#redemption banker

[inoankin]

I currently watching the Shawshank Redemption(one of the main influences for AWO) and keep thinking that one of the main characters was a dead ringer for Leo(it was the hair and sideburns) and the prison uniforms are almost a identical version of What Vincent was wearing for the first act of the game.

i foam at the mouth when tommy is on screen

[mapecl-stories]

Die Zerschlagung des Komplotts: Ein Kampf um Gerechtigkeit - The Unraveling of the Conspiracy: A Struggle for Justice

[wolf-tail]

Even if Rowling wasn't completely off the holocaust denying deep-end, the way she wrote those wizard books kind of pisses me off now that i'm older because they have so much potential to be better than they actually were.

Like, middle school me was eating that shit up for a reason, you don't become one of the most popular authors in the world who created one of the most well-known pieces of literature in the world off of dumb luck. There were things she did right. Unfortunately , now that i'm older I can see everything she did wrong. And my writer's brain mixed with my ego is telling me that I could make it better.

Implant a heavier theme of the wizarding world's patronizing bullshit and entitlement. Like seriously, the complete unwarranted superiority complex that these chuckle fucks have is obnoxious beyond belief. Even middle school me knew that there was no good reason to keep magic away from the people they made up a slur for. Maybe that should have been the main theme of the books.

Seriously, it ties in so well with the evil wizard supremacy sublot. The solution to systemic discrimination is not to get rid of bigoted people. It's to tear down those systems entirely. The wizarding world seriously needs a status quo shake up.

Revamp the house elves or just cut them out entirely. Just don't fucking justify slavery. IT'S NOT THAT HARD!!!

Maybe this is lefist brain talking but do not make Harry grow up to be a fucking magic cop. In fact, I would have had made the Aurors be unbelievably awful and corrupt, just like a real cops!

Give the characters of color less racist names.

Stop describing your female villains as "mannish"

The greedy goblin banker theme is one of the most disgustingly antisemetic things i've ever had the displeasure of putting up with. What the fuck is wrong with you Joanne!? I would just cut that shit out.

The violent fatphobia grosses me out so much. When I was little I wanted Dudley to get a PROPER redemption arc so bad and not be abused for his weight. In fact , if I were Rowling, I would have added in a sublot about Dudley discovering his own magic to and having to unlearn the shit his parents taught him, as well as deal with their painful rejection of him. That would've been really cool.

Apparently lycanthropy was supposed to be a metaphor for HIV??? Ew, Joanne. No. It's like she never talked to a gay man in her life.

The "love" potions piss me off SO BAD. Voldemort's mother was not in love. She was a rapist. I would change that up entirely.

Snape is not a hero. He was an incel in a hate group. Acknowledge him as such and don't have Harry name his fucking kid after him.

Hey, quick question, why does the school have a blood supremacist house???? Why was this allowed??? Why did she write Slytherin to just be openly discriminatory towards mixed blood kids????

Whatever the dad Weasely's name is, I would have played off his whole "weeb for nonmagical people" thing as more patronizing and accidentally insensitive than endearing. He reminds me of white moms who say konichiwa to the waiter at Chinese restaurants and think they're "cultured".

For the love of god, treat the female characters other than Hermione with an OUNCE of respect.

Now that I know more about animal welfare and the exotic pet industry, Hagrid kinda gets on my nerves. I would add a sublot about him learning to respect the boundaries of wild animals.

I can't think of anything else that ticks me off about the books right now but I will come back to this if I do.

[determinate-negation]

The logic of cultural assimilation and the desire to climb the ladder of prestige led the Jewish bourgeoisie to send its sons to the University, especially towards the end of the nineteenth century:

“Just like the majority of German businessmen, Jews wanted to climb socially… They wanted their sons and sons-in-law to be more valued than they were. A career as an officer or as a high-ranking government official, which were the goals of a young Christian man, was closed to Jews … only university studies were open to him.”

As a result, in 1895 Jews comprised 10% of the student body in German universities, which was ten times the percentage of Jews in the overall population (1.05%). This massive presence of bourgeois Jewish youth in higher education quickly led to the formation of a new social category: the Jewish intelligentsia. Jewish intellectuals of German culture had, of course, existed since the late eighteenth century (Moses Mendelssohn), but it was only at the end of the nineteenth century that the phenomenon became so widespread as to constitute a new social fact. These Jewish intellectuals, déclassé, unstable and free of any precise social attachment, were a typical example of the sozialfreischwebende Intelligenz that Mannheim spoke of. Their condition was eminently contradictory: deeply assimilated yet largely marginalized; linked to German culture yet cosmopolitan; uprooted and at odds with their business and bourgeois milieu of origin; rejected by the traditional rural aristocracy yet excluded in career terms within their natural sphere of acceptance (the university). In a state of ideological availability, they were soon attracted to the two principal poles of German cultural life, which could be named after the famous characters from Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain: ‘Settembrini’, the liberal, democratic and republican philanthropist, and ‘Naphta’, the conservative/revolutionary romantic.

For many young Jewish intellectuals, rationalism, progressive evolutionism, Aufklärung and neo-Kantian philosophy became the primary reference, in some cases combined with a Judaism that was diluted or reduced to monotheist ethics (Hermann Cohen). From this world-view several political options were available, ranging from moderate liberalism (the ideology of the Jewish bourgeoisie itself), to social democracy (Eduard Bernstein), Marxism (Max Adler, Otto Bauer and the Austrian Marxists) and even Communism (Paul Levi, Ruth Fischer, Paul Frölich, August Thalheimer).

Nevertheless, at the turn of the century, anti-capitalist romanticism was the dominant movement within the culture of Mitteleuropa. Sociologically speaking, it was inevitable that a significant portion of the new university-trained Jewish intelligentsia would be attracted by the romantic critique of industrial civilization: ‘Naphta!’ The intelligentsia eagerly discovered the nostalgic and anti-bourgeois Weltanschauung predominant in academia – notably in the Geisteswissenschaften (Humanities), where the majority of Jewish students enrolled. These students subsequently rejected their fathers’ business careers, revolted against their bourgeois family milieu and aspired intensely to an ‘intellectual life style’. This generational break, which many Jewish intellectuals speak of in their autobiographies, opposed the anti-bourgeois youth – passionately interested in Kultur, spirituality, religion and art – to their entrepreneurial parents – merchants or bankers, moderate liberals and good German patriots, indifferent to religious matters. In a recent autobiographical interview, Leo Löwenthal, the Frankfurt School sociologist of literature, summarized the feeling that was common among many intellectuals of his generation: ‘My family household, as it were, was the symbol of everything I did not want – shoddy liberalism, shoddy Aufklärung, and double standards.’

Redemption and Utopia: Jewish Libertarian Thought in Central Europe, Michael Löwy

[theblackarthistoryhottie]

Black and Biblical: Supper at Emmaus (c.1530-40)

Supper at Emmaus is an oil on panel painting, created by an unknown painter from 1530 to 1540 of the Italian Renaissance, and is currently on display at the Walters Art Museum located in Baltimore, Maryland. This painting depicts Jesus Christ as the central subject, in an outdoor setting, being surrounded by four men at a table as they are "breaking bread" with Christ with the nourishments present on the table. Supper at Emmaus is a visual depiction of the biblical testament of Luke 24:36-39, which describes the aftermath of Christ's resurrection as two disciples (in this case four disciples), are in the presence of the Christ who proves to them that he is a living being of flesh and bones, and not a spirit, and that they are witnesses of him being risen from the dead in order to preserve the souls of all people so they will not be condemned for their sins and the disciples must fulfill everything he has established in the Laws of Moses and the Prophet of Psalms. 

The Supper at Emmaus of 1530-1540 is one of many versions, but this is the only version that features a Black/African subject being featured in religious context and in close proximity to Christ. The Black figure presented in the painting is wearing a tall red wool material hat and Black clothes which is the typical attire of an Egyptian soldier of this time. In the painting, the Egyptian soldier also passes the dish (the broiled fish) to Christ as he is breaking bread. The act of breaking bread is a communal effort of harmony and expression of affirming love, trust, and connection with one another. The Black Egyptian diaspora has an expansive influence in Italy dating back to 2nd century BC. During this time in Venice, Italy, the presence of Egyptians was significant as they came and established numerous professions for themselves such as soldiers, bankers, surgeons, actors, servants, and etc.

The Supper at Emmaus is one of the earliest artworks ever made that featured a Black subject being presented in biblical context and as an associate to Christ. A Black figure being featured in this event demonstrates the testimonial integrity that was established through the act of Jesus dying for the redemption of everyone’s souls. It also expresses how much of an influence the Egyptians have in Italy at this time, to be incorporated in such an honorable and sacred event. The incorporation of the Egyptian soldier is a reflection of the inclusion of anyone no matter what race and ethnicity, they are redeemed by God through Christ’s honor. Although no other associates were featured in Luke 24: 36-49, the inclusion of two additional figures, especially of African identity,  promotes the inclusivity of Christ’s salvation that was granted to all nations and races.

[zhansww]

The first ~28 episodes of War of Faith are so good. So fucking good. And definitely recommendable. But the drop in the quality of the writing after that is... jarring. The pacing runs wild, the plot gets ridiculously contrived and a good character turns evil for no reason. Basically, the best way I’d recommend this show is to watch until about episode 28 and after that, just skip to the finale. Spare yourself all the nonsense in between. Although I will say that the character of Wei Ruolai, at least, stayed pretty consistent and mostly well-written until the very end. He’s easily become my favorite of all the characters I’ve watched Yibo play. Oh and there is definitely potential for a second season. As long as it has the same quality as the first two acts of season one, I would totally welcome it.

spoilers under the cut

As much as I appreciated what they did to redeem Tunan at the end, my biggest issue is that Tunan should not have turned evil in the first place. He shouldn’t have fucking needed redemption. It (still) makes no sense. And it’s the worst mistake of the third act. I could literally condone anything else. The fact that Tunan turns into a warlord, even though he is banker. The fact that everyone suddenly knows how to wield guns and fight. The ridiculous plot armor for certain characters and how conveniently important things constantly happen at the same time. Like, I’m fine with all that. But changing characters to move the plot in a certain direction instead of having characters move the plot naturally... that’s where I draw the line. And I know what they did it for. To make it more angsty. To make us, viewers, feel some type of way. But nope, the only thing bad writing makes me feel is annoyance.

Even if I take my shipping glasses off for a moment, I think it’s safe to say that Tunan and Ruolai are the heart and soul of this story. Heck, this show literally starts off with Ruolai, trying to get a place at Central Bank, where his beloved Tunan works. That’s what kicks off the entire story. Honestly, their relationship is gayer than the only canonically gay c drama I watched. And even though the third act is a mess, their relationship is still probably what I liked the most on this show. And I’m glad that they, somehow, got a sort of happy ending. I assume the implication in the end is that Tunan is the comrade Ruolai was supposed to meet... And since they’re finally (belatedly) on the same side again, they get to work together again, too. It’s a bit bittersweet but oh well. Better than if Tunan had died, at least. Ruolai has this really endearing and whole-hearted devotion to Tunan. They very much have a master/servant dynamic at the beginning. But the more Ruolai grows into his own, the more he steps out of Tunan’s shadow and at the very end, they meet each other as equals. I really liked what Yibo himself said about their relationship, that they started as master and disciple but gradually came to consider each other family.

I’m really fucking glad that Yibo chose this role and that he played it the way that he did. I don’t even know how long it’s been since the last time I was this invested in a show (not counting the OP live action cuz I’ve been invested in the og for a decade lol) so I’m ultimately quite happy that I watched this which I wouldn’t have done if it weren’t for dd, tho. My man really chooses the best roles and his performances keep getting better. I’m super proud of him and to be his fan~

[msfbgraves]

Cobra Kai 2.0

Something that struck me about the new Cobra Kai versus the Cobra Kai in the films -

Nearly every Cobra Kai member they focus on in the series is underprivileged. Hawk is disabled. Miguel is a poor boy whose family are immigrants. Tory is a fatherless poor caretaker of a sick mother and younger brother. Kenny is a poor black kid picked on by a bunch of rich white kids. Yes, there's Parker, but did he ever get his own episode? Aisha is a bullied black kid, though she's rich (which got her booted off the show).

The Miyagi Do's are the rich ones, the stable ones (no one we know of among them, other than Robby, has much hardship to overcome). Beautiful dojo and everything.

But that wasn't what the films were selling! The Cobra Kais were a group of mostly white preppy rich kids ganging up on one new poor kid, who, to some people in that Encino club, might still have counted as not-quite-white (if Aly was born around 1966, her parents will have been born around 1930-1940, and to those people, Daniel LaRusso would have been called a swarthy wop, guinea or dago by some people they grew up with, if they're too polite to use such language by 1983). Daniel definitely takes pains not to seem other to his environment even in 2018.

Sorry, but if your message is: "Cobra Kais are people too", why can't you simply try to win sympathy for preppy white kids? Why make Johnny into a blue collar worker? Nothing in his background suggests that. Why not make him a divorced, washed up, bankrupted investment banker? Why have Eli not simply be the vaguely Jewish kid who has trouble making friends? Really, if your whole raison d'être is "shitty rich kids are people too", why are you making it so that your protagonists are always fighting the rich kids? Who... aren't even shitty? Who did Samantha LaRusso ever hurt? And maybe there's Anthony, but he's barely in the show for three seasons.

Teaching poor kids to fight dirty because life can do you dirty is borderline justified. But The Karate Kid was about rich kids being taught to fight dirty and then taking all their advantages out on poor kids, because might makes right. Johnny, with his bike, and his preppy clothes, laughing at Daniel who has to sneak in through the kitchen to see his uptown girl. Chozen, the strong henchman to his insanely rich uncle, ganging up on the poor foreign boy. Terry Silver, making business deals with career fighter Mike Barnes. Humanise that all you like - but we also see what that looks like in the films, and that's Aly. The rich girl who really likes this new sweet kid, and doesn't care his mother is probably too outspoken for her parents' liking, and doesn't care her girlfriends don't much care for him. Aly, who is nothing but polite to Mr. Miyagi (compare that to Terry Silver's openly racist taunts), and only breaks up with Daniel when he jumps to conclusions (once about the class difference, another time when he was openly jealous about her talking to other guys). Show why, as taught by Johny, Cobra Kai 2.0 is good for those kids, or indeed show Johnny figuring out why it isn't and trying to make a change.

Because a poor kid learning "No Mercy" because they're trying to survive in a world that is trying to crush them is a very different setup than teaching a rich kid with all advantages in the world how to go around and pick on people, which is what Kreese was doing. The closest we get to that in the show is Hawk. It indeed isn't pretty and his redemption is entirely rushed, but even Eli, vaguely Jewish kid with a scarred face and trouble understanding social cues, had it much harder than, say, Tommy, who simply liked to win fights with his friends, if that meant nearly beating a young Newark boy to death after a school dance.

[dandelionh3art]

15 years ago, at a most exotically rare moment in history only made possible due to crisis and an apparent seachange moment in American consciousness, this man became President of the US.

The mood was transformative, almost revolutionary. People really truly deeply wanted change, and had such high hopes for that seemingly extraordinary moment.

The stage was set for actual change

The American public was tired of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, and American militaristic interventionism in general.

The exploitative economic structure nearly collapsed in the financial crisis, making new egalitarian approaches and ideas suddenly less far-fetched.

And Obama was a sensational black nominee and then black president, which felt like a way of redemption and a potential restart of ethnic relations in the US, and potentially the whole world.

But

Instead of challenging capitalism, Obama started money printing for the rich and made bankers and Wall Street the mightier overlords of politics and culture, ushering in an era of growing divide and inequality.

Instead of bringing an end to imperial wars, he continued and intensified ongoing campaigns, and started new ones, destabilized a slew of additional countries, and made drone assassinations and mass killings a staple of Western defense strategy.

Instead of pushing for a recognition of Palestine and an end to Israel's occupation, he signed off the biggest military aid agreement with Netanyahu, unconditionally.

Instead of truly revolutionizing healthcare, he created a bureaucratic mess for the ages that mainly benefited business and Big Pharma

Instead of seizing the opportunity to shape a progressive Supreme Court for decades (which would have positively impacted women's rights, voting rights, gun laws, freedom of speech, domestic surveillance, corporate influence on politics, and more), he hardly made any new nominations.

Instead of starting a genuine new conversation between different ethnic and religious populations, he chose shameful tokenism (shamelessly he still embraces black athletes and only shakes hands with white ones, like anyone falls for this stupidity).

-

And then there was the political assassination of Bernie Sanders (who went on to finish the job himself in the genocide)

-

Is there's one person, one administration and one moment in time you could point to as sealing the fate of America, it would be the Barack Obama moment. And it was all the more destructive because of all the hopes and dreams of many many millions of Americans who saw Obama as a huge great promise they could almost feel at their fingertips.

They almost had it, and it was gone. The heartbreak and disappointment of all heartbreaks and all disappointments. The proverbial messiah has been found to be the facilitator of doom.

Alon Mizrahi

[frithwontdie]

Do white Americans owe reperations to blacks? NO!

In America, Reparations have already been paid. To the point that it’s beyond ridiculous. Whites have gone out of their way to artificially boost Nonwhites at every turn. Trillions of tax dollars and donations have been spent over decades trying to boost non-white achievements and social status. Also dept relief, Crt, affirmative action, first step act, donations for past wrong doings, school degrees, food stamps, welfare programs, etc.

Alot of whites and some jews through out American history tried to help blacks become a separate & self-reliant people (the pursuit of Booker T. Washington) through education.

The Freedman's Bureau (1865 to 1872) :

The Freedman’s Bureau (officially known as ‘The Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen, and Abandoned Lands’) was created by Americans to feed and provide other life necessities to the Negro population of the South after the Civil War ended in 1865. However, well before the end of the Civil War, Americans organized all over the North various organizations to feed, clothe, educate and provide other needed necessities for the newly freed Negro people Note: according to W.E.B Du Bios, more than 50 organizations were active in relief capacity for the southern Negro by 1866.

"The First white people in America, certainly the first in the South to exhibit their interest in the reaching of the Negro and saving his soul through the medium of the Sunday-school were Robert E. Lee and 'Stonewall Jackson'. ...Where Robert E. Lee and 'Stonewall' Jackson have led in the redemption of the Negro through the Sunday-school, the rest of us can afford to follow. " - Booker T. Washington 1910

The Tuskegee Institute:

This icon of Black education was founded by the great Booker T Washington and was also the brainchild of an Alabama prominent banker by the name of George W. Campbell (White man). Another White man, an Alabama state senator named W.F. Foster, spearheaded the necessary funding for the Institute through the state legislature. The result was a yearly appropriation of $2000.

The following white Americans, all self-made millionaires, gave small fortunes - their own hard earned money - to this Negro self-sufficiency school over their lifetime:

--Andrew Carnegie

--John D. Rockefeller

--Henry Rodgers

--Collis Huntington

And,

--Julius Rosenwald*

--Anna T. Jeanes*

* Julius Rosenwald was an immigrant Jew and self-made millionaire.

* Anna T. Jeanes, a white woman, was not a self-made millionaire, but inherited her money from her husband.

Howard University

Howard University was chartered in 1867. It was championed by an American Civil War General, Oliver Otis Howard (November 8, 1830 – October 26, 1909), and the school hence bears his name. Howard University is also the ONLY higher education school ever to be directly funded by the US taxpayers (it still is).

Lincoln University

Lincoln University (Pennsylvania) was an exclusive college for Negroes and was created in 1854 by a white man named John Miller Dickey, who also became its first president. Lincoln University was originally named Ashmun Institute. The first Black president of the university was not elected until 1945.

Fisk University

Fisk University was an all-Negro college that was established by three whites, Erastus Milo Cravath, John Ogden and Edward Parmelee Smith in Nashville, Tennessee, in 1866.

Wilberforce University

Wilberforce University, located near Xenia, in Ohio, was an all-Negro college created by whites from the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1856. It was named after a white man, William Wilberforce, who was an 18th century abolitionist.

Cheyney University of Pennsylvania

Cheyney University of Pennsylvania was an all-Negro school established in 1837. A white man named Richard Humphreys had bequeathed $10,000 in his will (10% of his estate) in 1832 for the sole purpose of creating a place of education for the Negro race.

Atlanta University

Atlanta University was founded by whites associated with the American Missionary Association, in 1865. Around 1866, its survival then shifted to, and depended upon, the Americans associated with the Freedman’s Bureau.

In 1922, the Carnegie Corporation and the Rockefeller Memorial gave $25,000 each to create the Journal Of Negro History.

In 1924, George Eastman (Kodack Co.) gave Tuskegee Institute $1 million dollars.

John D. Rockefeller

Mr. Rockefeller donated almost $180 million dollars to the General Education Board, which was chartered by Act of Congress in 1903. Much of this money was spent supplying educational aid to the Negro people, specifically in the southern states (Mr. Rockefeller‘s $180 million translates to almost 2 billion dollars in today's dollars!)

George Peabody Education Fund for poor Southerners

George Peabody Education Fund was established by a white man named George Peabody, and was designed to help Negro colleges in the South at the turn of the century.

The Slater Fund

The Slater Fund was established by white, James Fox Slater, in 1882. Its primary purpose was to support southern Negro schools. Around 1915, this fund was worth about $1.75 million.

The Jeanes Fund (Jeanes Foundation)

A white woman named Miss Anna T. Jeanes, a Quaker, created 'The Fund for Rudimentary Schools for Southern Negroes’ in 1907 from the monies left to her by her late husband. The purpose of the fund was to help Negroes create teachers for their people. It was endowed at one million dollars (a staggering sum at the time).

The Southern Education Board: In or around 1900, whites created the The Southern Education Board. It's funding was initially provided by the Slater Fund and the Jeans Funds. Americans, trained in the area of farming, would go to rural farms (Negro and American) and educate them on better farming techniques. The Southern Education Board was also very concerned with the high southern Negro illiteracy, which was, in 1900, almost 50% (for southern Americans, around 11%).

Phelps-Stokes Fund

Established in 1911, a white philanthropist and self-made millionaire Anson Phelps Stokes created this fund for the purpose of improving Negro life through education. Its endowment was approximately $900,000.

Minor Fund

This fund was established by a white female, Miss Myrtilla Minor, in 1851. Its purpose was to provide aid to schools who would teach Negro girls to be teachers for their people.

In 1910, according to the US census, 50% of Negroes (about 4.8 million) lived in urban centers (all created by white males). That means there would be approximately 2.4 million Negro males living in the urban centers of America. About 1/3rd would be too young to work, so that means there were about 1.6 million Negro males of working age living in American-built cities in 1910. Of those 1.8 million Negro males, 350,000 (almost 20%!) worked in a factory job (all factory jobs for the Negro were supplied by White men i.e. not ONE factory job in America was created by a Negro male --so, concomitantly, no white man was employed by a Negro male in a factory job. Note: At this time in American history, you worked or you starved. (source: Chronological History of The Negro pg. 358)

Naturally, with whites, being so generous supplying jobs to black men, naturally, more black men were encouraged to come to the American-built urban areas.

Julius Rosenwald

Without question one of the most generous of the Euro race toward the black people was Julius Rosenwald (Jewish). Most of his charity was gifted through the Rosenwald Fund (depleted in 1948)

Cushing Fund

A white woman, Miss Emeline Cushing, established this fund in 1895 for the purpose of financially assisting colored schools.

Whites Create Special School - In Mississippi. - For Negro Boys To Own Land

Daniel Hand Fund

A white self-made millionaire, Daniel Hand, established the Daniel Hand Fund in 1888. It was endowed at $1 million dollars (two-thirds of Mr. Hand’s entire personal wealth!). Mr. Hand stipulated that all of the Fund would be directed toward Negro education in the former slave states. When Mr. Hand died in 1893, he bequeathed the rest of his remaining wealth to this fund.

Andrew Carnegie

Mr. Carnegie, when he retired, was considered the richest man in the world. He also became the biggest philanthropist in America and gave generously to Negro educational causes, which included giving $600,000 to the Tuskegee Institute in 1903.

Harmon Foundation

The New York City Harmon Foundation was established in 1922 by an white man named William Harmon (1862-1928). Its purpose was to aid and assist Negro art, artists, businesses, education for Negroes, farming needs, music, and other causes for the Negro.

Garland Fund

This White-male-established fund was used to help the NAACP through the Great Depression.

John D. Rockefeller Jr.

Mr. Rockefeller, Jr. built the Dunbar Apartments in New York City, a mammoth complex consisting of six buildings - 511 apartments - specifically to house low-income Negroes in Harlem. He also built and funded a bank in NYC solely for Negroes.

Katharine Drexel

Katherine Drexel was born November 26, 1858 and died March 3, 1955. She was an American female, a nun, philanthropist, educator and later canonized as a Roman Catholic saint.

"She became a nun, and took the name Sister Katharine, dedicating herself and her inheritance to the needs of [non-occupational ranking] Native Americans and African-Americans in the western and southwestern United States, and was a vocal advocate of racial tolerance. She established a religious order, the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament for Indians and Colored People. She also financed more than 60 missions and schools around the United States, and founded Xavier University of Louisiana[1] - the only historically Black, Roman Catholic university in the United States to date."

The United Negro College Fund

In 1944 the United Negro College Fund was created. Almost all of the funding for its initial operation was provided by the General Education Fund and the Rosenwald Fund.

Mr. William Trent, a black man, in the course of his 20-year tenure as its first executive director, raised over $78 million for this fund, almost all of it coming from generous white liberal Americans (Senator John F. Kennedy gave all of the profits from his book ‘Profiles in Courage' to this fund).

Also American Jews also gave money to black people. Before 1950, it was mostly coming from the Rosenwald fund.

Minority scholarships:

Low income:

It’s open to illegal immigrants, too, but white people? Forget it. And when we learn that “800 Compton residents to get guaranteed income in two-year pilot program,” since Compton is only 2 percent white – yes, just 2 percent – white people won’t get that money.

Having to change the requirements of mental retardation, because too many blacks IQ's were that low.

https://mn.gov/mnddc/parallels2/pdf/90s/99/99-MRI-MLW.pdf

[doomerpatrol]

Comic Log: Sex Criminals

I am going to go apeshit.

Sex Criminals is a romantic-comedy-drama with elements of science-fantasy and crime fiction. It is somewhat notable for very frank discussions and portrayals of sexuality, kink, fetishism, mental health, repression, and intimacy, by which I mean the characters recite Instagram infographics at each other, and there's a lot of drawings of dicks and pussies and butts. It is written by Matt Fraction (who I think is a pretty interesting character and humor writer with some great high concepts) and illustrated by Chip Zdarsky (who, to his credit, puts a lot of silly or amusing background gags and makes some compelling panels and sequences).

The premise is that a woman, Suzie, and a man, Jon, both of whom have been affected by a series of everyday traumas (a parent dying in an outlandish way, the conga line of humiliations that is adolescence, the terror of being a subject), also both have the ability to freeze time when they orgasm. When the two meet, fuck, and realize they share this ability, the two decide to rob the bank Jon works for in order to save Suzie's library from foreclosure. Unfortunately, they find they are not the only ones who can enter "The Quiet"/"Cumworld" - encountering a self-appointed Sex Police - and what ensues is a somewhat meandering story of 1) how Suzie and Jon get together, break up, get back together, and break up again, and 2) how the duo will get out from under the thumb of the weirdos that are monitoring their sex lives.

This is, I think, a pretty interesting concept! But Sex Criminals bears all the hallmarks of a serialization that got beyond the creators' control, drifting away from its initial ideas but never securing a new footing. What I mean by this is that the series is an entirely different beast at the start than it is at the end, and trying to trace its development from issue #1 to issue #69 (ha) is maddening. Broken into six five-issue arcs:

The first arc centers on the initial bank-robbery, told in a non-linear style, and emotionally focuses on the whirlwind romance and chemistry between Suze and Jon.

The second and third arcs are about exiting the honeymoon phase, as the pair initially try to get out of the situation altogether, but get drawn back into further investigation after some tit-for-tat with the antagonists, and discover more people who also have sex-related powers (I would explain more but literally none of it ends up mattering). We get more focus on the supporting cast.

The fourth arc is a crash and burn as things start coming apart and the relationship implodes, at the same time that new stakes are established on the "crime-action" side of the story. Also some of the supporting cast just drops out of the narrative.

I think it's the fifth and sixth arcs where things totally go awry - after Jon and Suzie's breakup, we have a lot of wheel-spinning issues focused on supporting characters that don't go anywhere, we have a new central antagonist who is retroactively tied into the beginning of the series in a clumsy way, we get a couple of unjustified face turns for the initial antagonists (the character of Myrtle is totally malevolent - using slut-shaming to get someone fired, destroying a building out of spite, etc. - and never at any point does anything actually redemptive, she just arbitrarily gets reassigned to Team Good Guy). The series keeps gesturing as though it's building towards a grand confrontation, but...

Eventually Jon and Suzie get back together, and the timeline-muckery and criminal conspiracy side of the plot resolves without the involvement or choices of any of the characters. Basically the evil gay sadist banker has been pulling a bunch of financial crime so he can harvest Orgone energy in order to "change the past" because he had a premonition of Suzie, who he thinks is God, telling him to do so. Suzie stops him, becomes one with The Quiet, then is drawn back into reality by her love (?) for Jon. Then Jon and Suzie break up anyway offscreen before the epilogue.

In one of Fraction's letters sections he says that at a certain point, he lost interest in the whole "criminals" angle and was more interested in exploring the relationship between Jon and Suzie. That's fine, it's the core of the work, and indeed it is what makes the story compelling. But that disinterest in one half of the titular premise makes the ongoing conspiracy-crime-time-stopping side of the story feel like it's sandbagging everything else. Essentially, too many ideas got introduced in those first four arcs that eventually became superfluous to the story Fraction wanted to tell - but he couldn't get rid of them altogether because they were load-bearing (ha) elements. So we end up with a finale issue focused on two characters getting married when they have not done a single thing of import in the series besides hit Jon in the face with a dildo.

Ultimately I think what frustrates me so much about Sex Criminals is that it has some good characters, and the plot goes interesting directions, and it has some striking visual metaphors and imagery, but it never lets the three combine in a way that really bears solid narrative or thematic fruit. Almost nothing that happens in the last ten issues (before epilogue issue 69) actually matters: most of it doesn't advance the plot, and most of it also doesn't develop the characters. The epilogue is particularly odious because it has Suzie - *the* main character - come out of it looking distinctly like not a character, and more like just a thing that Jon experienced in his journey to be less of a fuck-up.

Also, it must be said:

1) after a whole lot of tedious paeans to sex positivity, the final villain is like a homophobic stereotype of a Bateman-esque sadist who gets off on inflicting cruelty through a combination of BDSM and emotional abuse. weird!

2) Jon is primarily characterized as having "issues with authority" (and is explicitly identified as having oppositional defiance disorder, which is...a choice), and the ultimate resolution to his story is for him to go to jail so he can straighten out his act. weird!

I highlight these not to say the work is "problematic" but rather to illustrate that I do not think Fraction really thought through the implications of his work, because these kinds of closing thematic gestures are in extreme tension with the rest of the work.

[raffahuxley]

Why should you watch The Shawshank Redemption (1994)?

Cast (Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins,...).

Best Film score in IMDb (9.3/10).

Shows a great friend relationship.

Best end plot twist.

Story:

A banker was convicted to life by the death of his wife and her lover, being sent to Shawshank prison.

He spent more than a decade there, using his big intelligence to learn how to convive with the penal system, survive from the bad people of the place and, most importantly, make friends that will make he stay easier.

However, after having adapted so well to the prison, a lot of things get out of control, and now this convicted murder will have to use all what he learned to surpass all the problems that threaten your life.

[mapecl-stories]

The Unraveling of the Conspiracy: A Struggle for Justice

Chapter 1

Joseph awoke on this gloomy morning with a sense of unease, as if destiny had been waiting for him. The heavy eyelids slowly opened as he felt the lump in his stomach growing with each passing second. The premonition of calamity crept over his skin like a chilling shiver as he peeled himself from the sheets, still half-asleep. A glance out the window confirmed his uneasy feeling – a gray sky hung menacingly over the town of Neumüser in Schleswig-Holstein.

The creaking of the floorboards in the hallway, usually barely noticed, sounded ominous today. Every noise seemed louder, sharper. Joseph dared hardly breathe as he glanced at the clock and realized he was running very late. The suit he usually wore with pride suddenly felt like armor that offered him no protection.

Uneasily, he shuffled into his office to prepare for another stressful day. The morning coffee, usually a refreshing start to the day, seemed today to be only a gloomy companion. Every sip felt like a bitter foretaste of what was to come.

At that moment, loud knocks echoed through the house, as if someone was hammering on the doors of his fate. He opened the door, only to be greeted by two uniformed police officers with serious expressions. Their presence made Joseph freeze, as if time stood still for a moment. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to control the pace of his heartbeat, now pounding wildly in his chest.

"What? What is happening here?" he stammered, his voice thin and brittle, trying to comprehend the sudden threat.

The words of the police officers fell on him like a heavy hammer, not only hitting his ears but digging deep into his core. Charges of fraud and embezzlement – words that hovered over his previous life like ominous shadows. Joseph's mind could barely grasp what he was hearing. Amidst his confusion, the officers searched his house as if looking for stolen treasures, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake.

The world he had built with hard work and determination crumbled before his eyes. Guilt and panic overwhelmed him as he, handcuffed, was led out of his house. His once-friendly neighbors now stared from windows like witnesses to a spectacular drama, and he could feel their curious glances on his skin.

The short walk from the front door to the police car felt like a long walk of condemnation. Joseph's life path seemed to have taken an unexpected turn, from which there was no turning back. The coldness of the handcuffs on his skin and the metallic taste of uncertainty accompanied him on this dark path. And so began the nightmare of a banker swept away by the waves of fate, rough and irreversible.

A vague hint of Joseph's past crept into his thoughts, wondering whether this chaos reflected a long-forgotten debt or if he was just a pawn in a drama that had begun long ago.

Chapter 2

Joseph's gaze shifted to a yellowed photo hidden in a narrow gap of his cell door. It showed him happy with his family, a memory of times when his smile was still genuine. His wife, a woman of great strength and warmth, and the two children who looked at him with radiant eyes – a contrast to the gray walls enclosing his current existence.

Thoughts of his family tormented Joseph day and night. He had abandoned them, not only physically but also emotionally. The desire to be strong for them drove him, but now that determination seemed to shatter against the iron bars. The pain of separation from his family gnawed at his soul, and the uncertainty about their situation weighed on his shoulders like a leaden cloak.

The presence of other inmates brought a new dimension of danger. Some, marked by years behind bars, regarded him with suspicious distrust. The confined space he shared with a fellow inmate was a breeding ground for conflicts. The constant threat of confrontation kept Joseph on edge as he tried to assert himself in this microcosm of danger.

Daily confrontations, the murmur of dark threats, stretched Joseph's nerves to the breaking point. Sleep became an unstable refuge, where nightmares of betrayal and violence offered no respite. Each day brought new challenges and a constant struggle for self-preservation.

The lawyers who visited him had limited options to prove his innocence. The mountain of charges seemed to grow with each meeting. Joseph felt trapped in an impenetrable web of evidence, a web that pulled him deeper into the vortex of doom.

The dining hall became a scene of intrigue and hidden alliances. Every bite seemed laden with the taste of bitterness as Joseph tried to shield himself from the curious glances and subtle threats of fellow inmates.

Nights passed in an endless rhythm of silence and darkness. Joseph's despair found no outlet, and the cell bars seemed to block his path to freedom in restless dreams. His thoughts wandered to times past, when his life still had a clear purpose. But now, trapped in the whirlwind of accusations and threats behind prison walls, he was only a shadow of himself, lost in the dark corners of his past.

Chapter 3

Sophie, Joseph's wife, could not accept the injustice passively. In her heart grew a determination to break through the darkness and prove Joseph's innocence. Day by day, she fought against the bureaucratic coldness of the legal system to bring the truth to light.

Their living room was scattered with files and documents. The words of Joseph's lawyers had ignited a spark of hope, but Sophie wanted more. She wanted to comb through the evidence, scrutinize every detail, and find a trail that could lead to a turnaround in Joseph's fate.

In a dialogue with Joseph's lawyer, Mr. Sörensen, she sought answers. "Mr. Sörensen, there must be something we've overlooked. My husband is innocent, I know it. We need to dig deeper, find more information!"

Mr. Sörensen sighed and took off his glasses. "Sophie, we're doing our best. The evidence, however, is very incriminating. We need concrete leads or new facts to build an effective defense in court."

Sophie couldn't simply give up. With a determined gaze, she said, "I will investigate on my own. I will do everything to find the truth. My husband cannot be punished for something he didn't do."

The investigations began in silence. Sophie combed through files, spoke to witnesses, and ventured into the dark quarters of the city in search of possible clues. Days became a desperate dance between hope and fear.

In a confidential conversation with a former colleague of Joseph, Sophie learned of irregularities within the bank. "Joseph never did anything illegal. The accusations are absurd. But there are rumors of internal machinations. I can't exactly say what's going on, but there are shadows pointing to certain practices within the bank."

This information opened new paths for Sophie. Her journey led her to people who knew Joseph best. In conversations with colleagues and business partners, intrigues and power struggles hidden in the shadows of the banking business were revealed.

In a dimly lit bar, Sophie met an informant who provided further details. "Joseph was too honest for this swamp of corruption. But there are people out there who have their fingers in the pie. If you can uncover that, you might have a chance to clear his name."

The night air carried a mixture of tension and hope as Sophie made her way back. Her heart pounded with excitement and fear. The truth seemed tangible, but the road was still long, and the danger she traversed was not to be underestimated. In her pursuit of justice, Sophie did not realize that she was about to unravel the threads of a dangerous game.

Chapter 4

The courtroom was filled with a tense atmosphere as Joseph's trial began. The charges weighed heavily on his shoulders as he sat in the defendant's stand, aware of every suspicious glance in the room. Sophie's eyes, full of determination and concern, searched for a spark of justice.

Sophie stood as a witness in court. The room fell silent as she swore to tell the truth. "Your Honor, my husband is innocent. He is the victim of a cunning conspiracy orchestrated by his own brother and the bank CEO."

The judge frowned. "Mrs. Miller, these are serious allegations. Please elaborate."

Sophie began to unveil the dark machinations. "Your Honor, my brother-in-law Davit and the bank CEO conspired to bring Joseph down. They conducted illegal transactions and tried to blame my husband to cover their tracks."

A murmur spread through the courtroom. The defense attorney protested, but Sophie continued to present her evidence. "Here are bank records, witness statements, and information from insiders confirming this. My husband never violated the law. All of this was a perfidious game to ruin him."

The trial took a turn as Sophie's lawyer, Mr. Sörensen, spoke up. "Your Honor, we request the reopening of the case and a review of the presented evidence. Joseph Miller is innocent, and the real culprits must be held accountable."

The following days were marked by intense investigations and new hearings. The evidence Sophie had gathered was meticulously reviewed. Witnesses, including former colleagues of Joseph, confirmed the treachery of Davit and the bank CEO.

In a dramatic moment, Davit took the witness stand. His expression was marked by discomfort as he was confronted with the accusations. "I don't know what you're talking about. These are baseless accusations," he defended himself.

Sophie, determined to reveal the truth, confronted him with the evidence. "Here are the bank records showing your illegal transactions. You intentionally trapped my husband. The game is over, Davit."

After days of discussions and reviews, the court decision was made. The judge announced the verdict: Joseph Miller was acquitted, and Davit, along with the bank CEO, was sentenced to five years in prison for fraud.

Sophie and Joseph embraced in tears of relief. The truth had triumphed, and innocence was restored. The courtroom, once filled with the darkness of accusations, now experienced the light of justice that had emerged through Sophie's determination.

[forlornmelody]

Outlaws, Chapter 2: Bad Things

Rating: Explicit (Smut, violence, drug addiction.)

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans (2018-2023) to be specific.

Ship: Jason Todd/Rose Wilson. Rose Wilson/Roy Harper. Jason Todd/Roy Harper, Rose Wilson/Artemis of Bana-Mighdall,

Summary:  The road to redemption is fraught with twists and turns, especially when one has been to hell and back. Jason Todd swore he’d never work with a team again, but when a familiar foe shows up in Gotham, A.R.G.U.S. leaves him little choice.

Note: chapter titles are named for songs from my Outlaws playlist. This one is named for "Bad Things" by K.Flay

Link: here

--

It’s a terse day at Gotham National Bank. Their rival, Gotham Financial, got hit the week before. Their safes cleared out, their executives and security guards dead. It was only luck that the bank was closed for the day when the robbers hit. The customers don’t seem to notice, or care. Maybe it’s just Gotham. Risking your life running errands is the price of dirt-cheap rent, after all.

It’s a hot day at Gotham National Bank. The tellers sweat as they handle transactions, and the bankers wipe their foreheads as they instruct their clients to sign on the electronic pads. Somewhere on the roof, HVAC techs grumble as they work on the broken system, cruising the engineers who cut corners, again. Honestly, some Joker gas funneling through the fans would be a blessing in this weather, wouldn’t it?

But it’s not Joker gas that gets them this time.

BANG.

The heavy gold-plated doors slam open, and she enters shadowed by the blazing sun behind her. Her crimson hair glows as if on fire, and her green eyes simmer with fury. One teller hits the panic button with his toe, and another next to him watches as half a dozen security guards train their sights on her like a small army.

And an army is exactly what Poison Ivy wants.

She holds up her hands in mock surrender but keeps walking forward. A green mist, visible only for the sun shimmering in its wake, flies from her fingers.

At first, nothing happens.

But the security guard closest to the door, one week from his retirement party, has witnessed a Gotham bank robbery before. And he’s heard the stories of what that woman can do. He’s more disappointed that there’s not a kiss involved. He aims his gun at the guard next to him. That guard aims at the guard across the room–next to the vault. And then they all fire on each other.

The bank manager walks toward the vault, unperturbed by the screams of the customers and employees. “Right this way, Ivy.”

Her eyes flash. “Queen Ivy.”

—

Breathe in…2…3….4…out…2….3….4…5…6…and in…2..3…4

Jericho swears by this exercise. Says it gets him to sleep every night without a problem. Good for him.

Breathe in…2..3….4….ou–

There’s a knock at the door. Rose squints at her phone. Who the fuck knocks at 1 in the morning?

Yanking the door open, Rose says “Whatever it is, Roy. I’m not fucking–Jason??”

He smiles at her as if nothing has changed between them–that gentle smile that he seemed to save just for her–that soft smile that twists her gut into a knot. “Hey,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I come in?”

Rose–who always exists five seconds in the future, who always has a quip or a comeback at the ready–can’t find the words. She just opens the door and lets Jason Peter Todd just waltz right in. Like nothing ever happened. Like they never broke up. Like she never broke his nose. She should say something. Not just stare at him.

Jason’s taller now. He’s stopped putting gel in his hair–letting his curls have free reign. He’s still got that scar on his left temple–strange how the Lazarus Pit didn’t take it away. Rose starts thinking about the scars he’s got under his shirt…and below his belt before she can stop herself–focus. His eyes watch hers, and his soft smile turns into the slightest grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop them. Fucking hell, Rose.

He closes in, one hand cupping her face and the other winding through her hair as he kisses her. Rose kisses back, her hands roaming across his shoulders, his back, his hips–only half-convinced he’s really there. She should come up for air, but she drowns in him instead.

“Did you?” Jason says playfully, tumbling into bed with her. “Did you miss this?” He murmurs, kissing her neck in that spot that makes her melt. “Or this?” Her tank flies off, and his. Planting gentle kisses on the tops of her breasts, he bats her hands away from his sweats. “Or this?”

Rose swallows, watching him trail kisses down her abs, to her shorts. Jason glances up at her mischievously, edging them down, letting his breath ghost across the wet spot on her panties. “Oh, you have.”

“Fuck you.”

“Mm, you first.” He snickers against the fabric, planting a few lingering kisses, peeling the soaked fabric off her skin. Jason breathes her in. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

All she can do is whimper his name as he tastes her, slowly, gently worshiping the feel of her melting at his touch. Her fingers grip those soft curls as Jason picks up the pace, watching her with a knowing look in his eyes. Jason adds one finger, then another, easing them in and out, curling them just at the right spot. Rose arcs off the mattress, swearing. She’s so close–so close–

Just as she’s about to cum, Jason leans down to whisper in her ear. “Miss me?”

Rose shoots awake, panting for air, with every nerve on fire. The empty space next to her in the bed is as cold as ever. She almost reaches down to finish what her dream started but thinks better of it. Jason’s her teammate, again–she can’t be thinking about him like this. Not when he probably hates the air she breathes. And rightfully so. Cold shower it is.

Throwing on a hoodie, Rose stumbles out of her room. She turns to head down the hall towards the bathroom, only to collide someone’s hard chest. Rose recognizes the scent–Armani–musk with a barrage of tea-like flavors that just screams money–she used to give Jason so much shit for it. You’ve any idea how much I sweat in that fucking uniform? he’d snap back. In the end, Rose used to sleep next to the t-shirt she stole from his luggage, long after he left.

“Uh–” Rose grunts, looking up at his wide green eyes. Those same eyes that looked at her with desire just minutes before. The same eyes that glared at her with disgust when blood poured from his nose.

Jason staggers back. “Rose,” he whispers.

“Good night,” she mutters, darting around him before he can say anything else.

—----

“Another nightmare?” Artemis doesn’t look directly at Rose, just smirking at their reflections in the gym mirror.

“Shut up.” Rose wraps up her wrists, glowering right back at that smirk, wanting to wipe it right off.

“Make me.” She doesn’t even bother to turn around.

Rose doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, and she’s more than okay with that. Fuck the future. She charges at Artemis, swinging for her head.

Artemis doesn’t duck. She just turns, sweeping Rose off her feet with a well-aimed kick. Rose falls to her back on the mat. Okay, maybe she’s off her game. Get up, her dead father’s voice yells in her head. Tilting her hips up, Rose launches her legs, wrapping them around Artemis’s legs, bringing her down on top. Some of that fiery red hair falls from her bun, fanning around Rose’s head as they breathe each other’s air. “Answer the question, Rose.”

It’s Rose’s turn to smirk. “Make me.”

Artemis’s mouth crashes into hers. It’s all lips and teeth until Rose hooks her leg over hers, flipping them over so she’s on top. She grins down at her, digging her fingers into that red hair, biting down her neck in a fashion that’s sure to leave a mark. Shoving her hand up Rose’s sports bra, Artemis murmurs “What was it this time? Falling off a cliff? Murder chase?”

Goddammit. Rose bites her neck harder in reply, pressing the heel of her hand into Artemis’s shorts. “Fuck you.”

“That’s the idea.” Artemis rolls them over. “But maybe we should take this to my room?”

Gym. Right.

Rose answers by pulling Artemis up by a fistful of her crop top, dragging them both into the hallway, and into her room. The amazon locks the door behind her, smirking at Rose as she takes in the sight of her. “You are a mess, Wilson.”

Fuck, it feels good to be looked at like that. “And whose fault is that?”

“And I plan to make it worse.” Artemis presses forward, running her hands up and down Rose’s sides.

This time, Rose doesn’t have a comeback. Not a verbal one anyway. She slips her fingers underneath Artemis’s top, grinning at the goosebumps that rise across the amazon’s skin. Rose presses a kiss against her neck, tasting the salt her workout left behind, melting at the soft sound she makes.

Artemis pushes her to arm’s length, with one hand on Rose’s shoulder. She can’t help but admire the way it makes the amazon’s muscles flex. “What do you want from me?”

Rose shrugs her off and starts to kneel down, but that same arm catches her and holds her in place.

“Rose. What do you want from me?”

The question stops her short. To get Jason out of my head. But Rose has a feeling that answer won’t get her what she wants. She swallows, whispering. “I want you to use me.” Same difference.

Artemis’s eyes darken with want, and her fingers grip Rose’s chin, drinking in the sight of her. “As you wish.” She tugs Rose toward the bed, pushing her down with one arm against her shoulder. Rose falls onto the bed without fighting back, goosebumps traveling up her spine as she sees the amazon fish around in her bedside drawer. Kneeling on the bed, Artemis slings one muscular thigh on each side of Rose’s hips, her sweaty breasts right above Rose’s face as she ties her wrists to the headrest with silk scarves. “So you want to be used,” she says as she shimmies out of her gym shorts, and her boyshorts. “Why don’t I start with that smart mouth of yours, no?”

Rose wets her lips, her gut twisting as Artemis grabs the headrest behind her head and shifts forward so that her thighs straddle either side of Rose’s face. The musk of her cunt overwhelms her senses, and Rose drinks her in, licking wide circles around her already soaking lips.

“Stop teasing, Rose.”

“Mm,” Rose hums against her clit, catching the amazon off guard. Finally. She sucks on her clit, her own cunt throbbing as Artemis grinds against her mouth. Rose rubs her thighs, trying to relieve that itch, but the motion brings Artemis to a halt.

“Ah-ah. I didn’t say you could pleasure yourself.”

Rose swears under her breath, but she doesn’t beg, even when Artemis pulls back.

“You get to come when I say so. Not a moment sooner.” She unties the restraints from the bed, but not from Rose’s wrists. “Now turn over.” After Rose flips over onto her belly, Artemis leans over her, flush against her back, tying her wrists together. “But since you’re so desperate…”

Her heart quickens when she hears Artemis digging through the drawer again. And she watches with flushed cheeks as she pulls out a familiar leather harness and steps into it. “On your knees.” Artemis shifts on the bed, clicking the dildo into place. “Get it wet, won’t you?”

Oh, fuck. This isn’t helping. Well, it is helping Rose get wetter in her shorts, but her mind keeps wandering to another familiar cock, and how much she wants to suck it. Focus. Rose keeps her eyes open as she licks up and down the strap.

“I knew you were hungry.” Artemis gazes down at her with her own hunger in her eyes. Rose could get lost in those green eyes…which are almost the same shade of green as Jason’s. Not again. Rose takes the cock into her throat, relishing in the way Artemis swallows with want. She pushes Rose off hastily. She usually uses her words in scenarios like this one, but apparently Rose has her in a hurry, because her big strong arms maneuver Rose into position. “There,” she manages, grabbing Rose by the hips.

The strap-on slides so easily inside her, filling her in all the right places. “Mm.”

“Shh.” Artemis says, but a moan slips out to match hers.

Rose bites her lip, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from begging when the amazon slowly pulls out, only to dive back in. She sees stars as she sets a brutal pace, hitting the angle just right. “Art–”

She growls. “I told you nn, not to talk.”

Rose does beg when she pulls out for good this time, rules be damned. Artemis grips her chin, meeting her eyes with furry and hunger. “Ah-ah.” She undoes her bindings. “You have to, mm, earn it.”

Without wasting any time, Rose dives in, adding a finger, then another, circling Artemis’s clit with her thumb. Her own cunt throbs, especially when Artemis starts swearing in Greek. Or is it Arabic? All Rose knows is she wants to hear more. The Amazon’s words dissolve into moans, then groans, and finally she buries her face into Rose’s shoulder as she trembles around her fingers with a breathy fuck.

Following a bead of sweat as it slips down Artemis’s tan shoulders, Rose sucks in a breath as the amazon’s fingers find her swollen clit. “Nng.”

“Mm.” Artemis barely brushes her, making Rose tremble. “How many more times are we going to do this, Rose?”

“Dunno, mm, what you’re talking about.”

Artemis leans over her, another finger circling the edge of her cunt. “Tearing each other apart at night. Ignoring each other during the day.”

Damnit. Rose is willing to say anything at this point for release. “Art–”

“Answer the question, Rose.”

“What do you want?”

“Tell me who has you flushed as red as my hair.” A finger slips inside her, and Rose’s hips buck off the bed. “Who has your heart.” She slips another in, and pumps Rose mercilessly, until she comes with a cry. “I know it isn’t me.”

When Rose comes to, Artemis is already in the shower next door. She grabs her clothes, worming into them in a hurry before the water stops.

—---

“Looking for beer?” Jason jumps out of his skin. Roy’s sitting on the counter on the other side of the fridge, munching on some chips and guac–freshly made guac by the look of it.

Looking back at what’s inside the fridge, Jason mutters. “Looks like you don’t have any.”

Roy flips a coin. Jason catches it by reflex. “Two years sober. Adeline keeps this place clean of the stuff.” Also by reflex, Jason flips over the sobriety coin to check for scratch marks. Not that Two-Face would ever use such a coin.

Closing the fridge, Jason levels with Roy as he folds his arms. “Do you?”

The ginger’s eyes look him over as he also folds his arms. “Do I what?” he says neutrally.

Jason’s not above flirting to get what he wants. Doesn’t matter who he’s flirting with. Hero. Villain. Girl. Guy. He closes in, leaning against the counter with one hand and jamming the other in his pocket. Jason almost sticks his hand in Roy’s back pocket but he thinks better of it–he could totally be misreading the situation here. Better keep his distance in case he gets punched. “C���mon. You gotta have your own stash somewhere,” he whispers, “right? Beer? Your own custom brew?”

Roy doesn’t look angry as he pulls away, just disappointed. “No, man. I don’t do that anymore.”

—-

Jericho’s paintings curves with blank paint when he hears a soft knock at his door. He sets the brush down but leaves Queen’s “Fat Bottom Girls” blaring in the background. Opening the door, he comes face to face with Donna’s bemusement.

“Realy, Jer?”

Shrugging, Jericho lets her in, doing his best to wipe the paint off his hands.

“What’ch’ya working on?”

Looking at the canvas with her, Jericho takes it in for the first time. He turns his body, waiting until she’s looking at him again before he signs. “I’m not really sure.”

Donna sits at his drawing table, clearing her throat. “I brought us some ginger beers. You like those, right?”

Jericho nods, taking one off her hands. He takes a gulp, then sets it aside. “Something wrong?”

She rolls the bottle between her hands as she picks her words. “We haven’t really talked since…”

“Since my father ran me through with a sword.”

Donna coughs. “Yeah.” It’s convenient that Jericho has so much art for her to look at it–she has trouble looking at him. She never saw his body–only took Dick’s word for what happened. As if Dick had ever been a reliable source of information–Donna tries to shake the thought off. That’s not what she’s here for.  This room is more art studio than bedroom. The bed itself is neat and tidy, but it does nothing to draw attention to itself. The walls, however, disappear behind canvas after canvas, and the shelves holding his prolific music collection. The vintage turntable sits beneath them.

It’s only when Jericho switches brushes that Donna remembers herself. “So, you were trapped in his body for five years?”

“His mind, yeah.” His hands move in a flurry, Donna struggles to keep up as he describes Dick and Slade fighting–Rose stabbing him in poetic fashion–jumping from his father’s body to his sister’s.

Donna swallows hard. “That must have been hell.”

Jericho’s hands twitch as he stares at one painting in the corner. It’s splashes of orange, blue, and black, with a single red line spearing through the middle. “Worse than dying,” he signs finally.

“Sucks getting stuck, doesn’t it?” Donna worries her lip, thinking back to that train. How exhausted she always felt, but cold never sleep with the constant chugging along the never-ending rail, and the blare of the train horn. Watching so many people get to disembark, but never her. Not until Tim showed up.

A gentle hand shakes her shoulder. “You okay?” Jericho mouths when he finally has her attention.

“Yeah,” she smiles softly, sadly. “I am now.”

—-

“I’m telling you this is a bad idea.” Barbara Gordon, nonetheless, rolls her wheelchair down through the halls of Arkham Asylum.

“As bad as selling me out?” Jason shoots her a pointed look.

She barely spares him a glance. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s telling the truth. I pinged your location when you lured Shimmer’s goons to your hideout.”

That stops Jason short. He swears under his breath. “Didn’t realize you were tracking me.”

“We track everybody.” Jericho signs, stepping right through the security gate like he lives here. Roy is about to follow when he gets stopped by the guard.

“Sorry, no weapons.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Donna hands over her lasso reluctantly. Roy sets down his bow and quiver. Rose shrugs, handing over her swords with a yawn.

Jason clears his throat. “You guys go on ahead. Gonna take me a moment.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you have one in your pants.”

“Wanna stick around and find out?”

Shaking her head, Barbara rolls on. “Whatever. Don’t take too long.”

They find her sprawled across her cot, her jumpsuit wrinkled and her red hair a frizzy mess. Her skin, clear of makeup, looks a little dry and pale.

Rose’s nose twitches. “You sure this is the right cell?”

“Yessirree–that’s Pamela Lillian Isley, as sure as I got mugged last Thursday.”

“You need to move out of Gotham, Gary.” Donna stops next to her, folding her arms. They still don’t talk, and Rose can’t blame her. And honestly? She didn’t mind until Jason showed up. The silence was peaceful before. Now it’s deafening.

Pamela Isley turns another page, and Roy clears his throat. She shifts out of her reclining position, her eyes registering them all for the first time. Her gaze lingers on Donna’s lasso. “Wasn’t me.” And then she goes back to her book.

“Pamela Isley, we don’t have all day.”

She snaps her book shut. “Doctor Pamela Isley. And like I said, it wasn’t me.”

Barbara fans out a handful of snapshots of the crime scene, leveling her with an icy stare. “Alright, Doctor. Explain these.”

Pamela quirks an eyebrow, slowly leaning forward to peruse the grisly crime scene. Corpses with fungi growing out of each pore, and any exposed skin. Decomposed as if they had been sitting out in the woods for months, not hours. “You came all the way down here to talk to a botanist?” She laughs. “Surely Gotham U. has replaced me five times over by now.” Turning away, Pamela picks up her book again. “Go bother one of them.”

Artemis looks ready to knock it right out of her hands. Roy pushes her back. Artemis swats him off. Barbara rubs her forehead like she needs more scotch in her coffee.

And that’s when Jason finally shows up.

“Where’s your helmet?” Jericho signs.

“Oh, that?” Jason shrugs, wearing his old domino mask in its place. “It has a bomb inside, so they made me leave it behind.”

“You have a bomb in your helmet?” Donna stares at him incredulously.

“In case someone tries to take it off.”

Pamela freezes in the middle of turning a page. Her head turns slowly, taking him in for the first time. Eyes widening, she whispers “Kid!?”

 Jason’s head whips around to face her. “Ivy! How’s it going? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sitting up again, Pamela stares at him. “Maybe I have.” She sucks on her teeth. “Heard you were dead.”

“I got better.” He brushes past Donna to get closer to the bars. “Whatchya readin’ there?”

“Nothing. Just a book I got from the–hey!”

Jason pulls the book back through the bars, opening the front cover. “To my prettiest Daffodil, love Harls. XO.” He turns the book sideways. “Actually, there are a lot of XOs.” Enough to fill up the rest of the page and the next.

Ivy looks ready to strangle him.

He smiles disarmingly. “How’s Harley doing, by the way?”

Barbara grimaces, motioning for him to drop it. Jericho pales.

She snarls. “That supposed to be funny?” For once, Jason has nothing to say. “She’s been gone for months.”

Jason softens, pulling up a chair across from her. “What happened?”

Chewing her lip, Ivy answers, “Don’t know, really. Except that some feds waltzed in that day and waltzed back with her.”

“Feds? Like the FBI?”

Roy stiffens. Jericho exchanges a glance with him.

“No. Something else. Had a weird symbol on their shoulder pads.” Ivy narrows her eyes as she searches her brain. “Kind of looked like an A.”

“A.R.G.U.S.,” Barbara whispers.

Ivy’s head whips to face her. “Argus? What the hell is Argus?”

Jason grins, leaning his elbows on Ivy’s table. “Tell me what’s in these pictures, and I’ll tell you.” Leaning closer, he murmurs. “I’ll even tell you where she is.”

“You don’t kn–” Donna starts to say incredulously, only to have Rose cut her off with a hand on her mouth.

“Uh-uh. “I want coordinates, a date, and time.” Ivy folds her arms. “For all I know you could be feeding me old information.”

“Done,” Jason says without hesitating.

Jericho tugs on Rose’s sleeve. “Can he do that?” he signs.

Rose would kill for her precog to start working again. But something in her gut trusts what Jason’s doing.

Leaning toward Jason, Ivy smiles salaciously. “When are we leaving?” She chuckles at Bab’s glare. “These could be any number of species. To know what they really are, I have to see them in person.”

[adafruit]

"I guess I just miss my friend" - The Shawshank Redemption, Teddy Ruxpin edition by Adafruit 🧸🔧🎧👨‍🔧👀👄🔄💡💰🚀

This is the hacked Teddy Ruxpin we made for our kiddo that allows custom audio, new mouth movements synced with the audio, custom/new eye movements and more. This is the 2017 Teddy Ruxpin that on launch was $100 to $200, the company quickly went out of business and there are tons of these bears for less than $20 on eBay - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teddy_Ruxpin?useskin=vector#Wicked_Cool_Toys

Guide and more coming soon.

The Shawshank Redemption (1995) Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman star in a compelling drama of hope, friendship and atonement behind the walls of a maximum security prison in The Shawshank Redemption. From a novella by best-selling author Stephen King comes a poignant tale of the human spirit. Red (Freeman), serving a life sentence, and Andy Dufresne (Robbins), a mild-mannered banker wrongly convicted of murder, forge an unlikely bond that will span more than twenty years. Together they discover hope as the ultimate means of survival. Under horrifying conditions and the ever-present threat of violence, two lifers reclaim their souls and find freedom within their hearts in The Shawshank Redemption.

[hasnatworld]

IMDB top movie for all time, Explanation.

The Shawshank Redemption

"The Shawshank Redemption," directed by Frank Darabont, is a cinematic masterpiece that transcends the boundaries of the prison drama genre. This timeless film, based on a novella by Stephen King, weaves a poignant tale of hope, friendship, and the enduring human spirit.

Synopsis:

The story revolves around Andy Dufresne (played by Tim Robbins), a successful banker wrongly convicted of murder and sentenced to life in Shawshank State Penitentiary. Inside the brutal confines of the prison, Andy befriends Ellis "Red" Redding (portrayed by Morgan Freeman), a long-term inmate known for his ability to "get things." As Andy navigates the harsh realities of prison life, he also quietly works on a secret project that will forever change the lives of those around him.

[film-onerisi]

The Shawshank Redemption

Genç ve başarılı bir banker olan Andy Dufresne, karısını ve onun sevgilisini öldürmek suçundan ömür boyu hapse mahkum edilir ve Shawshank hapishanesine gönderilir.

İşkence, tecavüz, dayak dahil her türlü kötü koşulun hüküm sürdüğü hapishane koşullarında, Andynin hayata bağlı ve her daim iyi bir şeyler bulma çabası içindeki hali, çevresindeki herkesi çok etkileyecektir.