuser. Olavi keeps his distance as Aino’s marriage implodes in a particularly disturbing fashion. CW: domestic abuse, alcoholism, implied death of dog

---

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem (2023)

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Look at me watching more than one movie this year that was made in this century! Anyways, I’ve been a turtle fan as long as I can remember (photographic evidence below) and I love that the comics have been re-adapted so well in the last 15 or so years for younger generations. (The 2012 show is very cute btw, worth checking out especially if you have kids.)

This take features a unique and kinetic animation style with an accessible story touching on what makes someone an outcast and how both adults and kids can navigate that. Mutant Mayhem features probably my new favorite depictions of April and of Splinter. Also, even though the non-turtle characters are almost all celebrity voice actors, the voice acting quality is very high.

---

Montana Moon (1930)

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Sweet romantic story with comedic elements about a millionaire’s willful daughter (Joan Crawford) who, fleeing an awkward situation on a train ride with her family, runs into a cowboy (Johnny Mack Brown). The two quickly fall in love and are married, but the newlyweds face challenges when the differences in their lifestyles come into sharp relief. I love Crawford’s costuming and styling in this and her performance elevates the material. There are extended sequences with classic country-western music tho, so if that grates on you, you might want to take a pass on this one.

---

Leda – The Fantastic Adventure of Yohko (1985)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Yoko Asagiri is a young girl struggling to confess her feelings to the boy she likes. She decides to confess via a song she composed herself, but the song turns out to be a key to another world. Yoko teams up with a talking dog and a tiny warrior girl with a giant robot to fight the villainous Zell, who wants to use Yoko’s song to conquer her world. The animation and designs are top-notch as is the music. I personally enjoyed all of the Oz vibes suffused throughout the OVA.

---

Tomatos Another Day (1934)

[letterboxd | imdb | Eastman House]

Also known as “It Never Happened,” this is ostensibly a short film about a woman carrying on an affair and said affair being discovered by her husband. What Tomatos Another Day actually is is a send up of early talkies conceived and executed by independent filmmaker James Sibley Watson Jr. and collaborator Alec Wilder. If you’ve been around my blog for a while, you probably already know that I love Watson’s Fall of the House of Usher (1928) [Gifs/Stills]. However, I haven’t seen much else of his work! Thankfully, Eastman House has preserved and digitized a couple of his films and I plan on watching more soon. The link above has the short film with an introduction and outtakes!

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Past Lives (2023)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Past Lives is a quiet but emotionally-rich love story by Celine Song that spans decades but also a single eventful week. I loved the way that the story was structured and how much the film relied on thoughtful pauses to communicate complicated emotions. The actors, Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, and John Magaro, all put in great work here. If you haven’t seen it yet, but plan to watch it, prepare to cry a bit.

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The Mind Reader (1933)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Warren William plays a carny with a different gimmick for every town in the midwest. When the Depression affects his take, he and his cohorts, Frank (Alan Jenkins) and Sam (Clarence Muse), come up with a new scheme: fortune telling. As Chandra the Great, the crew start to rake it in, but when Chandra falls for an upright citizen (Constance Cummings), the scheme and their freedom is put in jeopardy.

I’m not accustomed to William playing this particular brand of sleazebag, but he really kills it as Chandra/Chandler/Munro. I appreciated how creative and adventurous the cinematography and editing is—not an especially common trait for pre-code films. I also made some still sets for the film!

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Honorable Mention: Hard to Handle (1933) [letterboxd | imdb]

This film gets honorable mention because while I didn’t think it was particularly good, a few call outs are deserved. The bad: the plot was unnecessarily convoluted and the recurring sequences with fat people were iffy at best. The better: Ruth Donnelly shines as the comedically base mother of Mary Brian and she even gets to do a bit of physical comedy. Donnelly, Brian, and Cagney have a nice chemistry together throughout. In terms of costuming, the matching outfits of Brian and Donnelly are funny, but made funnier by the sheer quantity of mother-daughter ensembles they wear. The neutral: the film is packed with topical Depression-era references: notably Florida investment swindles and trends like dance marathons and the grapefruit diet. All-in-all, the filmmakers could have done less and achieved more.

---

The only big post I completed this month was a massive undertaking: Lost, but Not Forgotten: Omar Khayyam / A Lover’s Oath and a timeline for the film’s production and release.

Otherwise, I made themed gif and still sets from:

Torture Garden (1967)

The Marriage Circle (1924)

Le Altre (1969)

The Mind Reader (1933)

As for April, the cosplay I mentioned should be up very soon. If I have the time, both Lost, but Not Forgotten and How’d They Do That should have new installments posted and I have a few movies/shows on my themed gif/still agenda.

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☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

[broodwoof]

happy fridayyyy i am eyeballing solas/bull/dorian (or any combo thereof) for 'anemoia - nostalgia for a time you’ve never known'

okay this one gave me so many ideassss it was hard to choose a specific direction but it was so much fun ty ty uwu @dadrunkwriting 605 words cws: slavery mentions

Although it was beyond foolish to do so, they had grown closer. Early on there had been a spark of… something between him and Dorian, something he knew better than to pursue, although he did appreciate the man’s honed wit and clever way with magic. They pushed at each other because it was easier for both of them, and when Dorian had eventually been pursued by Bull, Solas had breathed a sigh of relief. That he regretted the missed opportunity did not mean it would have been wise to follow through on.

When they both began to pursue him, when they found excuses to enter the rotunda together, when they were unnecessarily intimate around Solas while they met his eyes… he was very surprised. Then he was uncomfortable for a while. And eventually, he was intrigued.

One night he had fallen in with them. Permitted the pursuit to become a capture, thinking that this would be the end of it. Surely he was nothing more than an interesting diversion to them. A curiosity. But they bid him stay in bed with them overnight. And when he woke he was treated to gentle, undemanding intimacy. It was puzzling, but he could not deny a certain interest.

Now it had been ongoing for some time, their strange little trio. They paid him as much attention as they paid each other. He was no simple diversion but an entire part of this arrangement. However, over time he noticed that Dorian’s gaze began to have something strange in it. At first he thought the other man was tiring of him, or that he was jealous—he tried to retreat, to pull away, but he was always pulled back into their mutual gravity.

Eventually he realized what the something was, and he thought he might have preferred disinterest.

Dorian was guilty.

Eventually he had pressed for an answer. They were all three of them together, tangled limbs in a bed that should have been too small for them, and Solas pressed his questions against the soft skin of Dorian’s shoulder. Bull was silent while Dorian stiffened between them, until eventually he sighed and his tension fled. He answered with none of his usual blithe grace, the depth of his feeling clear in the dimly lit room and the press of flesh, and when he was done explaining Solas slowly traced patterns against his chest.

Dorian Pavus was from Tevinter. Tevinter, where elves were enslaved as a matter of course. Tevinter, which history told had conquered Arlathan. Tevinter, the villain of modern history. And Dorian felt horribly guilty for laying with him, feeling the burden of his ancestry—and above all, mourning that Tevinter had supposedly destroyed the magnificence of Arlathan.

“You forget,” Solas said at last, voice muted in the shared space. “That I have seen much of Arlathan in my journeys. It was no bastion of progress, no perfect world. It was as flawed as your Tevinter, in its time. I have seen no nation so vast as these that was without its sins, and Arlathan was no different. You are not to be held to account for the loss of… my people’s magic, or our supposed immortality. It is in the past. This is the present.”

A strange speech to give, each word feeling thick and pitifully ironic in his mouth. Part of him was wary to even speak this, overly conscious of Bull’s eye on him, of his profound training… wary that he was giving something away. But it had to be said. Dorian had to be soothed, for Solas could not tolerate the lingering guilt in his gaze.

[earl-grey-love]

[CW: Politics, current world events, body image, segregation, all that icky stuff]

I've been on the internet for nearly 20 years. While it wasn't the very first era of the internet, it was when it started its massive boom into popularity. But back then, even when I was a teenager, when you turned off your pc, you no longer had access to the internet. Most "smart" phones of that time could barely open a browser. They were good for texting and calling mostly.

But nowadays you're plugged into the internet literally 24/7. Even TVs and "smart" fridges/speakers/lights/all kinds of shit do. Even the youngest and oldest of people have smart phones/ipads practically glued to their hands or sides all day every day. The effects this has had on society literally fill tens of thousands of research documents and articles, and counting. We are lonelier and yet more connected than we have ever been in human history, and it's only getting worse.

Now, I'm not here to vilify phones and the internet, and people who use them. Nuh-uh. That'd not only be incorrect, but also weird and hypocrital. It's not our fault we're addicted to this stuff. It's DESIGNED that way. It always has been. But back when I was a teenager, this shit wasn't this bad because we could turn it off. Now we're expected to be at available at the click of a button to anyone who wants us 24/7. This affects relationships, work life balance, and directly the mental health of everybody. Especially when we naturally cope with these negative experiences and emotions by using addictive software like apps we can endlessly scroll on and post to get validation.

Now I've never been a huge fan of social media, but back in the day it was far easier to make meaningful connections. Nowadays, I see so many hate comments on literally anything and everything on the internet that it genuinely makes me ill. People cannot use social media for what it was designed for. If you post something mildly embarrassing or cringe or anything remotely "socially unacceptable", you'll be subjected to literal medieval torture in the form of mass public humiliation. Every single week theres new "discourse" about some poor fucker who dared to be a little cringe, a little controversial, a little human, on the internet.

And it's no surprise 99% of those victims are queer, bipoc, fem presenting, transgender, non-christian, children/teens, and/or anyone that's considered a minority or otherwise shunned. People without power. Like good fucking god, I thought cancel culture was about giving people with power social consequences for the fucked up shit they do, because legal systems are pay to win, yet I rarely see the actual bad people targetted. Cancel culture these days is 90% of the time little more than cyberbullying en mass. It's disgusting.

I blame the cringe culture epidemic of 2016. It changed the internet forever and irreparably so. Everyone who got cringe cultured back then were exactly the minority groups I just named. Godforbid you become a minority person who gets just a little bit of fame and fortune, your own community will put you back in your place. And it's not even community's fault either, it's corporations.

Corporations have, in modern times, always decided what we do. What we think. What we eat. What we wear. What we dream of. Now it's shoved down our throats 24/7 because we can't unplug from it. Everything you see when you scroll these days is an advertisement for something. Nothing is sacred any more. Even the anti-capitalist or rebellious movements of by-gone eras are now co-opted for cash, or are even outright exclusionary these days (see, cottagecore, goth/punk, etc). It's nearly impossible for anything to exist without immediate being churned out of a fast market fuelled by modern day slavery, just so the already rich can get a few more bucks for their fifth home.

Meanwhile, we've never been poorer and more overworked. Why the fuck do people have to work multiple jobs and have multi-income households just so people CAN EAT. That's fucking dystopian. People cannot afford basic living necessities like food, water, shelter and healthcare. All of this shit should be fucking free and yet people have to sell their souls for it??? Their bodies their lives their happiness their health, just for some fucking paper and that paper is NEVER enough.

All while we can barely survive, we get ad after ad shoved in our face of all the things we need to buy to be "cool" or "happy" or "worthy of love". We gotta be thin, we gotta be sexy, we gotta have a sleek car and a perfectly tasteful and organised wardrobe, and don't you dare eat animal products or buy fast fashion!! You have to be perfect all of the time. Go to work, do your job, have a perfect home, never be disabled, never have a thought you weren't programmed to have. Keep giving us more money by the way!

Meanwhile all the rights generations have worked hard for are stripped away. Bit by bit, as we're now too overworked and worn down to even notice. Media outlets don't cover it anymore because someone posted something cringe on tiktok and that's obviously more important than gen0cide. And see that? I had to censor it because we're not even allowed to openly talk on the internet any more. Sure, we're allowed to buy billions of tonnes of platic per year, but godforbid we talk about human rights. Or s*x or "unaliving" or schmental schmelth or grape.

Are we even allowed to be human? Because we're being denied the right to even be alive.

I'm both terrified of and terrified for the people younger than me. I see the way they live and talk to each other and now that Oz.empic Chic is in style, I'm more terrified than ever. Please be kind to each other. Don't fall for the divisive, hateful, violence perpetuating culture that social media has become. Love yourself and love each other, because our communities are all we have. If that's taken from us, then we have nothing left.

[luneemeritus]

About Cinderella and the "perfect abuse survivor" concept (cw: trauma and human discussions)

It's no news that many modern feminists call Cinderella a weak person that couldn't escape her abuse and railed on a man to save her, and this vision is completely bullshit victim-blaming and sexism and blablabla (specially when she never railed on a man to save her, she felt in love with the prince without even knowing who he was).

However, as much as I defend Cinderella from this hipocrit victim-blaming point of view, I also can see a problematic aspect about her story.

Cinderella's arc is based on the fact that she remained kind and pure even after years of abuse and slavery. Ok, this is very beautiful and inspiring... in fiction. Because in fact, the ideal that abuse survivors should remain kind and pure is not only unrealistic, but also toxic. This is a vision that comes from people who didn't experience trauma (which is good, trauma is horrible, but without experience you can't know how it really is like).

No one is pure or too good enough, everyone has toxic behaviour and selfishness inside, no matter how kind you try to act. As an abuse survivor, the steriotype of "perfect abuse survivor who remains a kind, selfless and pure person" reflects a cruel hipocrisy from our society. Abuse survivors can and will commit mistakes, selfish, childish and impulsive actions, they will experience problematic feelings and will have difficulty in facing their trauma. I endure this every day, because i'm human lol 💀

That doesn't make them evil, crazy, "incel" or worthless. That doesn't make their trauma less important or their feelings less real. And even abusive people can recognize their mistakes and change for the better. The world is not black and white like most Disney films portray.

So yeah this is basically what I needed to say about Cinderella and its influence on society. Please don't expect abuse survivors to be pure selfless angels when we exactly the opposite: broken human beings. Think of Cinderella as a way of overcoming a trauma and trying to be a better person for yourself and others, rather than "if you fail your trauma doesn't matter/you deserve isolationg/you're as awful as your abuser".

[whump-about-it]

Salve/ Pain Killers/ Bad Coping Mechanisms

@whumpril day 6

CW: swearing, drug abuse, implied slavery, suggestion of alcohol abuse

Caretaker watched as Whumpee held their hand in front of their face and spread their fingers, examining the damage of their latest fight. Caretaker had managed to get the bleeding to stop before Whumpee insisted they stop toughing them. They were surprised Whumpee had let them do that much since they had a bad habit of insisting they could do everything on their own.

There was a nasty cut on Whumpee's palm and a bite mark below their thumb. Their knuckles were bruised and cut, and Caretaker could now see how their wrist was swelling and the way they winced when they rotated their hand. No wonder they had wanted Caretaker to stop touching them, they had been holding them by the wrist.

"Here" Caretaker pulled some salve from their first aid kit and held it out to Whumpee who looked at it suspiciously. "Put it on the cuts it should help them heal."

"What kind of bullshit is that?" Whumpee huffed but took the salve anyway.

"Modern medicine. Something you'd know a little bit about if you ever went to a hospital."

"I hate doctors" Whumpee told Caretaker flatly for about the 500th time since they'd met. Caretaker had never met anyone who consistently needed a doctor more, or had seen one less. They supposed that was why they kept them around. Caretaker was by no means a medical professional, but they knew the basics. Including how not to ask too many questions.

Caretaker watched as Whumpee applied the salve, then passed over the gauze and bandages.

"You should really get your wrist x-rayed though"

"It's just a sprain." Whumpee insisted. "I've broken it before, I know what it feels like."

"Of course you've broken it before" Caretaker mumbled to themselves, then raised their voice "At least buy a brace for it so you don't hurt it more."

"A brace won't fit it with the bandages."

"It would if you did an actual medical wrap."

Both Caretaker and Whumpee looked down at Whumpee's hand. They had used up almost the entire roll of gauze bandaging it. Only instead of bandaging their hand Whumpee had absentmindedly wrapped it as though they were going to be boxing.

"Oh," Whumpee muttered uncomfortably. Their normally stoic exterior cracked a bit as they began to unwrap the excess gauze. "Sorry."

By the time Whumpee finished rerolling the unneeded gauze Caretaker had had enough of watching them wince at the pain of trying to hold their wrist still.

Caretaker got up and poured Whumpee a glass of water, handing it to them as they began to rummage through the first aid kit again.

"Got anything stronger?"

"Yep" Caretaker pulled the bottle of painkillers they had been looking for out of the first aid kit and held them out to Whumpee. Their reaction was instantious, but no where near the reaction Caretaker had been expecting.

Whumpee jumped out of their seat as though Caretaker had just brandished a gun at them and took several steps backwards.

"What the hell Caretaker!" They cried. "Put those away!"

"Seriously!" Caretaker cried back "They're just pain killers. I'm not trying to poison you!"

"Just put them away Caretaker. Please."

"Fine!" Caretaker relented only because they weren't sure they had ever seen that look on Whumpee's face before. "What were you planning on taking for your hand then?"

"Nothing" Whumpee insisted sitting back down, though they still looked oddly uncomfortable.

"You can't be serious! That's a bad sprain! And the cut on you palm has got to be killing you."

"It's not that bad."

"You always say that. But I can see you flinching. Are you some kind of sadist or something?"

"First of all, the word you're looking for is masochist. And secondly, don't be gross." Whumpee huffed. They looked back down at their hand, winced for the umpteenth time then looked back up at Caretaker who raised an expectant eyebrow. Caretaker was a patient person. But their patience only went so far, and Whumpee couldn't really expect them not want an explanation.

"You know how I used to work for Whumper right?" Whumpee said after a long silence.

"Yes" Caretaker answered not able to totally keep the distain out of their voice. They hadn't known Whumpee then. Nor had they ever met Whumper. And Whumpee had only ever brought them up a few times. But they had heard through the grape vine that saying Whumpee had "worked" for Whumper was a bit of a stretch. It implied they had had a choice in the matter.

Whumpee ignored Caretaker's tone and carded their good hand through their hair.

"They like fighting. They liked when I fought. They'd make me do it a lot. It didn't matter if I was still injured from the last one. Concussions, broken hands, cracked ribs. If I could still swing, I could fight."

"Luckily, Whumper had a friend... A doctor, as long as we're putting everything on the table. They used to get me free pain killers to manage all my injuries. They didn't seem to care about what or how much I was taking as long as I was keeping up with Whumper's demands."

"Pretty quickly I figured out that they worked just as well for the mental pain as they did the physical. Even after I got out, it took me a long time before I stopped taking them. And if I'm being honest the only reason I did was because I couldn't afford the habit. It wasn't until I was clean that I realized how fucked up the whole thing was. Anyway, I'd rather just deal with the pain than go back to that."

The two sat in silence for awhile while Caretaker tried to process everything Whumpee had just told them. It explained a lot. Like why they hated doctors. And why they liked picking fights.

"I'm sorry." Caretaker finally said "I didn't know."

"Well I don't try and advertise it." Whumpee said with a shrug and a half smile.

"Understood" Caretaker responded "Can I at least get you some ice though? For the swelling?"

"Yeah, I don't have a problem with ice. And a beer if you've got any."

"Sure thing" Caretaker said over their shoulder on their way to the freezer. "But you know alcohol is a slippery slope too."

"Let me deal with one problem at a time." Whumpee called back.

[lya-dustin]

Slight preview for part ii for Food of Love

(Apologies to all, my oc Eva (from my other blog @evita-shelby ) has tossed me in the trunk and decided she wants to exist in some form in the last kingdom)

Also Osferth was passed on as Alfred’s maternal kinsman by him and was allegedly named heir after Edward's son in a will charterd in 909. I took some liberties with that, also Osferth was given a pretty good inheritance.

The Kingdom of León is modern day Leon and Castile in northern spain, at the time most of the Iberian Peninsula was ruled by the Emirate of Córdoba)

Cw: mentions of slavery, witchcraft and one little murder

“He is a monk!” Your mother exclaimed in disgust. "And an honest one, really, daughter, I would have preferred a Dane."

You had expected them to be angry for going out of your way to get a husband, but then again, your family was not at all like the others.

“He is second in line for King Alfred’s throne, my love. His belief in god can be excused for now.” Your father pinched the bridge of his nose as his wife fumed over the match. “A cold or a hunting accident could make your daughter Queen of Wessex.”

“You had no qualms on having them as guests these past nights.” You interject having inherited your mother’s stubborn streak and your father takes that as is cue to leave on the excuse of checking on some buisness or the other.

“That is because guests leave, besides you know well why I am opposed to this match.” Your mother countered. “What would happen if he came to discover what we are?”

You are witches, your mother had come from a long line of them before the family fell from grace in the Kingdom of León and were sold into slavery.

According to lore she was such a beauty she was sold to the Emir of Córdoba ,but escaped before the men had the chance to get her to the Emir.

After that she used her clairvoyance to find a ship heading somewhere she would not risk recapture by her enemies and find a man who she saw in a dream.

She is very sure you have inherited her gifts, but you have grown and no ability like that has manifested in you.

Perhaps your daughters will have it, you hope Osferth does not mind a bit of magic if it does happen.

“Father Beocca’s wife is a witch, and he speaks well of her.” You point out. “And as father said, a cold could make him king. He is also a warrior and friends with Irishmen and Danes, he is not prejudiced against us like the last priest you killed.”

That priest didn’t choke on a bone, mother stared at him until he did when he told father he mustn’t be ruled by his foreign wife.

“Fine, you may wed him, but the moment the little monk proves to be unworthy of you, I get to kill him.” Your mother relented thinking he won’t return for you as he promised. “But I do like that you showed initiative, well done, my girl.”

[alatismeni-theitsa]

wrt the nationalism i experienced at my old Greek School, which was part of the larger North London Greek Community even if it was technically just outside London, I remember there were big get-togethers of the various schools for the likes of 25th March. Normal stuff really. I remember we were asked to do some art, and as I was a teenager literally called Peace and with a conscientious objector for a dad, I was pretty opposite in values to the general militarism etc around it, so i slightly... took the piss by drawing Bouboulina anime-fied in a way that was Well Drawn but also Not Reverent.

Anyway, the thing that actually shocked me amongst all this (as opposed to just a bit of discomfort and eyerolling). As a fluent speaker, the teachers liked to show me off by writing speeches for me to give at some events. My tutor had written, very carefully, a big speech for me, and usually I begrudgingly went along with them, but i refused to read this one bit, in which I was expected to declare (cw: self harm, implied suicide, blood): <...κι αν χρειαστεί, δεν θα διστάσω να ανοίξω τις φλέβες μου σαν βρύσες για να ποτίσω το δέντρο της ελευθερίας, ζήτω η Ελλάδα, ζήτω η Κύπρος, ζήτω η ελευθερία>. When I refused point-blank, he looked at me with confusion and said - bearing in mind that i was 16 at this time - so wait, you Wouldn't die for your homeland???? Also bearing in mind this was 13 years ago or so and its still pretty embedded in my memory.

Idk how representative this particular anecdote is but as this was intended for a large event i imagine it wasn't expected to be controversial. He was a little extra I think, probably in part to being a Cypriot refugee himself and therefore having a v different emotional relationship w nationality. Despite module options for A levels (final exams/qualifications for subjects for 18yrolds in the UK) that included Greek Lit and Greek Poetry, he'd only teach Cypriot History and Cypriot Geography, which to me, as an Athenian who generally sucks at any kind of History or Geography, didnt really appeal. I only found out there were other modules when I got to the exam and saw them available. Seeing as they were available, I assume he was something of an outlier, as most kids doing Modern Greek exams would probably have been 3rd-gen Cypriots.

Γειααα! Given the Greek history and how we preserve remembrance, I don't think the sentence you mentioned is controversial, either. But as always, there's more nuance to it, so please bear with me! (quick historical recap for people not familiar with recent Greek history + the psychology of Greeks and Greek immigrants)

Under the boot of the Turks, the Bulgarians, the Italians, the English (and who knows who else) Greeks (and other Balkan nations) quickly realized that advocating for people with the same ethnicity was the only way not to be assimilated at best and eradicated at worst. For centuries Greeks weren't heard by their masters (who also called them "chattel" - "ραγιάδες") at times so after 400 and 600 years they said "if you don't advocate for us, if you treat us like this, fuck you, we are going to become independent". Since 1821 they became an example of revolt for all slaves in Europe and the Americas (without claiming they were the only inspiration) and warmly greeted and aided by Haiti, the first nation to abolish slavery.

I don't need to write much about the Balkan wars, ww1, and the Macedonian struggle, where being ethnically Greek automatically made you an enemy. (without saying Greeks were always on the right side of things or never committed any atrocities), or mention the Greco-Turkish War which ended with the peak of the Greek (Armenian and Assyrian, too) genocide.

Additionally, most of us have heard how the Greeks were treated in ww2 under the Bulgarians and under the Italians and Germans when the country was occupied. Or about the Greek programs in USSR (1937) and Turkey (1955 and 1960) to erase the Greek identity that in many ways still goes on to this day. (Pushing for the Turkish and Russian language and customs only, calling the Greek history of oppression "propaganda", erasing names of Greek villages, etc)

Again, being Greek was pretty much a ticket to punishment and oppression.

Cyprus is included in many of these cases as it suffered long from the Turks until 1878 and then it fell to English hands who filled the citizens with hallow promises (and good ol' colonialism) and let them eat each other alive - resulting in the Turkish occupation of half the island. Although all citizens suffered from the turmoil and the Greek side wasn't a saint, it was mostly random average Greeks who were kicked out of their homes when the invasion happened (1974).

War after war created a generational trauma that cannot be shaken away and that can affect someone when they've lived around people who remember their family getting executed by Turks, or Bulgarians. In that climate, fighting for your ethnos to the point of bleeding became something natural, like bleeding for freedom of speech, worker's rights, for lgbt+ rights, refugee rights, and more.

So, yes, your tutor definitely came from this background so I am not surprised he was that way after living through the tensions and being forced to leave his home because he wasn't the "right" ethnicity. His love for his ethnicity differs from the love a native UK or US person has, in the sense that it comes from the side of the oppressed, not the oppressor. (On top of that, he could also be a weird person as a character, since you mentioned he didn't want to teach anything that wasn't related to Cyprus)

There's no coddling up for how much blood was shed, no χρυσό χάπι for what a country does to you when it occupies you. I want to stress a lot how I hate the idea of war and the idealization of war. However, one doesn't exactly speak politely to the new oppressor, who wants to assimilate others and spread their own influence. I haven't seen a nation talk its way out of occupation and the inevitable repression, so to speak. And when the n-th invasion happens for Greece (for our specific hypothetical example) I don't think there will be any change in how things will be resolved. In a way, the school events remind you that, and also that history is a cycle.

With Turkey as a neighbor, things are still politically tense, and many Greeks still fear another invasion. (At the moment I don't think Turkey will attack for many reasons and bc we are NATO allies but I am telling how the situation is) Let's not forget our state has been allied with Russia for a long time and we betrayed that bond with whatever sanctions might come from Russia to us. When Russia invaded Ukraine, most Greek men around me were fearing the draft. From where we stand on the map, we don't exactly feel safe. War is a possibility and many Greeks feel fight-ready psychologically, or jumpy when they hear the news. (I belong to the chill group and still get anxious from time to time) That might color the patriotic statements with an intensity that doesn't feel natural in other nations which may not feel that close to getting a war on their soil.

As for the militarization in the events, the first thing I'll say is that war and the army can be totally rotten and there's a ton of propaganda we must resist, and I'll admit that even the Greek army when doing the defense has crossed the line at times. Buuuut realistically, it's difficult to resist an invasion from - say - the nazis without an armed force. That's why the army has a place in Greek remembrance events.

Thousands of Greeks fought in the frozen Pindus mountains against the Axis force because they all knew what would happen if the enemy got to Greece. And lo and behold, once the fascists took control of my city, thousands were sent to concentration camps where they were incinerated (700 recorded children among them). In just three years, 1/3 of Greece died under occupation. Fighting to prevent that - even if they failed eventually - is objectively valiant. Not to mention, the resisting armies of various countries achieved weakening the Axis forces to the point they finally got beaten.

Of course, there is no need for panic in the present. No objective need or extreme speeches where teens shout "I will shed my blood". I am fully aware of how expressions of the desire to protect what was - again with blood - given can be weird and reach extremes. Such yearly school events are the norm in Greece.

It's worth mentioning that such texts were written (or based on texts written) at the time of the oppression so they are emotionally charged and often carry the bloodshed of war which was very real for the country back then. That's the reason they are not considered controversial. (add to the mix the constant fear of imminent invasion we still live in 2023)

Another reason they may not be considered controversial is that we are used to them but also don't exactly follow them. Such events may be a yearly reality here (multiple times per year) but a kind of mundane one and people go about their lives without so much gravity given to the event statements.

Sure, it's atmospheric and it's good to remember the dead, but it's the usual grind, ya know... We get reminded of the war for a few days in very sentimental ceremonies and then we move on. The majority of Greeks in Greece are unlike your tutor, in spite of taking part in these school festivities and in the school parade. And the teachers are usually chill about it.

It can have negative effects, though. For starters, I believe the student parade accompanying the military was established during the 70's junta where nationalism was often regarded as the solution. So we are not on a good base here 👀

Most Greeks shun extreme militarism (we know what disgusting people lead in our army and what bigoted ideas they hold) and the belief that we are better than other nations. I can totally understand how a 16-year-old could feel uncomfortable when made to read the phrase you were made to read. In Greece, I think most (not all) 16-year-olds would roll their eyes and go along (because we know it's mainly fanfare for the drama 😂) and they wouldn't be phased by it.

For example, my teen self would perhaps read the "κι αν χρειαστεί, δεν θα διστάσω να ανοίξω τις φλέβες μου σαν βρύσες για να ποτίσω το δέντρο της ελευθερίας, ζήτω η Ελλάδα, ζήτω η Κύπρος, ζήτω η ελευθερία" and see some poetry in it BUT I wouldn't actually want to do it 😅 Nobody does and nobody cares, except the few rare radical people, who exist in all countries in equal measure. And we know that the rest of the students just wanted to stay out of class and didn't give two shits about how serious this is supposed to be 😂 We were aware we were preaching to the choir - who already knows this stuff and just wanted to go home. We are kinda desensitized, I think.

But teens also have their own political sentiments, which may clash with how the school festivities are organized, so we should take them into account. The students (and all people) should be free to not partake in events opposite to their ideals. And many teachers, too, are uncomfortable with how these events are conducted and wish to tone them down. There are some teachers here who are more into it so they add more passion and grand statements.

Different areas and families experienced oppression and genocide in various ways, so I don't have a concrete statement fit to dictate how much passion and poetic symbolism they'll use in their remembrance events and how they promise that the same harm will never come to their families again - as long as one doesn't fall into bigoted traps and militarization. Meaning that if the issue makes them sentimental and they want to mention blood and blades against slavery, that's their own thing.

But it also means that you are (obviously) allowed to remember the fallen and celebrate the existence of the nation without bold statements if you don't feel like it. (Or perhaps one doesn't want nations to exist at all so we go to another level altogether, and maybe you don't want a remembering at all, which is another discussion)

Thank you very much for reading all this! I wrote so many things to demonstrate Greek history is quite heavy and complex, which in turn creates complex situations for the people who are left to do the remembering.

Other people who took part in such Greek events, write your opinions down if you like!

[autumnbrambleagain]

i uploaded my backlog of Yhelm's story, i'm gonna do the same with Sasfsets

cw of slavery and abuse and self-destruction and murder and if i tag it it gets deleted faster so the modern meta is apaprently post everything untagged because we've made the website Safer

idek idec staff dead i'm gonna play in the ashes until i'm swept away

continue to find us on actual websites like (in order of how often we'll check it (even just putting these links in is now a struggle because tumblr helpfully tries to format them into media links that can't be moved easily thanks tumblr die faster i guess)):

https://www.furaffinity.net/user/coracleboat

https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnBramble/

https://cohost.org/autumnbramble

https://itaku.ee/profile/autumnbramble