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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years ago

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AU with vampire Natasha x reader with a happy end? Please and thanks.

May I present to you: vampire Natasha and werewolf reader.

Stakes and Silver Bullets

Summary: Hunting at the full moon with Natalia by your side is a perfect cross between heinous and beautiful. One particular night proves that it can also be dangerous.

Pairings: Vampire!Natasha x Werewolf!Reader

Warnings: Repeated mentions of blood

Word Count: 4,485

To most people, the moon represented the fall of night. It was just this simple rock in the sky that reflected just enough sunlight that the planet wasn’t tossed into darkness as the sun dipped beyond the horizon. Sure, artists might have loved the way it bathed the land before it in a different type of glow, and maybe some people could appreciate the beauty that was so much gentler than the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. For you, it was different. The moon was beauty and terror all wrapped up in one, simple celestial body.

Tonight, the moon wasn’t quite full, but it almost was. You didn’t have to check a calendar or even take a single glance out the window to know that. You felt it in your very bones. It was urging and primal. It had erased every other thought that might have flitted through your mind. In comparison to it, they were irrelevant. The glowing orb spoke to you. It made your soul sing along to its silent melody, your heart pounding to the steady beat. It was your very reason for being. But so was she.

“When is your night?”

You turned. There she was, the bright moonlight streaming through the window she sat at, shining upon her and making her glow even more beautifully than was her usual. Her red hair was still tousled from her midnight hunt, like dancing flames falling over her shoulders. Your eyes fell to the stain on her white dress, even redder than her hair. You only hummed in response as you stood up from your chair, paper and quill abandoned on the desk thoughtlessly. You moved toward her, arms moving delicately around her waist. Soon, you were standing with your head buried against her neck, revelling in that familiar feeling of the cold surface, lack of a throbbing pulse comforting in the strangest of ways.

“Tomorrow.”

She was clearly resisting still, refusing to succumb to the arousal she knew would start building any second now. “And how are you feeling on this eve?”

You actually growled a little, the sound canine in a way that no simple person would be able to achieve. “Primal.”

She hummed contentedly as you brushed your lips against the skin where you rested. You pulled away, delicately pressing the pads of your fingers against the underside of her chin, directing her lips onto yours. She immediately responded, her hands moving onto your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as you kissed her. The taste of blood in her mouth was exhilarating. Everything about her was. You ran your tongue along sharp fangs, loving the slight sting in the muscle as the surface scratched open. She retracted immediately.

“You are truly foul, my love,” she said, disgust crossing her features as she wiped her thumb against her lips, removing your blood from her mouth.

Maybe that’s why the two of you worked so well. This proximity with any other person would have been enthralling. The smell alone would have had her digging her fangs into the pulsing artery in their neck. That sweet substance that flowed through the veins of any breathing person was irresistible to that person she’d become all those years ago. You weren’t just any person. You had the blood of a wolf, and it repulsed her.

She was void of any of the substance. Those nights when you lost yourself, when you let that beast take over you completely, she was of no interest to you. The townsfolk were all you cared for- all you ached to taste between your lips. She would take hunt beside you, by your side during night as well as day, love burning so strong within you both even when you were doing things so hideous.

You were both killers. You were among the most hideous things that dared walk the Earth among things so beautiful. Monsters already, what was the harm in loving one another? You’d be burned at the stake for the blood that ran through your veins anyway. In for a penny, in for a pound. At least now, neither of you was alone. You loved each other fully and entirely. If love was a human emotion, then she was your humanity, and you were hers.

“Foul? Is that so, Natalia, my beloved?” You jeered, a smile crawling across your lips. “Who is it that loves you so dearly?”

Her taunting halted immediately at the husk in your words. Your hands were sliding down from where you’d had them linked over her shoulders, fingers sliding over the silky fabric that draped over her body. Your gaze wouldn’t leave hers, the image of the moon shimmering in your irises as if it were a reflection of the beast that lived within. She knew who you were. She was the only one who knew who you really were, and she loved every piece of you, including that beast, with her unbeating heart. Her words caught in her throat for a long moment.

“You,” she couldn’t help but hum as your hands squeezed her hips. “Only you.”

Your hands slid down to her thighs over top of her dress. “I know.”

Your hands moved away. Despite the small whine that escaped her, it seemed the absence of your touch allowed her to regain her composure a little. Your fingertips danced across her chest and against the pendant that you’d given her a year ago. It was a gift, something you reasoned you earned for her, even if you’d taken off the lifeless body you’d woken up next to after a long night of feral canine power. She leaned forward to kiss you once more, but you leaned away from her, a smile on your face. You extended a hand.

“Come.”

She put her hand into yours and you led her toward the bedroom. Her lips touched yours once more. The feeling would always be so much stronger and far more intoxicating than the feeling of the full moon inching closer day by day. The moon used to be the thing that made you. It had once been your heart and your soul, and it had guided you through every aspect of your life. That was years ago. Today, it was her. Everything was her.

“I love you,” she whispered, red eyes boring into yours with such intensity you were sure she could read every single piece of your soul.

“And I you, my love.”

You embraced her, lying her down and kissing her again.

Tomorrow, she’d be with you in a way that would make the townsfolk cower in their homes, as if thin walls were any defence against your combined bloodlust. Her thirst and your hunger had wooden doors shattered into splinters within seconds of discovering the scent of life, or the sound of a terrified heart beating inside a breathing chest. Nothing would keep either of you away from that.

That night, though, wasn’t about the kill. It wasn’t about what you would do in the future at all. Right then, you lay with your skin against hers in the most sinful of ways. Hers was so cold but the canine blood running beneath yours was hot, as if you were made to balance each other out. Her lips were roaming across your torso and your hand was moving toward that part of her body only you knew. If you weren’t already damned from the wolf in your spirit or the blood that had spilled beneath you each month, then you’d surely be for lying with a woman in such a way. That, though, would have been a risk you’d have been willing to take.

Still, you had to wonder if those other nights were just as intimate. On those nights with her, when the moon was at its fullest and her body ached for that bitter taste it needed so badly, you felt so close. Those nights weren’t necessarily something you wanted. They were something you needed; to fulfill those carnal needs and satiate your body in a way nothing else could. Without those nights, neither of you would survive to love each other through to the next moon. When she was by your side, performing those nefarious acts and satisfying her most primal of needs, you were both showing that part of you that you knew only the other would ever be able to love. That meant just as much to you as hearing your name tearing desperately from her lips on a silent night like that one.

As the body beneath you began shuddering uncontrollably and your name was repeatedly thrown into the cool air like a prayer, you decided it didn’t matter. You had both. It didn’t matter which brought you closer. Both things brought her a satisfaction that made you just as content. Both would have you watching her with love coursing through your veins hot as lava and yet somehow as cold as ice. Maybe that’s what made them so intimate. How you loved loving her and how you loved being at your very worst by her side.

“How are you feeling, my darling?” You cooed softly, loving the way she threw her head back for you upon hearing your words.

You grinned a little as her shaking subsided. She kissed you with a force and passion behind it that any living person would have lost the energy to do. Even you were worn out. When she pulled her lips off yours, you couldn’t help but fall back against the pillows, breathing a little heavier than usual. She chuckled at this, beckoning you to come closer to her bare body. You did so without hesitation.

“Goodnight,” she whispered as you lay down at her side.

“Hold me, Natalia?”

“Always.”

It amazed you, the patience she had. She couldn’t sleep. She didn’t need it. Yet, her arms would wrap around you as you drifted off to a world where still your dreams were of her, and when you’d awaken, she’d be in that same spot right by your side. It was endearing, and made you lean to kiss her each and every morning. Each of those mornings she’d ask you the same questions: wondering how you slept and making sure her arms hadn’t been too tight around you. She did, after all, have the strength of a mammoth.

Your answer was always the same, too. You were fine. You would always be okay, as long as she was by your side. You both knew that if she had blood beneath her skin, she would blush. She would still giggle softly, turning her cheeks away from you on instinct, as if they were burning with that bright colour of embarrassment. The action was sweet. It would make you smile as you reached out for her, bringing her back against your chest for another few minutes before the both of you decided to venture out into the other rooms of your house.

Maybe it was the nightmare you’d had last night, but something was off in the woman you loved. She was busy sitting in one of the armchairs in the other room, cowering away from the sunlight that had managed to penetrate the small crack in the boards over the windows. You covered it up, taking away that dangerous ray of light as you moved swiftly to take a spot beside her. Your fingers threaded into hers with one hand, as the other came up to her cheek. Her face was filled with such concern, and it was making your heart ache.

“Natalia?” You tried ever so softly. “Speak to me, my dove.”

Slowly, her eyes turned to yours. “One day you will depart from this world, and I will be left without you, and you own a piece of me. I will never be whole without you.”

Truthfully, your mind sometimes wandered to that inevitable day as well. You worried, the thought constantly in the back of your head, wreaking havoc on your mind every time it dared wander to the event. It had taken her more than a hundred years to find someone to love the way she loved you, and the two of you were interconnected in a way you were sure a mortal person could never dream to understand.

You reached out for one of the old wooden chairs, bringing it toward you and, in a flair of theatrics, snapped off one of the legs. The superhuman act seemed to have quite the effect on her. Her tongue darted out from between her lips, eyes tracing the strong muscles on your arms. You chuckled, moving forward and flipping the broken chair leg over in the air, catching it back in your hand.

“When I depart from this world, my dearest of loves, you take this. If you find that you cannot bear this life without me, then follow me.”

She took the broken piece of furniture into her own hands. It was the only thing that could tear her from the life she’d been so long living. Splinters of wood fell from the end, scattering silently on the floor. She ran her fingertips over the old wooden stake, and you could tell she was wondering what it might feel like to have it driven through her heart. She set it on her lap and looked up at you, head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“And what if something befalls me?”

That was something you’d thought about before as well. She may have been unsusceptible to time, but she wasn’t so to the weapons the townsfolk brandished whenever they heard the name of the monster that lived over the hillside. Losing her would tear you apart, and you knew that, after all this time with her, you’d never be able to survive without her. That was a fact you’d long accepted.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out something so small you could hold it between two fingers. “Then I will follow you into the next life.”

The silver bullet shone in the candlelight, glistening as if to taunt you, knowing it was the only thing that would ever hurt you.

She beckoned you. You pocketed the small piece of metal once more, sitting down beside her as she brought you into her arms as if you were the most delicate material on the planet. That was how you stayed, knowing now that you would never have to live on a planet that didn’t have her, and she wouldn’t have to live without you. It was comforting in the most morning of ways. It seemed though, that was your normal: morbid and loving.

That was how you remained that day. She didn’t like you exerting yourself the day of a full moon. It kept you up all night and, if you didn’t rest the day before, you’d be worn when the sun came back up. She wouldn’t let that feeling of absolute exhaustion take over you. She could hardly remember how it even felt, having not rested for so many years, but she knew she didn’t like when you were uncomfortable.

You were only made aware of the time when the candle died out in front of you. You squirmed in her arms, kissing her cheek when she let you go. You peeked out the window to get the last glimpse of an orange sunset over the horizon. You couldn’t help but grin as you felt something tugging deep within your chest. You turned back toward the woman behind you, eyes already glowing with that golden shine when you did.

“My, is it time already?” She chuckled, rising from her seat so that she could run a hand lovingly down your cheek. “Let me know when we leave, my darling girl.”

You burst out the door just as that last glow of the sun finally faded out. The way your body bathed in the moonlight was addicting. You felt every last bit of human in you fade away, golden eyes reflecting that white orb in the sky as you watched it, morphing into that canine form that would make the townsfolk tremble in fear. The feeling of your body becoming who it was meant to be was indescribable, but it was so right.

You didn’t attempt to suppress the canine howl that erupted from your gut. It would have been unstoppable, and letting it out was like breathing out a breath that you’d been holding in all month. At the sound, too, she finally stepped through the front door, the sunlight that reflected off the moon not enough to hurt her in the way it did in the day. She took one look at you, eyes still so full of love even when you were in this form.

“You sound excited, love.”

You couldn’t have answered her if you wanted to.

The two of you tore off toward the town at a speed that would have had any regular person reeling. The doors were all shut and locked tight. You let her break down the first one. You approached, standing back and staring at hers, two sets of unnatural eyes locking in a passionate gaze. She smiled ever so gently before she moved forward, tearing the door off its hinges.

The screams from the couple inside only fueled you forward. You raced into the house, headed immediately for whatever beating heart she hadn’t already claimed. The man begging for life beneath you couldn’t have been more than twenty. He was pleading and sobbing and chanting his girl’s name, not knowing that yours had already killed her. You made sure to silence his cries.

Natalia was done long before you were. Even as you fed, you felt her eyes on you. It didn’t bother you. She never judged you, and she never would. How could she, being a monster herself? When you pulled away, blood coating your lips and cheeks, dripping down your neck and onto your chest, her pupils dilated a little. She moved forward, using her thumb to brush some of the blood off your cheek and putting it to her own lips.

“Shame. You taint that sweet taste,” she chuckled a little, letting you eye the red substance that was dripping down the corner of her mouth. “You are, however, still as beautiful as you are on any night.”

You wished you could kiss her right then, instead settling for the press of her forehead against yours. You could actually feel your heartbeat shift so that it drummed in time with hers. It was a long couple moments of that, her against you like you were the only two people in the entire world, before she finally pulled away. She smirked as she looked you up and down.

“Repulsive.”

You would have laughed.

The two of you moved through the village like that for a little longer, finding your next victim stupidly roaming the street at midnight on a full moon. You agreed to share the meal with the woman who’d actually been the one to catch it. You took a few steps back, watching as his face paled as Natalia drained the blood from his body. You could hardly believe how beautiful she looked. The moonlight hit every feature just right, illuminating her in a soft glow.

She stood when she’d finished, hand caressing your cheek as she did. “Had your fill yet, my darling?”

You shook your head no.

Neither of you had time, though, to go in search of your next meal. When you turned around, one of the townspeople was standing on the street, aiming a gun at you. You were cocky, at first, staring down the barrel knowing full well that no simple bullet would hurt you. When it whizzed toward you, though, and pierced your skin, ripping through your gut and shooting a searing pain through your body, you got considerably less cocky.

You watched as the woman who had been at your side flew forward and in one swift move, ended the life of the man in front of you. When you fell back, your eyes found the wound that was pushing your blood onto the cobblestone street below you. It was pooling, reflecting the moon above it. You felt blood starting to bubble up in your throat and you coughed violently.

You felt yourself being scooped into a strong set of arms. Her face looked blurry. Though, so did everything else. You could feel that you were moving so fast you were practically flying back toward home. You wondered if you would make it all that way, but it seemed that she was determined. You strained to keep awake, just for her. You weren’t successful.

The world wasn’t dark for long. Yet perhaps it was just that it didn’t feel long. When you blinked your eyes back open, red ones were watching you with such concern that all you wanted to do was kiss her worries away. Unfortunately for you, though, her worries were you. You didn’t have the strength to sit up and pull her toward you. You hardly had the strength to groan her name and let your hand travel over your own abdomen.

“Be careful, my love.”

You felt her hand cover yours in an attempt to bring your fingers away from the wound. You felt first that the skin beneath your fingertips was smooth. You’d morphed back into your human form at some point while you’d been unconscious. Then, you felt the dried blood that caked the area where you’d been shot. You whimpered at the tenderness of your own touch. A hand tugged on yours, bringing the pressure away from the area.

“Don’t touch.”

You squeezed her hand with all the energy you had. “Darling…”

“I know, Dove.”

Pain was searing throughout your body in a way you’d never experienced before. The bullet had not only pierced your body, but it was poisoning your blood in the way that only silver could. You groaned softly, clutching tight onto Natalia’s hand with all the strength that you could muster, which wasn’t a lot. Tears were streaking down her cheeks now, showing you an emotion that you didn’t often see on her face.

“Please,” you begged softly. “I cannot move on without you. I cannot leave you here to continue on without me.”

You immediately felt guilty for the effect of those words. She pulled you close, getting on her knees beside the bed and resting her head on your arm. You hushed her softly as a sob broke through her lips, the sound able to shatter your heart as if it were made from the finest glass known to man. You apologized as soft as you could, repeatedly and honestly. You beckoned her into the bed beside you.

You knew you were starting to fade. You could feel it. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. You could feel darkness looming in that place, waiting for you and waiting to punish you for every life you’d ever taken. That number was higher than you could count. You were shaking, sure the woman beside you could feel it against her body. You weren’t sure if it was a last effort of strength from your dying body, or a display of absolute terror to leave life behind.

“Natalia…”

“I am right here.”

You grabbed the front of her shirt in a weak fist, using gravity to help you in pulling her closer. At first, she thought you were trying to bring her lips onto hers. When she tried to kiss you, though, you shook your head, turning away. Face turned away from her, now, you had exposed a different part of your body to her. You guided her mouth down to her neck, whimpering as you felt her lips lightly brush the skin.

“No,” she refused. “You have the blood of a wolf. You could die.”

“Without it, I surely will,” you gasped, air feeling further away with each passing moment. “Please. Try.”

You could only feel it as she nodded. It was so carefully that she nuzzled against you, as if trying to memorize what your pulse felt like against her cheek. However tonight ended, that was something she’d very likely never feel again. You managed to hush her quietly as you felt a tremble run through her body. Her hand came to clutch yours as you finally felt her part her lips against your skin.

“Vile,” she muttered, and you felt a small smile grace her lips. “I love you, my darling.”

“As I you.”

With that, her fangs punctured your skin. The world went dark around you.

You were sore when you woke. Mostly it was in your neck. You swung your legs off the bed despite it, desperate to go find the woman who must have been worrying. You found her in the living room lighting a candle. She turned to you before you even had a second to clear your throat and try and get her attention. She was on you in an instant, peppering your face in soft kisses.

“You stayed with me,” she whispered.

“I could never imagine life or death without you, Natalia. I had to stay,” you chuckled, kissing her back briefly. “So, what am I?”

She shrugged. “The woman I love. Is that not what matters?”

You chuckled lightly. “Of course.”

She smiled, bringing you to her, resting her head against your chest. You wondered if your heart had stopped beating beneath her ear, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that you were with her, as alive as you needed to be. You couldn’t be in life without her, just as you couldn’t be in death without her. She was your everything, and nothing would be whole away from that.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt her hand slide. It moved down your arm, across your side and your hip until it had slipped into your pocket, pulling out that shining piece of metal that resided there. She rolled the bullet slowly between two fingers, glancing at it with deep interest before handing it back to you. You took it in one hand, your other staying on her.

“I do not think it will work,” she remarked softly. “I think we have forever.”

You tossed the bullet out the window into the light of the waning moon. She pulled away from you. You watched as she moved away and picked up the splintering wooden stake that leaned against the table, smiling once at you as she held it out. She turned away, tossing it upon the roaring flames in the fireplace; the wood catching quickly and becoming nothing but fuel.

“Forever,” you hummed as she moved back into your arms. “Forever with you would be beautiful.”

#natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natalia romanoff #marvel #mcu #natasha request #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #wlw #lesbian #natasha romanoff au #vampire natasha

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popanalysis99 · 4 years ago

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Elliot Alderson/The Mastermind (Mr. Robot): Analysis

Elliot Alderson is the main protagonist of the series Mr. Robot. He is portrayed by Rami Malek. He is a cybersecurity engineer by day and a vigilante hacker by night. He then gets invited by a mysterious anarchist only known as Mr. Robot to an underground hacker group known as fsociety, whose goal is to take down the company ECorp, who is responsible for the death of Elliot’s father and redistribute the wealth. (Spoilers Alert and Trigger Warning for Child Sexual Abuse)

Early Life

From what we know so far, Elliot, along with his sister Darlene did not have a very good healthy family life. After the death of their father, their mother had gotten very physically and emotionally abusive of the both of them, but she mostly abused Darlene. And then in the later episode we find out that his father wasn’t a perfect saint as we thought, he was a monster who molested Elliot as a child, which physically and mentally scarred Elliot, which caused him to develop a plethora of mental illnesses such as depression, anxiety, PTSD and DID. The DID even gave birth to the following split personalities of Elliot: Mr. Robot (The Protector), The Mother (The Persecutor), The Child, The Audience (Voyeurs) and The Mastermind (The Elliot we’ve been following throughout the series).

His Traumatic Journey

Throughout the series, we see him as a vigilante hacker take down men who are the worst parts of the society such as abusers, cheaters, rapists and pedophiles (a role which is usually filled by the “angry woman” vigilante). He then joins fsociety to help take down E Corp. But unfortunately, he goes through a series of traumatic events to achieve that goal, he loses his girlfriend Shayla when she gets killed by her psychotic ex, he finds out that Mr. Robot is his split personality and Darlene is actually his sister. Then we he went to prison, Mr. Robot psychologically abused him, he was then beaten up by prison guards, nearly raped by neo-nazis and when he got out, he was shot in the stomach by Tyrell Wellick just because he refused to be a part of something that would kill millions. He then was psychologically abused and gaslighted by his former best friend/crush Angela Moss and failed to stop a terrorist attack that cost millions of lives. He then tried to kill himself and almost lost his life at the hands of the Dark Army along with Darlene’s. Then he lost Angela to them, nearly overdosed on heroin, was stalked by the same psychotic ex of Shayla’s, who then forced him to find out about his childhood trauma. Then he was trapped in a nuclear meltdown, which he was finally saved from thanks to his hacking skills shutting it down, but unfortunately at the same time, he found out that he himself wasn’t a real person the whole time, he was just another personality of the real Elliot Alderson.

But what is so remarkable about him is that no matter how much he goes through, he always finds a way to stand back up and keep going no matter what life throws at him. While other characters in the series go through the similar things and easily break down, Elliot had it the worst but survives and is still able to live through it the best.

Subverting the Revolutionary Anti Hero trope

While Mr. Robot was first said to have picked up some elements from movies such as Taxi Driver (cynical narrator plot) and Fight Club (the season 1 plot twist), as the series progresses it completely subverts those narratives and makes the portrayal more humane, tragic and relatable. Travis Bickle and The Narrator represent the misguided and misrepresented trope of mental illness and masculinity and depict the “white male angered by the society” trope while Elliot completely subverts those tropes and gives a more human and humble perspective. He mostly represents the more “strong feminine” characteristics without being ridiculed or emasculated for it. As a poc man with mental health issues, he shows a more relatable struggle as he battles both his inner and outer demons and finally is able to prevail. While most white male anti-heroes would use their anger towards society for selfish and violent reasons, Elliot uses them for good reasons and to help others. His pro and con is that he cares so much for others and their needs but he forgets about his own safety most of the times.

Beauty Equals Goodness

One of the remarkable things about Elliot is also his beauty. He is mostly shown to be very pretty and gorgeous. TV Tropes defines “Beauty Equals Goodness”: “If a character is beautiful, then that means they must be a very good person.” Unlike Travis and The Narrator who are shown to be very average and entitled-yet-crazy and violent, Under his black-hooded figure, Elliot is shown to have extremely angelic beauty, which represents his kind-heartedness and selflessness towards others. He has innocent blue eyes which shows his innocence and naivete but doesn’t mean that he is not smart and clever.

Living in state of Victimhood

Most of the times, Elliot ends up being constantly victimized by anyone he comes across, even if it’s someone he knows. Tyrell ends up being obsessed with the idea of him and begins to believe 5/9 made them gods. Ray uses Elliot’s skills for his Dark Website and tells him how much he reminds him of his dead wife and calls him his saviour. Angela ends up psychologically abusing him and gaslighting him due to Whiterose’s machinations and Vera becomes disturbingly and instantly obsessed with him the minute he sees him. We do know that Elliot has a really good soul who has a gift for hacking and uses it for good reasons and is portrayed as a really beautiful and kind leader, but then there are a lot of people out there who begin to use and abuse him for their own selfish and personal gain, which is also one of the most heartbreaking aspects of his life.

Conclusion

Despite all the hell he’s been through, Elliot had finally found his strenght and peace through the love of others such as Darlene, Leon and Krista and has learnt how to love himself and stay strong. Elliot Alderson/Mastermind is one of the most inspiring characters out there and is one of the most best ones ever.

#character analysis #mr. robot #mr robot #elliot alderson #analysis #hero analysis #protagonist analysis

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currentfandomkick · 4 years ago

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Marinette did not sign up for this part 7

So i kind of live, and this continues on.

first part here previous part here ao3 here

Stephanie twitched when she finished comparing financial resources needed to handle a covert operation, butterfly garden underground, AND manage to keep it secret from the rest of Paris. Cass checked her numbers and it became very apparent that only—and she stressed the only—someone insanely wealthy and is a recluse could be Hawkmoth. And in Paris, that meant one man—Gabriel Agreste.

Cass was the one to narrow it down to him, and Steph argued with her about it being impossible as “He’s been akumatized!” Honestly, Cass was acting like the Ladyblogger who published one of her early ‘could be Hawkmoth’ theories with Gabriel Agreste as a option with “probably had Mayura as Hawkmoth in her place” argument. It was retracted, and there was a apology put up for it that included: this list was not intended to be serious guys—I put multiple known akuma victims here and ways they could have been Hawkmoth no matter how public the akumatazation was. Did not expect this one to be taken so seriously, my sincerest apologies to M. Agreste and Mm. Sancoeur.”

Steph could smell the ‘I was forced to do this’ off the apology, and did her best not to agree with Cass that it was forced as then Cass would argue it was a serious accusation put in mixed with less serious ones to get people thinking. To get Ladyblog followers to take notes and pass it to Ladybug and Chat Noir for further investigation. Which, would be a good way to contact the heroes. Except…

“She interviews the Miraculous team on a bi-weekly basis Cass, she’d have plenty of opportunities to tell them her theories.”

Cass crossed her arms. While they might heavily disagree on this aspect of who Hawkmoth and Mayura are, there is another aspect that is held in contention between the two of them…

“Plus, Hawkmoth and Mayura are totally a couple, and everyone knows Gabriel Agreste is too hung up on his wife’s disappearance to consider moving on, let alone do it.”

“Professionals.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. Cass is good at body language. There is no doubt about her being better than most. However—Hawkmoth is an egomaniac. Egomaniacs don’t give up when their goal is in reach for a henchman getting ill or injured. Not unless said hench is, well, romantically involved with them. She knew from watching Gotham’s underbelly for years—their romantic relationship had to be rock solid for it to even be considered. Married or may-as-well-be.

“He’s ended how many battles early for her? Totally bordering on, if not actually, married.”

Stephanie paused when two girls joined them, the ladyblogger herself with a too big grin, and soup girl if Cass wasn’t mistaken.

“Hawkmoth and Mayura relationship debate?” The blogger grinned.

Stephanie nodded, as yes, and this is serious. “Cass is convinced they’re just professionals with standards.”

Soup girl groaned. “Not this again!”

“Girl, I told you, I’m not the only one who thinks they’re a couple, and serious.”

Stephanie grinned as Cass huffed. A vote for Team Hawkyura!

“I told you, Hawkmoth is too obsessed with the miraculous to be capable of human emotions, and Mayura is too smart to fall for him. He’s probably paying her a lot or cancelling out a debt for her to work for him how she is,” Soup girl reasoned.

Stephanie shook her head while Cass rose victoriously, scooting a bit closer to her fellow ‘stop shipping the villains’ teammate. Which is ridiculous—it isn’t shipping if it isn’t even subtext at this point.

“No, no,” the blogger leaned forward, settled into their table on Stephanie’s side. “That means the relationship would have to be healthy, and its perfect possible for it to extremely unhealthy and for Mayura to be in a bad relationship with someone who isn’t wroth her time. Why else would she keep using a broken miraculous that’s making her sick?”

Stephanie nodded at the blogger’s side. “And abusive relationships can happen to anyone. Back in our home city,” Steph gestured between herself and Cass. “A top psychologist went villain because she was manipulated into thinking the guy just needed her love to fix him and fell into a life of crime and wanted to stay by the guy’s side regardless of how many times he hurt her.”

Cass nodded at that, frowning at that. She wasn’t there for Harley Quinn, henchman of Joker. Stephanie was. She did see the aftermath and bits of Harley’s (ongoing) recovery.

Soup girl shook her head. “Its not that, everyone knows the Peacock is emotions so she would know he’s toying with her. She would know she deserves better. She’s staying because of finances or blackmail or maybe even being able to fix something that’s unfixable.”

Cass hummed in agreement. “Needs to survive.”

Soup girl nodded. “There’s no motivator more powerful than that.”

“Um, love,” Stephanie supplied. She may not be the best at all its forms, but loving gotham’s citizens enough to want to save them was part of what drove her to become Spoiler in the first place. Spite too, but that didn’t seem like the best thing to mention at the time.

“Exactly,” the blogger passed Stephanie one of her cookies. “Love makes people do crazy things, or did you forget Hercules.”

Soup girl looked exhausted at that, pinching her brow. “We agreed never to bring Disney logic into these arguments.”

“The quote is true—People do crazy things when they’re in love. And Mayura is in love with Hawkmoth, and he’s in love with her.”

Soup girl rolled her eyes. “Then you’d have to give up the Gabriel and Natalie theory for good. He’s still in love with his wife, and he treats Natalie more like a tablet than a person. No way that’s how he’d treat someone he’s in love with.”

“Are we forgetting how he treats you and Adrien?”

Stephanie and Cass exchanged a look. Stephanie focused on soup girl then. Really looked at her. Tired, twitchy, all signs of needing and not getting a good night’s rest.

“Okay, he goes way overboard with supervising and has control issues, I’m not saying he doesn’t, ever. But he doesn’t let me take commissions unless my grades are up there, hires tutors for me and Adrien regularly, and he’s let up on controlling who Adrien can be safely friendly with to avoid crazy fans ever since I joined.”

“You joined, therefore are something he can control, and are therefore not going to endanger Adrien or Gabriel since it would hurt your career,” the blogger explained.

“Sounds like Hawkmoth,” Stephanie added absently, then froze as Cass grinned at her. back track time, ASAP. “But it can’t be since the guy was akumatized.”

Soup girl looked relieved at what Stephanie said. Though, thinks weren’t looking up much on that front. She might have Batgirl pay the man a visit… after hacking the girl’s schedule and Adrien’s and seeing how much this man really was trying to control them both.

Cass raised an eyebrow at her.

“Thank you—can you get Alya off that train too?”

The blogger leveled Stephanie a look that reminded her too much of Lois Lane that time she tried to interview the Batfam on Gotham crime rates and the effectiveness of vigilantes in a city that was entrenched in corruption and if it was better to just gut the Gotham justice system and start anew with different training and such, to prevent villain strength and intensity escalation. In short—she scared Stephanie. Just a little.

“I think maybe Lois Lane could, but I doubt it.”

“Lois Lane is the hero the world is not good enough for and her word is worth more than all of Metropolis.”

“Not that hard to achieve,” Stephanie said without thinking. There is a lot of property damage there after all, they just have a more white collar-exclusive criminal element. Plus, Lex keeps his bigger projects in other places that are harder for Superman to find.

Soup girl snorted at that.

The blogger took offense.

Stephanie would say all-in-all, not her worst time out on a mission doing detective work in broad daylight.

Marinette was quick to transform into Multimouse and meet up with Rena in the Lourve. It wasn’t the first time either—Alix’s dad took to helping her translate Gaurdian since she hadn’t learned it all before Fu died. Besides her, he was the only one who could read the spell book… though that reduced the miraculous grimoire to nothing but the potions. It held the history of the kwami, how to summon and bind them, and even how to craft weapons for them. It included instructions on how to become a Guardian and what was required of her the sole guardian, and how the Order operated with mentions of ways it could be reformed should it ever vanish.

It was the closest thing Marinette had to a mentor on how to re-build the Order and choose members, and how to make the best choices as Guardian. It even listed allied organizations and how much stock should be put into trusting them.

But right now, she wasn’t there as Ladybug to go over another passage or talk about possible meaning and philosophies (did they really mean her job is to kill to protect the miraculous, or like, be that ready to ensure they remained safe?) or the whole “is the soul splitting a metaphor or actual magic” (magic). No, she was there as Multimouse, with Rena Rouge, as representatives of the Miraculous Team to meet up with the Amazonian Historian sent by The Former Ladybug, Hippolyta.

“Greetings Alwphekion,” the woman nodded at Rena. “Muidion,” she acknowledged Multimouse. “I am Vupyte of Themyscira, and our leading historian on the miraculous. How may I be of assistance, young Champions?”

Multimouse stepped forward, forgetting she wasn’t Ladybug at the moment. This question had been burning in her mind since she was told of the missing pair. “Could you tell us how the ladybug and black cat miraculous would interact with the main five if it wasn’t for Hawkmoth?”

Rena glanced at Multimouse, knowing that something was off. It was possible Marinette may be more involved intellectually than she’d been letting on… though given her unofficial spy-work, it was possible that Marinette was Ladybug’s first choice in help… which lead to questions Rena had to keep silent… until Hawkmoth was defeated.

“Ah, that is both simple and complex. If you wouldn’t mind,” Vupyte gestured for the pair to sit with her. “I was expecting something like that to come from Alwphekion, not you Muidion.”

Multimouse would have been flustered a few years ago. Hell, even a few month ago, before Fu was compromised, she would have panicked a bit. But right now?

“Ladybug tasked me to get any information to help her rebuild the Order. I won’t fail her.” She couldn’t fail the kwami. Especially Tikki who never gave up on her, even when Marinette was ready to throw in the towel a hundred times over and give her miraculous to Alya—the brave one she once had to mimic to handle being Ladybug.

“Ah.” Vupyte leaned back. “No wonder there’s such a storm in your eyes.”

Multimouse didn’t know how to handle that, so she brushed it aside.

Rena put a hand on her knee and squeezed.

Multimouse was glad she wasn’t alone in this.

“That story goes back far beyond when my people interacted with the miraculous. Perhaps I could have a figure you trust help me digitize my research on the history in full for your Ladybug?”

Multimouse nodded. That… “Director Kubdel was vetted by Ladybug previously for his discretion and understanding of how sensitive the miraculous and miraculous matters are.”

Vupyte agreed to use the man at a later date. “For now, I can give you an overview of how the work together.”

“That would be sufficient.” Multimouse did her best to copy M. Agreste’s professional affect. To hide how out of her depths she was at the moment.

Vupyte grinned. “First off, The Savior, your Ladybug, has the role of creation. Her role in the group is to guide them to growth, to safety. She is your strategist in battle and the team’s healer. You know this already. She is the only one able to undo the Destroyer—your Chat Noir’s—abilities. However, she can only undo his damage so long as she believes it needs her intervention. Should she find his judgement—and his punishments for those violating the contract between those under the Miraculous’ protection, the Order, Champion and Kwami—be just, she cannot undo what he did.”

Multimouse felt her heart seize. Plagg mentioned the Atlantians tried to convince a Fox into destroying a rival kingdom, a kingdom that was not doing as the Atlantians’ claimed. When the Fox refused… Plagg never said what happened after that.

She knew only a third of the Atlantian’s survived the sinking from what they’d released to the public about their history.

“A ladybug is given all the creative force that exists between her and her black cat, while the cat is given all the ability to detect danger. Half of each of their souls are swapped to ensure this ability switch remains, and that their bond is unbreakable so long as they are called on as Champions. The cat protects her from harm, and she supplies him with what is needed. They are only ever called on in times of absolute crisis—when the Contract is violated, or when the world’s balance is nearing a breaking point.”

Rena was too still by Multimouse, piecing things together. Multimouse hoped she didn’t pass this on to the others… not until Marinette was certain they were safe to remain in the Order and that they want to be in it—that they don’t feel obligated to out of duty but truly want to protect the kwami. Even if it means never being a hero again.

“The turtle shields them both—the Cat in battle and the ladybug when healing. They can even bring forth another weapon, though what it is, there is no record that we have found reliable.”

Multimouse raised an eyebrow.

“Shelter?”

The Amazonian shook her head. “No Muidion, something else entirely… the incomplete records I found mentioned people being pulled to the turtle, feeling absolute safety and complete trust in them no matter what happened around them. What causes this, is unknown.”

Multimouse felt the need to roll her eyes. she was fairly certain it was a cross between ‘must parent them all’ and the turtle’s capacity to ensure nothing broke Shelter. Possibly making it opaque, or something else. She’d ask Wayzz when Nino was asleep.

“Often the turtle focuses on getting civilians out of the area to safety. They are often aided by the Peacock, who creates a creature from a single emotion and ties it to an object, to direct its actions. The turtle protects those in danger with their shelter while the peacock’s creation and the peacock keep enemy combatants busy.

“The butterfly may check for spies among their ranks, potential traitors too by their emotions but that is often another’s role. They often connect members across distances with those outside of their ranks, acting as a diplomat and choosing new members. At times, they might even make use of their full ability and create a champion of their own, granting them the power to make an army to help the cat while following the ladybug’s plan, or to test a possible candidate’s worth by seeing what they do when given power, and how it is used while having the failsafe of taking it away again.

“The bee tends to fight beside the Cat, at times ordering the butterfly’s champion should their connection fail, and is ready to take down said champion should they betray the group with a single sting. The bee answers to the ladybug and cat alone—following the pair’s vision and ensuring it is executed whenever one or both of the pair is absent.

“Then there is the fox, like you Alwphekion. I assume you have grown fond of your ally,” Vupyte gestured to Rena’s flute. “They let you craft any illusion you want. But I doubt you were told of the true power of the fox.”

Multimouse shifted at that. “The Gaurdian was young when their temple was destroyed. I doubt they hid it intentionally.”

Vupyte paused at that. “I did not mean it like that Muidion, simply that the Fox is given little emphansis by the Order to the point it was given a dishonorable title for their champions to inherit, the Deceiver,” Vupyte spat the title like sour milk. “Alwphekion is the one who sees all in their truth, through every lie one has spoken or believed. A fox is not a crafter of fallacy, merely presenting what one feels or desires. Their greatest gift is in their true voice, the one that none can lie or withhold information upon being addressed by it.”

Rena leaned forward, focusing on Vupyte. “How?”

Vupyte sighed. “The records of that were destroyed in Alexandria’s flames. It is a power a fox can only use with great conviction and motivation. Until then, they can only sense deceptions in shades while the truth rings of their own melody according to legend.”

Rena stared at her lap.

Multimouse put a hand on her arm. “We��ll figure it out.”

Rena leaned into the touch then, sighing. “I have a question of my own, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly I do not,” Vupyte assured. “I am here to help the Miraculous Champions however I am allowed by you. I owe your predecessors more than I could ever repay.”

Rena nodded at that. “What are the chances a butterfly user could make themself a champion?”

Vupyte opened and closed her mouth, lips pressing and pursing until she found words to her liking. “It is not impossible for them to do so. They would have to drop their transformation to do so, which would prevent proper guidance, and would need to give themself a very limited power.”

Rena took a deep breath.

Multimouse took a sharp intake. That changed the rules. A lot.

“So, hypotethetically, if one’s power could only affect a specified amount of things at a time, say, put into a given space and then whatever new thing was put in was then ejected from said space,” Rena continued, “would that be a feasible power for a butterfly’s champion to use without a butterfly guiding them?”

Multimouse felt her stomach drop at Vupyte’s hesitance.

“That is… rather specific.” Vupyte pondered it for a moment more. “While I can’t be certain of the logisitics, it is one of the safest abilities to give in those circumstances. Tight limitations, a weak ability that lacks army-growing capacity, so no need to use the butterfly champion to connect their chosen champion to their subjects, and it is straight forward so no need for an explanation, or perhaps the lack of one would make their reaction to discovering this limit more genuine.”

Multimouse felt sick.

Things aligned quickly in her head. Finances. Schedules. Timing. Targets of preference—teens at Dupont where Adrien goes and is able to talk about his day to either Natalie or Gorilla, who would report it back to him. Even Adrien’s concerns for them—weaknesses, insecurities, fears…

It made too much sense.

Multimouse stood up. “I have to go, excuse me.”

Rena gawked at her. “Wait, Mul—”

Multimouse ran out quickly, running to an alley to detransform and get Tikki to get her head on straight as Marinette spiraled.

Gabriel Agreste couldn’t be Hawkmoth.

He couldn’t be.

Outside the alley, Tim, Cass and Stephanie froze as the girl Tim was convinced was Ladybug appeared. She was in a grey suit before.

Rena looked back at Vupyte, hoping her girl got the air she needed. She knew Marinette would come around eventually, but for now…

“One moment.”

Alya sent off a quick text to Aurore. The girl was good at keeping Marinette distracted, out of a spiral, and helping her process.

Aurore confirmed she found Marinette in an alley bordering on a panic attack and was taking her home.

Rena sighed in relief.

“Okay, now that that’s settled, there’s something you didn’t spill.”

Vupyte smiled at Rena. “You are a clever Alwphekion.”

Rena raised an eyebrow.

Vupyte sighed. “A ladybug and black cat take the longest to mature in their team. It is no fault of their own; a side effect of half of their being being doubled and the other being taken. Of the two, Ladybug requires the longest time to come into her own as a strategist and healer.”

Rena snorted at that. “Have you seen Ladybug?”

Vupyte sucked in her breath through her teeth. “I have.”

Rena watched her more intensely then.

“She is not even out of her training suit, while the rest of yours have become personalized, implying that you are not being overtaken by your role. That you have blended with your kwami and role, rather than be consumed by it.”

Rena froze at that.

“What do you mean be consumed by it.” it didn’t come out like a question, it fell out like doubt defending fear.

“Ladybugs fill in any holes in their group. Right now you are missing two, and one is injured,” Vupyte noted.

Rena filled in the blanks. “Until we get a Butterfly and fix the Peacock, Ladybug isn’t really Ladybug, is she?”

Vupyte sighed. “She is a child trying to run a home alone until they are both present as allies.”

Rena frowned at that. “Then why isn’t Chat affected?”

Vupyte looked far older then. “Have you not noticed that he can only extend and shorten his staff?”

Rena opened her mouth, only for no words to come out.

“He should be able to turn his weapon into whatever hand-held weapon he desires at that moment to protect your team. He cannot fulfill his role as Judge and Protector proper. He may be his own person within his transformation and within the team, but he lack his full range. Ladybug has her full range of abilities, but lacks her individuality as a Ladybug proper. Her team is incomplete, so she must continue to cover and cover and cover until it is complete with all five of her strongest allies at her side. Until then, whoever is under the mask will give and give and give until there is nothing left.”

Rena swallowed thickly. “How do I stop that?”

Vupyte leveled Rena with a few words. “Find Hawkmoth and Mayura, take their miraculous, and once the miraculous is fixed, hand them to worthy champions—ones who are strong judges of others for the butterfly, and of who is in need for the peacock.”

Rena felt her mind waver to Rose for the peacock—the girl who fought for everyone. She was blanking on a butterfly though—a strong judge of character was hard to think of as a core characteristic of someone she knew she could trust.

“You have one in mind,” Vupyte said quietly. “Good. You will have to find another for the other, or an ally of yours must find candidates. The sooner this is determined, the sooner your Ladybug will come into her own. The only other way… would be dangerous.”

Rena nodded. She texted Chat and Carapace to meet her to talk about what she learned. They’d protect Ladybug. Their Leader. Paris’ Savior. And their friend.

Aurore is many things. Miss Sting is a necessity to keep Paris safe. Aurore of the weather girl duo on KIDZ+. Miss Mandeliev’s favorite to call on for environmental studies and among Bustier’s favorite to read a well researched report. She is also one of poor Marinette’s longest standing friends, and one of the only people who can catch her mid attack and get her to pull out of and process her spiral without setting off a different bout of anxiety.

Which is why she captured the akuma in a jar, hid it in her backpack until Chat or LAdybug could handle it, and nabbed her friend in the first place when Alya messaged her. She is not on the best of terms with the reporter (she might be holding a grudge over Lady Wifi calling her a hack and may have gone on a spree fact checking the Ladyblog in the early days and found holes on a Certain Person who has been since excommunicated by the students of Dupont and left the school in disgrace within a less than a week of attending). Especially since she insisted on being Mairnette’s best friend when Marinette has her already. honestly, the other never has been the best at seeing the obvious…

Like the fact that Marinette’s anxiety up ticked with Ladybug’s issues. Or that around the time Chat Noir took on being Mr. Bug, Marinette was injured. OR that Chat hangs around Marinette a lot when Marinette is around an attack, even covering for her.

Aurore dealth in meteorology and environmental sciences. She dealth with public appearances, PR, and being a child star. It is not her place to point out that Marinette is clearly (a) Chat and Ladybug’s confidant somehow, (b) a member of the team (c) Ladybug or some combination thereof. She didn’t want to make a call, she didn’t have evidence to back it up, and she didn’t run on intuition like Alya.

Aurore is a Bee, and they operate best within rules.

Ladybug made not looking into identities a rule. One she’s certain Rena has been ignoring… but Miss Sting follows Ladybug’s word to the letter. She has not looked into anyone’s identity and actively ignored any possible relveations in favor of working on her civilian life and focusing on capturing akuma before someone becomes akumatized, and bringing her catches to Ladybug or Chat for purification or destruction respectfully. Depending on how schedules lined up for patrols.

Now, Aurore is content listening to Marinette ramble about baking soda and baking powder with buttermilk on her latest recipe and how that connects to their chemistry homework (as they were both smart enough to dodge the math that goes into physics, unlike Adrien or Nino and Rose who were naïve enough to take music theory).

That doesn’t stop her from seeing faint movement on their school roof in reflections.

Ladybug may not have made it a rule to protect Marinette. Chat may not have stated such either, but his actions told her it was a priority. And her duties as Marinette’s longest unstrained friendship demanded she monitor the situation.

Once Marinette went down for snacks, aurore snuck into her friend’s bathroom and transformed to send a single message” I think Chat’s princess has a stalker now. Keep an eye on repeats in her environment.”

Pegasus was furious when he saw the message. Cowboy was hacking camera in the area as they spoke with the other members of the team.

Rena paled and Carapace looked oddly dangerous in that moment.

Chat Noir and Ryuuko were the most deadly of the group… Chat’s suit almost… moving, but it had to be a trick of the light. Ryuuko had the same look Rena did when Carapace did something particularly dangerous—like refuse to flee before his time ran out and somehow stayed transformed beyond the standard five minutes after using shelter through sheer force of will alone.

Ryuuko turned to Chat with a most Peculiar shade of anger. “I will be shadowing her.”

It was not a question, but a demand.

“Shouldn’t we check with Ladybug?” Pegasus asked while continuing to check camera. Nothing. Nothing at all.

This must have been what was setting his friend on edge these last few days. Someone stalking her, but just out of a camera’s reach. Professional…

Pegasus desperately hoped it was some paparazzi after Marinette the Designer’s secret identity, or even MDC. Anything but someone going after her for something… something he wouldn’t let cross his mind.

Chat shot him one look that obliterated the option entirely. Pegasus may not know who his comrades are outside of the mask, but he’d be a fool not to remember that Marinette was a spy on Gabriel Agreste. That she was in constant danger as a civilian.

Was it Hawkmoth?

Mayura?

Someone they hired?

He didn’t know, and he needed to. Needed to protect his friend.

She believed in him when he wasn’t sure of himself. She argued against his worst insecurities (nuisance, annoyance, best left forgotten) and proved she likes Max for Max. For his rambles, for his excitement and passion and his own brand of sass to their friends.

King Monkey appeared with a rare serious expression. He didn’t know of Marinette’s involvement at all—only Chat, Ladybug, Alya and himself did—but King must know Marinette. Because that look on his face reminded Max of a friend he’d seen punch someone a little too hard for their hand to keep Max safe from a pair ready to hurt him for his mumbling as a child.

“Whoever is doing this,” King Monkey stated with an eerily calm. “I’m calling the right to make their life a bit too chaotic.”

“Get in line,” Rena growled, her flute ready at a moment’s notice.

Elsewhere three gothamites were passed out in the same room. They decided to take a break and watch a movie together.

They had no idea the Very Displeased eldest of the batchildren had entered the room and forced them each in a separate bed, or that he allowed a certain “demon spawn” to add a variety of traps that, while they all knew how to escape at this point, were still ass to get out of and made it clear they were in hot water.

Jason hoped things worked out for the best… after his screw up, he figured Dickie and Demon Spawn should at least have a fighting chance. Or at least Nightwing would have a better chance at convincing the Justice League and the Miraculous Team they meant no harm.

He hopes.

---

hope you enjoyed!

BTW we have fanart by @thegreysman!!! here which tumblr is rudely not letting me show off.

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace@jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang

#marinette did not sign up for this #part 7 #maribat #bio!dad bruce #long post #my fic #my writing #can't tag #bio!dad bruce wayne #anyone know how to add a readmore?

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patriotsnet · 4 years ago

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Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Undocumented Kids Are Saved By Obamas Executive Order Daca Which Would Put A Halt To Deportation For Those Whod Entered The Country Before Age 16 And Yet In A Bid To Get The Gop To Come Over To His Side On Immigration Reform The President Has Also Deported A Record 15 Million People In His First Term

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

When Belsy Garcia saw her mother’s number appear on her iPhone on the afternoon of June 15, she felt what she calls the “uncomfortable fluttering” sensation in her chest. She knew that daytime calls signaled an emergency. The worst one had come the previous year, when her sister told her ICE agents had placed their father in federal custody.

Garcia was attending Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, when her father was marched out of her childhood home. As an undocumented immigrant — like both of her parents, who are from Guatemala — she couldn’t qualify for loans. She financed her education through scholarships and a stipend she earned as a residential assistant. Now she wondered if her mother was calling to say her father had been deported, which might force her to leave school to become the family’s breadwinner.

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

Onscreen, President Obama was announcing the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Undocumented immigrants who had arrived in the United States as children could apply for Social Security numbers and work permits. Garcia qualified: Her parents had brought her to this country when she was 7 years old. DACA transformed her into a premed student who could actually become a doctor. “It was like this weight was lifted,” she says. “All of that hard work was going to pay off.”

In The Next Hundred Days Our Bipartisan Outreach Will Be So Successful That Even John Boehner Will Consider Becoming A Democrat After All We Have A Lot In Common He Is A Person Of Color Although Not A Color That Appears In The Natural World Whats Up John Barack Obama White House Correspondents Dinner

And Then There Were Three

The first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court did so in 1880. It would take another 101 years for a woman to sit on that bench rather than stand before it. Even then, progress was fitful. Over the 12 years that Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg served together, their identities evidently merged; lawyers regularly addressed Ginsburg as “Justice O’Connor.” When O’Connor retired in 2006, she left the faux Justice O’Connor feeling lonely. Ruth Bader Ginsburg warned of something far more alarming: What the public saw on entering the court were “eight men of a certain size, and then this little woman sitting to the side.” They might well represent the most eminent legal minds in America. But there was something antiquated, practically mutton-choppy, about that portrait.

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Seal Team Six Kills Osama Bin Ladenraiding His Secret Compound In Abbottabad Pakistan While Obama And His Top Advisers Watch A Live Feed Of The Mission From The White House Situation Room The Picture Of The Assembled Becomes The Last Supper Of The Obama Era

Poop Feminism

For me, it’s one moment. All the bridesmaids have come to the fancy bridal shop to see Maya Rudolph try on wedding dresses. This should be a familiar scene: The bride emerges from the changing room and … This is the dress! The friends clap. The mother cries. Everyone is a princess. Go ahead and twirl!

But when the bride emerges in Bridesmaids, almost all of her friends have started to feel sick. Sweat coats their skin. Red splotches creep over their faces. They try to “ooh” and “aah,” but it’s already too late. It starts with a gag from Melissa McCarthy, followed by another gag. Then a gag that comes simultaneously with a tiny wet fart. It’s the smallness of the fart that’s important here. It’s the kind of fart that slips out — a fart that could be excused away, a brief, incongruous accident. Women don’t fart in wedding movies, and women certainly don’t fart at the exact moment that the bride comes out in her dress. This can’t be happening. Melissa McCarthy blames the fart on the tightness of her dress. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The camera cuts. We are above now. We look down from a safe perch as the release we have been anticipating and dreading begins. It is horribly, earth-shatteringly gross. A woman has just pooped in a sink. The revolution has begun.

The Government Acquires A 61 Percent Stake In Gm And Loans The Company $50 Billion The Auto Bailout Will Eventually Be Heralded As A Great Success Adding More Than 250000 Manufacturing Jobs To The Economy

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

“The president was very clear with us that he only wanted to do stuff that would fundamentally change the way they did business. And that’s what we did. There were enormous changes. For example, General Motors had something like 300 different job classifications that the union had. If you were assigned to put the windshield wipers on, you couldn’t put tires on. And we wiped all that stuff out. We basically gave back management the freedom to manage, to hire, to fire. People stopped getting paid even when they were on layoff. We reduced the number of car plants so that there wasn’t so much overcapacity. So now, when you have 16 million cars sold , they’re making a fortune.”

Black Lives Matter Activists Are Arrested In Baton Rouge Louisianaprotesting The Murder Of Alton Sterling; More Than 100 People Are Detained In St Paul Minnesota Protesting The Murder Of Philando Castile

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

Melissa Dahl: The Fitbit was introduced at a tech conference eight years ago. It’s kind of incredible to realize that, before then, this idea of the “quantified self” didn’t really exist in the mainstream.

Jesse Singal: I feel like it’s the intersection of all these different trends: Everyone plays video games these days. You got smartphones everywhere. And people are realizing that solutions to the big problems that lead to sleeplessness and anxiety and bad eating — unemployment and income inequality and yada yada yada — aren’t gonna get solved anytime soon.

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

Cari Romm: It feels like productive stress, though. I’m talking as a recovered Fitbit obsessive, but it does make you look at Fitbit-less people like, “You mean you don’t care how many steps you took today?”

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-inducing sleep app could help, though?

MD: There’s some aspect to the tracking idea that really does work. I mean, it’s just a higher-tech version of a food journal or sleep journal, right? Ben Franklin 300 years ago was tracking his 13 “personal virtues” in his diary.

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

In the two years since Mike Brown was fatally shot by the police in Ferguson, and the video footage of his dead body in the street went viral, we have seen the emergence of a perverse dichotomy on our screens and in our public discourse: irrefutable evidence of grotesquely persistent racism, and irrefutable evidence of increasing black cultural and political power. This paradox is not entirely new, of course — America was built on a narrative of white supremacy, and black Americans have simultaneously continued to make vast and essential contributions to the country’s prominence—but it has become especially pronounced. And it’s not just because of the internet and social media, or the leftward shift of the culture, or black America’s being sick and tired of being sick and tired. In fact, it is all of these things, not least two terms with a black president. In the same way that black skin signals danger to the police , his black skin, to black people, signaled black cultural preservation. African-Americans didn’t see a black man as the most powerful leader in the free world; we saw the most powerful leader in the free world as black. This is what comedian Larry Wilmore was expressing at the 2016 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when he said, “Yo, Barry, you did it, my nigga.” It was a moment of unadulterated black pride.

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

“Before the debate, David Plouffe and I went in to talk to him and give him a pep talk and he said, ‘Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,’ which is not what you want to hear from your candidate right before the debate. We knew within ten minutes that it was going to be a debacle. We had armed him with a joke — it was his 20th anniversary, and he addressed Michelle — and it turns out Romney was expecting just such a line and had a really great comeback. And Romney was excellent — just free and easy and clearly well prepared and showed personality that people hadn’t seen before. Obama looked like he was at a press conference.

We had a meeting at the White House and he said, ‘I know I let everybody down and that’s on me, and I’m not going to let that happen again,’ and that was his attitude. We always had debate camps before, where we’d re-create in hotel ballrooms what the set would look like, and all of the conditions of the real debate. When we went down to Williamsburg, Virginia, for the next debate camp, he seemed really eager to engage in the prep. We had a decent first night. That was on Saturday. On Sunday night, Kerry, playing Romney, got a little more aggressive and Obama a little less so; it looked very much like what we had seen in Denver. It was like he’d taken a step back.

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

“I’m talking to Rahm and Jim Messina and saying, ‘Okay, explain to me how this happened.’ It was at that point that I learned that our candidate, Martha Coakley, had asked rhetorically, ‘What should I do, stand in front of Fenway and shake hands with voters?’ And we figured that wasn’t a good bellwether of how things might go.

This might have been a day or two before the election, but the point is: There is no doubt that we did not stay on top of that the way we needed to. This underscored a failing in my first year, which was the sort of perverse faith in good policy leading to good politics. I’ll cut myself some slack — we had a lot to do, and every day we were thinking, Are the banks going to collapse? Is the auto industry going to collapse? Will layoffs accelerate? We just didn’t pay a lot of attention to politics that first year, and the loss in Massachusetts reminded me of what any good president or elected official needs to understand: You’ve got to pay attention to public opinion, and you have to be able to communicate your ideas. But it happened, and the question then was, ‘What’s next?’

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

After decades of chilly backlash, we find ourselves, these past eight years, in an age of feminist resurgence, with feminist websites and publications and filmmakers and T-shirts and pop singers and male celebrities and best-selling authors and women’s soccer teams. Of course, as in every feminist golden age, there has also been dissent: furious clashes over the direction and quality of the discourse, especially as the movement has become increasingly trendy, shiny, and celebrity-backed.

Perhaps the most public feminist conflagration of the Obama years came at the nexus of policy and celebrity, of politics and pop power. It was the furor over Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, who gave a viral 2010 TED Talk about women in the workplace who “leave before they leave” — who alter their professional strategy to accommodate a future they assume will be compromised by parenthood — which led to the publication of her 2013 feminist business manifesto, Lean In.

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

“I was given an enormous degree of latitude. I did communicate with the White House counsel on occasion about high-profile cases, but it was much more in the nature of just giving them a heads-up, to calm any nervous feelings they might have. There’s only one exception to that, and it was on marriage equality, in the Hollingsworth v. Perry case in 2013. We were contemplating coming in and arguing that it was unconstitutional for California to refuse to recognize the legal validity of same-sex marriages. But we didn’t have to do it . And because it was a discretionary judgment, and it was such a consequential step, that was the one matter where I really sought out the president’s personal guidance. I wanted to make sure the president had a chance to thoroughly consider what we should do before we did it. It was really one of the high points of my tenure. It was a wide-ranging conversation about doctrinal analysis, about where society was now, about social change and whether it should go through the courts or through the majoritarian process, about the pace of social change, about the significance of the right at stake. He was incredibly impressive.

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

“The president of the United States and the Speaker of the House, the two most powerful elected officials in Washington, decided in a conversation that they both had to try to make something happen. Maybe it would be the way it worked in a West Wing episode in a world that doesn’t work like a West Wing episode. That’s how it started — two individuals saying we’re going to try. I think they both shared a belief in the art of the possible, and they both did not think compromise was a dirty word.

When our cover was blown — a Wall Street Journal editorial came out saying that Boehner and Obama were working on this and attacking the whole premise — that was devastating. It resulted in Cantor being a part of the talks. Cantor and Boehner came in, and I think it was a weekend private session with the president in the Oval Office, and they were talking about the numbers. At one point Cantor said, ‘Listen, it’s not just the numbers. There’s concern that this will help you politically. Paul Ryan said if we do this deal, it will guarantee your reelection. If we agree with Barack Obama on spending and taxes, that takes away one of our big weapons.’ There were so many obstacles, some of them substantive — how much revenue, and what about the entitlements? — but there was also this overlay of ‘This is going to help Obama.’

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

Nate Jones: He was an A-lister with an indisputable body of work; he was 50 years old, his hits were the right age — old enough that every generation knew them, but not too old that they weren’t relevant anymore.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

Frank Guan: In a lot of ways, the culture prefers the death of artists to their continuing to live. Once an artist gets launched into the stratosphere, there’s no way to come down, and that permanence becomes monotonous. They run out of timely or groundbreaking material and the audience starts tuning out. At some point, their fame eclipses their art, and then the only way to get the general audience to appreciate them anew is for them to die.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt

A Rare Moment of Unity

“I was doing intensive rehabilitation in Houston at the time but was following the debate closely, and I was pretty disappointed at what was happening in Washington. I’d seen the debate grow so bitter and divisive and so full of partisan rancor. And I was worried our country was hurtling toward a disastrous, self-inflicted economic crisis. That morning, when it became clear the vote was going to be close, my husband, Mark, and I knew we needed to get to Washington quickly. I went straight from my rehabilitation appointment to the airport, and Mark was at our house in Houston packing our bags so he could meet us at the plane.

That night, I remember seeing the Capitol for the first time since I was injured and feeling so grateful to be at work. I will never forget the reception I received on the floor of the House from my colleagues, both Republicans and Democrats. And then, like I had so many times before, I voted.

I worked so hard to get my speech back, and honestly, talking to people who share my determination helped me find my words again. I’ve been to Alaska, Maine, and everywhere in between. Best of all, I got back on my bike. Riding my bike once seemed like such a huge challenge. It seemed impossible.”

Miley Cyrus Twerks At The Mtv Vmassetting Off A Controversy About Cultural Appropriation That Soon Ensnares Seemingly Every White Pop Star On The Planet

• Karlie Kloss wears a Native American headdress and fringed bra at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

• Justin Timberlake is accused of appropriating black music when he tells a black critic “We are the same” after praising Jesse Williams’s BET Humanitarian Award speech about race and police brutality.

• DJ Khaled gets lost on Jet Ski, snaps the whole time.

• Two UW-Madison students snap their meet-cute as the entire student body cheers them on.

• Playboy Playmate Dani Mathers films and mocks an anonymous woman in the gym shower.

• A Massachusetts teen records the sexual assault of a 16-year-old girl. The video is later seen by a friend of the victim.

Prior To Going To War In Iraq Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld Optimistically Predicted The Iraq War Might Last Six Days Six Weeks I Doubt Six Months

What’s more, Vice-President Dick Cheney said we would be greeted as liberators by the Iraqi people after we overthrow Saddam.

They were both horribly wrong. Instead of six weeks or six months, the Iraq war lasted eight long and bloody years costing thousands of American lives. It led to an Iraqi civil war between the Sunnis and the Shiites that took hundreds of thousands of Iraqi lives. Many Iraqi militia groups were formed to fight against the U.S. forces that occupied Iraq. What’s more, Al Qaeda, which did not exist in Iraq before the war, used the turmoil in Iraq to establish a new foothold in that country.

The Iraq war was arguably the most tragic foreign policy blunder in US history.

In 2012 Republicans Predicted That Failure To Approve The Keystone Pipeline Would Send The Price Of Gasoline Sky High And Kill Large Numbers Of Jobs

Despite the fact that the Keystone Pipeline was not approved, the price of gasoline continued to drop below $1.80 per gallon, millions of new jobs were created and unemployment dropped from 8% to 4.9% by early 2016. The most optimistic predictions say that the Keystone Pipeline would only create a few dozen long-term jobs and would do nothing to lower the price of gasoline.

Eric Cantors Stunning Primary Loss Suggests No Politician Is Safe From The Rage Of The Tea Party Not Even The Tea Partys Canniest Political Leader

From Party’s Future to Also-Ran in a Single Day

On the day his political career died, Eric Cantor was busy tending to what he still believed was its bright future. While his GOP-primary opponent, David Brat, visited polling places in and around Richmond, Virginia, Cantor spent his morning 90 miles away at a Capitol Hill Starbucks. He was there to host a fund-raiser for three of his congressional colleagues — something he did every month, just another part of the long game he was playing, which, he believed, would eventually culminate in his becoming Speaker of the House.

The preceding five years had brought Cantor tantalizingly closer to that goal. In the immediate aftermath of Obama’s election, he’d rallied waffling House Republicans to stand in lockstep opposition to the new president’s agenda. In 2010, he’d helped elect 87 new Republican members, giving the GOP a House majority and making Cantor the House majority leader. He became the champion of these freshmen members, stoking their radicalism during the debt-ceiling fight and working to undermine Obama and John Boehner’s attempt to strike a “grand bargain.” His alliance with the ascendant tea party was strategic — it gave him leverage not only over Obama but over other Republicans who might also have had aspirations of becoming Speaker. It never occurred to him that the wave he was trying to ride might crash on him instead.

In 1993 When Bill Clinton Raised Taxes On The Wealthiest 15% Republicans Predicted A Recession Increased Unemployment And A Growing Budget Deficit

They weren’t just wrong: The exact opposite of everything they predicted happened. The country experienced the seven best years of economic growth in history.

Twenty-two million new jobs were added.

Unemployment dropped below 4%.

The poverty rate dropped for seven straight years.

The budget deficit was eliminated.

There was a growing budget surplus that economists projected could pay off our national debt in 20 years.

Republicans Predicted That We Would Find Iraqs Weapons Of Mass Destruction Even Though Un Weapons Inspectors Said That Those Weapons Didn’t Exist

The Bush administration continued to insist that WMDs would be found, even when the CIA said some of the evidence was questionable. As we all know, the WMDs predicted by the Bush administration did not exist, and Saddam Hussein had not resumed his nuclear weapons program as they claimed. Ultimately, both President Bush and Vice President Cheney had to admit that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

Republicans Predicted That President Obamas Tax Increase For The Top 1% In 2013 Would Kill Jobs Increase The Deficit And Cause Another Recession

You guessed it; just the opposite happened. In the four years following January 1, 2013, when that tax increase went into effect, through January 2017, unemployment dropped from 7.9% to 4.8%, an average of more than 200,000 new jobs were created per month, Wall Street set new record highs, and the budget deficit was cut in half.

Over 5.7 million new jobs were created in the first two years after that tax increase. That’s more jobs created in two years than were created during the combined 12 years of both Bush presidencies.

In 2001 When George W Bush Cut Taxes For The Wealthy Republicans Predicted Record Job Growth Increased Budget Surplus And Nationwide Prosperity

Once again, the exact opposite occurred. After the Bush tax cuts were enacted:

The budget surplus immediately disappeared.

The budget deficit eventually grew to $1.4 trillion by the time Bush left office.

Less than 3 million net jobs were added during Bush’s eight years.

The poverty rate began climbing again.

We experienced two recessions along with the greatest collapse of our financial system since the Great Depression.

In 1993, President Clinton signed the Brady Law mandating nationwide background checks and a waiting period to buy a gun.

Apple Announces That It Has Sold 100 Million Iphoneswithin A Few Months It Will Overtake Exxonmobil As The Most Valuable Company In The World

Earthlings Gain a New Appendage

What if we had the singularity and nobody noticed? In 2007, Barack Obama had been on the trail for weeks, using a BlackBerry like all the cool campaigners, when the new thing went on sale and throngs lined up for it. The new thing had a silly name: iPhone. The iPhone was a phone the way the Trojan horse was a horse.

Now it’s the gizmo without which a person feels incomplete. It’s a light in the darkness, a camera, geolocator, hidden mic, complete Shakespeare, stopwatch, sleep aid, heart monitor, podcaster, aircraft spotter, traffic tracker, all-around reality augmenter, and increasingly a pal. At the Rio Olympics you could see people, having flown thousands of miles to be in the arena with the athletes, watching the action through their smartphones. As though they needed the mediating lens to make it real.

This device, this gadget — a billion have been made and we scarcely know what to call it. For his 2010 novel of the near future, , Gary Shteyngart made up a word, “äppärät.” “My äppärät buzzing with contacts, data, pictures, projections, maps, incomes, sound, fury.” Future then, present now. His äppäräti were worn around the neck on pendants. Ours are in our pockets when they aren’t in our hands, but they also sprout earbuds, morph into wristwatches and eyeglasses. Contact lenses have been rumored; implants are only a matter of time.

Let’s face it, we’ve grown a new organ.

Republicans Said Waterboarding And Other Forms Of Enhanced Interrogation Are Not Torture And Are Necessary In Fighting Islamic Extremism

In reality, waterboarding and other forms of enhanced interrogation that inflict pain, suffering, or fear of death are outlawed by US law, the US Constitution, and international treaties. Japanese soldiers after World War II were prosecuted by the United States for war crimes because of their use of waterboarding on American POWs.

Professional interrogators have known for decades that torture is the most ineffective and unreliable method of getting accurate information. People being tortured say anything to get the torture to end but will not likely tell the truth.

An FBI interrogator named Ali Soufan was able to get al Qaeda terrorist Abu Zubaydah to reveal crucial information without the use of torture. When CIA interrogators started using waterboarding and other enhanced interrogation methods, Zubaydah stopped cooperating and gave his interrogators false information.

Far from being necessary in the fight against terrorism, torture is completely unreliable and counter-productive in obtaining useful information.

In 2008 Republicans Said That If We Elect A Democratic President We Would Be Hit By Al Qaeda Again Perhaps Worse Than The Attack On 9/11

Former Vice-President Dick Cheney stated that electing a Democrat as president would all but guarantee that there would be another major attack on America by Al Qaeda. Cheney and other Republicans were, thankfully, completely wrong. During Obama’s presidency, we had zero deaths on U.S. soil from Al Qaeda attacks and we succeeded in killing Bin Laden along with dozens of other high ranking Al Qaeda leaders.

Game Of Thrones Arrives On Televisionwith An Assemblage Of Dragons Torture Nudity Incest And Despair A Show The Whole Family Can Enjoy

Explaining Kale

ADAM PLATT: Many things in Foodlandia, these days, have a political element to them, and if you want to emblazon a flag to be carried into battle, you could do worse than a bristly, semi-digestible bunch of locally grown kale.

ALAN SYTSMA: To eat kale is to announce you’re a person who cares about the matters of the day.

AP: The idea of kale is much more powerful than kale itself. In short order it went from being discovered, to appreciated, to being something that was parodied. Frankly, I’m all for the parody.

AS: The same thing happened to pork. Remember bacon peanut brittle? Bacon-fat cocktails? There’s bacon dental floss.

AP: Ahhh, bacon versus kale. The two great, competing forces of our time.

AS: Do you think one gave way to the other?

AP: What we’re really talking about is artisanal bacon, and the more sophisticated-sounding pork belly, made from pigs that were lovingly reared at upstate farms and fed diets of pristine little acorns. Bacon is the great symbol in the comfort-food, farm-fresh-dining movement, a kind of merry, unbridled pulchritude. Kale is the righteous yin to pork’s fatty, non-vegan yang.

AS: But pork has an advantage: People like the way it tastes.

AP: That’s a huge advantage, one that will hopefully see it through to victory.

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am-molloy · 6 years ago

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World Building - Spira

Not too long ago I made a blog post about a poem I once wrote. Well, for today’s post, I want to share the world where that poem belongs. Below is a brief history, background into the culture, and brief language introduction to the Hikarans of Spira, a world I created long ago for a roleplay.

Hikarans © to A.M. Molloy.

The people of Spira, a planet located in a distant galaxy, are proud races, yet none are more proud than the Hikarans who inhabit 87.6% of the planet. Most Hikarans reside in the capital city of Bal'Thor, located of the coast of the Hüinzha Sea in the Ezhrainen continent. They are said to have been the first race created when the gods made the planet inhabitable.

Hikaran's have a humanoid appearance at first glance, however, there are ways to tell them apart from humans. Because Hikarans are a tribal race, their best features are their legs. They are usually longer and more muscular than humans to provide an excellent jumping range. Because of this feature, most Hikarans are hunters, the majority of them being female. All Hikarans are born with pure white hair and the colour of their hair does not change as they age. On the off occasion, the pigment may be off in their hair, and sometimes eyes, and can vary to a very light blond.

The key factor in noticing a Hikaran from a human, however, is once glance at their eyes. Hikaran eyes are pure white, with no visual pupil. The healthier one is, the whiter their eyes are. If one is sick, or injured, you can tell by the color of their eyes, which turn blue, also with no visible pupil. The darker the blue their eyes become, the closer they are to death. When their eyes are completely black, it means they have passed on and are sent to Sinaz, the God of Death. When a Hikaran becomes blind, their eyes turn grey, sometimes with a slight shade of green. If blind and not well, their eyes become grey-blue, with the gray being prominent. If they have passed on, their eyes are completely dark grey, with a light blue mix.

For the Hikarans, another key difference that separates them from humans is their aging process. A Hikaran will stop aging after puberty, usually around the ages of sixteen to eighteen, and remain looking youthful for the rest of their lives. This may cause confusing in other races when meeting a Hikaran family, for those of all ages, grandparent, parent, and child, all appear to be the same age. Hikarans are almost immortal in this sense, for they can live to be thousands of years old. They can die from sickness or be killed in battle, however.

As a tribal race, Hikarans have painted blue markings on their bodies, while royals can use gold if they chose. Each symbol on their arms mean something different, but only a Royal can wear the markings for Life and Death. As shown below, these are a few examples of said symbols. The first symbol shown represents life while the second represents death. Other symbols include community, peace, family, and so on.

The markings on their bodies are painted using special paint, Ha’kar, that stays on permanently like a tattoo until removed by a special kind of remover paint. Only by using the removal paint, He’kar, can the markings be removed from the body.

Hikaran culture is rich in history and unique rules. A few cultural notes are worth looking into.

There aren’t many thieves in the capital city of Bal’Thor. The people who are thieves are very good at what they do, however, so that they don’t get caught. Thieves keep low on Spira. First offence is branding, second is loss of your writing hand and third is hanging. Whether it’s the Royal’s crown or a loaf of bread, it makes no difference.

At sixteen, female Hikarans would build their own doll to remind themselves that they are no longer a child. Also, in marriages it is the oldest sibling who gives the approval of whether or not the female gets to marry the male, or vice versa. If there are no siblings, the task falls unto the mother of the child to be married.

Hikarans always throw a big town party right before a war, (hosted by the royals), to get the town pumped and ready for war. The Hikaran battle cry is ‘For Life, For Country, For Honour!’

The current royal, and ruler of the Hikarans, is Svetla Sa’Den. It is also worth noting that royal members must learn and master as many instruments as possible, as it is they who entertain their guest at parties.

Right before doing what is commonly known as ‘The Tradition’ (or sex in our culture), one usually says “I give myself to you. I surrender”. (Girls say ‘I give myself to you’. Boys will say ‘I surrender’) If these words are not said, it’s usually considered prostitution.

When near the presence of a graveyard, a Hikaran will always walk with their heads bowed down and breath out slowly. They will never intake air near the dead out of respect for those who cannot breath no more. This is possible due to a Hikaran's lung capacity being larger than a human's.

The most noticeable cultural aspect is how a Hikaran will greet one another. Hikarans great each other by placing both hands, in a fist, to their chest, and thrusting them forward. This symbolizes that they as a person and the gods up above recognize them as a whole. This gesture also signifies the standard greeting, "I myself, see you, as the Gods above."

Hikarans are a very religious race and they worship many gods and goddesses. The goddess Kidaha is the literal heart of the planet Spira and she is one of the few gods who reside on the planet as opposed to the heavens with the other immortals. To many of the planets residents, Kidaha's decision to live amongst the mortals was a foolish one and some even fear for their lives. If Kidaha were to ever be killed, the planet would die alongside her, and with it, the people. Yet the goddesses love for her people and the planet was too strong to live her immortal days among the heavens. She enjoys life as a peaceful woman and is said to live in the capital city of Bal'Thor.

Other gods tend to visit the mortal realm from time to time, the most common being Shinoda, who enjoys aiding the lost goddess Aowyne in her attempts of a normal everyday life. A tragic event in the heavens left Aowyne wounded on the planet Spira with no memories of her former godlike self. If she were to ever recall, her powers would return tenfold and in turn destroy the planet. Therefore, Shinoda exercises his power so that Aowyne may life out her life in peace as a mortal and keeps her from finding out who she really is.

Below are the most prayed to gods and goddess of Spira, worshiped not only by the Hikarans, but by the rest of the planet as well.

Kidaha (Goddess of Spira and the heart of the planet)

Shiesta (3rd), Ouganda (2nd), Shinoda (1st) (The 3 top Gods. Rulers of the Hikaran Gods and Goddess’)

Aowyne (Lost goddess of magic)

Sinaz (God of death)

Zamir (God of the Underworld, husband to Mehélia)

Mehélia (Goddess of air, wife of Zemir)

Yava (Sun goddess)

Umon (Scribe and Scholar to the Gods)

Florydia (Goddess of Beauty and very vain)

Uffa (Cat-like god. God of strength and war)

Iyana (Goddess of health)

Keowa (God of fertility)

Rarity (Goddess of harmony. She is the only Goddess to appear completely Hikaran in form and is extremely shy)

As part of their religious beliefs, a Hikaran promise is more than just a word. To a Hikaran, a promise is what keeps the natural balance of the world in order. They never make a promise they cannot keep. To them, promises are a legal bind between them and whomever they made the promise with. It was once said that an unnamed god came down from the heavens and gave the lesson of the promise. This lesson was about keeping honour between yourself and your comrade and in turn aiding you keep honour with the gods. Therefore, as long as one can remember, no Hikaran would ever make a promise they can't keep.

As set forth by the royals, if one did happen to break a promise, depending on the severity, they will be banned from, (in order), their house, town, country, and eventually, the planet. Hikarans firmly believe that the reason people die is because somewhere in their life, they forgot about a promise they made and broke it and therefore the gods punish them by death. As a result, being called a ‘promise breaker’ is the worst possible insult you can give to a Hikaran. Therefore, instead of saying 'I promise' they would say 'I swear', which holds just as much value as a promise, without the threat of banishment and death.

As part of the Hikaran tradition, the Starlight Celebration is the most celebrated holiday in their culture. It is believed that during the 27th moon of Ishtar (November 18th in the human calendar) was the date that the gods created Spira. Many festivities are done and no one is to work on this day. A more modern tradition, however, is the telling of the tale of Isolde and Seryestin. For on that day they stopped a war between their planet and the planet Bashira. Every Hikaran knows the story of the two war heroes and some even worship them just as they would a god.

The story tells of how the Hikaran born werewolf, Isolde, and his werewolf Deskravesk lover, Sereystin, died heroes of Spira. They saved millions by defeating the corrupt General Mudurk at Prison Guard. Prison Guard is a ruthless place on the planet Bashira where every captured person is tortured beyond recognition. The tale tells the story form beginning to end and is sung every year during the Starlight Celebration festival in honour of these war heroes. Though the two lovers died, it is rumored that Isolde and Sereystin are actually still alive, hiding from the people of Bashira, and along with their twin children, Sorren and Rhyx, live happily somewhere on Spira.

The Tale of Isolde and Sereystin

The moonlight bathes the road to redemption

Sweet howls of the night; the melody sings

Crazed yet sane, blood shall be shed

War rages on in the world

Kill the horror that lies in the soul

Unable to break free from sins committed

Cry out, cry out; silence fills the land

Poisoned veins will stand alone

Behold thy beauty of sweet summers night

Hail to the captive; sweet innocence arises

Wanting without knowing; unable to achieve

Darkness falls over the land once again

Be swift for death shall chase; killer of the night

Arise the sun to darkness still

Wanting without knowing; separated against will

Death to many, death to all, once again

Races of the world reunite; self inflicted damage

Captured once more; break free from hell

Twice dawn comes, blood still floods the land

Clash of blades; six hits, one death

Adorned blackness; victory arises

Fighter of love, fighter of peace

Striking blow through heart and soul

Death has been defeated

Rest well sweet child. Fear no more

Peaceful night now fills thy heart

Young love will last forever; sweet dreams

Eyes of sorrow have lifted

*****

The Hikaran Language:

Though Hikarans populate 87.6% of the planet Spira, the Hikaran language is the fifth most common language on the planet, the first being Deskravesk. The written word is considered a gift from the Gods. Therefore, when writing traditionally, it is written from top to bottom, left to right. Signifying the Gods sending their gift from above to be received by mortals below; and from doing wrong, (left), as in doing bad choices, to be righted, (right).

There are twenty seven letters in the Hikaran alphabet, however, there are a total of thirty-two characters in the written language.The Hikaran alphabet and symbols.

The Hikaran Number system:

0 = nok 6 = ni

1 = sīg 7 = rah

2 = kō 8 = nō

3 = nā 9 = dõs

4 = sar 10 = re

5 = me 100 = sīgnokkō

A simple sentence in Hikaran follows the following sentence structure: subject - object - verb, unlike English where it is subject - verb - object. The verb always goes at the end of the sentence. It is believed that because verbs are actions - and actions done by a person are gifts from the gods - that the verb goes at the end so the gods above know that the people below understand their spoken gift.

The Hikaran language is also filled with particles that tell the listener what the subject is about. The most common particle is the subject marker he (pronounced heugh with a hard h and emphasis on the ugh). Others include the possessive marker, ko, (similar to the 's in English), the sentence enders ne, kra, and shi. Each of the sentence enders add a different feeling to the sentence and have no real grammatical value.

An example sentence in Hikaran would be the following common phrase, uttered often due to the inherent evil that resides within the un-pure body.

Ex: Anel he baka ei.

Translated, this sentence means 'Evil is here', or a literal translation, 'Evil he here is'. The red symbol in the Hikaran text represents the sentence marker, he. The green characters is the highlighted verb, ei (part of the verb to be conjugation). The very last symbol, the small one at the bottom right, represents the Hikaran version of a period.

In Hikaran, the vowels are pronounced as follows:

a as the 'a' in 'father'

e as the 'e' in 'get'

i as the 'i' in 'pin'

o as the 'o' in 'lot'

u as the 'u' in 'put'

The consonants are pronounced the same as in English for the most part. However, a few of them change sound depending on where they are placed in a word. For instance, 'h' has a hard guttural sound when it is placed at the start of a word where 'e' is the next letter. An example is in the subject marker he.

To understand the other sentence particles, we will continue to use the common phrase, 'Evil is here'.

When showing possession of something, the marker ko is used. In this example, 'Anel he ko baka ei', translates to 'Evil is mine'. The subject particle he is never left out, and the possessive particle ko follows the subject particle. Because of the use of ko, the verb of ei becomes 'mine' when translated.

The particle ne, when added to the end of the sentence, gives off a feeling of agreement, most commonly translated as 'right' or 'yeah' in English. 'Anel he baka ei ne' translates in English as 'Evil is here, right?'. It may also give off a feeling of uncertainty.

The particle kra, when added to the end of the sentence, gives off a feeling of wanting. It's commonly used at the end of a question sentence and implies that you want more information from the listener. 'Anel he baka ei kra?' will translate to 'I want evil to be here?'

The particle shi, when added to the end of the sentence, is almost as if expressing a verbal exclamation point. It also gives of the air of excitement. 'Anel he baka ei shi' will translate to 'Evil is here!'.

*****

As the Hikaran's would say, "Anel he baka ei. Kashaha, mazqa yc yba ocklz hkwer." (Evil is here. So remember to bring peace to the world).

#World Building #Hikaran #writing #old writing #language

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queensofrap · 7 years ago

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Most Misunderstood: Iggy Azalea's American Dream

he early reality of Amethyst Kelly is difficult to imagine. There was once a small home in the tiny Australian town of Mullumbimby, made of red brick, cemented by mud and laid by her father's careful hands. Her mother would spend her days emptying trash bins at a motel as a vacation rental cleaner, a path Amethyst would eventually follow at age 14. Water didn't always run, clothes were never new, and bathrooms were separated from the home by a muddied path. It's a tale of immensely humble beginnings, a hemisphere away from the life she would come to inhabit as Iggy Azalea a decade later. And while her origins are unfathomable for some, it's Amethyst's American dream that remains universal.

I first witnessed a glimpse of that dream in the fall of 2011. It was through a cracked iPhone screen, held casually by my friend. "You have to see this bitch," she announced, flicking her perfectly coiled locs and turning up the volume. "She's every-fucking-thing!" There, on the screen, was a tall, curvy woman with ice-blonde hair and creamy incandescent skin. She was surrounded by two brown cheerleaders in matching green uniforms, strutting in towering heels and rapping furiously: My world, rhyme vicious/ White girl team, full of bad bitches. Immediately, I recognized her: this confident, eccentric girl who didn't fit into preppy white hierarchies. While others girls were quoting lines from Mean Girls, imagining themselves Regina George, she appeared as someone I knew. A girl unruly and self-possessed, always late to class, always blasting D4L. I could see her crafting beats with her knuckles and strolling into class hours late, another detention slip placed on her desk. We were sold.

If "My World" was the bait, "Pussy" was the hook, line and sinker. Iggy, Iggy/ Pussy illy/ Wetter than the Amazon/ Taste this kitty! Her accent was thick and affected, reminiscent of our cherished childhood favorite Diamond from Atlanta's Crime Mob. The "Pussy" video was a Boyz N The Hood homage with ATLien pastiche. There were ice cream trucks and babysitting, front porch posing and concrete runways, sherbet-colored pants and shredded shorts. And we weren't the only ones taking notice of Iggy and her ways. Seemingly overnight, our private cafeteria secret had become a viral phenomenon.

“ Here I am at the darkest period of my life, contemplating suicide, and I'm singing "Switch.“

Press came quickly, grand and bold. The New York Times suggested that "all this proximity to blackness characterizes Iggy Azalea as a person who is no stranger to black culture and communities, suggesting it's no anomaly for her to rock the mic." The Los Angeles Times described her flow as "brash and aggressive," while Complex decided that she was ready to "really make her mark on the game." Classmates had her image as their screensavers and sprawled across their Tumblrs, and were dropping her name in new music debates. She performed at small venues in Atlanta and cars across the city boomed with Never not better/ Law should ban it! A few months later, when "Murda Bizness" featuring T.I. dropped, her dream was actualized. She was not a one-hit wonder. She was a star, poised to rise.

There are many forgotten Iggy freestyles from that era. In one, she raps over Chris Brown's "Look At Me Now," prophesying her divisive nature. In another, titled "Home Town Hatred," she reflects on her time in Australia and her desire to leave. Over Kanye West's ominous "Hell of A Life" beat, she details how industry executives told her to dumb it down. But it was her 2011 "D.R.U.G.S." freestyle that first illuminated the parameters of her ignorance.

Reflecting the industry's tendency not to look at things too deeply, at first the song went unchallenged. (It would be a year before its lyrics were critically examined). In fact, Complex covered the freestyle, commending her craft and comparing her to fellow white rapper Yelawolf. The following January, Iggy signed to major label Interscope, tweeting, "Get used to me + Jimmy [Iovine] smashing shit, cause that's the plan."

In February of 2012, she landed the coveted cover of XXL's Freshman Class issue: an annual declaration of hip-hop stars poised to break big. Between up-and-comers French Montana and Future stands Iggy in a lush green fur. She was the first woman to ever grace the cover — a backhanded achievement. For many, XXL is a bastion of hip-hop excellence. To be a cover star and stamped with their approval was to suggest an imminent dominance. If Iggy could be shot, styled, and photographed for her buzz, where were the black women who broke the boundaries, paved the lanes, and inspired her craft?

It was Harlem-born musician and artist Azealia Amanda Banks who first articulated concern about Iggy's image and her space within hip-hop. On Twitter, Banks wrote, "Iggy Azalea on the XXL freshman list is all wrong. How can you endorse a white woman who called herself a 'runaway slave master'? Sorry guys, I'm a pro black girl. I'm not anti white girl, but I'm also not here for any1 outside of my culture trying to trivialize very serious aspects of it."

Media outlets immediately crafted Bank's criticism into a heavily publicized rap beef, thrusting Banks into the insidious stereotype of bitter black woman. The line Banks referred to was a re-interpretation of a Kendrick Lamar lyric on Iggy's "D.R.U.G." freestyle. In Kendrick's 2010 track "Look Out For Detox," he raps, When the relay starts/ I'm a runaway slave. In Iggy's version, she says, When the relay starts/ I'm a runaway/ Slave master/ Shittin' on the past/ Gotta spit it like a pastor.

Conversations surrounding the lyric lacked necessary context. Journalists missed questions and painted simple proclamations. In October of 2011, Banks had tweeted, "how sexy is iggy azalea?? It's kind of ridiculous…*tugs collar to let out steam*." In January, she wrote "Iggy Azalea's hair looks really great in her new video. How long do you all reckon that hair is? 40" in? By March 2012, the dream was dented, with Iggy being called out as misappropriating at best, racist at worst.

She issued a heartfelt apology, which fell on mostly unsympathetic ears. Two months later, Iggy was dropped by Interscope. Her debut album, The New Classic, stalled indefinitely. But still, there was room for redemption. In April 2013, Iggy signed with Mercury Records, a UK subsidiary of Universal Music Group. After recording new music in England, she returned stateside, armed with a completed album and a firmly set 2014 release date. During press runs she's tested: asked if she's an imposter; if her body is enhanced; if the cringe-worthy assumptions about her mentor T.I. are true. Old tweets were dug up, which made the disdainful murmurings worse. She's asked to freestyle on Sway, but instead inexplicably recites a line from her own album. Her music begins to change, becoming less lyrically explicit and trap-influenced, and more poppy and prim. Now a Complex cover star, she fumbles when asked about her divisive rapping accent. She's quoted saying, "This is the entertainment industry. It's not politics." Soon enough, that statement would no longer be true.

In 2012, political discussions had begun to dominate all forms of media. The slain lives of Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis became proponents of combustible change. Movements like Black Lives Matter materialized, refusing silence or forgetfulness of the innocent and slaughtered black people, churning hundreds of American murders into global narratives. Each case, though singular and specific, represented the transgressions of America's not-too-distant-past and its perpetual present. If there was once a time when innocent victims could be smudged from history and their murderers left unscathed, that clock no longer ticked. Images of callous violence circulated more than music. Cellphone and camera footage displayed women being beaten, children being shot, and men being strangled. Language seemed to shift, relegating all ignorance to silence; expanding itself to capture the expansive feelings of others. And at the top of the same year, "Fancy" was released. Like lightning, Iggy's dream merged seamlessly with reality. She was now a star with a verifiable hit.

With her Clueless themed video for the inescapable track, 2014 became the year of Iggy's art. She held the number one spot on Billboard's Hot 100 for seven consecutive weeks. She luxuriated in the second spot too, appearing as a featured artist on Ariana Grande's "Problem." Billboard claimed Iggy tied with The Beatles and attached her name to the legacies of Mariah Carey, Missy Elliott, Lauryn Hill, and Nicki Minaj. She was now booking prime-time television spots — appearing on Good Morning America with Charli XCX — and on the covers of grocery store aisle magazines. Forbes declared her "Hip Hop's New Queen of Rap" and she was nominated for four Grammys. Simultaneously, America's racial rhetoric and division began to feel claustrophobic. In early February, Yvette Smith was murdered on her front porch. In August, Michael Brown Jr. and Ezell Ford were shot and killed. November was the month Laquan McDonald and Tamir Rice became portraits of unfinished lives. In July, Eric Garner was placed in an illegal chokehold, his last words becoming a symphony of unbearable sadness. The dichotomy between a world callously slaughtering black people on one end and rewarding a white rapper with success and visibility on another was dizzying.

What is it like to attach oneself exclusively to a dream, to pursue it even as the odds are stacked against you?

By 2015 the dream dissolved completely. Iggy was accused of racism, cultural appropriation, minstrelsy, and ignorance, becoming the perfect conduit for whiteness and all of its horrors. Her silence during racist events was considered complicit. A world tour was canceled, and neither a follow up album or a Top 10 hit reappeared. In 2016, she announced Digital Distortion, her sophomore album that was ultimately held after three singles — "Team," "Mo Bounce," and "Switch" — and a leaked music video. This year, Iggy released "Savior" with hopes of a refresh.

To some, she was an untalented white supremacist Barbie, infiltrating a space crafted by black people and laughing to the bank. Her dream — an innocent one of music, money, and acclaim — had become grotesque. To others, she was an iconic legend who was just easily projected upon. Now a refracted mirror for public opinion, a line was permanently drawn: black or white — no in-between.

But for me, there's always been a gray area. In art, in music, and in life, there is a space where the eye can shift inward to ask and answer questions. What might it look like for a young girl in Australia to re-discover life through hip-hop? What did it look like to want to manifest a world of make-believe, to create art once unseen? What is it like to attach oneself exclusively to a dream, to pursue it even as the odds are stacked against you? What do you do when you can't separate criticism from hate? When each day you're bombarded with projections based on media machinations? What does it look like when your dream comes true, when it's finally real, only for it to be mocked? To me, it's a perfect portrait of America.

At The Roxy Hotel, in New York City, I sat with Iggy Azalea. We spoke about her life, her dream, her craft, and her upcoming music. She was thoughtful and articulate, eyes glinting with Gemini humor and intellect, deeply apologetic and severely misunderstood. This is what transpired.

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Can you take me back to your childhood? I read that your hometown is called "The Biggest Little Town in Australia." What was it like?

I still don't know why the fuck they call it that. It was a really small town, incredibly rural, but there's a looser, less stereotypical element to it. There were a lot of crystals and hippies, weed smokers, and horoscopes. The town was split between this hippie, carefree fairy spectrum, or conservative farmers and their crops. My parents were on the fairy spectrum, but I went to public school. Everyone there was straight-laced with names like Amber and Stephanie and there I was as Amethyst, with platform shoes, and immediately it was like, Okay, bitch prepare to get bullied.

What were the students like?

There were two schools. One was private and more artistic, and that's where all the people that could be considered carefree and more imaginative were able to go. The public school was very sterile, very conservative. The private school was expensive and my family had no money for that, so I went to the public school and I was miserable. These were the children of bricklayers whose parents drove tractors and guys who played football on the weekends. I got teased for everything. Literally everything, there was no winning with those kids.

I'm ignorant to Australia — I've never been — but there is the classic stereotype of the tanned, athletic, white Australian. When we think of whiteness, we often forget its specifications, even the types that are lauded and coveted. For instance there's the archetype of the popular blonde. You were tall, pale, and curvy…

Oh my goodness, yes! And I was never that girl. Not even anywhere near that girl's posse. I never fit in and there was a time I really tried to fit in. I remember getting teased because I hadn't shaved my legs yet. I was only in sixth grade and I had never even thought of something like that. They would call me "monkey" everyday. One day I got my mom's razor and shaved my legs thinking it would finally be over and it wasn't. There was always a new thing. My hat. My mole. My weight. All of these things now seem so dumb, but I didn't do anything like them and there was no appeasing those kids.

When did you first think of leaving?

I always knew I was going to leave because I knew I didn't belong with any of the people that lived there. I only decided I wanted to go to America when I visited the states with my grandparents. I was 11, and I remember seeing all the showgirls in Las Vegas, all their sparkles and rhinestones. They were the most fabulous girls I had ever seen. I had only seen something like that on TV, and it blew my mind. Then we went to Hollywood, and there were all these wig stores and the Star Walk, and just seeing all the ways people dressed, how they styled their hair, the color of their wigs, I wanted to be able to do all of those things. When I wanted to dress like this in Australia, I'd get shitted on. But coming to America and watching people put on a show, watching them being ridiculously fabulous, no one was doing that where I was from. Nobody was even wearing high heels in Mullumbimby.

When did you put the plan in action?

That happened when I really started to get into music. I was insanely confident, with the kind of deluded grandeur that I think you need when no else believes in you. I thought I was good at it even though in retrospect I was bad still. I was about 14 and that's when I started writing music. I'd go to open mic nights and take the bus all over the city. I'd go to battle raps, I'd get booed. There was a sound audio engineering school, called SAE, and the first music I ever recorded was there. From 14 to 16, that's when the plan formed. As soon as I started writing, I knew music was what I had to do. Even if I wasn't a rapper, I thought I could be a sound engineer or a writer. I just knew I wanted to be involved in music. And I knew I had to get the fuck out of where I lived. It was suffocating me. I wanted to live in a place where the sky was the limit, a place where my dreams weren't strange or weird, where others had even crazier ideas than me. I knew all of that was in America, and that's where I had to go and that's where I thought people were going to accept my wild thoughts. I tried Sydney and Melbourne and they just weren't it. Nothing else was.

"I wanted to live in a place where the sky was the limit, a place where my dreams weren't strange or weird, where others had even crazier ideas than me. I knew all of that was in America."

Why Miami first?

They had a SAE campus in Miami. I thought I would be able to get in and get a student visa. I saved up enough money to live there for a couple of months, but I didn't have enough to live and go to school, so I ended up not going.

Next was Houston. What was that like?

I only lived there for a year. This producer found my music through Myspace, and he said if I was ever in Houston to let him know. Then he told me all the people he produced for, and I was so excited because I really loved Rap-A-Lot records, so I went. I met him and he was really cool. We recorded a bunch of songs and we would go to Metropolis. It was in a strip mall and everyone would just hang out in front of their cars, and inside one side was reggaeton and the other was a Slim Thug record chopped n' screwed. The plan was to give the DJ your cd and hopefully he'd play it, which they never do. Then you'd hangout in the parking lot until someone has a fist fight and then you go home. Those were my nights there. Just absorbing everything. I made some friends and then Hurricane Ike hit. Most of my friends were moving to Atlanta because their homes were destroyed. I went too.

How were you making money?

Two of my friends introduced me to their sound engineer and his girlfriend would come to the studio and drop him off lunch. She and I ended up becoming roommates. I told her how I had gone to Thailand before and how fascinated I was with the hair. How you could get in bundles and stuff. She said we should save up money to go and then bring it back and sell it to salons. So we saved up and went on our last dime. She had just graduated college and was working at Bank of America and we went out there and got a bunch of hair. When we came back we sold it super quick, wholesale, to all the salons. It was insane. Technically, even though I didn't have a work visa it isn't illegal if you invest in someone's business. So she registered it as little corporation under her name and I invested in it.

There's this idea that there was "Fancy" and then boom — immediate success! But there were a lot of setbacks.

Obviously there are years that people don't know about. I was in Atlanta for nearly two years just writing for people. I was doing so many writers camps for other known artists, just trying to get my spot. That's why there were a lot of pop demo references that came out. Everyone accused me of wanting to be a pop star and that wasn't something I've ever been interested in. I would write pop music with other people and try to get it placed. I've always rapped. Even the video that came out of the pop song, that was just some shit I did with my friend. We were playing.

The wildest thing is that there are so many reports that I used to be a model and that's always been strange. Just last week on my Spotify profile my bio says, "Iggy Azalea was a high profile model before she became a rapper." When?! I would have loved to be a high profile model, but last time I checked I'm a fucking size eight. What the fuck runway or editorial model do you know that size? There's so much of those kind of rumors that have a mind of their own now.

How did you end up in LA?

The music I was making in Atlanta, I started putting a couple of songs online. They didn't have anymore than 300-400 views. I still don't know how the fuck they found me, but an A&R at Interscope messaged me. He told me he had asked his girlfriend at the time, "Who do you think is cool?" And she played him my music. I was skeptical but he ended up being legitimate. He said I should move to LA and as soon as my lease was up, I went.

When I moved there they put me with a bunch of people. They were trying to help me make connections, but they didn't really understand what I was doing. I met these guys who make up "D.R.U.G.S." about a year after I moved to LA. We'd record in their garage. YG was there. Mustard was there before he was DJ Mustard. Ty Dolla $ign was there all the time. That's where I made Ignorant Art and put out "Pussy."

That song was such a success, Interscope must have been happy.

I had gotten to the end of things with Interscope and was at the point where I felt like since they didn't understand me, this would be a "fuck you." As soon as I put out "Pussy," they called me and said they totally understood the vision. It was a "what the fuck" moment. For nearly a year I had been trying to explain it to them, and suddenly when I did it on my own they want me? I don't think they truly got it, I think they just saw the numerical element to it.

Were you signed to Interscope yet at that point?

I finally had my meeting with Jimmy Iovine after that, and they wanted to sign me. The problem was my A&R wanted to manage me. Interscope, at the time, was working on an in-house management team with LMFAO. They wanted me to sign a document that literally detailed how signing would be a conflict of interest. They gave me two options: sign or leave. I had so many potential deals with other labels but in the end I chose Interscope. We got all the way down to the agreement and, the day of, the deal was dead. Completely done. I had bigger offers, better offers, and I stayed to be loyal to the people who helped me when I was in Atlanta.

What happened?

That was a Jimmy situation and it had a lot to do with Azealia Banks. They wanted to sign her and it became a conflict of interest. Once that happened, everyone wondered why I wasn't signed, why Jimmy didn't want it, and it brought into question my worth as an artist. No one wanted to fucking touch me at all. I couldn't get a deal anywhere after that. Before this I could've asked for a fucking elephant, a Ferrari, four monkeys, and a million dollars — after there was nothing. People wondered, What was wrong with Iggy Azalea? That's how it works with these things. I was done.

What'd you do next?

I had to go to England. I got new management based out of the UK and went and recorded a bunch of music in Wales with a few producers from America. I recorded "Work" and most of The New Classic there and went and shopped a deal in England. They were the only place that didn't give a fuck about what had happened in America. I signed to Mercury Records and after putting out my music there, I came back to America to get upstreamed through Universal Records. I put out five singles through Def Jam before I ever had "Fancy." I toured with Nas before "Fancy." I toured with Beyoncé before "Fancy." I toured my own tour in Europe and North America before "Fancy." I had done five tours before I ever made "Fancy." "Fancy" was truly the last attempt. Not for me to quit music, but for the label to quit me. They had given me four video budgets, none of them exceeded their expectations, and "Fancy" was their last hurrah. For them it was like either this works or it doesn't, but we're gonna put the album out and see if it sells. I decided to do something left and do Clueless, and it worked. Luckily, we had so many attempts before that with the label and this one worked.

What was that moment like?

I was really happy and surprised. I've always known the art I make is pretty left. I didn't expect it to connect. Music has changed a lot from when I first started, but at the time, my music was considered left. There was a lot of monumental success from "Fancy" that I didn't anticipate. All these people were discovering my music and suddenly I'm doing shows with 6,000-7,000 people. It was way more than I ever imagined. I thought I'd be doing basement shows or college parties and even that was so cool to me. I thought I had fully made it! I didn't think beyond that. To see brands that I knew, magazines, all of these mainstream fixtures, people, and media embrace my music, I never could have dreamt that.

When "Fancy" gained such visibility, the media seemed to adore you. Billboard said you tied with The Beatles and bested Michael Jackson. Forbes declared you "Queen of Hip Hop." What were your thoughts during that time?

It was very strange. I never said I was the queen of rap, I've never even thought that. I truly think it was like a great white hope, similar to the film Rocky. All of these people were championing me and branding me these things because of their own projections and not only were they outlandish, they were all incredibly premature. I had just started and there was this influx of, "Queen of rap! Queen of the world! Best record ever! Song of the century!" And so everyone starts saying, "No she's not, fuck her! She has some fucking nerve!" And all of those are things I never said.

What were your thoughts when you were then nominated for four Grammys, including Best Rap Album and Best Record of the Year?

I remember sitting at the Grammy's praying to God I didn't win, literally crossing my fingers, hoping there was no media frenzy. I didn't ask to be nominated. I don't even think I deserved nominations. People were so frustrated with those headlines and all those articles became attached to me personally. People assumed that's how I saw myself, or how I thought of my music. It's never been that. There was this element of trying to humble me, a moment where it seemed like, "Oh this bitch thinks she's this? We're gonna fucking show her that she ain't shit."

Did you ever anticipate that side of fame?

I've always known that I'm controversial. I love to move the needle. Things like "Murda Bizness," yes — I'm going to put toddlers and tiaras in a music video and I know many won't understand it. Or with "Pussy," yes there is a child and I know it pushes buttons. But I think that the best things in pop culture are polarizing. I knew I would always come with controversy, but that was a different kind of controversy. I didn't anticipate that. I didn't even anticipate the success. I didn't think that would be the thing that made it all come crumbling down.

"I think that the best things in pop culture are polarizing."

What is your biggest regret during that time?

I wish that I would've handled criticism better in the beginning. I knew I was polarizing. I aim to be polarizing, sometimes too polarizing where I've pushed the limit too far. When I first got here, there was so much I thought I understood that I really didn't. I've really had to learn a lot of things by being here and having friends and seeing things play out in real life. Especially in the last few years in culture and how far conversations have come, I look back and cringe.

Like what?

Things like the Kendrick lyric, something I profusely apologized for and have learned from. That wasn't okay. It was insanely ignorant. That wasn't an experience to toy with. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way, specifically with that line, like fuck, I hate that I said it. There was so much criticism that came with "Fancy" and I wish I would've handled it better, but it felt very thick.

Everything was coming from every angle. My success. Being worn out. Having lawsuits. I had five different court cases and all of that factored into my responses. It was hard to decipher what criticism was valid and what criticism was just hate. Even with Azealia, we've since spoken and in retrospect, I'm sorry that I trivialized the way she felt about her experience as a black woman navigating the music industry. She and I have our own history and beef about other shit, but when she went on the radio and spoke there was validity to it. Those were her experiences that many others could relate to and I can't take those away, but at the time I thought it was her saying 'fuck you' and trying to hate on me.

You felt what she said was valid in the end?

There were so many critiques she made that were valid. I wish I hadn't been so defensive and emotional, but it invalidated important conversations that shouldn't be overlooked. It created a situation where it looks like I'm unable to be accountable, or I'm unable to accept criticism, that I'm tone deaf, and a fucking idiot. I felt like I had to defend myself against everyone, and that attitude didn't work in my favor. I wish I didn't give impulse responses and say things that made it worse. I was just popping off shit, and I wish I would've thought before I spoke. The problem got so big that I didn't know how to handle it, and I just thought I'll just go away and wait until it blows over or gets better. But it won't just get better, I have to acknowledge it and have conversations about it because otherwise it seems like I don't give a fuck or I'm not ready to take accountability.

Why do you think you weren't able to hear the criticism at the time?

I think when you're an artist and you're just starting out, especially as someone who isn't American, there's a difficult line to walk. I came here when I was 16 and people don't seem to understand that that time period truly defines who I am. They don't get that a lot of these things are my genuine influences, the same way they were informed and influenced by their surroundings. I really did live here. I lived in apartment full of people from Jamaica and after work we'd battle rap by the pool. I really did have friends that were involved in illegal activities. I was actually in the south, recording with Dem Franchize Boyz, listening to Outkast, Dungeon Family, Field Mob, Crime Mobb. And that seems incredibly hard for people to swallow. People think I should rap about Australia in an Australian accent but I'm 28-year-old woman now. I can't rap about being 10 and living in Australia. That never inspired me. My time in America, my time in those cities, were when I really started having life experiences that were worthy of going into my music. It all happened here in this country.

"I wish I hadn't been so defensive and emotional, but it invalidated important conversations that shouldn't be overlooked."

On some of the leaked tracks for Digital Distortion you didn't seem afraid to acknowledge it. Tracks like "Middle Man," "7Teen," and "Elephant" were incredibly aggressive and direct. What happened with that era?

For the record I love Def Jam, there are a lot of people that I truly respect and like. The problem I had during this time was that I was preparing to address how I felt. I had gotten so pop, and when you have success as a pop artist it makes the label a lot of money, so they pushed me to keep churning out hits. They pushed for more branding money, more endorsements — that's their job. And I made the conscious choice to go along with it because I was making a lot of fucking money.

But in doing that I think I isolated a lot of my original supporters. I also stifled myself creatively because I wasn't making the kind of music I wanted to make. If I wanted to make endless hits, I would have been making pop music from day one. I just lost my passion. I didn't feel motivated in the studio. When I told them I was going to make an album, I sat there with the president of the label and told him that his 10-year-old daughter is probably not going to like the songs. I said, "She's not gonna want to come to the concert," and I could see a look of pure horror etched on his face. The expression of, "Fuck, the money maker is going to make some weird, non-radio album."

They weren't backing you up.

There was no support in my decision. They couldn't understand it unless it fit into a radio format, but I knew I would never have success again unless I connected with my original fans. That's what I knew I needed for me to have authenticity and for me to feel passionate. Not only that but for me to just endure life. Everything was falling apart and I need to love the music I'm making and truly believe in it. When I delivered the album, they wanted to know where the radio hits were. All they wanted to create were songs like "Switch." And those songs are great, but pop records don't work without a foundation. Those big songs are supposed to be cherries on top, not just a roof with no house. Pop records are like Skittles, they taste really good but if you eat too many you'll feel sick. They're not a creative meal. Here I am at the darkest period of my life, contemplating suicide, and I'm singing "Switch."

Can you tell me a bit about this new era — Surviving The Summer?

Releasing "Savior" was incredibly therapeutic for me. It felt good to have a record where I can talk about depression, and just let down all my cards. It's completely different from a lot of the other tracks which are heavily rap.

Who are you collaborating with?

I'm working with Detail. I'm working with Pharrell. There's still going to be those unexpected Diplo elements like my early mixtapes. I'm really taking it back to that place. I started with Digital Distortion, but that was really aggressive and angry. I'm not in that place anymore. I'm happy. I know my fans want me to rap and I want to give them that. I want to give them the hard shit that they love, the shit that's different, that moves the needle. I hope people will support it.

From your rapping accent, to your pop accolades, you're constantly criticized for being inauthentic — specifically within the hip-hop realm. What do you think, ultimately, of those debates?

The way I've always felt about music is that I never approached anything as partial to a genre. There's never been a sense of this is a pop record, this a rap record. Even with the way music is today, there are so many melodies and variations to any song, any genre. I think a big part of the judgement in those things — not exclusively for me, but for most women in the music industry — is misogyny. Do you know how many men are on pop records? When they do it, it's rewarded and they're considered smart for reaching a bigger audience.

People like to pick and choose the rules. We bury things that don't give our theories sense. Everyone does it, it's human nature. I feel like with me, there's a lot of reasons why people are trying to invalidate me. Is it not authentic because I make pop music? Or is it because I'm from Australia? What about the fact that I've been here for 12 years? What about white rappers who are saying the most absurd things about hip-hop, but in the club everyone's singing their songs? Other rappers are allowed to do the things that I do — even things I would never even think of doing — but it's okay because they have likability, or a different perception attached to their image, or a fucking dick. People are misogynistic. It is what it is.

"Fuck what I was doing before, I'm doing new shit. It's exciting."

Do you feel like you're a new artist now?

Yes, 1000 percent! It's almost harder now because when you're new people have no preconceived notions about what you are or what you represent. When you become mega successful and you go mainstream, no longer is the sky the limit. It becomes, "Oh she's mainstream, she's had a Steve Madden deal, she's on Cosmo," and the art becomes dissected in a new way with more eyes. But I like it. Sonically, when I'm in the studio, it's fun approaching music as a new artist. Fuck what I was doing before, I'm doing new shit. It's exciting.

#a really insightful and great read #iggy azalea #rap #rapper #female rap #female rapper #hiphop #hip hop #paper magazine #paper mag

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sunmihyung-blog · 7 years ago

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☽ ┊[ IM JINAH / APHRODITE ] IS THAT [ SUNMI HYUNG ] ? I HEARD THAT THE [ 23 ] YEAR OLD [ CISFEMALE ] IS A [ SOCIALITE ] FROM [ MANHATTAN ]. I HEARD THAT THEY’RE [ + ALLURING & + CHARMING ] BUT ALSO [ - SPOILED & - SENSITIVE ]. RUMOR HAS IT THAT THEY HAVE A REPUTATION FOR BEING KNOWN AS [ THE BABY DOLL ].

MAIN HEADCANONS: –– sunmi hails from a wealthy family, daughter to a south korean ceo & a very ruthless lawyer, her parents never once missed their important meetings and job calls to tend to their daughter’s needs. –– both her parents climbed the social ladder very early in life. she’s never had to beg or ask for a thing, because they’d make up for the lack of love & attention by showering her in gifts and money. sunmi had her first pony when she was five, being a passionate lover of animals ( i will delve deeper into this !! ) –– they moved to nyc once sunmi was two years old, in 1997, leaving south korea for yet another territory to be explored by her father’s company. she never had to learn south korean ( although she does speak it at home ), so her main language is english. –– her father owns a cosmetics company, and her mother works for her father; it’s how they met: through work. sunmi used to think it was a beautiful love story until the day she caught her father cheating on her mother. she never mentioned it once though, too afraid that the divorce was going to tear her mother apart. –– she was expected perfection from everywhere. sunmi’s still traumatized by the demands that her parents made, and she found comfort in the little things of life. this is what ultimately makes her so sensitive ( something which will be talked about ! ) and solonely, too.

PERSONALITY HEADCANONS: –– she’s extremely love & attention hungry. because her parents never once gave her the attention and the love she truly needed, she’s a child that comes from neglect. of course, the optimistic side in her refuses to see it that way, but putting it truthfully, they weren’t one bit mindful of their child. –– being a socialite comes easy to her. sunmi is good at smiling, at playing pretend and dressing up. she’s the ultimate girly girl in every aspect, sometimes shockingly so. even her mother, who gladly imposed these ideals upon sunmi, is shocked at times. –– a little childish at times. she’s also a little too competitive and tends to take things way too personally. one would call her ‘ oversensitive ’, but i like to think her sensitivity hails from a good place. even though she’s spoiled, a socialite and someone who never truly had to face the trials that a regular person would, she’s good-hearted. –– sunmi knows she’s pretty. she’s never shied away from the spotlight, and she thrives on being the center of the attention. from papparazzi harassing her for pictures to desperate fans wanting one bit of her minute, she knows she’s relevant and she fully embraces it. –– her personality was slightly based off of songs by marina & the diamonds, with lyrics such as “hollywood infected your brain / you wanted kissing in the rain” and “got a figure like a pinup, got a figure like a doll”, it’s hard not to compare her to the archetypes established by marina in her sophomore album, ‘ electra heart ’. i took bits of these archetypes and incorporated them into her personality, such as the idle teen ( “i wanna be a bottled blonde / i don’t know why but i feel conned” ), the homewrecker ( “every boyfriend is the one until otherwise proven”, “deception & perfection are wonderful traits / one will breed love, the other, hate” ) the primadonna ( “primadonna girl, yeah / all i ever wanted was the world” ) and the heartbreaker ( “this is how to be a heartbreaker / boys they like a little danger” ) –– her signature look is her hot pink lipstick, it’s a mark of her passion, her infatuation with love & her spontaneous personality. –– a quote that describes her perfectly is one famous quote by marilyn monroe whom i personally adore ( and i will ellaborate on the parallels later !! ), it goes: “i’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. i make mistakes, i am out of control and at times hard to handle. but if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you surely don’t deserve me at my best.” –– i have based her off of famous personalities such as audrey hepburn and marilyn monroe. i like to think she’s a mixture of both, for her generosity ( which audrey so vehemently was ) and for her beauty, as well as her passion, a passion that reminds me of how spontaneously marilyn lived - she had a short life, and i like to thing it was as good as she portrayed in her pictures. she was envied by many women and even hated by them ( this was something that bothered her greatly ), but she always put herself first and wasn’t afraid to be a beautiful, powerful woman. these aspects are what make sunmi so closely similar to these two women. –– CHARACTER FLAWS: superficial / childish / sensitive / fickle. –– CHARACTER QUALITIES: generous / loving / spontaneous / fun. TESTS & OTHER LITTLE HEADCANONS: –– her MBTI type is ESFP, they’re enthusiastic and fun-loving, as well as social butterflies who thrive on attention. they tend to have a special bond with children & animals, and are known as natural “performers” & “entertainers”. “ESFPs get caught up in the excitement of the moment, and want everyone else to feel that way, too. no other personality type is as generous with their time and energy as ESFPs when it comes to encouraging others, and no other personality type does it with such irresistible style. ESFPs are welcome wherever there’s a need for laughter, playfulness, and a volunteer to try something new and fun – and there’s no greater joy for ESFP personalities than to bring everyone else along for the ride. ESFPs can chat for hours, sometimes about anything but the topic they meant to talk about, and share their loved ones’ emotions through good times and bad. if they can just remember to keep their ducks in a row, they’ll always be ready to dive into all the new and exciting things the world has to offer, friends in tow. ” i handpicked ESFP for her because it perfectly matches with her generous, loving and spontaneous style, which i talked about a little bit earlier, but i imagine sunmi as the type of fun person in your life whom you never quite forget. –– her hogwarts house is HUFFLEPUFF. because of her softness, i do not see her fitting anywhere else but hufflepuff. her amity, her love for people and her generosity truly make her a great hufflepuff, as well as a daring one, for her fearlessness to be herself and her spontainety. hufflepuff is the most inclusive of the houses, they are known for being fair and for being loyal, something which i definitely thought about before sorting sunmi into hufflepuff. if she were a harry potter character ( yes, i’ve thought about this !! ) she’d be famous in her house, not only for her beauty, but for her great and loving personality as well.

MISCELLANEOUS HEADCANONS: –– some of her aesthetics would include: pink bubblegum, fresh & long manicured nails, flirting with strangers, fake smiling, flashing cameras, perfectly curled hair, big hugs, frilly dresses, the colour baby pink… and more here. –– i have chosen the colour baby pink & an off-white colour for her aesthetics because they represent many of the things which i believe she encompasses: pink is a very feminine, delicate and sweet colour, it is also the colour of unconditional love ( channeling her inner aphrodite here !! ). here are some aspects i’ve found interesting about the colour pink that apply to her: “a combination of red and white, pink contains the need for action of red, helping it to achieve the potential for success and insight offered by white. it is the passion and power of red softened with the purity, openness and completeness of white. the deeper the pink, the more passion and energy it exhibits. pink is intuitive and insightful, showing tenderness and kindness with its empathy and sensitivity. if you have a friend who constantly wears pink as it may indicate a need for acceptance, support and unconditional love! pink is a non-threatening color seeking appreciation, respect and admiration. It doesn’t like to be taken for granted and just loves to hear the words ‘thank you’. it is the color of uncomplicated emotions, inexperience and naiveté. a constant and exclusive use of pink can often lead you to become immature, silly and girlish, abandoning your adult responsibilities.” i believe she can be immature and sensitive sometimes, as well as someone who isn’t too keen on her own responsibilities, someone with a peter pan syndrome, someone that never quite let go of her childish aspects.

#karmahq:intro #╰ ♡ ( intro. )

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the-royal-courier · 7 years ago

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Celebration of Night Warrior’s Embrace

By Risri Elthron

Kaldorei and their allies gathered together in Tel’anor Sunday evening to celebrate the eclipse of the White Lady over the Sun. Various individuals spoke on their experiences, on Kaldorei history and on the event those gathered were about to witness. Each person present was able to construct a lantern by adding a piece during each speaker’s part. At the end hundreds of laterns were released into the sky toward the moon to honor Elune.

Priestess Roraelis was the host for the evening directing those entering the pavilion to gather supplies as they took their seats. “Today's ritual to honor the Night Warrior will involve each of you to construct a lantern alongside our speakers. As you do, I encourage you to think of those who you have lost, those who have fallen in battle, those who have given their lives so we may live to see another day.”

She opened the event with quiet words that resonated throughout the crowd gathered. “Many know of the celestial event known as the Embrace, in which the White Lady and Blue Child appear in rare conjunction in our skies every four hundred and thirty years. But a more common event is the Eclipse, a time when the Night Warrior obscures the sun, cloaking daytime in night, and bringing our dead to rest in the sky beside her. Many of us witnessed such an event last year, when she appeared to carry the fallen form of the Dreamer into the heavens. To physically /see/ her lift such a spirit aloft in the sky is truly an honor, and one that words can often fail to describe. Tonight, we are honored to watch our Night Warrior in this Eclipse once more, to behold her beauty and power even in harsh daylight. In her light we will honor her duties, and those we have lost that now reside beside her in the heavens. We honor her in this ritual, and in the speakers that represent each aspect of the Night Warrior’s children- The Fallen who gave all, The Sentinel who protects, the Druid that balances, and the Priestess who guides. Please give them your respect and attention.”

The Death Knight Xaesha stepped forward then, as the embodiment of The Fallen who gave all. Her words spoke of those who have sacrificed so that others might not have to do so. “From the War of the Ancients, to the Third War, and even now, our people have fought to keep Azeroth from the Legion's grasp. We have lost so much in this time, we have seen our homes swallowed by the waves, our loved ones slain, and perhaps worst of all, those we cared about corrupted and turned against us. But we have always remained strong.” She spoke of the Kaldorei’s firm believe in Elune and the power she grants us. “We are the Night Warrior's children, and she has given us the strength we have needed to carry on. Every one of us who falls defending what we hold dear is taken into her embrace. Those who are corrupted are given a chance at redemption, and those who corrupt our homes are made to pay with a pound of their flesh.” Elune as the Night Warrior is what every warrior strives to be, “She is merciless to her enemies, for she represents the savagery in our hearts. The ferocity that each of us feel when we see our homes tainted...But most importantly, she represents something that many of us forget. She represents the love we feel for our comrades. She -never- abandons her children, no matter what taints them. Be it sickness, fel magic, or the nightmare, she continues to love us all so long as we seek her favor. And she proved this when Ysera, corrupted by the foul energies of the Nightmare, was purified, and laid to rest.” With those words, the Death Knight instructed those gathered to add the rice cake to their lanterns, “The purpose of this is to nourish the dead, but it is not the cake itself that nourishes them. It is a sign that we remember them. We honor their memory. We still love them...And we will avenge those who were taken from us.”

Former Sentinel, Priestess Merethyl Amrallatha representing all those who protect in the name of Elune, “For ten thousand years, the Night Elves and their allies have defended Kalimdor, risking everything—humility, sanity, livelihood—to see our villagers safe and smiling instead of cowering in fear as they are forced to leave their homes, in flames, behind. In war, we must make difficult choices every single day. Many times, even the right choice has its price, and even after making landfall in the Broken Isles, we all have lost something dear to us. None of us are strangers to sacrifice. We pledged to be heartened by the price paid by our fallen heroes, so that we could live on and not to let their deaths terrorize us. As they cross over to join Elune, we pick up their torch. Their legacy is not lost; their lives are not wasted.” She turned to her owl, searched it for a feather about to molt, and collected one. Feather in hand she tied it to the lantern's chime. “As long as we remember, as long as we venerate them, our honored dead, they have not left us. In our hearts and minds always, just as is the case with Elune, we must never forget that our togetherness with those who have passed is eternal.” Her attendant then passed out rice sake to the crowd. “Please, drink, and briefly contemplate with me their journey into the stars. Just as we tie the feather to the chime, the great owl spirit gives wings to the brave and guides them to the heavens. With a belly full of sake, we feel for but a moment the bliss that our heroes feel as they embark on their last journey to collect their just reward: an eternity at rest in the arms of the Goddess.”

Druids and balance are synonymous, to represent them Lyenna and Noelina came forward to speak of Ysera, Cenarius and the Emerald Dream. Lyenna spoke first, “Elune sent us her son, Cenarius, raised by Ysera in the Emerald Dream, to teach us the ways of nature; the cycle of life and death in all things.Just as the moon's cycle through their phases, so too must all things come to an end, that new beginnings may emerge. Tonight, we prepare for Elune to eclipse An'she, shrouding Azeroth in Her shadow and Her love, and reminding us of those who have fallen.”

Noelina stepped forward next, “Who are the dreamed, and who is the Dreamer? I did not know her as well as probably most of you. In the short years I worked with her Flight, I came to respect, honor, and love Ysera as not only a stalwart ally, and a wise mentor, but also as a friend. Many mortals… have come to forget what the Dragonflights have done for us. They do not remember the countless sacrifices dragonkind have made for all of Azeroth. Ysera’s is possibly the single greatest in all of history. We will not forget. She lives on forever in the sky…In our memory… In our hearts… And in our dreams...now, she is the Dreamed, and we are the dreamers. Ysera, Dreamer, patient and wise… You’ve earned your place upon the skies… Among the stars and pale moonrise… We yearn to gaze into your eyes. We who dreamed with you, We mortals who love you, Now will dream for you, And forever dream of you.” She began to sing then, “♪ When the cold of winter comes ~ Starry night will cover day ~ In the veiling of the sun ~ We will walk in bitter rain ~ But in dreams ~ But in dreams ~ I can hear you name ~ And in dreams ~ And in dreams ~ We will meet again. ♫” As the woman sang, Lyenna sent a faintly glowing green mist swirling through the crowd. When it touched each lantern, miniature moonpetal lilies sprouted along the lanterns' viny struts.

The last speaker of the ritual was Priestess Elliistra Thera’dorei. She greeted the crowd and spoke of the origin of the Kaldorei, “A long, long time ago, a wandering tribe happened upon a pool of great power. Exploring these waters, a powerful yet invisible entity sought to befriend them. Seeing how this was beyond anything they've ever known, they settled upon its waters. They grew to know the woman who 'lived' in this well. As She made herself more known, this small tribe grew in numbers. And they grew more in likeness of this great woman. They began to learn the powers of the arcane, magics not known to any other being on Azeroth at the time. They grew strong and fierce, yet kept to themselves, to live in peace and to worship who they came to know as Elune. As they kept expanding, they were finally discovered. The Gurubashi and Amani troll empires had found these upstarts...and sought to destroy them. What they found were warriors who had never been seen before. Possessing great physical strength, but also devastating magics. The trolls could not stand before them. As their empires were crushed, and they had to bow before the Kaldorei, they went on to possess two thirds of the ancient land of Kalimdor. Their majesty and wisdom spread, as did the glory of the Goddess.”

Throughout history the Kaldorei have been guided by Elune, “From there, the Night Warrior has guided her children through many wars...not only the war to end all wars, but also many others, against the Satyr, against the Qiraji, and also joining the humans to fight the orcs. Throughout our long history, many Kaldorei have not only died, but also been separated from their kin.”

The Priestess spoke then of Argus, “And now...the painful change and growth that the Kaldorei have experienced in such a short time now brings us to why it had to happen. The Night Warrior gathers her army. Three times, the demons of the Burning Legion tried to take this world. Three times, it failed. And now...the Night Warrior mobilizes Her children. It is time for us to march on them. It does not matter who you are...Kaldorei, Highborne, Illidari, Ebon, Shal'dorei. The Night Warrior is all our divine General, and we all must now unite under her banner...the reward? The retaking of a fallen world, and the destruction of a foe that has ripped the cosmos apart. And the past has taught us harsh lessons. It has taught us to hate. To despise. To cast kin away. But no more...now, we unite. As we march upon Argus, remember that we are all under our grand General. The Night Warrior marches ahead of us...what demon will stand in our way?”

With a cry of "Zin'al Elune!" Glory to Elune, the lanterns across the crowd flickered and flared to life, a brilliant pure white light glowing within them with seemingly no source.

Priestess Autumnsong spoke once more, “Zin’al Elune. Blessings, and gratitude to our wonderful speakers. It is through their words, their kindness that our ritual is nearly complete. The Eclipse is nearly upon us- come, let us gather at the precipice and witness the Night Warrior’s beauty.” She directed those gathered to the balcony overlooking much of Suramar city where the White Lady could be seen moving closer to the Sun.

“With these offerings, may we remember and honor our fallen, and set them free into the sky to rest with our Goddess. Their memories are dear to our hearts, and we will never forget their sacrifices. Andu-thoras, mashar’alarion.” With that the Priestess directed all to loose their lanterns to the sky and she began to sing.

“Night Warrior, Night Warrior- Your arrows pierce the night sky, Send terror into the foul, and peace to the fallen souls. Night Warrior, Night Warrior- We pray for a victory, To fight with your viciousness, To protect those we hold dear. Night Warrior, Night Warrior- Be with us in this battle, Guide our Glaives, Bless our arrows, May we enact your justice. Night Warrior, Night Warrior- When we all fall into night, Let us do so in your name, Take our enemies with us, And carry us home on silver wings.”

As the priestess sang, the moon moved before the sun, cloaking the daytime sky in darkness, sending the stars alight across the heavens. The petals on the lanterns begain to fall off, cascading and raining down like drops of moonlight as the glowing lanterns continued their flight, like thousands of stars. As the song ended, the moon moved away from the sun, slowly revealing it’s harsh rays once more. Once daylight had returned the priestess bowed her head, touching her heart, then her forehead. “Goddess, Night Warrior, Mother, thank you for this sight. We praise your love, and thank you for giving our souls a place in your celestial kingdom. Goddess bless and keep you all. Thank you for giving us your time to honor the Night Warrior. Thank you to Xaesha, Merethyl, Lyenna, Nina, and Ellliistra for speaking this day. Go with the Goddess, and serve her word. Zin'al Elune!”

Many thanks to Priestess Roraelis for the evening and sharing the ritual of the Night Warrior’s Embrace with all present.

@autumnal-eclipse

#wra rp #rp #Risri

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doomedandstoned · 8 years ago

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The Strange, Fantastic World Of Devil's Witches

~Interview by Mari Knox~

We will shock our readers when they read that behind the name Devil's Witches there is just one guy. So James, introduce us to your project, tell us who are you and where your music come from.

Thank you for having me. I'm not really big on talking about myself, not because I want to create some false of sense of mystique but because I want to create a very specific experience. When someone like Hendrix says, "Are you experienced?" he's talking about seeing things with an open mind. He talks about transcending the ego and getting lost in your trip, whatever form that may take. I feel like by focusing on the artist, you can destroy the immersion of the art, unless, of course, they become the art themselves, like David Bowie did during his Ziggy era. So my reluctance to talk about myself is more about this world I've created through the story of the album and the points in time I've referenced. I feel I'll get in the way of the immersion I want to create in the listener. I'd rather just slip into the background and let the music speak.

youtube

Your debut, 'Velvet Magic' (2017), is a concept album and your songs seem to find inspiration in the works of Jess Franco, Jean Rollin, and Russ Meyer, not to mention gorgeous and charming actresses like Tura Satana and Soledad Miranda. What more can you share about the fascinating story you're telling here?

The story of the album centres on a mysterious female who is fully in touch with her feminine magic. If anyone has read ‘The Satanic Witch’ by Anton LaVey, they will know what I'm talking about. I don't regard myself as a Satanist, but this aspect of the left hand path is of great interest, as is Crowley. This godlike female is affronted by the horrors of humanity, specifically the tragedy of Vietnam. Her goal is to use her magic to quite literally save the earth through sex. Sex, to me, represents life, not perversion or shame. She finds this male soldier who was part of some of the worst atrocities in Nam, including the My Lai massacre, and decides to redeem him to save everyone. The album follows his story as he comes back to the US and right up until the two of them connect in astral coitus. It's really quite a beautiful statement when you drop all baggage connected to attitudes towards sex. I enjoy playing with juxtaposition and you will find it all over the album and visuals. Polarity is a very powerful thing.

I am a very visual person. The music that resonates with me the most are ones that create pictures in my head or have videos or art that inspire me. I've lost count of the times the visual side of certain music has compromised my enjoyment of the songs. It works the other way too. I've had songs that may have been seen as mediocre, not necessarily bad, but I respond to them because of the pictures they create in my head. Obviously, the music is the main priority, but I see the visuals as quite high, maybe even bordering on equal. Interestingly, movie director Jess Franco, who is a big influence, was mostly concerned with pictures. He didn't even write full scripts sometimes and just shot with his instinct having other people overdub later on. Often times, he had no involvement in that process, as he was off capturing new images.

"Psyche, Fuzz, Doom, and 1960s Worship" -- these are the keywords you use to describe Devil's Witches. What are your biggest musical influences?

Hendrix is everything. He's the only musician I've ever heard who can hit a wrong note and it's still the greatest note you've ever heard. Second to that is Frank Zappa. His early output with the Mothers Of Invention in the '60s is my favourite. Zappa could take pop sounds and turn them into prog rock. He was a musical genius in the truest sense. Other influences are The Doors, Jefferson Aeroplane, and Grateful Dead. The heavy side of my music is inspired by Black Sabbath and Electric Wizard. What resonates with me most about heaviness is the physicality of actually feeling the music through the speakers, even at low volumes. The heaviest song on the album is none of the singles, and it's very dark.

It not easy to create such an impressive and variegated wall of sound like this all by yourself. Sometimes it feels like there are four people playing together. How do you fashion this sound? And, since this is a solo project, how did you record all of the parts?

Russ Meyer was one of the greatest auteurs the movie business every saw. He financed, scripted, shot, directed, and edited most of his pictures. Looking up to someone like that is very motivating when faced with great ideas and a lack of resources. This kind of inspiration is what helped me -- having great role models with cast iron work ethics. I recorded the album just like most bands would, but obviously I had to do certain tracks at a time. The key is to always try to stay in the place where music feels magical and not to get bogged down by the mechanics of it.

youtube

At the moment, I know that 'Velvet Magic' will have a tape release via the Chilean label Golden Dawn Recordings. How did you get in contact with them? Would you like to release the album in other formats, as well?

They actually contacted me, in all honesty. Due to my love of the cinematic, I had previously played with the idea of having my name before ‘Devil’s Witches’ like old movie posters for example ‘Russ Meyer’s 'Supervixens.’ I decided against this for the reasons expressed earlier, but I forgot I'd uploaded some art with my name on it in this fashion. It became easy for anyone who enjoyed the output to find me. So Golden Dawn contacted me and expressed interest in releasing the album on cassette and that was even before they heard all the songs. Vincente Zamorano of Golden Dawn is a great guy who has believed in this music from the moment he heard it. I just recently sent him the whole album and he was very happy with it. Regarding other formats, I've also signed with another label who wants to put the album on vinyl. This label is enjoying the album greatly, as well, which is very promising. Stay tuned for the reveal of that. I'd love CD, but no one has contacted me. Maybe that format is dead. Also, it will be available digitally.

You really care for the band's graphics, from the art posted on social media to the music videos. Do you personally take care of that aspect or is someone else helping you with this?

Everything is done by me apart, from the logo. That was designed and drawn by a very talented Spanish artist by the name of Raúl Fuentes. He draws exclusively in black and white and has the most macabre underground style. His usual output is death and thrash logos and zine covers, but I asked him to capture the '60s in his style. The logo is very typical of the era, even labels like RidingEasy records have adopted this look and it was this familiarity I wanted Raúl to bring into the design. Combining that element with his underground horror qualities, Raúl takes the logo from '60s pop culture symbol into a darker place. This comparing of worlds is central to what Devil's Witches is about. Check Raúl out at Mörtuus Art .

The overabundance of female in the imagery obviously ties directly in with the music exploring feminine magic. I grew up exclusively around woman. My grandmother practically raised me and the only kids in my area to play with were girls. Even now, I live with five women, although two of them are cats. My admiration and respect for every facet of femininity is the cornerstone of Devil's Witches. I have deep religious feelings towards the divinity of the feminine, but maybe those conversations are for future articles.

youtube

Trevor William Church, the frontman of Beastmaker, supported you a lot during the creation of 'Velvet Magic.' How was this collaboration born?

Just like everyone else, Beastmaker caught me by surprise. I saw them at a Blood Ceremony show and was sucked into their Mario Bava soaked world. Trevor seemed like the kind of guy I could get along with, but I'm a shy person so I never worked up the courage to chat with him. When I got home, I added him on Facebook and just through commenting on each other posts, we become familiar enough to regard each other as sort of long distance friends. When he heard "Voodoo Woman," he messaged and complimented me on the song, the riffs, melodies, but he said the mix was not where it needed to be. He gave me invaluable pointers and has been my go to guy these past months while for navigating the album mix and certain other music business details.

Any chance that we will get to see your project on stage or is this something you're not interested in making happen, at the moment?

I have thought a lot about what a Devil's Witches show would look like and it's not exactly a record label or promoter's dream. It doesn't involve a band simply playing the songs to tour an album. It would be a kind of performance art. It wouldn't even be like theatrical rock. Going back to my cinematic influences, you might begin to imagine what I'm getting at. I wouldn't even necessarily be present on the stage. The problem is that it needs to be very specific. One wrong move and it's a bit of a laughing stock. So I'm not sure you're going to see it touring the world anytime soon.

It's quite clear that you prefer bands from the '60s and '70s, so if you were to suggest a recently released album or a contemporary band, which one would you choose?

There's definitely one artist I would love to praise right here, but I’m going to keep that one for me. Let me just say she has managed to create her own universe in her music through imagery and performance. Her own life has become a work of art, too, and she's a million miles away from fuzzy doom. But those images I talked about earlier are very strong here and inspire me in very tangible ways. Maybe one day we'll get to collaborate.

Before we say goodbye to the Doomed & Stoned readers, I've got on last question to ask. What should we expect from you in the future?

I have already begun writing album two and the story follows directly on from Velvet Magic. I'm just as excited creating this as the first, so it may not be too long, but the future right now for everybody is Velvet Magic. Thank you for offering me a platform to connect with listeners and bring this experience to a wider audience.

Follow The Band.

Get The Music.

#D&S Interviews #Devil's Witches #Doom #Metal #Occult #Rock #Music Video #Doomed & Stoned

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supersaiga · 8 years ago

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Beware of Pity - Stefan Zweig

Oh what a book. What a book! What a book! Read the book. The day after the US Presidential election my uncle and I went to a cafe, and as I walked to the table with the tea and scones every single table I passed was worrying about Trump and what is going to happen to us all. Future historians of our epoch will one day record that in the year 1937 almost every conversation in every country of this distracted Europe of ours was dominated by speculation as to the probability or improbability of a new world war. Wherever people met, this theme exercised an irresistible fascination, and one sometimes had a feeling that it was not the people themselves who were working off their fears in conjectures and hopes, but, so to speak, the very air, the storm-laden atmosphere of the times, which, charged with latent suspense, was endeavoring to unburden itself in speech. I hope I am just paranoid and my feeling of connection with that other time and place is childish.. it is what it is I suppose. What must be shall be. The first chapter was probably the best first chapter of any book I have ever read. Do not read on. Spoilers. Do not even google its name because the google results contain spoilers without you even needing to click a link. And do not read the introduction of the book, because it contains a summary of the entire plot and no real analysis. Never read introductions until afterwards, if they don’t tell you the entire story they will at the very least tell you the ending.

Beware of Pity

Our anti-hero, the ring-tailed fool, dillydallies between two views. To be kind and self-sacrificing, or to be selfish and independent.

Were people really made so kind and happy by seeing others display kindness and pity? If that were so, Condor was right; if that were so, anyone who made a single person happy had fulfilled the purpose of his existence; it was really worth while to devote oneself to others to the very limit of one’s strength, and even beyond. If that were so, every sacrifice was justified, and even a lie that made others happy was more important than truth itself.

Is pity incompatible with love?

Only now did I realize [...] why my pity so enraged her. Obviously she had realized with a woman’s clairvoyant instinct that pity is far too lukewarm and fraternal a feeling, and but a sorry substitute for real love.

From selfless:

Even if I had gone further than in all honesty I should have done, my lies, those lies born of pity, had made her happy; and to make a person happy could never be a crime.

To selfish:

For the first time I began to perceive that true sympathy cannot be switched on and off like an electric current, that anyone that identifies himself with the fate of another is robbed to some extent of his own freedom.

Perhaps in his selflessness he was dishonest and in his selfishness he was honest. At many points in the book people take an inexplicable liking to him, at one point he even notices and is puzzled himself. If he would only stop and see what a coward he is, or if someone would look past his gentlemanliness and his Aryan eyes and realize what he really is and point it out to him before it’s too late.

Is it a crime to marry someone you don’t love to make them happy?

How often has it been committed?

For vanity, too, inebriates; gratitude, too, intoxicates; tenderness, too, can blissfully confuse the senses.

Sometimes insightful, now blind:

What a mercy, I thought, that the crippled, the maimed, those whom Fate has cheated, at least in sleep have no knowledge of the shapeliness or unshapeliness of their bodies.

There is something so horrible about this. The man is so obsessed with this person’s disability that he can at no time think of the person without thinking of the problem. And he for some reason assumes that the person is equally plagued by it and never thinks of anything else. He assumes that because he has reduced them to nothing but a condition that this is truly all they are and they are aware of it. I’ve seen people say this book is a-political. Those people are blind! This way of thinking leads down a clear road to the years where 11 million people were killed in concentration camps because they were defined according to one and only one aspect of themselves, ranging from race to chronic illness to sexuality to political belief.

The fact that the object of pity in this book is Jewish, like the author himself, can surely be no coincidence. The Herr Lieutenant is haunted by the idea that his family and friends might find out he is romantically associated with a “Jewess”.

Narrow-minded person that he is, every single moment he is with her he pities her. He never forgets why she is sitting down. When she tries to show him her strength and perseverance, tries to show him that she can, in fact, walk, all he can see is weakness:

She wanted, out of a kind of mysterious vindictiveness born of despair, to torture us with her torture, to arraign us, the hale and hearty, in the place of God.

She is constantly aware of his pity and it is a constant reminder to her of her situation. It destroys her:

A lame creature, a cripple like myself, has no right to love. How should I, broken, shattered being that I am, be anything but a burden to you, when to myself I am an object of disgust, of loathing. A creature such as I, I know, has no right to love, and certainly no right to be loved. It is for such a creature to creep away into a corner and die and cease to make other people's lives a burden with her presence.

On self-deception:

The instinct of self-deception in human beings makes them try to banish from their minds dangers of which at the bottom they are perfectly aware by declaring them nonexistent, and a warning such as mine against cheap optimism was bound to prove particularly unwelcome at a moment when a sumptuously laid supper was awaiting for us in the next room.

One should not always let the wish be father to the thought. Only a numskull is pleased at being a so-called “success” with women, only a dunderhead is puffed up by it.

On courage:

During the war practically the only courage I came across was mass courage, the courage that comes of being one of a herd, and anyone who examines this phenomenon more closely will find it to be compounded of some very strange elements: a great deal of vanity, a great deal of recklessness and even boredom, but, above all, a great deal of fear — yes, fear of staying behind, fear of being sneered at, fear of independent action, and fear, above all, of taking a stand against the mass enthusiasm. It always demands a far greater degree of courage for an individual to oppose an organized movement than to let himself be carried along with the stream — individual courage, that is, a variety of courage that is dying out in these times of progressive organization and mechanization. Even in the last war he had not met many men at the front who had either unequivocally acquiesced in or opposed the war. Most of them had been whirled into it like a cloud of dust and had simply found themselves caught up in the vast vortex, each one of them tossed about willy-nilly like a pea in a great sack. For the first time in my life I began to realise that it is not evil and brutality, but nearly always weakness, that is to blame for the worst things that happen in this world.

Other interesting bits:

It seemed to him to be more important and sensible to become rich than to be regarded as rich one might have thought he had read Schopenhauer’s wise paralipomena with regard to what one is or merely represents oneself to be).

Sometimes one is amazed that the good God should trouble to give the six or seven hundred roofs of a little town of this sort the background of a different sky and a different countryside. -

What a wonderful line. It says so much and so early on about the narrator.

It is only the immeasurable, the limitless that terrifies us. That which is set within defined, fixed limits is a challenge to our powers, comes to be the measure of our strength.

There are two kinds of pity. One, the weak and sentimental kind, which is really no more than the heart's impatience to be rid as quickly as possible of the painful emotion aroused by the sight of another's unhappiness, that pity which is not compassion, but only an instinctive desire to fortify one's own soul agains the sufferings of another; and the other, the only one at counts, the unsentimental but creative kind, which knows what it is about and is determined to hold out, in patience and forbearance, to the very limit of its strength and even beyond.

Love is illimitable, all finiteness, all moderation, is repugnant, intolerable to it. In every sign of constraint, of restraint, on the part of the other it suspects opposition; any reluctance to yield utterly it rightly interprets as secret resistance. And there must have been a trace of embarrassment and confusion in my behaviour, of disingenuousness and gaucherie in what I said, for all my efforts were no match for her alert expectancy.

For a young and inexperienced person almost invariably forms a picture of real life and experience that is a reflection of the world of which he has heard or read in books; before he has experienced life at first-hand he inevitably moulds his ideas of it on second-hand experience. Our decisions are to a much greater extent dependent on our desire to conform to the standards of our class and environment than we are inclined to admit. A considerable proportion of our reasoning is merely an automatic function, so to speak, of influences and impressions which have become part of us.. I felt like a murderer who has buried the corpse of his victim in a wood: the snow begins to fall in thick, white, dense flakes; for months, he knows, this concealing coverlet will hide his crime, and afterwards all trace of it will have vanished forever. And so I plucked up the courage and began to live again. Since no one reminded me of it, I myself forgot my guilt. For the heart is able to bury deep and well what it urgently desires to forget. So often in fiction, films and TV more than books, people are, in the end, good or bad. This person, oh and I despise him, this person is both. He is so real. He’s insightful at times, but incredibly blind. Kind, but impossibly cruel and selfish overall. Honorable, but despicable. Brave, but as cowardly as they come.

#Beware of Pity - Stefan Zweig #Beware of Pity #Stefan Sweig

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jillmckenzie1 · 6 years ago

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Higher, Further, Faster

Representation matters. It’s just as important to see some facsimile of yourself at age seven as it is at age 77. It’s a way of shaping your identity, a way of telling the world that you matter. Done right, representation can show you a higher path and provide you with a way to be better.

As a kid, my morals were shaped more powerfully and acutely by comics than they ever were by church.* Spider-Man taught me doing the right thing can suck. It can be lonely and painful, but it’s no less the right thing to do. Superman taught me that consideration for others makes the world not only a better place but also a more bearable place. Those moral lessons imprinted themselves because I could see aspects of myself in those characters. I’ll never web-swing through the concrete jungle of Manhattan, but I always have the opportunity to be decent.

The other power that representation has is normalization. It introduces groups, ideas, and concepts to the “mainstream,” and over time, they cease to be a novelty. From the years 1820 to 1860 a third of all immigrants were Irish. They were initially persecuted and looked upon as lesser, and “No Irish Need Apply” were a common feature of Help Wanted signs. Now? Having an Irish heritage is as big a deal as buying produce. That’s as it should be.

That all brings us to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It’s an unstoppable cultural juggernaut that, for a long while there, was built on straight white dudes. This may come as a surprise to you, but out of 21 films in the MCU, all but two of them have starred a straight white dude. All but two of them were directed by a straight white guy. One of those films is the newest entry in the MCU, Captain Marvel. Is it going to be like Black Panther, where it’s a cultural asteroid strike that fundamentally changes things? No, but it’s a strong step forward.

Her name is Vers (Brie Larson), and she’s a soldier. Scratch that, she’s maybe the soldier. Her honor and duty is to represent Starforce and the best parts of the Kree Empire. She lives on the Kree home world of Hala, and the Kree have been at war with the Skrulls, a race of shapeshifters. So she fights them. Yet there’s a giant blank in her memories, and maybe there’s more to her life than a centuries-long conflict.

Yon-Rogg (Jude Law) is her commanding officer and mentor, and he mansplains that she needs to keep her emotions in check. There’s a lot of that going around because the Supreme Intelligence (Annette Bening) tells Vers the same thing. Does she? During a conflict with the Skrulls, she’s captured and the Skrulls futz with her memories pretty extensively. She escapes, wipes the floor with about two dozen Skrull soldiers, and peaces out in an escape pod. As far as I can see, her emotions are serving her just fine.

Things get more complicated when Vers arrives on a backwater dump of a planet. We call it Earth. The bad news is that she lands in a hellhole known as Los Angeles. The worse news is that it’s the year 1995, and the inhabitants of this jerkwater burg are not what you would call sophisticated. The even worse news is that a squad of Skrulls, led by the wily Talos (Ben Mendelsohn) have followed her.

All is not lost, because of Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson). He’s been riding a desk for a while, working for a shadowy organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D., and Fury seems to be a little lacking in direction. He’ll team up with Vers, also known as Carol Danvers, and she’ll learn a great deal about who she really is, her place in the world, and the truth of things. Oh, and there’s an orange cat named Goose who’s just *chef’s kiss* perfection.

When Wonder Woman was released in the summer of 2017 it was largely viewed as a feminist triumph. The first big-budget superhero film starring a woman and directed by a woman, it did two things in very short order. First, it made a trainload of money and proved that blockbusters viewed through a feminist lens could be critically and commercially successful.** Second, for a brief moment, it made the MCU look just a little irrelevant. I’m not saying the success of Wonder Woman was the primary reason for Captain Marvel. From here, though, if you squint a little bit…

Directed by Anna Boden and Ryan Flack, Captain Marvel is a solid, second-tier film in the sprawling MCU.*** It arrived with gigantic expectations, viewed as being a feminist triumph with the same cultural cachet as Black Panther. Those expectations are unfair. Yes, Captain Marvel has a first act that feels uneven, production design that feels like more of the same from the MCU, and too many winks at the culture of the ’90s. Once the film finds its groove, though, we’re treated to some strong action sequences and decent FX.**** More importantly, Boden and Flack come from the world of independent film, and they have a reputation for strong characterization. I appreciated that they often pump the brakes so we can hang with the characters and get to know them.

Boden and Flack wrote the script along with Geneva Robertson-Dworet, and it falls prey to an increasingly common problem in the MCU–that of the relentless quips. The worst offender was Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Time and distance have shown me that Guardians has an unpleasant habit of undercutting moments of genuine emotions with giant-sized snark. Here, it’s not quite as bad, but it too often feels like gags are crammed in instead of being allowed to happen organically. When the script steps away from that and drills down into Carol’s memories and her recapturing of her strength, it soars. It’s not subtle,***** but the movies of the MCU aren’t designed to be subtle. They’re aspirational, and I enjoyed Carol becoming her best self after falling and getting back up, all under her own steam. Her character feels somewhat flimsy at times, and another pass on the script would have likely solved some problems.

If there’s one thing Marvel Studios consistently excels at, it’s casting. They tend to use their main character as a solid anchor, then allow the supporting characters to orbit around them. Captain America is a rock in his own films. He doesn’t change, but things change around him, and he reacts accordingly. As Carol, Brie Larson is in a similar situation. She’s brave, smart, and a touch impetuous. There isn’t an enormous amount of meat to her character, but Larson is an intelligent actor who knows when to lean into the superhero iconography and when to play it more real. She’s joined by an entertaining Samuel L. Jackson, playing a Nick Fury who hasn’t yet become a cynic. I particularly enjoyed Ben Mendelsohn’s layered Talos, and it’s nice that the MCU seems to be moving away from two-dimensional villains.

I don’t think that Captain Marvel is going to strike the culture like a metaphorical Mjolnir. It doesn’t have to since it’s a well-made standalone adventure, as well as a comfortable piece in the tapestry of the MCU. More importantly, as portrayed through a positive feminist lens, the adventures of Carol Danvers take us a little bit further to a day when a blockbuster made by and starring women simply isn’t a rarity. That alone is worth celebrating.

*It also bears mentioning that nobody ever got radicalized by reading Avengers comics.

**Duh.

***It’s not up there with Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Black Panther or Avengers: Infinity War. I’d but it right next to Thor: Ragnarok and Spider-Man: Homecoming.

****I was particularly impressed with the digital de-aging of both Samuel L. Jackson and Clark Gregg. Here, Jackson looks exactly the way he did in The Long Kiss Good Night. Watch closely, and the only giveaway is that his movements are occasionally stiffer and slower.

*****Did we need a major battle set to “Just a Girl” by No Doubt? It’s extraordinarily obvious, and I think the same thing could have been done with more style.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/higher-further-faster/

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patriotsnet · 4 years ago

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Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

And Then There Were Three

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Poop Feminism

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-inducing sleep app could help, though?

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt