#not to be annoying but i speak from a place of solidarity with Jeremy

[jeanmoreaue]

The way both Cat and Cody are like “Omg he’s tall!” when they meet Jean is so shorty coded. We shorties love an Amazonian 🥵 Also love how it’s emphasized several times he’s got long legs (like when he straight up kicked Lucas on the ground lmfaooo). I just know Jeremy’s gay ass is thinking about too.

o ya i KNOW when Jean threw Lucas to the ground and then kicked him back down Jeremy was like.. that’s the real reason why we don’t hear about Jeremy trying to interfere w that interaction even tho he was right there

and ik it’s been said before but this part too:

like i know that the fact that Jean is long-legged and tall, but also so well-coordinated since he’s obv doing the most on the court gets Jeremy

[thevampirediariesdiary]

2.03, Bad Moon Rising

Welp I accidentally took a month-long hiatus but I’m back!  This semester has been kicking my ass, so I’ll do the best I can with getting one of these up each week, but go easy on me.

Damon, Stefan, and Elena convince Rick to help them go through Isobel’s research at Duke University – which is all still there, because apparently her only being missing and not dead means she gets to keep her office??  Tenure is one hell of a drug.  The plan is to find anything on the Lockwood family, because for some reason Damon feels threatened by their very existence, and also Katherine.  

“So are you sure you wanna do this?” Stefan asks. “Which part?” Elena retorts, pouting while she packs her road trip stuff. “Digging through my birth mother’s life work or –” she pauses, says with perfect derisive scorn, “going to Duke with Damon?”  Stefan snorts a little, answers, “Either? Both?”  “Well, I’m sure about the first part,” Elena answers, “but then again Rick is a good buffer, so we can bond in our anti-Damon solidarity.  I wish you were coming, though.”  “You know what?” says Stefan, “Why don’t we hold off a couple days?  Wait until Caroline’s less of a danger and then I can go with you.”  “It’s okay that I’m going right?” Elena asks. “And be honest because if it’s not then I can just stay here and we can take care of Caroline!”  She’s warming to the idea as she suggests it, but Stefan says, “No, listen, I want you to go, okay, I do.  You have questions about your lineage, about Katherine, and look, I’m not gonna let the fact that Damon is going keep you from an opportunity to get some answers.” Elena nods, looks at him, says: “You hate it though.”

“I hate it,” Stefan confirms.

“But I love you,” he says.  “I love you, too,” Elena answers.  They kiss.  And with that, this very ambiguous conversation is over; does Stefan hate it because he doesn’t trust Damon (as established in 1.22)? or because Damon killed Jeremy and he’s siding with Elena in her unforgiveness?  Why must they go to Duke now?  Why is Damon going?  Is Alaric really in anti-Damon solidarity with them, because last I checked they were on fine terms, and we never got a Jeremy-murder reaction from him so why assume otherwise?  Where IS Jeremy?  Is Damon giving him whittling lessons yet?  So many questions left unanswered.  Ah well.

Downstairs, Alaric and Jenna are being Super Mature about the fact that they’re interacting: Rick makes an excuse about how busy he’s been, Jenna tells him she’s grateful he’s giving Elena this connection to her birth mother.  I’m proud of them both, but I’m especially proud of Jenna; Rick offers her an apology for their relationship being start and stop and says “Maybe once I”, and Jenna cuts him off with an “Uhhh, no. Don’t do that,” she says, not unkindly.  “Not the half apology, maybe, hope-for-the-future thing.”  He smiles wryly.  “Do what you need to do, okay?” Jenna says.  YOU GO, JENNA!!  YOU ARE KIND AND PATIENT BUT YOU WILL NOT BE TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF!!  Elena asks her if she’s okay as she heads out the door; “Yeah,” Jenna answers, “just, men and their baggage!”

Now, this next scene is absolute gold.  Damon leans against the car, says while pouting mightily, “Sorry you can’t come too, Stef.”  Stefan ignores him, but Elena throws her bag into the car extra violently and glares.  

Stefan tries to sidetrack her: “Call me if you need anything.”  “Oh,” Damon says, inserting himself again, “I’ll take really good care of her.”

And Elena!!  While maintaining eye contact with him!!!  Grabs Stefan around the neck and makes out with him.  Is this fucking Twilight??  I don’t know but it’s ridiculous and spiteful and I love it.  

And then: they both turn around and look at Damon again?  Stefan kind of…smacks his lips???

“Okay, time to go,” Damon says.  Having adequately antagonized the person who literally killed Jeremy because Elena chose Stefan over him, they pile into the car and boogie on out.

Stefan sits down with Bonnie to convince her to make Caroline a daylight ring; it’s important, he says, to keep Caroline in contact with the people that connect her to her humanity, and that requires being able to go out in the sun.  Bonnie’s not so sure she can trust new vampire-Car; Stefan says, “Then trust me.”

Sighhhhh.

In the car, Damon reaches back and appears to jiggle Elena’s knee??  “How you doin’ back there?” he asks. “You know, this whole pretending to hate me thing is getting a little silly.”  Alaric, stuck in the middle of a classic Damon/Elena mess-around yet again, scoffs. “I don’t think she’s pretending.  You did kill her brother.”  “There is a HUGE asterisk next to that statement,” Damon protests, “he came back to life.”  “Yeah,” says Elena flatly, “thanks to a ring you didn’t know he was wearing.”  “Why are you so sure I didn’t know?” Damon says. “Did you?” Elena says.  “Yes,” he says.  Her eyes narrow; “You’re lying,” she says, unsurprised.  “Elena!” Damon says, “I saw the ring!  It’s a big, tacky thing, it’s hard to miss.”

Bonnie makes Caroline a daylight ring.  “So I don’t get to choose the ring I wear the rest of my life?” Caroline complains.  No, Car, of course you don’t!!  Haven’t you ever heard of engagement rings?  But for serious, I think this line is on purpose.  This is the beginning of a love story between Caroline and vampirism. Also, this is her “skeptical about spell-casting face”:

Over at Duke, Alaric’s hair is doing something awful.

Vanessa, a research assistant, gets them the keys to Isobel’s office, and then attempts to shoot Elena with a crossbow.  Three guesses how that turns out.

Yep, Damon vamps over and takes the arrow for her. Last episode he spared Caroline for her and she stopped Bonnie from killing him; now he’s risked his life to save hers.  And what do you know?  While Alaric is subduing the unfortunate academic,

Elena’s fallen to her knees at Damon’s side to check on him.  This episode has a bunch of purposeful callbacks to Bloodlines – they’re on a road trip, looking for info on Elena’s ancestors, Damon steps in to save her from danger and then she acts worried for his well-being.  But this is where the similarity ends.  When we return from the commercial, Damon is nagging at Elena to pull the arrow out of his back and she’s making faces like she wants to pull it out and then immediately re-stake him with it.  She pulls it out, and then while he’s yelling in pain reaches over his shoulder to drop it, presumably just to be annoying.

Damon blows out a breath, raises his eyebrows (you thought I forgot the eyebrows didn’t you), and announces, “that bitch is deaaaaad.”  Elena’s eyes widen – how dare he talk about killing people when he’s trying to make amends for killing her brother – and she says, “Uh, you’re not gonna kill her.”  He adopts a weird sultry voice: “Watch me.”

“You touch her and I swear I will never speak to you again,” Elena says.

“What makes you think that has any power over me?” Damon challenges.  Elena blinks.

“Because I took an arrow in the back for you?” Damon says, mockingly. He slings an arm over her shoulder, which she immediately pushes off with disgust; “You are severely overestimating yourself,” he says, gleeful.  “Right,” says Elena, “I forgot I was speaking to a psychotic mind who snaps and kills people impulsively.  Fine. Go ahead.  Do whatever you want.”

“You’re trying to manipulate me!” Damon says indignantly.  “If by manipulate you mean tell the truth, okay,” Elena says, “guilty.” Damon, for whom manipulation is all tied up with love, kind of stares at her lips.

“Okay!” says Elena, and makes her exit.  

Archery-happy research-assistant tells Rick she freaked because she thought Elena was Katherine Pierce, and then everyone digs through Isobel’s giant office holy crap how has Duke not given this office to someone else??  Damon makes a crack about Vanessa wanting to see him naked, and Elena tells her that he can be a first-rate jackass.  Damon smiles; this is familiar, this is the way she talked to Jenna about him before everything happened.  A bit later, he comes up behind Elena and tells her it’s too bad they’re not friends anymore, because he knows something she doesn’t know that would help her find more about Katherine.  “Now who’s manipulating who?” she retorts.  Vanessa explains the Aztec legend of the Curse of the Sun and Moon, which will become more or less significant later, and that werewolves in this mythology are hardwired to hunt vampires, who can be killed by a single bite.

Stefan takes Caroline wabbit hunting.  He explains to her that vampirism amplifies natural behaviors and traits.  “So you’re saying that now I’m basically an insecure, neurotic control-freak…on crack?” she asks.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it like that,” Stefan says lightly, and then offers to go with her to Tyler’s swimming hole party to meet up with Matt.  Seriously, they both shine in this episode.  Stefan’s “that-guy” awkwardness is perfectly foiled by Caroline’s sincerity.

They literally….cribbed this shot……..from a Twilight movie

Anyway… 

“Why are you looking at him with your serious vampire look?” Caroline asks.

“My what – my serious vampire look?” Stefan repeats, aghast.  “Mmhmm,” says Caroline, “I mean, it’s different than your worried vampire look.”

“Neither of which stray too far from your ‘hey! It’s Tuesday’ look.”

“Oh, okay, I get it,” Stefan says, “you think I’m too serious.”  “Well,” says Caroline, “I wasn’t gonna say it like thaaaat.”

Did you notice how many emotions Stefan expressed in that conversation?  I’m so proud of him.  Real Eleanor from The Good Place flirts with Matt until Caroline compels her away; Matt gets angry at Caroline’s jealousy-drama and wanders off, and Stefan gets angry that Caroline used her compulsion for shallow reason.  “So now I have magnified jealousy issues?” she says. “I might as well have stayed dead, my whole personality is killing me.”  Stefan finds this freaking delightful:

“Shut up,” she tells him.

They hang out at the party together until it gets dark and everyone starts to pack up (on Mason’s orders), and Stefan tells Caroline to go talk to Matt. Caroline promises Matt no more drama, and they scamper off into the woods to kiss.  This coincides with Stefan getting a call from Elena to fill him in on all the new werewolf lore – he looks around for Caroline as soon as he hears a werewolf bite can kill a vampire, but she’s nowhere to be found. Mason Lockwood is in the middle of transforming into a werewolf.  Welcome, A plot.

Vanessa informs Elena that a doppelganger is a living, breathing double of oneself, who usually torments the person they look like, tries to undo their life.  “More things we already know,” Elena says flatly. “I just wanna know why we look alike.” “Headscratcher, isn’t it?” says Damon, from over by the bookcase.  “Do you know something or are you just being yourself?” Elena asks with more sass than you would think would fit in her tiny body.  “Well, if I knew anything, I’m not gonna tell you,” Damon says, “not with that attitude.”  Alaric looks like he needs a drink, but also a little bit like he’s trying not to laugh?

“That’s good, Damon,” Elena says, dropping the attitude down a notch, “and that’s coming from someone who wants to be my friend. Friends don’t manipulate friends, they help each other.”

This does not compute.

Back in the woods, Tyler gets the brush-off from Real Eleanor, Mason-wolf jumps out of his car at Stefan, Caroline bites Matt, and everyone runs around a lot.  Thank goodness it’s not more complicated than that, because this recap is getting really long. 

Elena refuses to admit that Alaric’s car is locked and stands fighting with the door handle like a petulant child; it’s been a long day.  Damon arrives as the shining knight and unlocks it, and then opens her door for good measure.  Then, good deed done, he gets all up in her personal space.

“You’re not going to be able to hate me forever,” he says.  She rolls her eyes, says, “Can we just go?”  He sighs and hands over a text labeled “Petrova”, for Katherine’s real name: Katerina Petrova.  “Let me know what you find, I’m very curious myself,” he tells her; he’s trusting her with the truth, trusting that she’ll share it.  She goes to move past him, he says, “You have every right to hate me. I understand.  But you hated me before and we became friends.”

“It would suck,” he admits, “if that was gone forever.”

“So,” he says, with forced lightness, “is it?” She meets his eyes, but her face is more closed than it’s ever been.  “Have I lost you forever?” Damon asks, like it’s a joke, like it doesn’t matter or like it’s impossible.

“Thank you for the book, Damon,” she says.  He gives the smallest of nods, and motions her into the car.

Caroline compels away Matt’s memories of her biting him, and then she and Stefan have a heart-to-heart about their human significant others.  “If I followed my own advice I would have walked out on Elena a long time ago,” Stefan says.  “You think you should’ve?” Caroline asks.  “I know I should have,” Stefan says, “I just can’t.”

Tyler confirms with his (very naked) uncle that he was in fact the wolf that almost killed all of them.  Another secret, out.  I’m resisting making a very stupid joke here, but I’ll probably succumb and post it separately later. 

Caroline walks into the Grille and purposely starts shit with Real Eleanor so that Matt walks out on her.  “So what, are you like, breaking up with me?” she calls after him. “Yeah,” he says, wearily, “yeah I guess that’s what I’m doing.”  He waits, expecting her to fight him, but she only stares back and lifts her chin defiantly. Caroline is strong enough to walk away, and kind enough to let Matt think that he knows why.  As, @itspileofgoodthings pointed out in these tags, she did what Stefan couldn’t do.

Having warned Vanessa against getting caught up in all the supernatural nonsense, Alaric realizes he doesn’t want to get totally caught up in it either, and is able to make good on his half apology maybe hope for the future.

Damon trails Elena up to her porch, exclaiming, “Road trips work well for us!”  “This doesn’t mean things are back to the way they used to be, Damon,” says Elena.  “Oh, come on,” Damon says, “you know I chipped a little bit off of your wall of hatred.”  Elena turns to look at him, says seriously, “I need to know the truth.”

“When you broke Jeremy’s neck, did you know he was wearing the ring?” she asks.

“No,” he says, his voice so strained.  “No, I didn’t.”

“Katherine really pissed me off, and I snapped, and I –” He stops, looks at her intently.  “I got lucky with the ring,” he admits. “And I don’t know what I would’ve done if he wasn’t wearing it.”

She nods, slightly.  “Elena,” he says, “I’m sorry.” She nods again, says, “Thank you for being honest with me.  And the answer to your question, about our friendship?”

“Is yes…you have lost me forever.”

She turns to go into the house.  “But you knew that already, didn’t you?” Damon says, bitter.  She pauses, he accuses, “You used me today.”  She looks at him, unrepentant. 

“You had information about Katherine that I needed to know.”  “I thought friends don’t manipulate friends,” he replies.  She looks back at him, her response left unspoken: they’re not friends, and so it doesn’t matter.  He swallows, tells her, “You and Katherine have a lot more in common than just your looks.”

Both women stood on this porch with him and pretended to be something they weren’t so that he would pour his heart out to them, and then turned around and rejected him.  Living, breathing mirror of oneself indeed. 

Katherine wakes Caroline, tells her not to be frightened. “We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

Music Moments: A Fine Frenzy’s “Ashes and Wine” plays over the final scenes, and wow that song doesn’t fuck around: “don't know what to do anymore / I've lost the only love worth fighting for”, “is there a chance / a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel / a reason to fight? / is there a chance you may change your mind / or are we ashes and wine?”

previous episode

[jonboudposts]

80 Years Not Counted: Part 2

Saturday 11 February: Apparently there is a valley in Spain called Jarama and we were on one of three buses heading out there on a cold, damp Saturday in February.  It is less than an hour outside of Madrid; a place of plush growth and greenery. Upon arriving we had a small police escort.  They took us around for much of the day, directing traffic and checking the roads – but were we really under threat from a modern-day fascist squad? Or were they making sure we behaved ourselves?  I never did find out.

The 12th of February is the day of the anniversary itself. It had brightened up by the time we arrived, walking through olive groves to get to where the Battle of Jarama was fought by 600 International Brigade members, of whom 375 were dead by the end of the first day.  

The mayor of nearby Morata de Tajuna joined us.  He is very active in keeping the memory of the International Brigades and the Spanish Republicanism alive in his part of the country.  We are taken through some of the manoeuvres of the day; the advance of the fascists, the holding out of the International Brigades, the bungles of having the wrong ammo for the machine gun.  We are told where the Farm Cookhouse was, the place where the wounded were carried back to.  We are told about the three hills – the Knoll, the Conical Hill and White House (Suicide) Hill.  We are told about how the battalions divided, the British on the left of the Republican Line, the Franco-Belge somewhere on the right.  There was hand-to-hand combat with the fascists.  There were an obscene number of casualties.

The next day everything had changed when despite still being outgunned, with apparently the inspiration of Irish volunteers Frank Ryan and George Nathan ringing in their ears, the remaining International Brigades rose again and fought with ferocity, winning the day.  

When you stand on this hill, the beauty of the landscape surrounds you; but the imagining of intense fear too.  How genuinely petrifying it must have been to be here 80 years ago; under fire from three sides.  The noise and smell must have been overwhelming and the very notion of survival was perhaps not even a consideration.

For the International Brigades, it must have been horrendous to realise the governments of your own country would never support what you were doing, then ask (or demand) in three years’ time that you now fight the same enemy in their name. For King and country but never for your comrades.

We are often asked to believe that those who fought in World War 2 went in with some idea of the future; doing this for the generations yet to come and we are now required to pay their actions and sacrifice lip and lapel service for a couple of weeks a year.  I wonder if the men and women in Spain fighting against fascism ever imagined they would be forgotten by the mainstream.  Who could have thought there would still be those arguing in favour of the fascist side?

Our group stood on this hillside by the Kit Conway memorial, as the names of the British dead were read out, along with the part of the country they came from.  Someone in the crowd demands we remove our hats, perhaps something that is of little discomfort to those with plenty of hair but I am bloody freezing.  This kind of sentimental crap really annoys me (along with being told what to do).  What difference does it make to the dead if I have a woolly hat on?  It was still a special moment though, to stand where the horror had occurred and remember those actively forgotten in Britain.  More Republican flowers are laid and we move on.

The Monument to the International Brigades is better known to some as The Fist Memorial, an apt description of a large, red metallic structure – to be very accurate, it looks like one hand in another forming a sort-of double fist.  It is a good place, on top of a hill, to gather, pay respects and sing – which is what the group did.  The memorial has been re-built, as the original white marble one was destroyed when fired upon.  It stands atop a hill and looks out over the fields and the highway; a rather impressive, simple sight.  On the side of the memorial is a large but unreadable plaque with a faded Uruguayan flag just about visible.  We were later told this was because Uruguay had donated to re-build the fist, in memory of their countrymen who had travelled to fight for democracy in Spain.

We are reminded of the many and varied men and women who came to fight alongside their Spanish comrades; one person notes the importance of remembering the Germans who came to fight against the fascists; that not all that country’s population went along with the rise of Nazism.

Next to the memorial are the trenches.  The mayor has ordered their excavation, for the purpose of being re-opened and hopefully visited by those wanting to know more for the future, not loitering in the past.  There are also plans for a museum on the site.  

Many of the people here like myself have an interest in the history. Many however are here because this war is something that defined them, perhaps before they were even born. Children who were born in the UK, by parents who were refugees from Franco’s regime; this runs through the blood and how they are perceived as people in some ways.  Parents and grandparents fought here; relatives fought and nursed the wounded. When their children needed refuge, they were taken in by countries whose governments did nothing to support the democracy of Spain.  Today, Madrid welcomes the refugees.

While atop this great hill, we receive a message from Jeremy Corbyn back in London.  He sends solidarity to our trip. We then hear about some of those who served here; Clem Beckett (a man I now yearn to know more about), plus Colin Smith (ASLEF) read Frank Ryan’s account of the IB’s great rally on this hill. There then begins a round of The Internationale. I never have been much of a singer so I sit that bit out.

On the way to our meal at El Cid, we turn around a small roundabout in the little town.  On our left, we are informed, is a plaque to the Falangists who had an outpost here, where fascist forces were organised.  We give it the traditional boo as the couch passes, wishing I could give it more but we are asked on more than one occasion to behave ourselves while here with the IBMT, so I guess it will have to wait.

We arrived at the restaurant and headed for the museum at the back. What appears to be a one-man show, although sadly I never got his name. He has put this together since childhood, when he would pick up discarded shells and helmets on the abandoned battlefields. It is quite some collection; included is an approximately six-foot tall statue of a man made from scrap metal discarded during the conflict.

We are then treated to a meal in the main restaurant (including my first Paella) and later some songs such as The Internationale again, Viva La Quinta Brigada and Joe Hill, along with poems and other readings.  The handful of locals having lunch seemed to have little idea what we were up to but the management seemed cool with our presence – they are getting paid so why not?

Among other things we hear from Megan Dobney from South East TUC on the campaign to get a statue put up on London’s history-soaked Clerkenwell Green, dedicated to Sylvia Pankhurst.  We still rock the international connections even far from home; the working class is an international class movement, no more so than in resistance to fascism.

In the following days we see a few more symbols of the unsettled war. Walking around Madrid (and it is a wonderful city to walk around), you see the occasional Republican flag hanging from a balcony; sometimes looking like it has been on display some time.  One book shop we visited sells a mocked-up football shirt for a Spanish national team in republican colours.  No doubt some corner of social media has many right wing toss bags (I try to avoid the buzz-term Alt Right) winding up ‘leftists’ (libtards) on the subject of Spain.

Memory is political. It is demanded of the British people (I cannot speak for other countries where the International Brigades came from) that we remember the war dead and survivors of two world wars and all the unnecessary smaller ones since; but are actively taught to overlook those who went to Spain.  On the rare occasions questions are brought up about this, these men and women are usually dismissed as ‘communists who were fighting for Stalin’; they are now alien and ‘other’ to their own country.  

While many were indeed communists (and so what?), this simplification is an insult at best to people who were able to see the oncoming storm and resourceful enough to put themselves on the frontline in the most defining war of the 20th Century in the western world.  The fight against fascism is still relevant today and the same forces still attempt to prevent and do-down those who fight it. Being an anti-fascist is a necessity for many of us, but a strangely lonely activity sometimes.  Many people give you their verbal admiration but never their company.

A sad truth is that in many countries like ours, for a good portion if not the majority, fascism would not be so bad.  It would not affect them.  Being white, hetero and good at doing what they’re told while complaining only under their breath, governance by an extreme organisation or government that removes democracy, violates the rights of ethnic and sexual minorities and is willing to use violence to keep order would probably not bother them too much. The trains would probably be more efficient.  Brits seem to like doing what they are told by those richer and more powerful than them – so long as they come from Britain of course.

This is the main reason the fight against the far right must be unrelenting.  Normal rules do not apply.  They must have no platform, be given no place to express themselves without strong and determined opposition from those who oppose their toxic and worthless ideals, along with the factual inaccuracy and outright lies that go along with such beliefs. Equally we must be careful how to mistreat our own history when re-activating it in the minds of the masses.  We must make sure the story of The Battle of Jarama - winning against the odds - does not become a left-wing 300, a story whose committal to film (rather than the historical event) is worshipped by certain right wing factions for the holding out against ‘invaders’ by lots of incredibly buff men being warriors and all that (why are the right so often homophobic?). There is plenty to celebrate in the actions of those opposing fascism and answering the international call 80 years ago; but there is nothing to celebrate about war.

I am glad I put aside my reservations about travelling to Madrid for this event. I have a little in common with my fellow travellers but what really unites us is the feeling that these events and their players deserve not to be forgotten about as history is pulled around by those with an agenda to serve and a knighthood in the post.  By attending, learning and spreading the word we have no doubt added to the continuing need to fight the evils of fascism and far right ideology, always lurking in the darkness and never fully confined to the oblivion they deserve.  We are reminded that supporters of these views, so often in the higher economic and social brackets of society, are still present, pulling the strings of the pitifully educated lower ranks who so often refuse to even bother trying to know their own history.

History is only good for one thing practically – learning from mistakes. These should not be repeated moving forward to a better, more just world for all.  Eighty years after the battle of Jarama, we are in a sorry state on this one. Europe is seeing a rise in far right political parties, the rhetoric of blaming migrants and Muslims for everything is worse than ever and too many people, taking their lead from Britain’s poisonous media, go along with this without question.  The horrors of fascism must never be forgotten and it is the responsibility of everyone, whether you like it or not, to do their part and stand up against it.

No Pasarán indeed.

Peace and Love Madrid.

Additional

There is an anti-fascism event in Hamburg between 19-21 May 2017.  For more details, email: brigadistras@gmx.de

With thanks to the IBMT, our comrades in Spain and all who made this event possible.