#the only right wing people who still value honor and actually see killing innocents as dishonorable...

[thebusylilbee]

I know from an economic or social point of view the successors of De Gaulle have not always been great but by fucking god they're the only ones outside of the far-left who actually opposed the Irak war and now the Gaza genocide so I do have some level of respect for them (which I don't for any other right winger)

[lovinkiri]

Okey, hear me out plz. Could you write about Sero, Tamaki, and Bakugou (separately) having a girlfriend who has psionic powers (like the Scarlet Witch) and she is Hawk's protégé. He like to think that he's like some kind of father figure for her so he's suuuuper caring and when he sees her having a smoochie moment with them he goes in PROTECTIVE FATHER mode and he gives the boys the "father talk *ejem...threat*"

Thank u you beautiful living being🌈🧡

Father Figure

Author's Thoughts: I got you bby! I don't write for Hawks so I hope he's at least a bit in character. I hope you don't mind its not headcannons.

Warning: Mentions of violence, threats, etc.

Hanta Sero

You were always like a child to Keigo. The child he'd figured he'd figured he just wouldn't get the chance to have. And though your quirk was different from his, he did a great job training you.

He put in the work, the research, getting to know your quirk. He read records with people of similar quirks, got in contact with those around, all so he could accurately train your ability. He wanted to be the best he could for you.

You grew up so quickly in his opinion. Too quickly.

From graduating high school, to headlining as his sidekick. To finally having a boyfriend.

Keigo was hesitant to meet this boyfriend of yours, but you'd told him how much it meant to you. And he'd do anything for you.

So he played as nicely as he could, staring at you and the boy you sat with.

"So.. Sero.. Are you planning on being a hero?" Keigo looked him up and down with a gaze full of judgement.

Hanta gave a nod, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah. I've always wanted to be a hero. I actually attended UA with Y/n." He looked at you and seeing your smile almost melted the tension.

Almost.

"Hey, Kid, could you go order me something to eat?" Keigo asked you, smiling innocently. Almost too innocently.

You gave him a look. He simply leaned his cheek against his palm, blinking owlishly. "Pretty please?"

Sighing, you stood up and nodded. "Got it. I'll be back." You leaned down and pressed a small kiss to Hanta's lips, something that made his smile tighten.

You looked at Keigo and pointed at him. "Play nice. Pretty please?" You crossed your arms. He gave you a sigh and a nod.

So you hesitantly walked away.

And the smile dropped from Keigo's lips.

"I'll just be straight with you, Hanta. She means everything to me. And if you value life itself, you'll treat her like she's everything to you. That girl doesn't love loosely, so this is nothing short of a honor- no, a privilege for you."

Hanta straightened out, nervous about Keigo's sudden change. "I-I understand, sir.."

Keigo gave a nod and leaned back in his chair, smiling again. "Well, I should hope so!" He chuckled softly.

That's when you walked over. "Here. I got you nachos. Did you two find something nice to talk about?"

The man with wings took the nachos. "Thank you, Chicken Wing. We sure did." He looked you Hanta who stiffly nodded.

You, having common sense though, put two and two together. "... Keigo, I asked you to be nice!"

"The nicest thing I can do for you is make sure he treats you right."

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki was afraid.

You'd told him all about Keigo, how protective he could be. And the only thing you'd promised was that he wouldn't touch him.

You and Tamaki were planning a trip to a nice resort.

You'd needed to grab something from Keigo's house, so Tamaki had to sit downstairs with said man.

Well, Keigo sat down. Tamaki stood in the corner, as far as possible. But he couldn't escape Keigo's glare. And if looks could kill..

It wasn't like he had a problem with Tamaki. He knew Fatgum, and the man hsd told Keigo all about his two sidekicks.

In fact, Keigo noticed that just like you'd become a daughter to him, Fatgum treated his sidekicks like his own sons.

The two often bonded over photos they kept in their wallets, sharing stories. Two parents bonding over their children, that's what everyone else saw.

It was from talking to Fatgum that he knew Tamaki wasn't a bad kid. That doesn't mean he wasn't gonna have a talk with him.

"Listen, Kid. I don't hate'cha. You're one of Fatgum's sidekicks and you seem.. Harmless enough."

Tamaki was sure it that should have offended, but Hawks continued either way.

"But when she needs you, I gotta know that you'll be there for her. She doesn't need you to protect her but if she ever does, I gotta know you'll do it. Take good care of her. I'd hate to end your whole career."

It wasn't like he had a problem with Keigo's orders. Tamaki loved you and would never let anything happen to you. Hell, he'd promised himself he'd be a man for you.

Keigo gave the sweetest smile and Tamaki shuddered, moving more into the corner.

It was the threat that scared him. He didn't know if he meant he was gonna kill him or if he was going to destroy his rising hero career.

You finally came downstairs with the object you needed. "Alright, I'm ready-.. Tama, are you okay?" You walked over, concerned.

"I-I wanna go home.."

You glared at the winged man and crossed your arms. "Keigo!"

Keigo leaned back into the couch. "Thanks for visiting you two, it was a pleasure havin' ya."

Katsuki Bakugou

Keigo was doing an autograph signing at the mall, just where you and Katsuki just so happened to have your date.

"Why do you think everyone is crowding over there?" You asked Katsuki, looking towards the crowd of people surrounding Keigo.

You'd thought his signing would be at another mall, not knowing that the venue had been changed last minute.

"No clue, don't care. Probably some big sale or somethin'. Why, you wanna check it out?" He looked at you, the arm around your waist pulling you closer.

You smiled and shook your head. "Nah. Let's just go to the bookstore then head to the park. Oh, actually, I'm gonna use the bathroom first."

You leaned up and gently kissed his lips, him blushing and returning the kiss in embarrassment.

When you pulled away, he mumbled under his breathe. "Idiot, you can't just catch me off guard like that."

Giggling softly, you winked at him. "Nobody saw. They're all crowded around that big sale."

"Tch. Like I care if anyone sees."

With a grin, you went off to the closest bathroom.

What you didn't know was Keigo was watching you through the crowd of people. He looked up to everyone around him and gave them a charming grin. "I will get back to autographs in a moment. Please, grant me a break though."

The crowd seemed disappointed but left him alone and allowed Keigo to walk off.

He approached Katsuki quickly, who paid more attention to his phone.

"Ahem. A moment of your time."

Katsuki looked up and his eyes went wide at the sight of the number two hero. "Hawks? Was that you over with that crowd then?"

"Yeah. I see that you've been headlining. Haven't seen your face this famous since the sports festival." Keigo chuckled, taking a step further.

Katsuki nodded. "I'm making moves, on my grind. Doing what needs to be done to make my mark."

The pro hero nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you're doin great. There's just.. One thing."

He looked at him in confusion. "One thing..?"

Keigo pointed towards the direction you went in. "That girl you were just with. That's my little girl."

The red-eyed boy looked, following his finger. "Um, yeah. She told me."

Then there was a sudden tension.

"And so.. You understand why I won't tolerate you're bullshit."

"...What?"

"You heard me. You're older, so you're probably not the same brat. But from what I hear, those asshole tendencies are still there, and I won't tolerate it when it comes to that girl. You won't hurt her. And if you do, we're gonna run into a bit of trouble."

Katsuki shook his head. "I.. I wouldn't hurt her." Normally, he feared no adult, minus Aizawa of course. But Hawks was looking at him like he was prey.

"Damn straight, idiot." Hawks chuckled softly.

That's when you came back over. "Sorry babe. Oh, hey Hawks! What are you doin' here?"

The two of you shared a hug. "What's up, Nugget? I was signing was autographs. You two?"

You pulled away and grinned. "Katsuki and I were on a date. This is great, I've been meaning to introduce you guys."

Hawks gave a nod. "Interesting guy, he is. But I should get going. Have fun on your date. And Katsuki, have her home by nine."

[otnesse]

Commentary on Peace Walker’s lionization of Che Guevara

Well, guys, as I promised earlier, I’m going to do coverage on a particularly infamous aspect of Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, and quite frankly if you ask me, one of its worst elements. Sorry for the delay, didn’t realize that Peace Walker was actually released on April 29 in Japan and not the 30th. I’m basically going to cover the game’s lionization of Che Guevara in the various briefing files, and in particular Big Boss and Kazuhira Miller’s lionizing of that monster. For a bit of background, Peace Walker was the second canon PSP entry into the Metal Gear series, after Portable Ops (yes, Portable Ops is in fact canon, and if you ask me was a superior game to Peace Walker in terms of story and characterizations at least, but I digress…). The game has some controversial elements, namely it being very overtly anti-American even by its usual standards, not to mention pushing left-wing values to a far greater degree. One of these values is in the blatant promotion of Che Guevara in the briefing files (in the main story itself, ie, strictly going by the actual missions you undergo, the Che love was at least limited to the Sandinistas and to Vladimir Zadornov, with it being left ambiguous as to whether Snake and Miller actually were fond of him, and while you could argue that the Sandinistas’ sympathetic portrayal could point toward a promotion, Zadornov’s promotion was definitely meant to be a negative since he was planning on having Big Boss reenact Che’s well deserved execution after successfully changing Peace Walker’s target to Cuba in a disinformation op. The Briefing Files, however, aside from obviously Amanda and Chico, members of the Sandinistas, they also had Big Boss and Miller singing praises for that jerk.).

My commentary is on how Big Boss and Miller’s promotion of the guy was a complete and total betrayal of their characters, and also a betrayal of the explicit themes of the game, and also how it’s just one sign of Kojima just being a hack writer, not to mention was extremely poorly done even if we were to assume Kojima intended for Big Boss and Miller to be seen as the villains.

Out of character

For the first part, I’ll cover how the gushing for Che Guevara was completely out of character for Big Boss, and especially for Kazuhira Miller, aka, Master Miller from MG2 and MGS, not just going by past entries, but even when taking into account Peace Walker itself and any supplementary materials. I’ll give separate sections for the two of them, since it’s going to be lengthy.

Big Boss

For Big Boss, I’ll acknowledge that he was meant to be the main villain in the MSX2 games, or at least the main antagonist. However, his singing praises for Che Guevara even knowing that tidbit still didn’t make any sense at all, for a variety of reasons. First off, the games, namely Metal Gear Solid 2, strongly implied that Big Boss adhered to a more, for lack of a better term, right wing outlook. For starters, the New York Mirror review for Nastasha Romanenko’s book gave brief coverage on the official reports of what went down on Shadow Moses. In particular, as you can see with the screencaps down below, they specifically called the Sons of Big Boss a “radical right-wing group”, and the group itself for all intents and purposes, was modeled after Big Boss (even Liquid, despite hating his father, nevertheless was influenced by his ideology).

And then we get into the character Solidus, who unlike Liquid, or even Solid Snake, practically idolized his “father” (I put it in quotes since Solidus is a clone of Big Boss, as are Liquid and Solid), to the extent that he was practically ecstatic that Raiden shot out his eye and made him look even MORE like his dad. Aside from that, as you can see below with these screencaps, he was also depicted as a proto-Tea Party type, heck, a proto-MAGA type even, basically wanting America to return to the way the Founding Fathers envisioned it. There’s definitely no way Solidus would have been the type to sing praises for a scumbag like Che Guevara, knowing that, and considering his idolization of Big Boss, it’s also unlikely Big Boss would have sang praises for that creep either.

There’s also the fact that in MGS3, he wasn’t fond of Communism at all, and had already interacted with a guy similar to Che in many respects (well, other than maybe in terms of sexuality), Colonel Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin, as both were renowned sadists, and even directly attempted to cause nuclear war. In fact, even before the torture, Big Boss, more accurately Naked Snake at that time, learned a bit about Volgin’s past, in particular his involvement in Katyn, and presumably Bykivnia and Kurapaty as well due to EVA’s references to similar massacres occurring in Western Belarus and the Ukraine, as you can see below:

His reaction in that conversation with EVA, in particular Volgin’s personal role in executing those guys, had him downright horrified. Bear in mind that Che Guevara actually DID do several of those things himself, shot innocent and unarmed people, and if anything, unlike Volgin who at least allowed Snake to have weapons on hand to fight him, Che outright dithers when confronted with people using guns, even if they’re his own allies based on his interaction with Jorges Sotus, and to a lesser extent Jesus Carreras. It says a lot when even someone like Volgin, a psychopathic mutant, had more honor than Che Guevara. Plus, in Peace Walker, Big Boss when recalling the Cuban Missile Crisis implied that he blamed that event for his ultimately having to kill The Boss (with Miller even noting it was uncharacteristic of him to get into hypotheticals), as you can see in these screencaps below.

The reason that ties in to Che Guevara is because, believe it or not, Che is the reason why the CMC nearly caused the Cold War to become hot. He and Castro even attempted to launch nukes at the United States, and it actually spooked Khrushchev enough that he had to muzzle Che and agree to end the standoff with the United States via the Turkey Deal (or retrieving Sokolov). Knowing that bit, it’s extremely unlikely Big Boss would have been particularly fond of the guy who essentially set the ground for Operation Snake Eater and his having to kill The Boss. And that’s not even getting into how he tried to stop a nuke being launched not just once in the game, but TWICE, and the second time was a perfect opportunity for him to emulate Che Guevara and succeed where Che failed. When Paz hijacked ZEKE, she revealed that she intended to nuke the Eastern Seaboard and pin the blame on MSF under Cipher’s orders, and yet Big Boss fought her in an attempt to stop her. That definitely wouldn’t have been something Che Guevara would have done, and if anything, he bragged to the London Daily Worker that he WOULD have launched the nukes at America preemptively had they been allowed to remain.

Heck, in Portable Ops and even Peace Walker, or at least the backstory for those games, Big Boss specifically served western interests after Operation Snake Eater. In the former, Big Boss was revealed to have participated in the Mozambique War of Independence, and a comment made by Null, aka, Gray Fox, aka, Frank Jaegar, after being bested the second time around, implied that Big Boss had fought alongside the Portugese during that time (Jaegar at that time was siding with FRELIMO), as you can see from the following screencaps:

And in the tape detailing how he and Miller met (not to mention the extended version included in the Peace and Harmony Blues drama tape that was later included in the Japanese version of Ground Zeroes, specifically chapters 1 and 2), it was mentioned that Kazuhira Miller at the time was a mercenary operating with an implied communist rebel group in Colombia, while Big Boss was clearly siding with the Western-backed government.

I think the events proper for Peace Walker was the first time Big Boss explicitly sided with Communists (not counting Portable Ops, since it’s implied the Russian soldiers renounced their Communism after being abandoned by the Soviet government), and even there, he did it more out of his own personal motives of getting closure regarding The Boss’s true motives after learning she may have somehow survived Snake Eater than out of any liking of Mena/Zadornov’s objectives.

Besides, Big Boss is former CIA, and grunt or not, he'd still need to have at least some degree of knowledge about Che, namely stuff like how Che tried to commit to the Cuban Missile Crisis and make it a hot war, among other things like his instituting gulags in Cuba. And let's not forget, when Gene in Portable Ops tried to pull a similar stunt, Big Boss was genuinely horrified by what he was planning to do.

Kazuhira Miller

Now we get to Kazuhira Miller, aka, Master McDonnell Benedict Miller. Unlike Big Boss, Miller was consistently up to that point depicted as a good guy (probably the closest he got to engaging in villainy was in MGS1 regarding manipulating Snake into arming REX, and even there, he was dead three days before the events of the game, and that had been Liquid who did so). He was also shown to be a huge Che fanboy, and if anything he was depicted as being an even bigger fanboy than Big Boss himself in that game. And Peace Walker also retconned his origins by revealing he was in fact born in Japan with bi-racial ancestry (Japanese and American Caucasian), as he originally was third-generation Japanese American. He was made clear to have more love for America than his own home country of Japan, and only recognized the meaning of peace when talking to his hospitalized mom. He also was mentioned to have been influenced to get into the mercenary business by Yukio Mishima’s suicide, though he does imply that he wasn’t on the same political spectrum as him. Him singing praises for Che Guevara doesn’t work well at all, especially considering that he repeatedly stressed that they not allow another Cuban Missile Crisis to happen, and going by his comments in these screencaps below (in the same briefing file as Big Boss’s uncharacteristically going into hypotheticals, and if anything happened immediately before then), he was fully aware about how Japan itself was almost nuked again thanks to that event (with the only difference being that the Soviets were more likely to nuke them), as you can see with the following screencaps.

Having him sing praises for Che Guevara, whom as I pointed out earlier actually attempted to launch nukes and jumpstart World War III, comes across as ESPECIALLY distasteful knowing that bit, since it comes across as him basically cheering for the guy who tried to wipe out his fellow Japanese, to say little about the Americans, whom back then, he idolized. It would be the same thing as a Holocaust survivor singing praises for Adolf Hitler after narrowly surviving being killed by him. It also doesn’t match up at all with his characterization in MG2 or even MGS1 (and believe me, Liquid posing as Miller or not, his statements to Snake would have been what Miller himself would have said since Snake didn’t seem suspicious at all about him.), the latter regarding the bit about Meryl after she was captured. Even his not being fond of Japan doesn’t cut it, especially when, ignoring that he put that to the side after his mom was hospitalized, the character Sokolov ALSO wasn’t fond of the Soviet Union at all, risked crossing the iron curtain alongside his family to get away from it, and would have been free as a bird had the CMC not happened, and almost got away again until The Boss interfered. Even THERE, however, he still retained at least some degree of love for Russia itself, as when Gene decided to try to nuke Russia (or at least, that’s what Gene led everyone to believe at the time), he secretly went against Gene and adopted the alias of Ghost to aid Big Boss specifically to prevent a nuke from being launched there, being THAT against harming Russia despite hating the Soviet policies. I would have expected Miller to not be fond of Che Guevara at all for that reason.

Overall

The whole thing also didn’t work since if they were meant to be seen as heroes, it ticks off a whole lot of players who are fully aware of some of the crap Che Guevara caused and know his true nature, and regarding painting them as a villain, the problem is that the story DOESN’T depict them as villains for that. Heck, they don’t even STATE any bad things Che did other than maybe dying, and if anything, the way everyone was talking, you’d think he’d walk on water. If Kojima wanted to depict Big Boss and Miller as villains by having him sing praises for Che, the very least he could have done was make sure to specifically reference Che Guevara’s role in nearly causing the Cold War to go Hot by the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis and his being upset at the nukes being removed.

Apparently, if Kojima’s secretary is of any indication, the reason the Che love was in the game was because Kojima himself tried to force in his socio-political views into the game in blatant disregard for the narrative and characterizations therein, as you can see below with links (screencaps will have to be in an addendum post since, unfortunately, I've hit my limit regarding screencap postings):

https://twitter.com/Kaizerkunkun/status/900937994143649792

https://twitter.com/Kaizerkunkun/status/1179860611297153038

https://twitter.com/Kaizerkunkun/status/1190763430497542144

Themes

The Che praise doesn’t work too well with the themes either, since he was not a peaceful man, even called himself the opposite of Christ, and tried to start a nuclear war. It definitely goes against the stated themes of the game, which was peace, not to mention the anti-nuke themes of the overall franchise. Heck, if anything, specifically referencing Che’s attempt at nuking the US and causing Nuclear War, and by extension outright condemning him for it would have worked much better with the themes of anti-nukes, especially considering that they made sure to reference Vasily Arkhipov’s actions during the Cuban Missile Crisis at one point, not to mention referenced both Katyn and the fact that the Turkey silos were already rendered obsolete even before the Turkey Deal made removing them required due to the advent of nuclear subs in Snake Eater earlier. And without the references to that, or any other bad stuff, you’re literally left thinking that he must be a good guy. I’d know because I fell for that myself, especially after getting the game (I didn’t follow the briefing files, but I did follow the cutscenes on YouTube back when it was still in Japan, and I also was baffled as to how people were talking about Big Boss and Miller were Che fanboys since the cutscenes never even pointed in either direction, and if anything, Big Boss nearly being killed by Zadornov would probably point to him NOT liking Che afterwards due to nearly being forced into Che’s fate).

The only thing it did was just have Kojima force in his political and social views, and I’ll be blunt, that kind of crap is something I have distaste in, I hate having propaganda pushed onto me. Ironically, Kojima or at least the Benson books for MGS1 and MGS2, instilled that view onto me. So my anger at Kojima doing that, after learning what Che was truly like in one of the Politically Incorrect Books (either Vietnam War or the 1960s one), is very much personal as well as political and social.

Aftermath

Well, as I said, I did buy into the narrative around the time Peace Walker was released, but then I learned I was being tricked by Kojima after reading the PIG books. I’d argue that event definitely was a watershed event for me. Not only did it have me lose any respect I might have had for Kojima, it also influenced my outlook on life, left me becoming distrustful the second I started picking up how they’re trying to push an agenda instead of, say, actually teaching the material in college. It also may have influenced my later views on Star Wars and Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (specifically, George Luca’s open admission to basing the Ewoks/Rebels on the Vietcong, and especially modeling the Galactic Empire after American soldiers; and Linda Woolverton admitting that she was trying to push a radical feminist agenda in Beauty and the Beast, the same one she tried to push in that awful Maleficent movie. Though I also was becoming disturbed with Belle for reasons other than that bit due to researching the French Revolution, though I will acknowledge Big Boss and Kazuhira Miller’s fanboying of Che Guevara, and in particular their reference to Sartre and his infamously singing praises for Che as “the most complete human being of the century”, certainly worsened my views on Belle, thinking that she may turn out like Sartre and throw her lot with the Jacobins and other groups.). It also left me distrusting of whatever Metal Gear had to say, may have also led to my not liking Chris Redfield after Resident Evil 5, or heck, some of the more anti-American commentary in 5 and other games, and also Dead Rising. It also influenced my decision to become a Dead or Alive fan (especially when before, I wasn’t particularly fond of the game due to the fanservice stuff), and in particular a Tina and Bass fan. May have also influenced my later distaste of Greg Berlanti’s writing of Arrowverse shows, in particular Supergirl starting with Season 2 (though that also had Heroes Redemption as a factor, which predated Peace Walker, thanks to how it changed Claire Bennet).

[etlunainmorte]

🌙 To You Who Rejected Me 🌙

***

IV

***

***

Many feared Gladiola, even the ones who lived outside the city. They see her as the most powerful Elf next to the Queen, who has never showed herself for almost five centuries. And due to the Queen's lack of public appearance, Gladiola's family was given the task to protect the Elven realm and the royal families who lived in it. They stood as the sturdy wall protecting everyone from the threat of their worst enemy, and without them, chaos would spread across the land.

Everywhere she went, Elves and all other creatures bowed before her as a sign of both fear and respect. Men trembled where they stand when she passed by, and women simply wanted to be like her. Her brother valued her as his most powerful ally, his trump card that never lost a single battle.

There was not a single soul in the land who didn't know her face and the frightening prowess that came along with it.

Gladiola's eyebrows slightly raised in a matter of a millisecond the moment she heard laughter coming from behind the heavy wooden doors of her brother's quarters. She stopped for moment and waited, her arms quietly resting on her sides, and a few moments later, the doors finally opened.

And from those doors, two women wearing such heavy makeup and overly - ornamented clothing came out, looking quite bedazzled and over the moon. The moment they saw Gladiola standing before them just outside her brother's quarters, they instantly stopped giggling like a pair of inexperienced school girls who just got caught by their terrifying tutor and bowed before her.

Gladiola ignored them, letting them walk away, and entered the room. There, she found her almighty brother in his casual clothing, looking relaxed and carefree, sitting on a plush sofa in the middle of the room just next to the massive window overlooking the entire city.

"Sister! Welcome, welcome." Her brother greeted cheerfully, beckoning her to come closer.

Stopping a few feet away from her brother, she went down on one knee with her head bowed down low and spoke, "How may I be of service?"

Her brother leaned in closer, and with a knowing smile, he said, "From now on, I want you to watch over those prisoners from the mortal realm. I want you to keep an eye on them, and if necessary," The smile vanished from the handsome male's face, to be replaced with spite and anger, and added, "I want you to give them a fierce punishment that they would never ever forget. Something that would scar their mortal existence forevermore. That one in red," He said, his fists clutching, a vein visibly popping from his forehead. " ... he annoys me very much. He calls me by this name which I do not have the slightest knowledge of. If he misbehaves, I want you, my sister, to take care of him in the language we, Elves of the High Race, know." His frown vanished to be replaced with that knowing smile once more as he leaned on the sofa and crossed his legs. And in a much calmer tone, he said, "I want you to do it now."

"But, Gladiolus, I' am here to visit my sister to - "

"You can do it next week during the Convergence." Her brother cut her off in a venomous tone. "Are we clear?"

The female Elf looked into her brother's eyes, ignoring the strange little red marks on his neck which were fairly hidden by his long platinum hair, and asked, "Is there something else you need me to do?"

"None," He answered as his slender hand glided over his beautiful platinum strands of hair. " ... as of the moment."

Standing tall and proud and with another bow of respect, she answered, "Very well. As you wish,... brother." She turned away from him without another word and made her way towards the door. She could hear the faintest sounds coming from behind it. Laughter? She opened the doors and lo and behold, behind them stood two females, looking very much like the first two who just left a few minutes ago, who were shocked to see her inside her own brother's quarters. The ladies, like their predecessors, stopped giggling and made way for her.

Behind her, she heard her brother exclaim, "Esmé! Carla! Ladies! Such an honor to see your lovely faces." And before she closed the heavy doors shut, she heard his voice once again, "Do ignore my sister. She's only a bit, ahh,... stoic,... "

***

The curious sounds made by his brother and those two women were still fresh on her mind when she went towards the other end of the castle where they were holding the mortal prisoners they caught yesterday. And as she walked down that dark hallway towards the west wing, she couldn't push the foreboding feeling off her mind. It nagged at her, actually begging her to turn around and leave. But, she knew she must do her obligations, no matter what.

And when she arrived on that one cell, she saw one of the men, the skinnier one, sitting forlornly and quietly across his companion who was still sleeping and snoring quite obnoxiously. He was reading a book, his eyes focused on it like his life depended on it.

He knew she was there but, he didn't even turn his head towards her in acknowledgement. There was clearly a hint of confidence in the way he carried himself despite his fragile - looking frame, and Gladiola felt right then and there that she must take extra care around him. She was strong but, she knew how to take a second look at her opponents. She knew when not to underestimate them.

"If you are here to torture us with your,... Elven ways," Still not taking his eyes off his book, the man told her in a deep and calm tone. " ... then I' am obliged to tell you that you have to wait for a bit longer. I'm afraid to say my brother's," He looked up, not to look at her but at the man who was still sleeping in front of him. " ... knocked out quite good." His eyes went back to his book, a smirk gracing his lips. Turning a page with his strangely tattooed hand, he added, "And is nowhere near waking up."

Gladiola smiled at such confidence. He really didn't know what he's gotten himself into. "And what, pray tell, do you know about the Elven ways of torture?"

His eyes left the book and he finally looked at her in the eye.

And those green eyes of his,... there was not a hint of fear or even insincerity in them.

In fact, that gaze of his did seem to look like he was actually challenging her in some way she couldn't quite explain.

"Given the fact that I' am,... unable to summon my familiars here,... it's safe to say that," He said, giving clear emphasis on each and every word, and paused. He, then, closed his book, got up on his feet, and faced her, simply towering above her. " ... your methods are quite," That pause once more. And with that smirk of his, he finally dropped the word. " ... unorthodox."

The female shook her head as she crossed her arms. Looking up at him with an equally confident smile, she informed him, "The cell you are in are made for prisoners with magical abilities. The very materials used in constructing this state of the art room could restrict all forms and types of magic from all known creatures. I'd say, the only thing that is unorthodox here is my presence." Gladiola went closer to the man. Standing a foot away from the cell bars that separated her from the prisoner, she added in a soft whisper, "Be a sweetheart and try to behave yourself. My brother has no qualms of sparing the likes of," She stopped mid - sentence to give a disgusted glance at the other person, now drooling and mumbling something inaudible in his sleep, then looked at the man once again. " ... you. A snap of his fingers could very well spell your own doom."

For a moment, the man only looked at her with such an intense expression, and a few seconds later, he gave his answer with a nod. "That,... I understand. Although," He stopped and gave a knowing look at his companion, who began to stir in his deep slumber. " ... you might also want to inform him of that." Looking at her once more, he walked closer towards the cell bars and took a hold of them with those tattooed hand of his. Leaning a bit closer to her, he whispered, "We don't stand for anyone who destroys people's houses, not to mention the attempt to murder the innocent."

The intensity in the man's voice almost lured Gladiola to the edge. However, unlike her brother, she's very patient. Reining in her temper, her powers, and the urge to knock the man down and make him kneel before her, she said in an authoritative tone, "Accusation of murder against the royal family could lead to your demise. I suggest you be careful of what words to utter in my presence."

And to this, the man only raised an eyebrow. "That's quite,... confusing."

"What is?" Gladiola questioned him. "What's difficult to understand in - ?"

"You mean to say you go about killing innocent people, and you simply get away with it because you're royalty?" With furrowed eyebrows and curled lips, he tightened his grip on the cell bars and leaned as close as he could get to the female Elf. And with that unnerving smirk of his, he said, "How,... perfectly convenient that is."

"I said it once, and I will repeat it one last time." Gladiola gave the man a challenging look as she braced herself for what's to come. "Accusation of murder - "

However, something in the man's eyes made Gladiola's own wide with disbelief. Something in the way he stared her down told her that he was gravely and utterly serious with what he just revealed. Not only were his words intense. His eyes also gave the impression that she and her people were, in fact, the ones who were at fault, and not them.

Those intense jade gaze of his sent a clear message that he wanted to be heard, and he would not stand by idle without defending himself, for the sake of fair justice.

Gladiola was about to go on with her statement when the two of them heard a loud and awful yawning coming from the floor to her left.

"Oh, wherefore art thou, oh Romeo,... " The man in red mumbled in a husky voice. "Thought Vergil fell asleep and left the t.v. on the Boomer Classic channel again. Turns out you two, nerds, started chatting without me." The man looked up and winked at Gladiola, flashing her his toothy grin. "Sounds a bit unfair, eh, babe?"

Almost fuming with rage at how this insolent man called her attention, Gladiola tore her gaze off the men and walked away, not wanting to do something unnecessary to them. She was far superior compared to the likes of them, and she refused to lower herself to their level by simply being lured by their innocent facade of a bait and actually using her power against them.

Then again, she was given a clear and direct instruction by her brother to punish them should they misbehave. Everything with regards to their fate was left entirely to her own hands.

But, then, at the last second, she refused to lift a single finger. She could easily wave her hand and break their necks but, something pulled her in and prevented her from doing so. She had no difficulty whatsoever in dealing with the nitty gritty side of her responsibilities but, there was something in that man's eyes, something in his words and the way he looked, that made her pull back.

That confidence. That dignity.

That,... conviction,... that they weren't the ones at fault.

Maybe it was a fluke of fate that made her deal with the dark - haired man first. Maybe next time she would deal with the filthier one instead. After all, he seemed very easy to manipulate,...

Her thoughts about the prisoners, especially that dark - haired one, were still going about her already preoccupied mind when she went back to her brother's quarters that afternoon. And there, she found him dining sumptuously with a large group of servants waiting for him and bringing him whatever he needs.

And when he saw her, he was quite baffled and alarmed. Offended even.

"Sister! Do you mind? I'm in the middle of my feast, and it seems you have forgotten you are not allowed to join." Her brother snapped at her, his eyes furious and his eyebrows knitted.

Gladiola fell on one knee and bowed her head. "My humblest apologies, dear brother."

Gladiolus sighed and shook his head. Snapping his fingers at one of the servants, he asked her, "What is your business here at this ungodly hour of the day? And you better make this visit worth my precious time."

The Elf Gladiola slightly lifted her head. Searching for her brother's gaze, she spoke, "The prisoners are awake. What shall I do with them?"

To this statement of hers, Gladiolus' hands froze in mid air as he was about to receive a bowl of grapes from a servant. And the servant, who was expecting the male Elf to take the bowl from her hands, made an awful mistake and dropped the bowl to the floor, breaking it and shattering it to pieces.

This made the male Elf even more furious. " YOU, STUPID LOW LIFE! DO YOU REALIZE YOU COULD'VE WOUNDED ME WITH YOUR CARELESSNESS? YOU, MINDLESS FOOL - !"

Gladiola looked away from the nasty sight of her brother and the poor servant being screamed at. Trying to drown out his awful voice, those words uttered by the dark - haired prisoner went back into her head.

You mean to say you go about killing innocent people, and you simply get away with it because you're royalty?

How,... perfectly convenient that is.

"BEGONE FROM MY SIGHT, YOU, USELESS LOW LIFE!" Gladiolus yelled, pointing at the servant and finally making her leave, which also made the others nervous because of his unpredictable temper. He looked at everyone in the room and went on, "What are you staring at? GET BACK TO WORK!"

The servants snapped off their frightened state and went on with their jobs, even though they looked like they were trembling from where they were standing.

Gladiolus closed his eyes and pursed his lips, balling his fists, then slamming them on the table. Looking at his sister, he said, "Do whatever you want with them. Toy with them, torture them, I don't care." The man leaned forward and pointed at his sister, who was still kneeling on the floor before him. "And should they step a toe out of line, kill them. I want them out of the way as soon as possible."

Gladiola searched his brother's eyes, pondering what to say to him. And seeing only unbridled fury there, and something else that she couldn't quite tell, she bowed her head and got up on her feet. "As you wish, dear brother."

Gladiolus sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. Leaning back into his plush chair, he said, "Get out of my sight. And never make the same mistake of ruining my supper again."

*

She has only been halfway through the day and already, Gladiola witnessed some things she never expected to see. Some,... changes,... she didn't expect to witness. For one thing, his brother's female callers often visited now compared last week. Despite knowing full well what they came there for, at the back of her mind, she knew that at this time of the year, her brother shouldn't be,... indulging,... in such worldly things.

And another thing. Since yesterday after they caught those mortal prisoners, something in him changed drastically. Well, he has always been quite the arrogant member of the family but, his attitude has dropped to the lowest in mere hours after throwing those mortals in their rightful place.

The Convergence was fast approaching, only six days left. And he, as a tournament competitor representing their race, must be in perfect form in order to win. Although it was clear that no one could best her brother when it comes to strength, she knew that he still shouldn't be too careless and negligent. As a warrior, herself, she knew that.

However, the way he acted when those mortals came,...

He never reacted in such a way with all the other criminals they caught in the past.

There was something that Gladiola was not seeing clearly. This piece of information was still playing in her mind when she saw one of the servants on the way to the prison cells, bringing some food. The servant saw her and immediately fell on his knees as a sign of respect.

"My Lady." He greeted, the tray of food, which contained only a piece of stale bread and a mug of water, still in his hands.

"Are these for those mortal prisoners?" Gladiola asked.

"Yes, My Lady." The servant answered, his head still bowed.

"Hand me that tray."

"P - pardon me, My Lady?"

She was not surprised to see the shocked face of the servant when she took the tray from his hands. What shocked her was the sight that greeted her when she arrived at the mortals' cell. She expected the men to make a ruckus and say all manner of awful things at her the moment she arrive but, no.

They were doing something else. They were,...

... passing around a piece of paper folded multiple times to make a form of some sort of flying animal.

And not just any type of paper. They were playing with the Convergence Tournament invitations passed out by the High Court's Elven Jester just yesterday!

Such,... blasphemous imbeciles!

The one in red noticed her presence and turned around to smile at her. "Oh, hey! Nice to see you back, babe. Ouch!" He winced in pain as the pointed part of the paper hit him in the temple. He caught the paper and scrutinized it like a critic. "Nice work, V. Now, this is some well - made paper crane."

"I did my best." The dark - haired man, whose name was apparently V, answered with his smirk.

"Alright, let's do the Yamato next - "

"Ahem!" Gladiola cleared her throat, calling their attention. The men did look at her, however, she suddenly felt a bit awkward around them, watching them play carelessly like that as if their lives were not in danger. "I brought you your supper."

"Finally! We're starving here, you know - ?" The man in red was about to get the tray from Gladiola when she pulled it away from his grasp, which earned her a pout from him. "Whoa, playing hard to get, eh?" The man smiled as he withdrew his hands. Leaning against the wall and crossing his legs to make himself look casual and comfortable on the floor, he smiled, tilted his head to the side, and said, "I guess this is the part where we answer your questions. Or else we get no food for the day, isn't that right?"

Gladiola raised her eyebrows and mimicked the man's moves. Sitting on the floor and carefully setting the tray aside, she said, "Shouldn't you be clamoring for your lives? Shouldn't you be begging me to save your skins from the wrath of the Elves?"

The man and V looked at each other, and a few moments later, they laughed, causing Gladiola's ears to heat up.

"Nah, that's only in movies! We don't do that!" The man in red answered with a wave of his hand. "After all, even if we do that, your brother would still have us killed, right?"

To this, the female smiled. "You might say that." Gesturing towards the men's filthy appearances, especially V with his missing footwear and tattered pants, she added, "Looks like you've been through a lot to get here."

"You could say that." The man answered. "Your folks just won't leave us alone. So, we decided to pay you a visit to talk things through. Isn't that right, V?"

"Indeed." V simply answered.

Gladiola absorbed this piece of information and went on with the interrogation. "If I'm not mistaken, you think our kind has been trying to murder you."

"Yes, and well, they destroyed our shop." The man in red said with an awkward little smile. He held up his finger and uttered, "Which reminds me! I haven't even paid the rent, water and electricity. So, you might as well give us - "

"Elven troops would not make a single move against anyone unless they were instructed by someone of royal blood to do so." Gladiola interrupted. "You knowing the existence of our kind is one thing. But to actually incur the wrath of the royal family, you must have done something awful and beyond pardon."

The man in red pursed his lips as he swallowed. Looking at V, who chose to remain silent, he explained, "W - well, it's a bit complicated. See, my brother here - "

"We only wanted to speak with the Princess." V cut him off mid - sentence. Giving Gladiola a look that was so different from what he gave her earlier, he said, "To solve a,... misunderstanding."

The female smiled as she nodded. "The Princess, I see. Well," She leaned against the wall and regarded V with a look of pity. " ... I might as well inform you that you will have a hard time convincing the council of your innocence with that awful, petty reason."

"And why is that?" V asked her.

Leaning forward and a bit closer to the cell bars, she said, "I'm the Princess." She ignored the man in red's dumbfounded facial expression and went on, "If you talk like that, surely, the council would think that I've been tolerating your actions, and believe me when I tell you this - no one would ever believe a single word you say."

"But, that doesn't make any sense!" The man in red spoke. "That angry female Elf, whoever she is, said she's gonna be the future Queen or something! She must be the Princess, then! Or you're just lying to us."

"I speak no lies." Gladiola answered. "But, if you're talking about the future Queen, then you must be referring to Galatea's descendant."

"Ahh,... what?" The man in red, who seemed to have become even more confused, questioned.

Gladiola shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You'll be dead, after all." She grabbed the stale bread from the tray and handed it to him, who took it a bit hesitantly. Watching the man break the bread in two and give the other piece to V, she said, "You said you're brothers."

"It,... doesn't matter." V answered, receiving the bread from his companion. "We'll be dead, after all."

"Anything else you wanna know?" The man in red asked, taking a bite off the only food he and his brother have. "I can sign you an autograph or bust a sick move before you hang me and V."

"There is another thing."

"Neat. What is that?"

"Those Elves who attacked you. What do they look like?"

"Dark, depressing." The man said as he received the mug of water from her hands. "Oh! And have I mentioned they looked like Voldemort's clones? But with noses, I'm sure."

"Voldemort?" Gladiola muttered in confusion.

"Dante, she doesn't know Harry Potter." V said, receiving the mug of water from him and taking a sip from it.

"Ah, yeah. What I mean is," The man in red, called Dante, looked at her eyes and held up his hands, doing weird gestures with them as if he was trying to perform a cheap magic trick. " ... they wore cloaks and they have magic!" Dante laughed at what he just said and did as he received the mug from V. "Hahaha! Eh, seriously though. We just want our shop back. And V here just wants to talk to (Y/N). Settle things with her." He smiled and winked at her. "You know the drill. After that, we'll quietly go home and consider all of this circus show just water under the bridge. A murky one at that! Still water, though."

So, it really was (Y/N),... "With her, I see. I'm sorry." Gladiola got up on her feet and took the empty tray with her. "I'm afraid to say you won't be able to speak with her for the next few centuries. As you've said, she's the future Queen. She will be during the Millennial Coronation. And her King would be decided with the upcoming Convergence Tournament."

"Let me guess." Dante held up a finger once more. "Legolas. He's one of the competitors for her hand?"

"How can you tell?"

Dante gave her that carefree smile once more. "I've seen enough fantasy movies with Patty to know where this is going. Right, V? Ehh, V?"

Gladiola didn't stick around to know what V's answer was. All she knew was that he seemed have become so crestfallen and confused the moment he found out about the Millennial Coronation and the Convergence Tournament. She also found out that the mortal men proved to be utterly innocent, no matter how odd they seemed,...

... and that the command for their murder didn't seem to come from any of the royal families.

Those Elves who attacked them, the ones Dante was talking about,...

... she knew they answered directly to her brother. Not to the current Queen or anyone else's, royal or honorable. They answered to him and him alone. She knew that.

But, why? Why would her brother kill these innocent men?

Unless,...

Gladiola didn't bother to knock at the door and just barged in completely unannounced that evening. And this time, she saw her brother having a meeting with several generals who have come directly from all the royal families of the Elven realm.

And when she entered the room, all of them seemed to look at her as if she was low life.

"Sister. Such a surprise you have to grace us with a visit. And right in the middle of an important meeting." Her brother said, a vein popping from his forehead, clearly from preventing himself from lashing out at her. "How,... very considerate of you."

You can't hurt me. You're a coward. "We're talking about secret meetings. I, as the General of your army, elect myself to be included."

And to this, the men, including her brother, all laughed, as if her words just then were utter trash.

"I assure you, sister, there's no need for your participation!" Her brother wheezed in between his boisterous bouts of laughter. "Soon, the forces of all the royal families would form the greatest alliance the Elven world has ever seen. They would all answer to me! When I' am King, no one would be able to topple us. And you, dear sister," Gladiolus went towards her. He, then, held her hand, and looked at her straight in the eye. " ... with your power, you would lead my legion. Together, I as King and you as my right hand, we would rule all the realms of this universe. And no one could bring us down, not even the Demon Sparda, himself." He, then, turned towards the men and spoke in a much louder voice. "Isn't that wonderful, gentlemen?"

Gladiola waited for their voices to dwindle down, and when they did, she took her hands off her brother's grasp and smiled up at him. "I believe you got it all wrong."

"Come again?" Her brother questioned, that vein popping up once more.

"(Y/N)." She answered. "My sister. She is the one who decides the fate of the Elven realm. Not me. Not even you, future King. You will answer directly to her, and not the other way around." Gladiola ignored the angry faces of the men in the room, including his brother's, and went on. "And who's to say you'll win the Convergence Tournament? You never know, someone who is stronger might be able to defeat you."

"And who would that be? Those mortals?" Gladiolus bellowed, once again making the men laugh. "They won't be able to defeat me! They can't even beat you! Besides," Gladiolus went back to the table and took his golden goblet. " ... they will stand on a trial tomorrow morning as soon as the sun rises. And they will be persecuted with crimes against the royal family. They will never get in my way of achieving eternal glory."

So, that's it. That's what you're worried about. "It seems like it. You are right as always, brother." Gladiola exclaimed, making her arrogant brother nod in agreement. "Now, I must keep going. I' am clearly disrupting your important meeting." She said and made her way towards the heavy wooden doors. And, before she left them, she added in a snide comment, "Oh, you might want to keep an eye on your private guards. They seemed to have developed a mind of their own."

Gladiola didn't wait for her brother's answer. All she knew was that her legs were carrying her as fast as they could to where the mortal men were imprisoned. And when she arrived there, she found Dante muttering some words she couldn't wrap her head around. And V? Well, it's safe to say he has somehow become a depressed blob of dark matter all gathered in one corner of the cell.

"I spy with my Devil Hunter eyes,... someone blonde and exquisite!" Dante muttered as if he was reciting a spell, then he looked at her with those tired and heavy - lidded eyes of his. The special cell could really make any creature tired and helpless. The mortals were not an exception. "Hey, babe. Wanna spend this lovely evening with me?" And clearly, Dante was beginning to have hallucinations.

Gladiola ignored Dante's weak advances and called V's attention. The dark - haired man looked up and as those deep green hopeless eyes of his stared directly into her soul, she said, "Do you really not see anything else but this cell? Look outside that window."

Both V and Dante did as she instructed, and for the first time in almost two days, they finally noticed the other castle not far from where they were.

"As you now know, this is not the only castle in this realm. This is just one of many." Gladiola told them. Hoping they would get the hint, she added, "Also, magic works outside this cell. I hope you haven't forgotten about that." She smiled and nodded as she witnessed how the men's facial expressions changed from hopeless to hopeful. She turned around and was about to leave when she decided to give them one last hint with such emphasis on each word. "Oh, and do try to behave yourselves tomorrow. You'll have audience with the future Queen." She turned around just in time to see V's face light up. "Try not to say or do anything rash and unnecessary and just put your trust in the hands of the Sisters of Fate."

And with those last words, Gladiola finally retired for the evening. Or did she?

***

"V." Dante whispered, unable to sleep because of his brother's weird actions. The poet has been sticking his skinny arm outside the one small window of the cell and doing all sorts of gestures with it that Dante found awfully insane. "V, should you really do that in the middle of the night?!" The Devil Hunter sighed and closed his eyes. Leaning against the cold wall, he muttered, "Can they at least give me one slice of pepperoni supreme before they hang me to death?"

"No one," V exclaimed in a very tired and hoarse voice. " ... is going,... to get hanged!"

And with all the demonic prowess he had gathered and focused into one spot of his body, which was his arm, he made one last attempt to give his wild idea a form, and lo and behold,...

... he was able to summon his avian familiar outside the cell, sixty or so meters above the ground.

The avian stretched his wings like he was just waking up from a deep slumber and allowed his power to run through his blue - feathered body.

"And who the heck kissed me awake?!" Griffon squawked. "I was having a really good dream here!"

"I'm afraid to say that dream of yours will have to wait,... for a bit longer."

Griffon turned around and was shocked to see both his master and Dante in a prison cell before him.

"V! YOU LOOK LIKE A PRUNE! WHAT HAPPENED TO YA?! WHAT IS GOIN' ON HERE?! WHAT - ?!"

"Listen to me very carefully," V wheezed as he held onto the bars of the window for support. " ... I want you,... to go to that castle,... and find her."

"I'm sorry, who?"

"(Y/N)!" V almost moaned in agony. "Find (Y/N), tell her we're here. And tell her we're not going to make it."

"V, what the hell are ya blabberin' about? Ya have to be specific here, man!"

"Tell her those Elves are going to kill us tomorrow!" Dante, who just got up, wide awake, explained. "And if we don't do something, all of us will die! Is what V wanted to say." The man, then, collapsed on the floor, knocked out and unconscious.

"Please, Griffon." V asked, his eyesight getting more and more blurry. "We rely,... on you."

"Alright then, Shakespeare! I got ya! Trust this bird! I'll go get ya yer Princess in shining armor." Griffon reassured him and flew across the clear night sky towards the castle where the future Queen of the Elven realm await.

***

🌙

***

[armeniaitn]

Letters to the Editor: August 5, 2020: Propagandizing for the enemy

New Post has been published on https://armenia.in-the.news/politics/letters-to-the-editor-august-5-2020-propagandizing-for-the-enemy-43229-04-08-2020/

Letters to the Editor: August 5, 2020: Propagandizing for the enemy

Propagandizing for the enemyWith the headline “Netanyahu: Annexation is still on the agenda” (August 4), the reporters are apparently still buying into our enemies’ propaganda line – if not stating an outright lie!It’s also laughable, as the article starts by quoting the prime minister himself saying that Israel may still apply sovereignty.It has been pointed out by many columnists in The Jerusalem Post that the term “annexation” is a misnomer. The proper term is “applying sovereignty” or applying Israeli law to the areas mentioned in the Trump peace plan.So why does the Post continue to mislead the entire world by putting the word “annexation” in the headline?The article itself mentions the terms applying sovereignty or law no fewer than nine times. Nowhere is the word “annexation” mentioned – except when quoting the French foreign minister.AVRAHAM FRIEDMAN Ganei Modi’in PHYLLIS HECHT Hashmonaim The Trump and Netanyahu monstersIn “Callous inhumanity” (August 4), Heather Stone manages to cramp into her short article demonizing US President Donald Trump words and slurs including: he is callous, inhumane, inept, narcissistic, ruthless, prostrated himself, enables hate, emboldens violence, depraved indifference, doesn’t value the lives of civilians, soldiers or schoolchildren and more. Guess what? The writer is the Chair of Democrats Abroad – Israel. Does she really believe that this type of “political hate journalism” will influence anybody to change their voting preferences to Democratic? Rather the opposite. The article is hysterical, largely unsubstantiated and says nothing about real issues of concern, such as the Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren approach to Israel and the takeover of the Democratic Party by the radical anti-Israeli left wing. YIGAL HOROWITZ Beersheba Regarding Ehud Olmert’s latest article (“Police vs. the citizens,” (July 31), my previous letters regarding Olmert’s “yellow journalism” have not been published, but enough is enough! What kind of excuse for commentary is “until Netanyahu leaves and with him his delusional wife and deranged son!” This is not journalism, it is simply dirty revenge. I do not remember anyone attacking Olmert’s family using such words during his terms in office. While Olmert evidently hopes that Netanyahu will soon disappear into the depths of the sea or some other place, we might recall that Maasiyahu Prison served well enough for Olmert. The author of this letter was never the prime minister of Israel, but has also never been imprisoned for any criminal offence.PROF. KENNETH KOSLOWE Petah Tikva I rubbed my eyes three times before re-reading “Yair Netanyahu given tweeting restraining order” (August 3). I had to make sure that my eyes were not deceiving me.To censure a son for defending his father would, in normal circumstances, be ridiculous, but here, when the man is being constantly vilified, cursed, slandered, witch-hunted and judged guilty before trial, it is unforgivable.Let your readers (and the honorable judge of the Jerusalem Magistrates Court) put themselves in the position of young Netanyahu, watching every day and all hours of the day and night how a mob led by mobsters (protest leaders Gonen Ben Itzhak, Yishai Hadas and Haim Shadmi) screams through the streets of our capital city, unable to digest the fact that their philosophies (nay – their motives) do not represent the majority of our citizens, as shown decisively in all the elections of the last 30 years. Unable to defeat the older Netanyahu by fair means, they have descended to the foul means of incitement to riot. What would you do, if not stand up to defend your father? Well, if you would not, then you are all either lying to yourselves, or just plain degenerate.You may not agree with or even condone his coarseness of tongue and forthright manner of reacting, but just think how hurt this young man is seeing the father whom he has venerated for so many years and felt pride in his tremendous achievements for the benefit of the people of Israel and the unprecedented upswing of diplomatic prestige in the international sphere that he orchestrated – seeing him torn to pieces by our “unbiased” media and unfettered mobsters.LAURENCE BECKER Jerusalem Could someone please explain to me (and to other bewildered people) why the government allows demonstrations of tens of thousands, where social distancing is a bad joke, and we can only have 20 or so people at my son’s wedding at the end of the month? What is the logic behind this rule?Perhaps we should call it a demonstration, (but for love and happiness). Then we will get a permit for the 300 we wanted to have.And it won’t be violent.BATYA BERLINGER Jerusalem Inclusion confusion“US Jews opposing Israeli policy must be included in Jewish unity talks” (August 2), comes from the extreme Left, as indicated by its use of the anti-Israel pro-Palestinian loaded terminology such as “occupation.” Writer Ilan Bloch claims “millions” of American Jews who are “deeply engaged with Israel see its actions as going against the essence of Judaism itself.”Really? Does the writer have any solid evidence to support these wild assertions? Deeply engaged? Really?Are these “millions” really knowledgeable about Judaism? How many of the alleged “millions” had anything remotely resembling a Jewish education?There were so many untruths and distortions in the article that discredit it, but the basic point the author seems to be making is, “You may disagree with us profoundly but please don’t ignore us or forget us.”To which the only reasonable answer can be, “So don’t try to impose your outdated irrelevant political and fundamentally non-Jewish secular positions and beliefs on us.”DR. JOSEPH BERGER Netanya Disengaged and enragedRegarding “Disengagement was ‘absolute mistake” says mission commander” (July 31), the anniversary of the expulsion of the Jews from the 21 communities comprising Gush Katif on Tisha Be’av 2005) seems to bring out chest-thumpers who confess their wrongdoing. Contrite retired generals (like Gershon HaCohen featured in this article), politicians and policy makers join the ever-growing list of those who admit their folly, their fateful and fraught mistakes that led to the forceful disgorging of 8,500 law-abiding civilians.Indeed, prime minister Ariel Sharon and his government (including then foreign affairs and finance minister Benjamin Netanyahu) all bear shame for supporting and executing what was arguably the greatest tragedy in modern Israeli history. In fact, it was an orchestrated and stinking maneuver featuring Likud and their cynical coalition partners, assisted by a gleeful Supreme Court.How does a catastrophe like that occur? Where are the checks and balances crucial to democracy?But beyond skewed governmental decisions, where were the common sense and basic decency that dictate that the innocent get support and protection, while the terrorists get a good thrashing?Personally, I’ve had enough of the hand-wringing politicians and leaders who, like clockwork, annually cry “Peccavi.”Israel deserves better. We must make our leaders take responsibility for their actions, through mandated accountability and transparency. To the point, laws need to be put into place, a Freedom of Information Act that gives ordinary citizens the right to pry open – unhindered and in a timely manner – government archives. Existing, empty laws that shield corrupt leaders under one pretense or another are less than worthless.Enough of the chest-thumpers. It’s time for public action.ZEV BAR EITAN Nof Ayalon UNReal UNRWA remarksRegarding “New UNRWA head to ‘Post’: No glorifying terrorists in our schools” (July 30), who does Phillippe Lazzarini, the incoming commissioner-general of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) think he is fooling? UNRWA schools are using PA textbooks. Even if a teacher doesn’t praise people like Dalal Mughrabi (who was involved in the 1978 Coastal Road massacre in Israel that killed 38 Israelis, 13 of them children) in the classroom, what is to stop the students from reading about them on their own?And if UNRWA obeys UN protocols, why has UNRWA abetted Arab nations in maintaining apartheid in the Middle East? I refer, of course, to the differentiation between people claiming descent from Arabs who fled Palestine generations ago and people who don’t make that claim. Members of the former group have been sitting in refugee camps in Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Gaza and the so-called West Bank for several generations. Although living among people with whom they share language, religion and ethnicity, they have not been given citizenship in the Arab countries and they will not be given citizenship in any (actual) Palestinian state that the leaders of the PA and/or Hamas may ever deign to establish.TOBY F. BLOCK Atlanta Accentuate the positiveIn “A Different Country” (August 3), Herb Keinon presents a positive side of our state of affairs. As a mother and grandmother of young men who have served in special military units, I was especially touched by the mention of the reservists celebrating the weddings of their two comrades. I was reminded of the wedding of our son 26 years ago who had served in the first “Duvdevan” unit. Dancing enthusiastically with him in a large circle were his army buddies. One could feel the closeness and love emanating from the group. Our son was the only one who had a kipah on his head. Till this day, the former soldiers of that unit have kept in contact with each other and never miss an opportunity to meet on momentous family occasions. How heartwarming it is to see the love between people who rise above their differences of faith, status, political affiliation and find a way to express respect and affection for each other. The media would do well to focus on another reality in Israel that is not permeated with overwhelming hate. TZILA RABINOWITZ Jerusalem So sayeth SethRegarding “Seth Rogen: Herzog misrepresented our conversation” (August 4), Seth Rogen should know that the more he says the worse he makes it. Now is the time to shut up. Like many other “liberal” Hollywood Democratic Jews, learning to say his lines does not give him any special knowledge or abilities in any other field, including Israel. To say that Israelis often joke about Israel doesn’t cut it either. In the pre-PC days, famous Jewish comedian Henny Youngman used to joke about his wife: “Take my wife – please” or “My wife said, ‘For our anniversary I want to go somewhere I’ve never been before.’ I said, “Try the kitchen.” That’s comedy – but if someone tries saying it about my wife, suddenly it’s not funny.Consequently, if Rogen, the player of many “stoner” roles, wants to redeem himself, then he should follow the example of both his parents and work unknown in a kibbutz in Israel for a few years – and then come and talk. But we all know that ain’t gonna happen.DAVID SMITH Ra’anana Arguing for ArmeniaAs a grandson to survivors of the Armenian Genocide, I read Herb Keinon’s piece (“How can Israel navigate the divide between Azerbaijan and Armenia?” July 30) with great interest. Keinon tries to explain Israel’s current dilemma in dealing with two allies who are in conflict through the lens of realpolitik, but what he fails to point out is that this goes beyond politics. Armenians and Jews share a common history sadly defined by persecution and genocide. That’s why it’s so surprising that Israel feels that it needs to be neutral while Azerbaijan tries to finish through their unprovoked aggression what Turkey tried to do to Armenia more than 100 years ago. Then again, it’s also incredible that Israel has yet to recognize the Armenian Genocide. Foreign relations and human rights should not be mutually exclusive. This shouldn’t be too complicated for Israel. They can stand with Armenia, a country and people that have been victims of oppression and who promote democracy, or be aligned with a country ruled by an authoritarian and be on the wrong side of history. Political expediency should play no role in this debate. Of all countries, Israel should know that all too well, given that it was founded in the wake of genocide. The choice is really simple. STEPHAN PECHDIMALDJI San Ramon, CA On targetRegarding “Iron Dome intercepts Gaza rocket fired towards southern Israel” (August 4), the Gazans have now fired nearly a hundred rockets at Israeli civilians so far this year (an average of one every other day) and thousands since 2000 – more than the total number of rockets the Nazis shot at Britain in all of World War II.Thank God for Iron Dome; the only damage this time was to vehicles from the shrapnel, but the Gazans still have thousands of missiles pointed at us and Hezbollah has even more. It amazes me that this ongoing evil war crime gets virtually no mention in the world press and no condemnation from civilized countries or from the UN.May God and/or the IDF continue to protect us – especially in light of the fact that “Israelis near borders still don’t have access to shelters” (August 4) – and punish the evildoers.I. COHEN Sderot Read original article here.

[chestnutpost]

My Family Was On A TLC Reality Show. Here’s The Dark Secret That Never Aired.

This post was originally published on this site

In 2007, when I was 14, I appeared on “Kids by the Dozen,” a reality show that aired on The Learning Channel and featured my family and other large families like mine. Our part of the series was shot over nine days that year, just long ― and short ― enough for us to keep up appearances as one big happy family. My father, Chris Jeub, controlled both my education and my occupation. A Gen X middle-class man, he first carved a place in my small world by controlling the uterus of my mother, Wendy, who gave birth to me and my 15 siblings.

I am the third child born in our family ― my mother had my two older sisters as a teenager, and my dad adopted them when my parents married. My two older sisters had already endured the consequences of questioning my family’s beliefs. Alicia, who is nine years older than me, committed the unforgivable sin of wanting to date boys. Alissa, who is six years my senior, converted to Islam when she was in her 20s, making her dead to our family. She would later reconcile with my parents after capitulating to my parents’ demands and undergoing “Christian counseling.”

“Kids by the Dozen” led to a staged “reconciliation” between my parents and Alicia. In the eyes of our tight-knit Christian community, a rebellious child is a great shame and failure on the part of the parent. To address and compensate for the show’s strict depiction of their parenting, my parents self-published a book called Love in the House: Filling Your Home With the Greatest Commandment. In it, they highlighted Matthew 22:36-40, in which Jesus says that the “greatest commandment” is to love God and others. For us kids, this meant we had to give unconditional love to our parents without questioning their beliefs or authority. For our parents, it meant that God wanted them to have more children. I know, that’s not what love is at all, but, sadly, I didn’t know that for the first 23 years of my life.

The cult-like beliefs that shaped my upbringing belong to what is known as the “Quiverfull” Movement. It is based on Psalm 127, which reads, “Children are a heritage of the Lord, and fruit of the womb is his reward; happy is the man who has his quiver full of them.” The metaphor of a quiver full of arrows defines children as weapons to be used to win the world for Christian conservative values. 

My parents believed that God created the universe in six days about 6,000 years ago, and they refused to have my mother give birth in a hospital or to vaccinate me or my siblings. I was home-schooled from pre-kindergarten through high school, and my curriculum touched briefly on science as a subject that merely magnifies the handiwork of God, while for history I was taught that divine providence had bestowed America to Christ’s faithful.

Courtesy of Cynthia Jeub Jeub, age 5, holding baby No. 6, Micah, after a home birth in Kent, Minnesota, in 1997.

I wore a purity ring, which I received from my parents when I was 16 years old and signified I had promised to remain a virgin until marriage so my dad could hand a “pure” daughter over to my future husband.

Democrats, I was told, just wanted to kill innocent babies waiting to be born in their mothers’ wombs. Once born, children were welcomed as blessings but brought up, above all, to be useful and to honor every whim of their parents. Our home was often filled with chaos ― children scattered everywhere; piles of laundry and toys and dishes deep enough to wade through; one child or another practicing piano or riding through the house on a Big Wheel; my mother yelling and sometimes wielding a heavy cutting board or pizza paddle to dole out spankings. I was put to work early and quickly learned to do everything from bathing five children at a time to waking up in the night to tend to fussy toddlers while I prayed for the strength to handle my Sisyphean workload. My parents convinced me that my work was a duty to God, so it was impossible to view it for what it was: exploitation.

My dad loved to use the word “assets” to describe my siblings and me. At home, it meant breaks from work were a reward for good behavior. But when he quit his job as a web designer for Focus on the Family, the right-wing religious organization he worked for, and made his personal ministry into our main source of income, we each became employees ― though we were not always paid, much less paid fairly. I handled editing the speech and debate curriculum we published, provided customer service, oversaw different accounts related to the ministry, and helped manage our camps and conferences ― all for minimum wage ― starting at age 13. He often directly transferred money from my siblings’ and my bank accounts without notice, or, when my bank account looked a bit too full, he would talk me into spending my earnings on an upgraded phone or laptop for the ministry.

It’s been 12 years since I was on TV, in my denim dress and exhausted eyes, happily describing for the cameras how I planned to live the rest of my life like this: diapers, baths, dishes, laundry, supervising children. But it’s only been four years since I started to see that something was wrong with us. What happened?

After being home-schooled all my life, I started attending local college classes at age 19. At first, I believed that my university was something of a “mission field,” or place to preach about my beliefs. In those first years, I developed a following of Christian young people who admired me for my dedication and passion for my faith. But I also made friends with people who had never existed in my world before: atheists and people who are LGBTQIA+.

I was put to work early and quickly learned to do everything from bathing five children at a time to waking up in the night to tend to fussy toddlers while I prayed for the strength to handle my Sisyphean workload. My parents convinced me that my work was a duty to God, so it was impossible to view it for what it was: exploitation.

It wasn’t until I started college that I began to be honest with myself, and new friends from worlds far beyond the borders of mine, about how performative my life was. I was depressed, and had been for a long time, but had learned to stifle my feelings for the sake of my family. I was having conversations about astronomy and the validity of the Bible and how religion had hurt so many people. However, I still lived with my parents, and the questions I brought home with me each night were creating a power struggle with my parents over how the younger children might be influenced by what I was learning.

Then one day in 2013, my parents kicked me and my little sister, Lydia, out of their house. I was 22 and she was 19 ― plenty old enough to leave the nest, but we had no cars, no savings and nowhere to go. Like our older sisters, we were never told exactly why we were kicked out. Dad went on and on about how expensive we were, and how we’d have nothing without him. I had loved Jesus with all of my heart, dedicated my life to serving him ― and my parents ― and did whatever I could to stay pure of heart for them and my future husband. I knew my protests would be futile as my dad logged into his bank, which was linked directly to our personal bank accounts, and transferred hundreds of dollars into his own account for imaginary debts he claimed we owed him. Then he said he would start charging us for rent, effective immediately ― $500 each for the small bedroom we shared in a house full of 16 people.

We left. I don’t think my father expected us to find somewhere to go, but some kind friends took us in. That day was a breakthrough because it triggered memories of what I’d been forced to minimize and see as isolated incidents over the years. I dropped out of college a few months later ― my poor home-schooling had made academic success virtually impossible, and I couldn’t afford it. I sank into a horrible depression and began seeing a professional therapist, who was alarmed at my poor sense of boundaries and all of the traumatic memories that poured out of me.

Getting kicked out gave me the freedom to question. Maybe being gay wasn’t a sin. Maybe birth control and abortion weren’t the same thing. Maybe I didn’t have to give birth over and over and over again in order to be worthy. Maybe there wasn’t an invisible being that knew my every thought that would burn my soul if I didn’t do all the “right” things.

Realizing that my parents and the religion I had been raised in couldn’t be questioned without severe consequences was like waking up from a dream. I wanted ― needed ― to get my siblings out. But legally, siblings have no real recourse to protect each other, even if a sibling ― and not the parents ― is actually the one who is doing the majority of the caretaking.

Courtesy of Cynthia Jeub Jeub in 2019.

I still visited the family often, desperate to get through to my siblings. I stood up for them and called my parents out on being unfair, for the first time in my life. For most of my childhood, I didn’t advocate for my siblings, because I had nothing to compare our experience to, no way of knowing it was not normal or fair.

The tension escalated as I continued asking questions, and began reminding my siblings of the times we were all taught to forgive and forget about ― how we always had impossible expectations and responsibilities. But I wasn’t living there anymore, and my mother could always come along and tidy up the thought process of a doubting child. She’d done the same for me for the first 19 years of my life.

Soon, my parents banned me from talking to any sibling without their supervision. Then I received the dreaded phone call from my dad: an ultimatum that I could either submit to Christian counseling with them ― and endure more controlling, emotionally devastating attempts to bring me into submission ― or I would lose complete access to my family.

I had to let go of my brothers and sisters, which is by far the most difficult decision I have ever made in my life. As soon as I got the phone call about losing access to my siblings, I began writing on my blog about my parents’ abuse. The best evidence I have to back up the abuse claims I detailed in those blog posts came from my dad’s attempt to save face. The day after the first post, he released a podcast in which he blamed my delusions on mental illness and left the microphone open for my siblings to respond to what I had written. My dad deleted the podcast within hours. I reported my parents to local authorities for child abuse, as did my therapist. I don’t know whether an investigation was conducted, but the following year, six of my siblings were enrolled at the local charter school, and today the eight youngest are in school.

In 2015, I moved from Colorado to Seattle in search of a new life. Within a year, I was homeless. With no college degree and limited schooling, I only qualified for jobs doing physical labor. I worked at a grocery store deli while sleeping in a car. I showered at a gym and changed into my uniform in the bathrooms of other grocery stores. While I was living in a car, I lost my entire blog and the hundreds of posts I had published, because I couldn’t afford to pay the web hosting renewal fee.

Twelve years ago, my family’s lifestyle was made into a spectacle for entertainment, alongside a host of controversial shows on The Learning Channel… [My siblings and I] were being under-educated, overlooked due to the sheer number of us, and the older kids were raising the younger ones, while also catering to our parents’ every whim.

This past year, my partner, whom I met through mutual friends in 2016, and I found a community in Olympia, Washington. Here, we are among others who were cast out by extreme religion, most of us LGBTQIA+ and facing poverty and chronic homelessness. We exist to fight the patriarchy and colonizer-capitalism ― and to embrace our lives and love without the guilt our families and the church foisted on us for so many years. Thanks to the help of many friends and strangers from around the world, my blog archives have been restored, and I have some financial support from online patrons of my work.

I suffer from chronic pain and complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD). I do not own a car. I can no longer work on my feet because my body is so damaged from being overworked as a child, so I write. Between therapy and the relentless inconvenience of poverty, I write. I write about trauma and recovery, about poverty and injustice, about what I know now.

Twelve years ago, my family’s lifestyle was made into a spectacle for entertainment, alongside a host of controversial shows on The Learning Channel. I wasn’t allowed to watch TV as a kid, so while my peers were getting to know fourth-wall-breaking humor through comedies satirizing the genre like “The Office,” my siblings and I were uncertain in front of the camera crew. We were being under-educated, overlooked due to the sheer number of us, and the older kids were raising the younger ones, while also catering to our parents’ every whim.

I have not spoken to my parents in three years. I’ve been told their “door is open” and that they are willing to welcome me back if I can set aside everything that makes me who I am today. I’ve never had a chance to come out to them as bisexual. As for my adult siblings, most people guess that our shared experience would bring us closer, but this has not been the case. Deeper still than the religious element of our upbringing was an emphasis on work ethic, being a “good asset” ― and it was this that came between my sisters and me in recent years. When I was homeless, my two older sisters blamed me for my own poverty. My parents’ snare has always been our siblings, and Lydia couldn’t bear to lose them. In our last exchange, she told me she was back to taking advice from our parents ― financial advice from my father and advice on essential oils from my mother for her own unvaccinated children.

Four of my adult siblings are still part of the Quiverfull movement. My parents’ primary message is that people should have more children, and my siblings are on their way to having large broods, too. Sometimes I receive a phone call from one of my brothers, but the chasm between what I believe now and what they believe makes communication nearly impossible. I miss them, and I hope someday I can build a relationship with them that isn’t based on adhering to my parents’ beliefs. Though deluded people with nefarious intentions still run the world outside of the one I eventually escaped, my pyrrhic victory is I don’t have to delude myself anymore.

Cynthia Jeub is a freelance writer based in Olympia, Washington. She blogs about justice and recovery at cynthiajeub.com.

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