#people need to stop treating these people trying to survive a genocide as celebrities

[tariah23]

I don’t have much context for what was said and what happened but I don’t think I’d stop supporting Palestine because of what was said. He’s just one person. Idk, stop treating these people like idols and trends I guess 🫡? Then you won’t be disappointed when they go mask off racist. Your support should extend further than idolization.

[stil-lindigo]

You'r eunder no obligation to reply but I'd like to ask, how do you keep your head up these days considering the genocide? It's been nearly five months now, my entire family is giving up the stirke and falling into propoganda, and every time i think "surely this is the end, no way the us will keep supporting this, israel is on limited time" i keep seeing no end in my twitter feed to the countless losses, i keep seeing gore and childrens butchered on my tiktok. i dont wanna lose hope or faith but ive started feeling so depressed these days that i dont even wanna open my social media because i know what ill see. it might sound selfish but i hope i can open up my tiktok and see silly little people doing trends again instead of seeing one between 6 posts asking to use filters so that they can donate and detailing the necessities that israel banned from palestine and it just feels so soul crushing and hopeless. it makes me feel worse because if im tired of it then how do palestanians cope being in it? if you have any tips or good news id be grateful

hi anon. A lot of what Palestinians report first-hand is graphic, and horrifying, and would contribute to that soul-crushing feeling. But they are so tenacious, they have so much love for their people, their country. Often, Bisan or Motaz or Plestia when she was still in Gaza will share little slices of joy from displaced Palestinians. It reinvigorates me, and I'll often return to watch them when things seem dire.

A baby in Gaza, blessedly unaware of the horrors. Look at that smile!

A Palestinian mother makes donuts for her children, and offers Bisan one as she prepares for an interview. She (the mother) talks about how she makes treats like this to try to cheer up her children, how she keeps herself busy like this so she can't feel the grief of the situation. It is expensive to buy firewood these days, and flour. At her side, her children chip away at a block of wood to help her.

if you'd like to support people like this family, donate to CareforGaza, which directly distributes supplies and money to families in need. They have stopped donations to their Gofundme campaign due to overwhelming support, but you can still donate via the paypal link in their bio.

Young Palestinians parkour in the ruins of Gaza, to show that Israeli bombing will not kill their spirits.

Mo, a Palestinian man, buys cat food after searching for two days straight, and feeds the stray cats in Gaza.

Palestinian children at a refugee camp filming a cute video.

Although they've lost their home, a Palestinian family gather to celebrate their youngest child's birthday, complete with a small cake and a birthday hat.

Bisan makes bread in Khan Younis.

Palestinians celebrate the birthday of an injured girl in hospital, with a small cake. One of them has dressed up as a clown.

After losing 22 members of his family and being injured in a bombardment, a Palestinian man named Mohammed Al Ghandour marries his fiance in a tent.

A Palestinian journalist plays with a baby who survived an airstrike.

@/nisreendiary on TikTok documents the process of making fresh bread in a tent in a calming video.

I got most of these off twitter, from this thread. Twitter is a hellscape at the best of times, but the easy communication it provides is a blessing. I'll try to share more of the good news here, as they pop up. In the future, I recommend you follow Eye on Palestine, or Al Jazeera if you'd like to stay informed on the situation in Gaza with minimal scrolling.

[heybeybey]

No Regrets

Holy shit I finally wrote a full short fic!! I was inspired when @petra-realsnk posted this beautiful fic! I’m currently finishing up Chap 135 (so there’s spoilers for those who’ve only watched the anime!) in the manga and thought about a what if scenario where the Survey Corps didn’t try to stop Eren. 

Note: I highly doubt that there’s a universe where Levi and the remaining Survey Corps members, especially Petra, would be okay with genocide but it was fun to explore the thought. (Felt masochistic, won’t delete later ✌️😘)

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Genre: Angst. And it’s Rivetra but I don’t think this can be considered romance. 

Summary: [Mature] Canonverse AU. Petra survived the 57th expedition and Eren was successful in his Rumbling. Petra and Levi questions if they made the right choices. 

----

They never talked about it.

No regrets. That's what his whole being has been about since he joined the Survey Corps. Petra’s devotion to him pushed her to follow him to the end.

The end did come and try as they might to ignore it, they lived every single day questioning the actions they’ve taken.

Today's Liberation Day. The Eldians are celebrating the day the great Eren Yeager freed Paradis from the rest of the world three years ago. As with every year, the town square will have a play reenacting the Rumbling later this afternoon. They're also serving dishes from the now-extinct Marley. He can only think what Niccolo must be feeling right now.

It's their country’s way of showing that they've won. It's theirs. The world is theirs.

His comrades. Erwin. All of them died for this farce.

However, the biggest clowns were the Survey Corps. 

Him, Hange, Armin, Petra, Connie, Jean, Mikasa. “The Great Heroes of Paradis,” people would call them in adoration and admiration.

Hange was still alive. She's still the Commander of the Survey Corps and she's been leading Paradis’s expansion with Armin across the flattened grounds beyond their little island. He doubts the both of them sleep well at night though. Last time he and Petra visited, he learned that Hange took down Erwin's portrait in her office. Petra cries whenever she sees Armin, remembering the boy who’d always talk to her about the ocean. 

Connie went back to Ragako to build back his village. He never tried to make contact with them again after that.

Jean transferred to the Military Police shortly after. Commander Nile named him next in line. They needed to promote as many people as possible because there’s still a possibility that half of the military can turn into a titan anytime now, even with that fucking monkey dead.

However, a recent rumor reached his city that the Military Police’s next-in-line just shot himself in the mouth yesterday morning.

Mikasa, on the other hand, disappeared.

Levi tried to locate the Ackerman girl a few times. Mikasa can be downright disrespectful and insubordinate during his time as her captain but she's still family. They never treated each other as such but she still is.

His condition prevented him from pushing himself further the way he could before and he had no choice but to follow as Petra led him back.

With his injuries, he needed to retire from the Survey Corps. Petra, banged up with her own scars—physical, emotional, and even mental, also signed in her resignation the day he signed his.

They say it's because they are not in the shape to push through anymore. Besides, there's nothing else to fight except their conscience and inner demons.

The truth is that seeing the Wings of Freedom on their uniform made him want to retch his breakfast every fucking day. Levi once said that he'd kill Eren the moment he shows that he’s a threat to humanity. They all dedicated their life to humanity’s freedom.

You bore the wings of freedom but allowed a monster to clip away the wings of the rest of the world.

What a joke.

He’s snapped out of his usual episodes when Petra came in through the door.

“It’s true,” she says and he takes in the dead look in her eyes. He wished it wouldn’t look any deader as the day Paradis won but it does.

He remains silent, waiting for her to continue.

“Jean. It’s true. He’s dead. His fiance found him yesterday.”

Levi understands Kirstein. He really does. He used to be against suicide because so many people who want to live die everyday. Now though, if he had the will to point a bullet to his own head, he would.

But he can’t leave the baby in Petra’s womb fatherless.

“Do we deserve this, Levi?” At first, he thought she was referring to Jean’s death. All this sadness and self-loathing. “Do we deserve this? A home. A baby on the way.”

When so many beyond the island saw their own homes and children trampled on.

This is the first time she brought it up and he wasn’t surprised that she was the one who opened this conversation.

Petra is already a shell of her former self. He finds it hard to believe that this was the same woman who’d fight titans with fire in her eyes. Who managed to capture his attention since the day she graduated from the cadets. Who managed to survive when their whole squad and the fucking Scout commander couldn't. If they hadn’t fucked around one drunken night of loneliness and despair, he feels she’d lose all the will to push forward.

“How should I know? I told you before. The only thing we can do now-“

“-Is to live with the consequences of our actions.” A beat. She looks down and carefully places her hand on the bulge of her stomach. "Do you think he'll be proud of us?"

Another topic he tried to not approach is the baby. He knows that he'll never abandon her and the little boy or girl inside her but that doesn't mean he'd make a great father.

"Beats me."

She finally snaps. "Levi, just talk to me for once!"

When he imagined a future with Petra back when he was still her captain, he saw it happening with them winning against the titans. He'd kiss her on the battlefield in relief, not caring if fellow soldiers saw that he’s in love with his own subordinate all this time, as everyone cheers over the fact that everything's over and that they're now free to explore beyond the Walls. He'd awkwardly admit that her feelings have always been mutual and maybe he'd even propose years down the road. She'd laugh at him and tell him that age must be really catching up to him if he's actually considering marriage.

"Levi, please. You used to be so open with me. Please don't leave me alone."

She's downright begging now, her arms encircling around his waist as she starts sobbing in desperation. Petra clutches his hand, caressing the remaining two fingers on his one hand.

"Please talk to me. You don't have to carry this burden yourself. I was there until the end, remember?"

In a way, seeing her like this is a relief. Since they retired, he'd always see her walking around the house in a daze. The only time he hears emotion in her voice is when she screams out at night as she wakes up from a nightmare. She doesn’t talk to anyone else now besides him. Sometimes, he rarely even listens. When Hange and Armin visited, she'd make tea and serve them like a meek, little housewife and she'd force a smile on for their guests.

He hates it. This isn't Petra.

Her crying now and demanding him to open up. This is Petra. 

He misses her. 

And since he hasn't found his voice in the past three years, he answers her by abruptly spinning around, grabbing her ginger strands and roughly kissing her to shut her up.

His hand grabs the spot where her chin meets her neck and he clenches. He manhandles her to their room and he fucks her while also making sure he doesn't harm the baby. This is the only way they can communicate their sadness and understanding right now.

She accepts it all without question, her teary eyes staring at the ceiling above him. The only indication that she's okay with all of this are her quiet moans and whimpers for him to go harder and her arms clinging around him in desperation. 

This isn't Petra.

He isn't Levi anymore either.

[ppeasants]

Ok, so, imagine this.

A Zelda AU or game or fic or something, where the three Triforce people are friends (how original, I know). Hear me out tho. It's gonna get extremely emotional (hopefully).

It starts like a whole bunch of years in the future. Like, so long that nobody remembers the legend of the Triforce, or the goddesses, or anything, except for maybe like 1 or 2 historians or something who believe it as myth. Maybe kinda like a BOTW world but before the Calamity, and with no Guardians or stuff. All the kingdoms are generally at peace or whatever, and Hyrule is the main one.

So, the Gerudo's birth a man, their first in however many years (it's Ganondorf). They have no idea what's going on, or why is happening and shit, so they talk with their elder, and they're confused too, so they go to Hyrule Kingdom, and they don't know what's going on. Nobody knows what's happened, but the Hyrule Kingdom is also celebrating the recent birth of a princess (it's Zelda), so they set up meetings to talk about this, and the two kids get to know eachother after a while. Also, some random other kid is born around the same time (it's Link).

So, Zelda and Ganondorf hang out and become friends, and Link is born to a travelling family of merchants or something, just to get him moving around and training to survive, and he meets Ganondorf and Zelda among his travels as kids at different points. eventually Link and his family settle down in Hyrule, and he grows up there from like 6-7 onwards. He sees Ganondorf coming in every once in a while, so they hang out and become friends. Ganondorf is usually coming with his family now that they know the royal family, and the two hang out, meaning Zelda and Ganondorf hang out. So Ganondorf makes Zelda and Link meet, and the two know eachother a little bit, so the three become friends.

They become super close friends, like REALLY close, cause they're the only people who aren't family who don't treat eachother differently, as Zelda is royalty, Link is mute, and Ganondorf is a Gerudo man. They grow up together, with Zelda on track to becoming queen, Ganondorf on track to becoming king, and Link being a commander or head guard or some shit. They're all extremely close, and good people, and it seems like the legend won't happen, not that people know about it anyways.

But you can't go against fate.

One of the advisors the king is visited by one of the historians or some shit who know about the legend of the Triforce, Hylia, and Demise, and how the man born into the Gerudo's will cause chaos or something. So, the advisor, tells the king and queen, and they get scared. Slowly they start to dissuade Zelda from seeing Ganondorf, thinking he's bad. She doesn't listen, so they get more drastic, like not allowing him into the kingdom, them not allowing Gerudos in, then stopping trade with them, and other stuff like that. Both Zelda and Link get mad with this, so they find workarounds to keep hanging out with Ganondorf.

Ganondorf and his people are really mad about this, but they don't do anything, hoping it'll blow over, cause they don't wanna start a war. Zelda and Link let him know they're against this.

Eventually, the historian and advisor convince the King and Queen to take action, so they do. They send in someone secretly to set fire to Gerudo Town. The entire city gets lit aflame, and about half the people or something make it out. the other half die. Ganondorf and his family makes it out. The king and queen, trying to save face or something, offer refuge in Hyrule, and offer apologies for not letting them in. With nowhere else to go, they all go there.

Ganondorf is devastated, so the three end up living together, and things seem to be going better. Then, Gerudo people start dying left and right. No one knows what's going on, a d eventually, Ganondorf's family is killed. Just as Ganondorf is about to be killed himself, the last living Gerudo, he manages to capture the attacker, who says it was the king and queen who not only hired him to kill the people in the town, but set fire to Gerudo Town.

Of course, Ganondorf is mad. He activates Ganon mode or something and goes on a rampage. Link and Zelda manage to calm him down, but not before he destroys part of the city. The king and queen banish him, and put a bounty on his head. Link and Zelda, furious at Hyrule, chase after him.

Eventually, they all meet, and talk about everything. How Ganondorf's family and people were killed, how he has a bounty, and how they came looking for him. Ganondorf asks how Zelda could let this happen. She says she didn't know about it. Ganondorf doesn't believe her. They fight, and they ask Link to choose a side. He picks Zelda.

Ganondorf with tears in his eyes says he's done. He's not gonna be nice. If people see him as a villain, then he'll be a villain. They try to talk him out of it, but he doesn't listen. He hits Link on accident, and he runs away in horror at what he's done. The two go back.

They tell the king and queen what happened, and they say they knew he was always evil. Link and Zelda counter, saying he was never evil, still isn't, just angry at the world and misguided. The advisor and historian walk in, and talk about the legend, and how they need to stop the evil before he can destroy everything. They say he's not evil. The historian convinces them to go out and activate their Triforce pieces to fulfill the prophecy.

They go out, link goes dungeon crawling like in the games, and Zelda does some soul searching or something, and they do it. Ganondorf also activates his by sheer anger and training or something.

They come back, and the historian reveals herself to be a messenger of the goddesses. She was planted to make sure the prophecy was fulfilled. She gave the ideas to outcast Ganondorf and the Gerudo's, she brought the person to set fire to Gerudo Town, and she hired the person who went around killing the Gerudo's. She reveals the goddesses influenced the king and queen to do this, because they need their prophecy to be fulfilled, no matter how cruel they need to be. They release the king and queen, and they feel ashamed at what they've done.

Just as Link and Zelda are in the middle of exploding at everyone in the room, there's a loud crash outside. They go out and they see Ganon rampaging in Hyrule. They go out to try to talk to him, but they can't.

So they have to fight him. They don't want to, but they do. And they win. They subdue him, but they don't kill him. He reverts back to Ganondorf, injured, but awake.

He yells at them to finish him off, they refuse. They let out all of their frustrations, their anger at everything for eachother, and what has happened to them. How the world, the goddesses, everything, has ruined all of their lives. How they just wanted to live their lives, be friends, and how they can't. How the goddesses forced them to fulfill a destiny which only caused them pain.

How even though he wants to, Ganondorf can't give up on his revenge. He knows how much it'll hurt everyone, how much it'll hurt his friends, himself, but he can't stop now. He's gone too far. He only wants his people back.

How Zelda doesn't want to be a ruler. How much she doesn't want to lead a kingdom that committed genocide on an innocent people, but she knows she has to, if only to make up for their mistakes. She only wants her innocence back.

How Link doesn't want to kill his friend. His friend who only knew hardships, and came out a good person, but was forced to be evil by some people who play with lives. He doesn't want to, but he knows he has to, it's his destiny. He only wants his friends back.

So they fight. They fight with the pain and anguish that they were pawns on someone else's game, and they have to suffer for it. There's no reason for it, but they have to, and it hurts. And Link wins. Ganondorf smiles, and Link and Zelda cry. And Ganondorf dies.

The historian disappears. The king and queen relinquish the throne to Zelda. She rules over Hyrule, only trying to right the wrongs of her people.

Link left hyrule, and just wanders. Like his family used to do, he lives alone and in the wild, but never visits Hyrule or the remains of Gerudo Town. He just walks.

And somewhere, a lone escaped Gerudo Lady gives birth to a beautiful Gerudo daughter.

And the cycle continues.

This is probably really incoherent and also already done and also not very good, but I've just wanted to get this idea I've had out into the world.

I would def have a lot more fluff b/w the trio before shit goes down, and I would write a lot better (hopefully) when it's actually a story.

Let me know if it's any good, and what changes I should make, and what I could add. Also lemme know about other similar stories, cause I wanna read them.

If u read through all this word garbage, thanks :).

[myfandomrambles]

Steven Universe Familiar (5x26) Analysis

So I enjoyed it pretty well. I thought it was interesting and the talking walls and her little rock pets were interesting. I liked the environmental characterization of Pink honestly it’s the most honest stuff we get about her not filtered through unreliable narrators which was nice. I liked seeing more of homeworld and most of the visuals were pretty cool.

The animation of the Diamonds had their size bigger again which of course is inconsistent (as was Steven) but it did provide really good imagery with the size difference. The pool scene with blue seemed a bit off though. 

It actually made me wonder about the future too (in a not ugh kind of way)

I wonder if the eyes/status are watching for all of them or are they, white specific spies? 

And if Pinks’ room on homeworld works the same as Roses’ bedroom may be the temple was Pink’s home on earth even before she became Rose? 

Is the statue on the outside is Diamond tech, if so does it move too?

The song was also fine overall not my favourite.

Steven:

Honestly, I think him to some extent “accepting” being just like his mother follows his arc really well. He is using the power that being a Diamond has to his own ends, not even real change just his pet project which sadly makes sense with the latest Steven we have seen and is a lot like Rose. Healing the corruption is, of course, good, it’s “saving the earth” just like his mother but it’s not shifting the power structure to any large degree. He’s not trying to make real change and improvement. Not saving off colours, letting them treat Pearl as his possession, not raising an army. He’s not even trying to learn about the current functions/tech of the regime, how are the other gems working, what are all the differences of era 2, how big is Home Worlds empire now or anything like that. He’s making his incrementalist decisions, playing up is power level and social clout. Nothing about this screams I want to make a better world for everyone I’ve seen have their lives broken by the Diamonds. It’s just his pet project.

Steven adopts the option of trying to throw a party as Pink to try and mend family ties and by that heal the corrupted gems on earth. And honestly this is very Steven, and something Early seasons Steven would do to fix all the problems. This realization Pink was a lot like Steven when she was young (i realize gems don’t age physically but we have seen gems do grow up mentally) is interesting. It's like not even is Steven still trying to put together the pieces of a world and system his mom broke, but now he is doing it by her tactics, in her clothes, in her old room. It actually makes a lot of sense for Steven as who he is, but is still disappointing from a standpoint of who Steven could have been. The person Garnet, Connie and Bismuth saw he could be a leader and a fighter. The independent, funny, goofy kind person Greg, Amethyst and the town care about.

Steven’s is to CGs as Pink is to the Diamonds.

I’m tbh offended saying Garnet, Pearl and Amethyst were just like the Diamonds. Yeah they didn’t bring him on missions but he was what 13? and his powers were weak, they were protecting him. Totalitarian leaders not giving Pink her own colony isn’t the same as three (or four) traumatized refugees protecting their child/nephew figure from the war destruction left by those very leaders.

They did lie to him but Pearl had no other choice, Amethyst didn’t really know much and Garnet didn’t know the whole story and was bound by loyalty and her future vision to really see clearly.  The CG made some real fuck-ups, but it wasn’t all just by the patronization of Steven or an act of petty control of their world. It was a family torn apart and shaped by the mistakes thousands of years ago hanging over their heads trying to work. They didn’t always do the right thing by any means but none of them ended using chemical weapons on a whole planet.

Also Garnet loved Steven it blinded her but it was all a place of love and fear. Pearl is mentally fucked and made bad choices but from a place of lack of options not the same headspace or reality as the infinitely powerful Diamonds. Half the time Amethyst had no info to give, the power to change the situation and really treated Steven as being in charge of him. She was basically cool auntie Amethyst.

Yes from Steven’s perspective the CGs are the only frame of reference he had, so he sees Diamond’s broken love for Pink seem the same. But the Diamonds had options for how to treat Pink all the choice in the empire. Their fight was based on Pink wanting her own world to control and then fight over rather or not pink could go play on earth. All of these family disagreements escalated which eventually became a squabble to decide the right of a planet of people to survive. The CG’s mistakes never lead to them attempt mass murder and were really more emotionally complicated

When do you let a teenager fight disturbed dangerous people? How do you tell a child about a war they lost that killed millions broke their hearts and made those very creatures. How do you tell people of your life in a society that abused you? How do you tell a kid a whole planet wants him dead because his mother tore apart a world and didn’t even when freedom for anyone? It’s just not the same situation

Diamond Dynamics

So, they are for sure still trying to make me give a fuck that Pink’s death disrupted their lives huh? The Diamonds were talking about their armies, and gem production and keeping them in line. That’s some warlord oppressor shit. I don’t think the Diamonds should get to have pool parties! you attempt genocide and I say no fun for you!! The family trouble doesn’t resonate because nothing they have done has really humanized the Diamonds. Like I get they are sad, and they loved Pink but I care way more for the CGs, Peridot, Jasper, the off colours, Lapis and the corrupted to feel sympathy for people who have hurt them so much.

The Dynamic of the Diamonds does seem to be familial. White is a leader and in charge, her affection and is coveted by all of the others. So I assume a top military/governmental leader and a mother or older sister. Blue and Yellow I think viewed pink as their little sister. I never really got maternal from them and like I don’t need lesbian space fascists thanks. Another reason I go, sister, is that Pink thought, she should be equal to Yellow and Blue but was less powerful and smaller. Basically, she was made they never let her “play too”.

Yellow’s comments about searching for White’s approval and her paying attention to steven was insightful as showing not just structurally but interpersonally there is a slight fear of white but more than anything they want her attention back. Yellow seems slightly annoyed Pink gets attention by acting out and “falling” while her perfect execution of terrorizing innocent people doesn’t. Blue shows us they were at one time more close as a family but Pink dying caused this to stop. Blue and Yellow cared for and liked Pink. Pink never seemed to think about the social system as anything but one to be exploited and celebrated. This conversation and the drawing of them as a family I think adds to the fact that Rose couldn’t really fight to hurt the diamonds (though this seemed to apply less to the CG huh)

Though one interesting part of this was the change to Era 2 following earth’s collapse. That would be fun to explore more of how gem society has functioned over time.

Pearl

Like okay, are we sure we’re chill with what they did with Pearl? The character you’ve had declare her independence from the rooftops is doing exactly what she was made to do playing servant for a Diamond (Even if Steven isn’t a Whole diamond). She is taking care of Steven almost the same way she was expected to for Pink. She is filling the social role of a court Pearl. She is following him around everywhere, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, carrying his things, telling him stories, standing next to Yellow and Blue’s pearls, coming at the chimes, helping Steven function with the diamonds. She literally tries to cheer him up similar to how she did with Pink. She talks about his court the goes to get their friends, basically bringing his “court” to visit him. Something it seems she would have done with Pink back in the day. I mean it’s very in character for Pearl and everything to do those things, but it still hurts a bit. Like yeah, they had that “geesh” moment but they never really counteracted that idea.

It’s not the exact same dynamic as before. Pearl was more of a lady in waiting to Pink while with Steven it’s more like she is his nanny. But it’s still her falling back into her patterns as a Diamond's Pearl. I mean they aren’t even considering her threat and keeping her on the ship like the others. She obviously is just Steven’s/Pink’s caretaker and servant, she isn’t a rebel by her own choice (which I mean that's kinda true) she just falls back to playing her assigned role. Honestly, the Imagery in Legs From Here to Homeworld started this. She stood in the Pearl place on the ship, at Pinks/Steven’s screen surrounded on either side by the more powerful diamond. She already started following Steven around with his things, was next to him when talking about Nephrite and didn't push back at the Diamonds. The further continuation of this is depressing.

It makes sense for Pearl to slip back into this headspace it really does. In That Will Be, All she is annoyed and frustrated and hates being told to play Pearl. But these episodes we see her not really fight back, looking slightly annoyed but following the rules and doing all her work. I think this comes partially for safety as going against the orders would be dangerous we no option of leaving, then she is back in the exact same surroundings as before and being told by Diamonds not some third-rate Agate making it harder to not obey. I think also in a lot of ways Pearl never totally stopped viewing herself as less-than even if she no longer followed the old rules.   She learned to be smart, fight and live another way of life but her inferiority complex and conditioning are still in there making this experience I think was able to trigger those feelings in a more powerful way

Conclusion:

Well, it's not my least favourite. The story actually makes some sense that it progressed this way, and they're not OOC.  I hate this direction when they could have chosen a story healing and revolution but they didn't.

Another thing that sucks is at this point the narrative  is driven by two main factors, (none of those being animating themes or ideas):

Rose, The Gem War and Homeworld’s past mistakes. Everything happens in the wake of the destruction wrought thousands of years ago. All of the conflicts with space relates back to what a dead woman did, not our protagonists.

A lack of systemic understanding. Pearl only acted out of love and duty, she liked the more free world of course but it was never really her choice. Garnet has an understanding of the idea of revolution and change but never actually got to fight or win that. She knew what needed to be changed but never had the ability to make it a reality, living in a rose-tinted world, and Steven uses his playground morality that works with Peridot and Nephrite but not with tyrants. He never learned to view anything as bigger than interpersonal interactions.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

What It Takes to Survive

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12013776

There it was, pain that ripped, and twisted, and tore at Alec’s insides, at his body, his mind, his soul. The rune burned on his skin, so hot Alec wanted to claw at it, to rip the flesh from his body, so the agony might ease. His heart stopping, pounding erratically, the stabbing, pulsating pain that settled there. There was a tightness in his throat, so taught it brought tears to his eyes, it turned his vision black. This is a fate worse than death Alec thought to himself, as he felt his legs give way underneath him, and screams and sobs joined together and erupted from his throat. There it was, a pain he had never expected to feel, the severing of his soul to Jace’s. There had been broken bones, and broken hearts, and burns from training mats, and etched runes, but there had never been a suffering as great as this, as the pain faded, and an emptiness settled in Alec’s chest. He would have lost himself in the pain and in the loneliness if not for the nimble fingers, grasping tightly to his shoulder, as it was Alec’s whole world had changed, and he was fighting with everything he had to remember which way was up.

“I-I can’t feel him,” Alec panted, panic wrapping its suffocating tendrils around his heart “He’s dead,” It was as if all the air in the room had disappeared, Magnus and Isabelle simultaneously sucking in a surprised breath, before the ops center went dead silent. Izzy’s shoulders slumped in defeat, Magnus’ hands slipped from Alec’s shoulders in shock, landing with a soft thud in his lap.

Alec hadn’t realized how much Magnus’ touch had been grounding him. As the heat and the pressure from Magnus’ hands fell away, the room was plunged into ice. It was cold, so cold Alec began to shiver, to tremble where he sat. It was as if a noose had been pulled tight around his neck, issuing a final death sentence. He couldn’t catch his breath, the pain too much for him to bear, his body went numb.

It did not take long for Magnus to recover from the news, he had lost too many people to succumb to grief for very long. And there was so much he had to do now, to ensure the Downworld’s survival. Now that Jace had fallen, as so many had before him, to Valentine and his need for genocide.

“Alexander, we have to go,” resolve woven in his voice. Determination in his eyes.

Alec could feel Magnus there, his presence and his soul like a magnet to hi own. But for once, it couldn’t save him. Alec’s arms wrapped around himself as he rocked himself rapidly back and forth, his hands grabbing at the spot where moments ago his Parabatai Rune had sat proudly on his skin.  “I can’t, I can’t,” he managed between shaky, rapid breaths, tears he couldn’t control falling down his face.

“Alexander, look at me,” Magnus wrapped his fingers on Alec’s wrist, and for a moment Alec felt like he could breathe again, but the guilt of everything he had done to Magnus, made his flesh burned where he had touched him, and Alec couldn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction as he wrenched his arm from Magnus’ grip. “Alexander,” and there was a seriousness to Magnus tone now that Alec had never heard before. “Look at me, right now,” his tone left no room for argument, left Alec helpless to do anything but obey. Alec thought it would be impossible to break his heart any further than it had been as he felt Jace’s life slip away. But the pain and the calmness in Magnus’ eyes, like he was being torn apart inside, like he was scared, like Alec was a wild animal that could attack at any moment and Magnus was trying to hide his true feelings behind a mask, to settle a peace in Alec’s chest long enough to get him to listen.

Magnus could hardly bear to see how lost Alec looked, as his hazel eyes connected with Magnus’ brown glamor. Magnus held out an arm, ring-adorned fingers reaching out towards Alec’s trembling body. “Take my hand,” he said calmly, the briefest hint of a smile on his face as Alec entwined their fingers. “Okay, now breathe with me, Alexander,” Magnus guided Alec through his breathing, trying with everything he had to calm the panic that was taking over Alec’s body. Alec closed his eyes, still rocking, still grasping desperately on to Magnus’ hand. Magnus took the opportunity to pulse magic through Alec’s veins, to let its calming influence seep deep into his bones, numb the pain, slow the heart, allow Alec some time to focus, to breathe. Magnus hated to do it, he hated to use magic on people, especially when it played with emotions, but the matter at hand was too pressing, and the sooner Alec could come down from the shock of losing a part of himself, the more time they had to stop Valentine from destroying the Downworld, now that their last hope had been lost to the Angel.

“We have to go,” Magnus said, when Alec finally stilled, when the haze dissolved from his eyes, when he finally seemed to return to the world. “We have to stop Valentine,”

“I-“ the world came out strangled and thick “I can’t,”

“Yes you can,” Magnus abandoned kneeling, in favor of sitting cross legged on the cold, hard tiles of the Ops Center floor. “You have to, for him, for Jace. You have to play the soldier now, for just a few more hours, and then you can mourn. But if the worst has happened, if Jace is truly dead, then Clary is in trouble too and we have to help her before it’s too late. And if it is, then we need to stop Valentine ourselves, or else their sacrifice will have been in vain because there will be no one left to set their souls free. No one left to weep for them. No one left to bury them. Jace and Clary deserve more than to be left out there, alone in the woods, to waste away into nothing,”

“Magnus,” Alec sobbed, and it ripped Magnus’ heart right out of his chest. “I can’t,”

“Yes you can, you can and you will. Because you are Alexander Gideon Lightwood. You are not only the bravest man I have ever known, you are the strongest. And you know if Jace is truly dead, you need to bring him home. You need to lay him to rest in the City of Bones with the family he didn’t get to know. You need to get him back, and keep him away from Valentine. And you need to save me, Alexander. You need to save us all.” Magnus let the mask fall away, overwhelming Alec with a sudden wave of vulnerability and fear. Of complete and utter terror. “Izzy will be right there. I will be right there,”

“No, Magnus,” anxiety bubbling back up in Alec’s throat “You can’t. You need to go to the Seelie realm, you need to get to safety. I can-.” But he can’t bring himself to say it, even if it’s true. Because Magnus doesn’t want to be that anymore, because Magnus is still angry at him. Because Magnus may still love him, but he is completely unaware of how madly and deeply Alec has fallen for him. Because he doesn’t know that Magnus is the only thing keeping him sane right now. That the hand they still have linked together is the only thing that grounds him. That makes him remember there are still things worth fighting for. That there is still a battle to be won. That he has to keep fighting, play through the pain. That he can scream, and cry, and punch holes into the walls until his fists bleed, later. That he can’t live without Magnus, even if Magnus has decided to live without him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Magnus says, and it almost echoes this morning, when he had collapsed in the sand, when he had drained all of his magic to help the Shadowhunters again, even though he would get nothing out of it, again. When they had used him as a warlock, instead of treating him like a human being, again. And it almost puts hope in his heart, that maybe Magnus means more than just the words that pass his lips. But that’s too much to wish for right now, that Magnus might forgive Alec for betraying his trust, for lying. It’s a hope he needs to stitch himself back together again.

Alec sets his jaw, he pushes himself off the ground, pulling Magnus with him. He lets go of Magnus’ hand, or he tries to, but the mere thought of losing that point of contact nearly sends his head spiraling right back into a pit of despair, and isolation. He expects the worst when Magnus' fingers slide away from his, of their own accord, but he’s close enough to smell the sandalwood shampoo, to see the fading sunlight gleam off the rings on his fingers, to feel the static energy of Magnus’ magic as it sparks to life in his hands, and it’s enough, it’s enough to keep Alec on his feet.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of blinding, radiant light, fear, panic, and shock at finding Jace alive and breathing, to see the parabatai rune sitting darkly against his skin, to feel Jace, solid and warm against his chest. Of last minute invitations to the Hunters Moon bar, to celebrations of life and love, and things that Alec never thought he would get to have. There is not enough time to breathe, let alone process the trauma, the fear, the sadness. But there is enough time for Alec to know that he has to fix whatever he broke between himself and Magnus. Because he knows, although his soul had been twisted, and broken, and torn, although a hole had been burned into his heart at the same time his rune had been burned away, although his had felt the world slip out from underneath him, that he would have been lost to the tides, to the pain, and the grief, if Magnus had not been there to bring him home. He would have died, right then and there, on the floor of the Ops Room, with only Isabelle to watch the life fade from his eyes, if Magnus’ hands had not been pressed against his back, if the warmth of Magnus’ body had not found it’s way into his bones. And if Alec has learned one thing in all of this, it is what it takes to survive. And what it takes, is Magnus Bane, loving him unconditionally. Magnus Bane, trusting him although he had no reason too. Magnus Bane, fighting for him, even when he thought all hope was lost. Magnus Bane, still bruised and angry from Alec’s betrayal, sitting next to him on the floor, holding his hand, wiping away his tears, filling his body with light and comfort and warmth until Alec could find the strength to fight back against the agony that had wrapped it’s slimy fingers around his soul.

Alec catches a glimpse of Magnus, leaning against a wall, martini glass in his hands, exhaustion in his shoulders, sadness in the setting of his jaw. And Alec know there is no way in Hell he is giving up on them that easily. All the excitement and noise in the bar fades away as he approaches, until there is nothing left but silence and the image of his heart and soul leaning there against the wall.

[thetraveljedi]

TRIP REPORT: Budapest, Hungary

After a lovely day in Vienna, we continued down the Danube to our final stop of the cruise- Budapest, Hungary. As we cruised down the river through the night, we were treated to lovely views of Bratislava and the countryside of beautiful Slovakia. We arrived just as the sun rose over the hills of Buda, and had a prime docking location on the Pest side, right near the Chain Bridge.

Some background before I begin- Budapest wasn’t called Budapest originally. It started off as three separate cities- Buda and Obuda on the western side of the Danube, quieter and full of hills, and bustling Pest, an important Hungarian commercial center, on the east side of the river. Eventually the three combined in 1874 to become Budapest- though the government did consider calling the city Pestbuda before settling on the opposite. As a result, the city is sprawling and the sites of Budapest are quite scattered throughout. So due to my limited time in the city, I decided to book a private tour with a car so I could get to see as much as possible.

We started off with a short drive over one of the several crossings over the Danube, the famous Chain Bridge. The bridges over the Danube in Budapest were destroyed in World War II; only the towers of the Chain Bridge survived the destruction. Fortunately, the bridge was rebuilt and maintains much of historic glory thanks to the gorgeously restored towers.

Once on the Buda side from the Chain Bridge, we passed through the Buda Castle tunnel, seeing the remains of Buda Castle, once the home to the royals of Hungary. The castle was heavily damaged during World World II, and is now home to the Hungarian National Gallery and History museum. Once through the tunnel, we continued up one of Buda’s most notorious hills, Gellért Hill.

Gellért Hill is home to some of the more controversial pieces of Hungarian history. A huge stone Citadel looms around the hill, built by the Hapsburgs after the Hungarian Revolution in 1848. Hated by Hungarians due to its symbolism of the Hapsburgs long reign over Hungary, pieces of it were symbolically destroyed after it was handed over to the local government at the end of the 19th century. Standing on the very top of the hill is the Liberty Statue, erected after World War II during Soviet occupation to commemorate their victory in World War II and the end of the Nazi occupation of Hungary. It is one of only two Communist era statues that remain in the city of the hundreds that once stood on Budapest’s streets; most of them were removed and now form Memento Park, an open-air museum on the Pest side, including most of the several Soviet soldiers that used to surround the Statue of Liberty atop Gellért Hill. The Statue of Liberty is an impossible site to miss in the skyline of Buda, a reminder that despite a turbulent history of occupation, an independent Hungary has emerged from the rubble.

After that somber look into Hungary’s more recent history, we moved into the historic core of Budapest, called the Castle District. Home to several of Budapest’s most well known historic sites, such as Matthias Church and the Fisherman’s Bastion, walking through the Castle District truly feels like you’re stepping back into time. For lunch, I had to try one of my favorite dishes in its native land- goulash- and sampled some Hungarian wine. My guide told me winemaking in Hungary has just begun making a huge comeback in the wine industry, and since red wine is my favorite he suggested I try Egri Bikavér, aka “Bulls’ Blood,” a famous full-bodied red unique to Hungary. It was really delicious, so much so I made it a point to find some to bring back to the ship with me.

Following lunch, we hopped back over the Danube to Pest, starting with one of the most famous architectural sites of Hungary, the stunning neo-Gothic Hungarian Parliament Building. It’s so expansive you’ll feel tiny standing next to the sprawling building. Next to the Parliament is Kossuth Tér (Square), home to important government buildings and also the site of the Kossuth Tér Massacre, where in 1956 hundreds of demonstrators protesting the Soviet occupation of Hungary were gunned down by Soviet troops. There are still a lot of missing details about the incident, including how many people died; estimates generally believe the number to between 300-800, but some recent research indicates that number could be in the thousands. Many of them were kids and college students. An underground museum detailing the event lays under the memorial honoring the victims, and asks anyone with any additional information about massacre to report it officials to complete the missing pieces in this dark chapter of Hungarian history. Even more haunting are the bullet holes still visible in the government buildings that surround the square.

Next we drove through the bustling streets of Pest, down the major avenue Andrássy Út, which is *the* big shopping hub of Pest and is lined with gorgeous historic buildings, including the Hungarian National Opera House. At the end of the road is Heroes’ Square, a statue complex devoted to celebrating some major figures in Hungarian history, such as Stephen I, the first King of Hungary.

Heroes’ Square also marks the beginning of City Park, Budapest’s crown jewel of a park, which is home to several important sites, such as the Museum of Fine Arts, Palace of Art, and the Budapest Zoo. The Park and many of its buildings were constructed as part of a huge millennium celebration held in 1896 to commemorate 1000 years since the establishment of the Principality of Hungary, when the Magyars, the ancestors of Hungarians, first settled into their current spot in the Carpathian Basin. You’ll hear and see the number 96 all around Hungary because of its key spot in Hungarian history- the Parliament Building, for example, is 96 meters tall in commemoration. Just don’t remind Hungarians that the committee organized to determine the year of Hungarian settlement actually found that the Magyars arrived in 895, not 896; the committee was asked to add a year onto their findings because the city leaders knew all the construction necessary for the grand festivities wouldn’t be ready in time for 1895.

Another staple of City Park is the Széchenyi Baths. Hungary lays on top of a vast network of thermal hot springs, so much so that when the Romans first settled in Hungary they named the settlement Aquincum- “abundant waters.” You’ll find tons of thermal baths in Budapest, but the Széchenyi is one of the largest and most historic. It was packed with people enjoying the benefits of the warm mineral water. If I had more time, I definitely would’ve hopped in!

But I still had a few more sites left in Budapest I needed to make my way to. Next up, we headed over to the Jewish Quarter and the Dohány Street Synagogue. Before World War II, 5% of Hungary’s population and 25% of Budapest’s pre-war population was Jewish. But as anti-Semitism in Europe grew in the early 20th century, the Hungarian government began to enforce “Jewish laws,” and Budapest’s Jews were forced to live in a miniscule section of the city surrounding the synagogue. Hungary would go on to join the Axis, which gave Hungary some more freedom as to how to interpret Hitler’s “Final Solution” to exterminate Jews. Hungary opted to deport, inter, or send Jews to Hungarian military labor camps rather than engage in the genocide. This wasn’t enough for Hitler, though, and in 1944 he sent the Arrow Cross regime to Hungary to ensure his orders were carried out. The Jewish Quarter was turned into an even smaller walled ghetto, where Jews were forbidden to make any contact outside the walls. 600,000 Hungarian Jews died in the Holocaust. Today, only .5% of Hungarians are Jewish.

After World War II, the Synagogue and the surrounding neighborhood were left to decay, leaving the iconic synagogue and Jewish Quarter buildings in disarray. But as Communism finally left Hungary, renewed interest in restoring the temple helped bring the building back to its former glory, much thanks to the financial support of a famous Hungarian-American Jew, renowned cosmetics entrepreneur Esteé Lauder. Built in 1859, Dohány Synangouge is the largest synagogue in Europe and the second largest in the world, and is one of the most beautifully unique houses of worship I’ve ever had the privilege of laying eyes on during my travels.

My final stop in Budapest was the Great Market Hall, an absolutely enormous 3-floor market that has everything Hungarian you can imagine. The basement boasts the fish and pickle market, the ground floor has all produce, meat, wine, and other snacks, and on the top floor you’ll find tons of souvenir shops and a restaurant. It was built in 1897 and heavily damaged in World War II as its located right near Chain Bridge. It sat neglected during the Communist occupation, but was fully restored and reopened only in 1997. I got to sample some delicious cheeses and Hungarian wine, and learned all about the different kinds of Hungarian paprika there are- be careful for the spicy varieties if you do the same!

I still can’t believe I managed to squeeze all of those Budapest sites into a small period of time, but I definitely felt like there was still so much more left of the city to see. I returned to the Viking Vili having fallen in love with Budapest and eager to return so that I can experience more of the city. Of all the cities I visited on this trip, Budapest had one of the most unique histories and friendliest people I encountered.

And now we’ve reached the end of my Trip Report! It’s been so much fun reflecting and sharing this trip with all of you. I leave for my next trip in less than week, heading across the pond to London for a week and going to a longtime favorite footie/soccer team of mine, Arsenal. I can’t wait to share this trip with all of you too! But in the meantime, I’ll be switching up some of the articles to include more travel tips, destination guides, and special interest travel- foodie, sports, and history travelers should get excited for those!

[totalactionrampage-blog]

Worst of the worst (of the worst): Battlefield Earth

As anyone who knows me can attest, I have a deep and abiding love for unpleasant experiences. I’ve been known to pull all-nighters when none are necessary, just because I don’t want to sleep. I seldom exercise, but when the mood strikes I’ll go on 40 km walks and return home with knees locking up and feet blistered. When I cook for myself, I make my food spicy to the point of pain. All of this is, of course, is insane. So why do I do this? Because pain provides context for pleasure. Because pain, on some level, is exciting. Because pain reminds you that you’re still alive.

Battlefield Earth is pain. In rough terms, it is the box that that one Bene Gesserit put Paul Atreides’ hand in. Battlefield Earth is the mind-killer. Battlefield Earth is the little-death that leads to total obliteration.

And I love it. It is wonderful, in its excruciation. Never before or since has a film aimed so high and fallen so low. It is a tale of ambition, hubris, greed, and failure. Battlefield Earth is a Calvinist meditation on the human condition. To watch the film is to experience the pain of Christ as he tread the Via Dolorosa, as John Travolta and Barry Pepper qua the Romans mock you and scourge you. The full weight of every cinematic sin which has ever been committed or will be committed weighs heavily on your shoulders.

And, like the suffering of Christ, Battlefield Earth has a redemptive purpose. There have been bad movies before, and there will be bad movies again; all are dwarfed by the enormity of suck that is Battlefield Earth. One feels oddly at peace, as the experience ends and the tension headache ebbs away. “The sun will rise in the morning,” you think. “There will come another day.” You might even learn a thing or two by watching it.

Join me, then, in finishing the Litany of Fear:

I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where Battlefield Earth has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Shall we begin?

Battlefield Earth opens in the year 3000. For a thousand years, Earth has been under the brutal domination of the Psychlos, a cruel race of dreadlocked alien Nazis kitted out in early-2000s mall goth apparel. The majority of humanity has been enslaved by these raver Klingons. Only a few pockets survive in the wild, where they have been reduced to a stone-age existence. One such specimen of humanity is Jonnie Goodboy Tyler (Barry Pepper), our protagonist. As the film opens, Jonnie is leaving his home on a journey of exploration. The audience doesn’t know or care what he’s after; neither does the plot. In short order he is captured by the Psychlos and enslaved.

Terl (John Travolta) is a Psychlo with a problem. As the chief of security for the Earth, he looks forward to the end of his tour of duty, only for the board of directors to extend his deployment another fifty cycles, with endless options for renewal.

Terl hatches a scheme: he will force his enslaved humans to mine gold for him, so that he can buy his way back home. They seem to spend most of their time sitting around in cages and hitting rocks against other rocks, so honestly his plan seems pretty unimpeachable. Conveniently for the plot, Terl chooses Jonnie to carry out his scheme. He puts him through an advanced learning program, taught by a hologram of an alien with very low self-esteem. In a matter of minutes, Jonnie knows all that there is to know. It’s kind of like if the cast and crew of The Matrix spent a long night huffing gasoline before shooting the “I know kung fu” scene.

The training program, of course, also teaches Jonnie how to pilot spaceships, as well as the history of all the earth, the cosmos and the Psychlo race. Having been given a shuttle, the shiftless and workshy Jonnie decides to bring Terl gold from Fort Knox’s stash rather than going to the effort of mining it himself. Since the writers have basically given up at this point, Jonnie also happens to discover a subterranean US army base fully stocked with inexplicably functional and still-fueled warplanes. Within a week, he has trained all the remaining humans to be combat pilots. Terl suspects something is amiss, and to prove his point he shoots a few cows as the horrified humans look on - planting the seed of rebellion that will be his own undoing.

The humans put their plan into effect by launching a full-scale attack on the Psychlo base. In the course of the battle, the massive dome the Psychlos have built over Denver is destroyed, and the Psychlos inside suffocate, unable to breathe the Earth’s atmosphere. Since the plot has entirely stopped trying by now, Jonnie finds a teleportation device and transports an atom bomb to the Psychlo homeworld, Psychlo. It detonates in spectacular fashion, exterminating all life. The humans celebrate this act of genocidal planetary annihilation, Terl is locked in the vault of Fort Knox, and at long last the credits roll.

There is so much wrong with this garbage film that one hardly knows where to begin. Though it sounds like the fevered ramblings of a lunatic, I assure you that the plot summary above is 100% accurate. Narrative elements are introduced and then forgotten about in the space of a single scene. Part of this, I assume, was a perceived need to cram in details from the equally nonsensical 1000-page L. Ron Hubbard book the film was adapted from; this was very much a vanity project for the Church of Scientology (on which more later.) But the film is already vastly too long, while (paradoxically) far too short to deal with all the elements it tries to introduce. The dialogue and characters are no better - Jonnie could have been played to satisfaction by an upturned mop with a cutout of Barry Pepper’s face glued on. John Travolta’s performance is at least memorable in its insanity; every scene he’s in crackles with enthusiasm and Very Big Acting. Travolta was having the time of his life, bless his heart.

The film is notorious also for its horrible design. The lighting for most scenes has a queasy quality reminiscent of a laser tag arena after far too much greasy pizza, while virtually every shot is from an extreme Dutch angle. It’s supposed to make the audience feel uncomfortable and disoriented, I would guess, in which case it congratulations are in order because one does indeed feel rather sick after a while. The net effect reminds one of an uninspired nu-metal video. The special effects are mostly executed competently, for the time, and are of the late 90s school of CG where everything looks vaguely like it’s made of Plasticine. Presumably, some talented artists were involved, which is a real shame because the concept art they were tasked with interpreting puts one in mind of nothing so much as the cover art for a Mexican bootleg VHS of Alien. Even the scene transitions are overdesigned and dumb: there are no less than a dozen of those stupid barn door wipes, which were jarring and weird in Star Wars, when handled by a competent editor, and which are physically painful here. I’d recommend accompanying them with the sound of a slide whistle if you have one to hand.

The people to blame for this unspeakable blasphemy of a film are, of course, the Church of Scientology. L. Ron Hubbard considered the book from which the film was adapted as somewhat of a masterpiece, in clear distinction to the portion of humanity who are allowed to handle sharp objects without supervision, and Scientologists were reportedly ordered to buy multiple copies of it when it was released to help it reach the top of the sales charts. Hubbard apparently had Travolta in mind for the role of Terl from the beginning, and after Travolta’s career was revitalized after Pulp Fiction he threatened, cajoled and pleaded until he was able to secure funding for the film:

Battlefield Earth is the pinnacle of using my power for something. I told my manager, “If we can’t do the things now that we want to do, what good is the power? Let’s test it and try to get the things done that we believe in.”

The Church of Scientology got in on the action, too, its members pestering 20th Century Fox to make the film until the studio heads got fed up and sold the rights to Franchise Pictures, a production studio specializing in untouchable vanity projects. With production costs spiraling to a reported $50 million, hype reached such a high that the Church of Scientology sent a giant inflatable Terl on a nationwide tour.

The success of this film rested on one crucial factor: that it didn’t turn out to be worse than an unanesthetized root canal. Oh, well.

There are reasons to watch this film. That a film like Plan 9 from Outer Space or Troll 2 should have been dreadful was a given: they were shot on a zero-dollar budget, with cardboard sets and props bought from the dollar store, “starring” actors who had never acted before and “directed” by people who had never directed before (and indeed still hadn’t by the end of production.) Battlefield Earth doesn’t have this excuse. A fleet of caterers arrived every morning on set to feed the production. Highly-skilled makeup artists, riggers and lighting technicians toiled away behind the scenes, while some of the biggest stars in Hollywood were in front of the camera. An army of tech artists produced CG assets for this picture, toiling away in obscurity for months in devotion to their art. The film shot was taken to a lab where it was treated by some of the best specialists on earth, meticulously assembled and given form and direction by a small cadre of editors. 50 million dollars were spent, and at the end of it all, Battlefield Earth was the result: a shining monument to failure. This film, which is everything that film shouldn’t be. It is failure. It is ugliness. It is pain.

And without pain, what is pleasure? You can’t afford to miss Battlefield Earth.

[mina-goroshi-blog]

Worst of the worst (of the worst): Battlefield Earth

As anyone who knows me can attest, I have a deep and abiding love for unpleasant experiences. I’ve been known to pull all-nighters when none are necessary, just because I don’t want to sleep. I seldom exercise, but when the mood strikes I’ll go on 40 km walks and return home with knees locking up and feet blistered. When I cook for myself, I make my food spicy to the point of pain. All of this is, of course, is insane. So why do I do this? Because pain provides context for pleasure. Because pain, on some level, is exciting. Because pain reminds you that you’re still alive.

Battlefield Earth is pain. In rough terms, it is the box that that one Bene Gesserit put Paul Atreides’ hand in. Battlefield Earth is the mind-killer. Battlefield Earth is the little-death that leads to total obliteration.

And I love it. It is wonderful, in its excruciation. Never before or since has a film aimed so high and fallen so low. It is a tale of ambition, hubris, greed, and failure. Battlefield Earth is a Calvinist meditation on the human condition. To watch the film is to experience the pain of Christ as he tread the Via Dolorosa, as John Travolta and Barry Pepper qua the Romans mock you and scourge you. The full weight of every cinematic sin which has ever been committed or will be committed weighs heavily on your shoulders.

And, like the suffering of Christ, Battlefield Earth has a redemptive purpose. There have been bad movies before, and there will be bad movies again; all are dwarfed by the enormity of suck that is Battlefield Earth. One feels oddly at peace, as the experience ends and the tension headache ebbs away. “The sun will rise in the morning,” you think. “There will come another day.” You might even learn a thing or two by watching it.

Join me, then, in finishing the Litany of Fear:

I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where Battlefield Earth has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Shall we begin?

Battlefield Earth opens in the year 3000. For a thousand years, Earth has been under the brutal domination of the Psychlos, a cruel race of dreadlocked alien Nazis kitted out in early-2000s mall goth apparel. The majority of humanity has been enslaved by these raver Klingons. Only a few pockets survive in the wild, where they have been reduced to a stone-age existence. One such specimen of humanity is Jonnie Goodboy Tyler (Barry Pepper), our protagonist. As the film opens, Jonnie is leaving his home on a journey of exploration. The audience doesn’t know or care what he’s after; neither does the plot. In short order he is captured by the Psychlos and enslaved.

Terl (John Travolta) is a Psychlo with a problem. As the chief of security for the Earth, he looks forward to the end of his tour of duty, only for the board of directors to extend his deployment another fifty cycles, with endless options for renewal.

Terl hatches a scheme: he will force his enslaved humans to mine gold for him, so that he can buy his way back home. They seem to spend most of their time sitting around in cages and hitting rocks against other rocks, so honestly his plan seems pretty unimpeachable. Conveniently for the plot, Terl chooses Jonnie to carry out his scheme. He puts him through an advanced learning program, taught by a hologram of an alien with very low self-esteem. In a matter of minutes, Jonnie knows all that there is to know. It’s kind of like if the cast and crew of The Matrix spent a long night huffing gasoline before shooting the “I know kung fu” scene.

The training program, of course, also teaches Jonnie how to pilot spaceships, as well as the history of all the earth, the cosmos and the Psychlo race. Having been given a shuttle, the shiftless and workshy Jonnie decides to bring Terl gold from Fort Knox’s stash rather than going to the effort of mining it himself. Since the writers have basically given up at this point, Jonnie also happens to discover a subterranean US army base fully stocked with inexplicably functional and still-fueled warplanes. Within a week, he has trained all the remaining humans to be combat pilots. Terl suspects something is amiss, and to prove his point he shoots a few cows as the horrified humans look on - planting the seed of rebellion that will be his own undoing.

The humans put their plan into effect by launching a full-scale attack on the Psychlo base. In the course of the battle, the massive dome the Psychlos have built over Denver is destroyed, and the Psychlos inside suffocate, unable to breathe the Earth’s atmosphere. Since the plot has entirely stopped trying by now, Jonnie finds a teleportation device and transports an atom bomb to the Psychlo homeworld, Psychlo. It detonates in spectacular fashion, exterminating all life. The humans celebrate this act of genocidal planetary annihilation, Terl is locked in the vault of Fort Knox, and at long last the credits roll.

There is so much wrong with this garbage film that one hardly knows where to begin. Though it sounds like the fevered ramblings of a lunatic, I assure you that the plot summary above is 100% accurate. Narrative elements are introduced and then forgotten about in the space of a single scene. Part of this, I assume, was a perceived need to cram in details from the equally nonsensical 1000-page L. Ron Hubbard book the film was adapted from; this was very much a vanity project for the Church of Scientology (on which more later.) But the film is already vastly too long, while (paradoxically) far too short to deal with all the elements it tries to introduce. The dialogue and characters are no better - Jonnie could have been played to satisfaction by an upturned mop with a cutout of Barry Pepper’s face glued on. John Travolta’s performance is at least memorable in its insanity; every scene he’s in crackles with enthusiasm and Very Big Acting. Travolta was having the time of his life, bless his heart.

The film is notorious also for its horrible design. The lighting for most scenes has a queasy quality reminiscent of a laser tag arena after far too much greasy pizza, while virtually every shot is from an extreme Dutch angle. It’s supposed to make the audience feel uncomfortable and disoriented, I would guess, in which case it congratulations are in order because one does indeed feel rather sick after a while. The net effect reminds one of an uninspired nu-metal video. The special effects are mostly executed competently, for the time, and are of the late 90s school of CG where everything looks vaguely like it’s made of Plasticine. Presumably, some talented artists were involved, which is a real shame because the concept art they were tasked with interpreting puts one in mind of nothing so much as the cover art for a Mexican bootleg VHS of Alien. Even the scene transitions are overdesigned and dumb: there are no less than a dozen of those stupid barn door wipes, which were jarring and weird in Star Wars, when handled by a competent editor, and which are physically painful here. I’d recommend accompanying them with the sound of a slide whistle if you have one to hand.

The people to blame for this unspeakable blasphemy of a film are, of course, the Church of Scientology. L. Ron Hubbard considered the book from which the film was adapted as somewhat of a masterpiece, in clear distinction to the portion of humanity who are allowed to handle sharp objects without supervision, and Scientologists were reportedly ordered to buy multiple copies of it when it was released to help it reach the top of the sales charts. Hubbard apparently had Travolta in mind for the role of Terl from the beginning, and after Travolta’s career was revitalized after Pulp Fiction he threatened, cajoled and pleaded until he was able to secure funding for the film:

Battlefield Earth is the pinnacle of using my power for something. I told my manager, "If we can't do the things now that we want to do, what good is the power? Let's test it and try to get the things done that we believe in."

The Church of Scientology got in on the action, too, its members pestering 20th Century Fox to make the film until the studio heads got fed up and sold the rights to Franchise Pictures, a production studio specializing in untouchable vanity projects. With production costs spiraling to a reported $50 million, hype reached such a high that the Church of Scientology sent a giant inflatable Terl on a nationwide tour.

The success of this film rested on one crucial factor: that it didn’t turn out to be worse than an unanesthetized root canal. Oh, well.

There are reasons to watch this film. That a film like Plan 9 from Outer Space or Troll 2 should have been dreadful was a given: they were shot on a zero-dollar budget, with cardboard sets and props bought from the dollar store, “starring” actors who had never acted before and “directed” by people who had never directed before (and indeed still hadn’t by the end of production.) Battlefield Earth doesn’t have this excuse. A fleet of caterers arrived every morning on set to feed the production. Highly-skilled makeup artists, riggers and lighting technicians toiled away behind the scenes, while some of the biggest stars in Hollywood were in front of the camera. An army of tech artists produced CG assets for this picture, toiling away in obscurity for months in devotion to their art. The film shot was taken to a lab where it was treated by some of the best specialists on earth, meticulously assembled and given form and direction by a small cadre of editors. 50 million dollars were spent, and at the end of it all, Battlefield Earth was the result: a shining monument to failure. This film, which is everything that film shouldn’t be. It is failure. It is ugliness. It is pain.

And without pain, what is pleasure? You can’t afford to miss Battlefield Earth.

[ibilenews]

Pains of Mother Africa, cries of Nigerians by Femi Fani-Kayode

First to come to Africa were the Arabs. They hunted us down like animals, captured us, castrated us, sold us into slavery and kept us in total bondage for 1300 years. What the Arabs did to Africans over that period of time makes everything else that they were subjected to after that by others, including the trans-Atlantic slave trade, look like childsplay.

Worse of all is the fact that in places like Saudi Arabia and Mauritania many black Africans still live in slavery till today. After the Arabs came the Europeans arrived and also enslaved us, shipped us overseas, subjected us to barbarous cruelty and bestial servitude and described us as nothing more than chattel with the brain of a quarter of a man.

After the Europeans came the Chinese. They have come in their full power and glory with their enticing and intoxicating massive bags of money, cheap loans, suspect grants, fake and deceptive smiles and evil intentions with a view to turning us into perpetual serfs, debtors, beggars and economic slaves.

Like a snake coiled around our hapless necks, they are snuffing and suffocating the life out of us more and more as each day goes by and they are turning us into their slaves and minions just as others that came before them once did. Sadly we may never be in a position to free ourselves from the bondage of their sinister and pervasive yoke or to pay off our debts to them. That is where we are today.

O Africa, who has bewitched thee? O mother Africa, who shall deliver thee? I have asked myself these two questions over and over again over the years and I still do not have the answers. Yet such is our pitiful plight today that it calls for some painful introspection and the sharing of some home truths.

In William Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar”, the character Cassius said, “the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves that we are underlings.” Nothing could be more appropriate than these words when trying to analyse, decipher and comprehend the African condition and mind-set.

I apologise in advance if anyone is offended by my assertions in this essay but if we are really interested in making progress as a race and if we wish to change our dastardly ways and improve our fortunes then the truth, no matter how bitter, must be spoken. That is the purpose of this contribution.

The illustrious West Indian revolutionary and foremost intellectual, Marcus Garvey, who was undoubtedly one of the most brilliant minds in history, once wrote the following. He said, “having had the wrong education as a start in his racial career, the negro has become his own greatest enemy. Most of the trouble I have had in advancing the cause of the race has come from negroes”.

On his part another great thinker and formidable intellectual, the celebrated black American Booker T. Washington, aptly described the black race in one of his many lectures by stating that they were “like crabs in a barrel”. He said that none would allow the other to climb over the top and, in the event of any such attempt, ALL would continue to pull back into the barrel the one crab that makes the effort to climb out. I wholeheartedly agree with both Garvey and Washington.

The black man is his own worst enemy and in the case of the African this is even more pronounced and self-evident. Permit me to expand on this. There are a few exceptions to the rule but generally speaking the greatest weakness of the African is his inability to provide good leadership, his inability to demand for good quality leaders, his ignorance, his cowardice, his envy and his poverty. This combination and cocktail of deadly afflictions makes us nothing but expendable prey to the rest of the world.

The famous 19th century Arab slave trader Mehmet Ali wrote, “You do not need to destroy the black African because he always ends up destroying himself and his people for you…the minute ANY black African rises up, emerges, starts talking sense and telling the others how to escape our bondage and slavery it is his fellow Africans who he seeks to help that will undermine him, insult him, expose him, ridicule him, destroy him, sell him and kill him. That is the nature of the black African. He reasons more like a wild ape than any other creature on earth”.

Standing up for Africa is a risky business because those that will hate you most of all for doing so are the Africans themselves. They would rather listen to a heartless and savage beast and support and follow him than to someone that truly loves and cares for them, that treats them with restraint, dignity, respect, compassion and kindness and that wishes them well.

I do not know where this sickness of mind and malevolent and self-destructive disposition derives from but I suspect that it is a deep-seated case of self-hate and self-loathing and a touch of what psychiatrics describe as the ‘Stockholm syndrome’. The African always loves his slave-master more than he does his liberator. Worse still he resists the notion of good education and he barely reads. There are a few exceptions to the rule but this is true of most of them.

If you want to keep a secret from an African put it in a book or write it in a long essay. He cannot and will not read either of the two because he is mentally immature, chronically lazy, morbidly indisciplined and utterly shortsighted and because he sees no immediate personal gain or value in it. He would rather listen to music and dance for one hour non-stop or watch a football or a boxing match instead. To him that is far more important and gratifying than anything else. Simply put he is stirred and motivated by his excitable and primitive passions and not by reason or logic.

Nigeria, which was meant to be the leading light of Africa, has now become its irredeemable and irretrievable basket case and the laughing stock of the world. This is a “country” of 200 million hapless and ill-fated people who are still struggling with the very concept of nationhood and who have their own internal colonial system of bondage and servitude where one small race of non-indegineous and non-negroid people have enslaved all the others and laud it over them.

This is a country where genocide, mass murder, ethnic cleansing, islamist terrorism, poverty, the persecution of political opponents and religious minorities, failure, evil, incompetence, insensitivity and wickedness is not only perceived as being a normal way of life and system of governance but also encouraged and celebrated.

Like the proverbial zoo or jungle, only the strongest and fittest can survive or get to the top in such a hellish place and shithole of a country. There is literally no hope for the weak, the poor, the vulnerable or the decent in such an environment and callousness, doublespeak, deceit and impunity appear to be well rewarded.

If this were not the case how can one explain the fact that a so-called nation that once had the greatest, most progressive, most dynamic and most educated people in Africa will accept a barely educated and clearly unfit neanderthal like Muhammadu Buhari as its leader on three separate occasions and continue to support and hail him even after he openly insults them before world leaders and treats them like filth.

His Army has failed woefully in its war against Boko Haram because he has refused to equip them adequately;because he pampers and encourages the terrorists. His economy is heading for the greatest recession in Nigeria’s history due to his incompetence and inability to save money for a rainy day. His impoverished and desperate people are marching, robbing and rioting in the streets of Lagos, in the outskirts of Abuja and in one or two other major cities looking for food and threatening the worse if they cannot find any.

As anarchy looms and sets in on parts of the country, Nigerians are being attacked openly and robbed by massive rampaging and hungry mobs made up of very angry, desperate and wild young men and he has said nothing about it let alone try to put a stop to it. His Airforce bombed scores of innocent and defenceless civilians, including women and children, to death two days ago yet it was barely reported in the press, there was no sense of outrage about it from the people and no-one in the country really gives a damn.

He has locked down his people at home in the nation’s densely populated commercial and administrative capitals of Lagos and Abuja and one or two other provinces in an attempt to prevent the spread of the corona virus without providing any provisions, money, food, water and electricity for them and without offering them any meaningful palliatives even though he knows that they are suffering badly and that his country has been officially designated as the “poverty capital of the world” by numerous international institutions!

It takes a cruel and callous man to do this and turn his back on his people in their time of need. Worse still when it comes to the fight against coronavirus itself in the last 3 weeks he has only managed to test between 10,000 to 20,000 people for the disease in a country of 200 million!

As his citizens are tortured, humiliated, insulted, dragged out of their homes and hotels and made homeless in China and as they are being accused by the Chinese authorities of “creating” and “spreading” Covid-19, he encourages, supports and commends the Chinese Government for doing all this and he welcomes Chinese doctors into his country for an unknown and unstated purpose even though the Nigerian people and the Nigerian Medical Association have expressed their grave concerns and deepest fears about this and kicked and warned against it.

Yours truly was so disgusted and appalled by Buhari’s servile and cowering disposition towards the Chinese that he was constrained to tweet the following this morning: “The support and defence that Geoffrey Onyeama, Nigeria’s otherwise erudite Foreign Minister, provided for China yesterday, even in the light of the barbaric atrocities that Africans are being subjected to in China, was embarrassing, gutless and shameful. Must Buhari always lick foreign arses?”

I am still waiting for an answer to the question but needless to say I will not hold my breath. Things are so pitiful in Buhari’s Nigeria today that even the IMF has refused to touch her with a barge pole and has excluded her from the massive $21 billion USD bail-out and pay packet that they have just offered many other African nations as their contribution to fighting Covid 19 on the African continent.

If there were ever a country that could be best described as a nation of self-flagellation masochists it would have to be Nigeria. It is a country in which the world’s most cruel and heartless sadists are in power and the people appear to like it just like that.

Those that go by the name of IPOB and that have had the presence of mind, decency and courage to protest and say that they have had enough and wish to break out and establish their own country have been locked up, demonized, insulted, maligned and murdered and they have been declared as terrorists even though they never threatened or used violence to effect their purpose.

To say that you want to be free from bondage, tyranny and subjugation and that you wish to chart a new course for your ethnic nationality or tribe because the accursed Lugardian amalgamation and forced marriage union between the north and the south of 1914 has never worked has now become a mortal sin and an unforgivable crime in Nigeria and self-determination has become a dirty word. What a tragedy!

Africa does not need to be conquered because she has already conquered itself. Today Africans are slaves in Libya, they are treated like animals in the Middle East and China, they are barely tolerated in Europe and they are hated and treated with contempt and disdain in Asia and North and South America. All this yet they still believe that their leaders will lead them to the promised land and cut them a better deal in the world. This is nothing but delusion. What a sorry lot we are.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

What It Takes to Survive

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12013776

There it was, pain that ripped, and twisted, and tore at Alec’s insides, at his body, his mind, his soul. The rune burned on his skin, so hot Alec wanted to claw at it, to rip the flesh from his body, so the agony might ease. His heart stopping, pounding erratically, the stabbing, pulsating pain that settled there. There was a tightness in his throat, so taught it brought tears to his eyes, it turned his vision black. This is a fate worse than death Alec thought to himself, as he felt his legs give way underneath him, and screams and sobs joined together and erupted from his throat. There it was, a pain he had never expected to feel, the severing of his soul to Jace’s. There had been broken bones, and broken hearts, and burns from training mats, and etched runes, but there had never been a suffering as great as this, as the pain faded, and an emptiness settled in Alec’s chest. He would have lost himself in the pain and in the loneliness if not for the nimble fingers, grasping tightly to his shoulder, as it was Alec’s whole world had changed, and he was fighting with everything he had to remember which way was up.

“I-I can’t feel him,” Alec panted, panic wrapping its suffocating tendrils around his heart “He’s dead,” It was as if all the air in the room had disappeared, Magnus and Isabelle simultaneously sucking in a surprised breath, before the ops center went dead silent. Izzy’s shoulders slumped in defeat, Magnus’ hands slipped from Alec’s shoulders in shock, landing with a soft thud in his lap.

Alec hadn’t realized how much Magnus’ touch had been grounding him. As the heat and the pressure from Magnus’ hands fell away, the room was plunged into ice. It was cold, so cold Alec began to shiver, to tremble where he sat. It was as if a noose had been pulled tight around his neck, issuing a final death sentence. He couldn’t catch his breath, the pain too much for him to bear, his body went numb.

It did not take long for Magnus to recover from the news, he had lost too many people to succumb to grief for very long. And there was so much he had to do now, to ensure the Downworld’s survival. Now that Jace had fallen, as so many had before him, to Valentine and his need for genocide.

“Alexander, we have to go,” resolve woven in his voice. Determination in his eyes.

Alec could feel Magnus there, his presence and his soul like a magnet to hi own. But for once, it couldn’t save him. Alec’s arms wrapped around himself as he rocked himself rapidly back and forth, his hands grabbing at the spot where moments ago his Parabatai Rune had sat proudly on his skin.  “I can’t, I can’t,” he managed between shaky, rapid breaths, tears he couldn’t control falling down his face.

“Alexander, look at me,” Magnus wrapped his fingers on Alec’s wrist, and for a moment Alec felt like he could breathe again, but the guilt of everything he had done to Magnus, made his flesh burned where he had touched him, and Alec couldn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction as he wrenched his arm from Magnus’ grip. “Alexander,” and there was a seriousness to Magnus tone now that Alec had never heard before. “Look at me, right now,” his tone left no room for argument, left Alec helpless to do anything but obey. Alec thought it would be impossible to break his heart any further than it had been as he felt Jace’s life slip away. But the pain and the calmness in Magnus’ eyes, like he was being torn apart inside, like he was scared, like Alec was a wild animal that could attack at any moment and Magnus was trying to hide his true feelings behind a mask, to settle a peace in Alec’s chest long enough to get him to listen.

Magnus could hardly bear to see how lost Alec looked, as his hazel eyes connected with Magnus’ brown glamor. Magnus held out an arm, ring-adorned fingers reaching out towards Alec’s trembling body. “Take my hand,” he said calmly, the briefest hint of a smile on his face as Alec entwined their fingers. “Okay, now breathe with me, Alexander,” Magnus guided Alec through his breathing, trying with everything he had to calm the panic that was taking over Alec’s body. Alec closed his eyes, still rocking, still grasping desperately on to Magnus’ hand. Magnus took the opportunity to pulse magic through Alec’s veins, to let its calming influence seep deep into his bones, numb the pain, slow the heart, allow Alec some time to focus, to breathe. Magnus hated to do it, he hated to use magic on people, especially when it played with emotions, but the matter at hand was too pressing, and the sooner Alec could come down from the shock of losing a part of himself, the more time they had to stop Valentine from destroying the Downworld, now that their last hope had been lost to the Angel.

“We have to go,” Magnus said, when Alec finally stilled, when the haze dissolved from his eyes, when he finally seemed to return to the world. “We have to stop Valentine,”

“I-“ the world came out strangled and thick “I can’t,”

“Yes you can,” Magnus abandoned kneeling, in favor of sitting cross legged on the cold, hard tiles of the Ops Center floor. “You have to, for him, for Jace. You have to play the soldier now, for just a few more hours, and then you can mourn. But if the worst has happened, if Jace is truly dead, then Clary is in trouble too and we have to help her before it’s too late. And if it is, then we need to stop Valentine ourselves, or else their sacrifice will have been in vain because there will be no one left to set their souls free. No one left to weep for them. No one left to bury them. Jace and Clary deserve more than to be left out there, alone in the woods, to waste away into nothing,”

“Magnus,” Alec sobbed, and it ripped Magnus’ heart right out of his chest. “I can’t,”

“Yes you can, you can and you will. Because you are Alexander Gideon Lightwood. You are not only the bravest man I have ever known, you are the strongest. And you know if Jace is truly dead, you need to bring him home. You need to lay him to rest in the City of Bones with the family he didn’t get to know. You need to get him back, and keep him away from Valentine. And you need to save me, Alexander. You need to save us all.” Magnus let the mask fall away, overwhelming Alec with a sudden wave of vulnerability and fear. Of complete and utter terror. “Izzy will be right there. I will be right there,”

“No, Magnus,” anxiety bubbling back up in Alec’s throat “You can’t. You need to go to the Seelie realm, you need to get to safety. I can-.” But he can’t bring himself to say it, even if it’s true. Because Magnus doesn’t want to be that anymore, because Magnus is still angry at him. Because Magnus may still love him, but he is completely unaware of how madly and deeply Alec has fallen for him. Because he doesn’t know that Magnus is the only thing keeping him sane right now. That the hand they still have linked together is the only thing that grounds him. That makes him remember there are still things worth fighting for. That there is still a battle to be won. That he has to keep fighting, play through the pain. That he can scream, and cry, and punch holes into the walls until his fists bleed, later. That he can’t live without Magnus, even if Magnus has decided to live without him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Magnus says, and it almost echoes this morning, when he had collapsed in the sand, when he had drained all of his magic to help the Shadowhunters again, even though he would get nothing out of it, again. When they had used him as a warlock, instead of treating him like a human being, again. And it almost puts hope in his heart, that maybe Magnus means more than just the words that pass his lips. But that’s too much to wish for right now, that Magnus might forgive Alec for betraying his trust, for lying. It’s a hope he needs to stitch himself back together again.

Alec sets his jaw, he pushes himself off the ground, pulling Magnus with him. He lets go of Magnus’ hand, or he tries to, but the mere thought of losing that point of contact nearly sends his head spiraling right back into a pit of despair, and isolation. He expects the worst when Magnus' fingers slide away from his, of their own accord, but he’s close enough to smell the sandalwood shampoo, to see the fading sunlight gleam off the rings on his fingers, to feel the static energy of Magnus’ magic as it sparks to life in his hands, and it’s enough, it’s enough to keep Alec on his feet.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of blinding, radiant light, fear, panic, and shock at finding Jace alive and breathing, to see the parabatai rune sitting darkly against his skin, to feel Jace, solid and warm against his chest. Of last minute invitations to the Hunters Moon bar, to celebrations of life and love, and things that Alec never thought he would get to have. There is not enough time to breathe, let alone process the trauma, the fear, the sadness. But there is enough time for Alec to know that he has to fix whatever he broke between himself and Magnus. Because he knows, although his soul had been twisted, and broken, and torn, although a hole had been burned into his heart at the same time his rune had been burned away, although his had felt the world slip out from underneath him, that he would have been lost to the tides, to the pain, and the grief, if Magnus had not been there to bring him home. He would have died, right then and there, on the floor of the Ops Room, with only Isabelle to watch the life fade from his eyes, if Magnus’ hands had not been pressed against his back, if the warmth of Magnus’ body had not found it’s way into his bones. And if Alec has learned one thing in all of this, it is what it takes to survive. And what it takes, is Magnus Bane, loving him unconditionally. Magnus Bane, trusting him although he had no reason too. Magnus Bane, fighting for him, even when he thought all hope was lost. Magnus Bane, still bruised and angry from Alec’s betrayal, sitting next to him on the floor, holding his hand, wiping away his tears, filling his body with light and comfort and warmth until Alec could find the strength to fight back against the agony that had wrapped it’s slimy fingers around his soul.

Alec catches a glimpse of Magnus, leaning against a wall, martini glass in his hands, exhaustion in his shoulders, sadness in the setting of his jaw. And Alec know there is no way in Hell he is giving up on them that easily. All the excitement and noise in the bar fades away as he approaches, until there is nothing left but silence and the image of his heart and soul leaning there against the wall.