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uelden · 3 years ago

Text

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each �� we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

#maneskin #måneskin #vanity fair #italian #translation

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shepherds-of-haven · 4 years ago

Note

No thoughts, just the Shepherds playing monopoly

I could have sworn I answered this before, but apparently not! Get ready for some chaos...

Blade: he is peak... him when playing Monopoly, because he keeps insisting on playing it like a war game and waging guerilla tactics against his competitors in order to bankrupt their “forces” and claim their land as his own. No one knows if he’s doing it out of malicious compliance from being forced to play, or if he’s sincerely, earnestly unable to play a game without making it about battle and violence. Anyway, he won one time and was silently insufferable about it--nothing is more irritating than the Commander’s stoic face looking just slightly smug without him saying anything--so no one wants to play with him anymore, which suits him just fine because then he can stay a champion without having to constantly defend his title. He also has fairly bad luck when it comes to gambling, so the dice seem to conspire to screw him over quite a lot.

Trouble: he gets excited and jubilant to play every time, but hits a breaking point when the other players start playing “dirty” and not “playing fair”--IE using tactics and techniques that he can’t keep up with or manipulating him. Then it’s the time for Rage and shouting and violence and indignation. He insists on keeping a “judge” or referee around whenever they play so the referee can comment on whether or not certain moves are fair and allowed, but he always ends up bullying the ref and yelling at them, too, leading once to tears on Shery’s part, which led to Briony and Ayla getting into an all-out brawl with him. He won that fight, but has never won a single game of Monopoly. Still, his dogged determination to keep playing never wavers. More on his violence in the other entries.

Tallys: she played with them one time before realizing how unhinged they all were. Here’s part of her journal entry for that day: Never before had I contemplated what a thread-thin line it is that separates us from the demons. Each of us possesses the power to bring an entire city to its knees, and it would not take very much to tip us over that precipice. Even a mere game is enough to tempt us to the path of darkness. Pride cometh before a fall, and I fear we are all balancing precariously on the edge of a knife.

Long story short: she has the smarts to win, but it’s just not worth it.

Shery: she is actually very competent at Monopoly and is good enough strategically to keep up with Red, Lavinet, and Riel, sometimes showing an unpredictable streak of merciless logic. However, she tends to feel bad about rubbing things in or making others feel bad, so she sometimes quietly makes wrong moves and mistakes towards the end of the game. Riel called her out on it once, and she admitted she likes commiserating with everyone and having fun with them instead of winning, because everyone loathes the victor lol. But she could destroy at Monopoly if she wanted to! She puts on a pot of calming tea whenever they decide to play, but assures everyone it’s caffeinated lol. Regardless, it never helps...

Riel: he is not allowed to play with them. He is horrible with Monopoly. But not in that he’s bad... in that he’s way too good. And competitive. And ruthless. And the whole “he can think twelve steps ahead of everyone else” intelligence and analytical skill is combined with an insufferably condescending attitude (not even really on purpose... that’s just how he is). Imagine having an opponent who absolutely destroys you every time you play with him-- sometimes yawning while you play, sometimes sighing and explaining to you what exact moves you could have made to actually put up a fight against him or even have a chance of winning, and exactly what you did to go wrong. Imagine buying a Monopoly property and glancing across the table at Riel, who looks like:

One time Trouble physically reached across the table, grabbed him by the shirtfront, and dragged him across the board game to throttle him. The worst part about it was that, when it upset the game pieces and overturned the board, Riel commented that he had memorized every piece position and each player's money exactly, so there was no need to stop the game. Another time, Ayla actually stood and gave him a black eye for buying Reading Railroad when she had been saving up for it (well, it was really when he answered, “I know.”). This violence shocked Riel--who had never really been physically hurt by another person before--so deeply that he didn’t speak for the rest of the game. However, he still won, even with only one good eye.

After that, it was decided that Riel can only play the game through a proxy, and to cap him further, that person has to make half of the decisions while Riel is allowed to suggest the other half, with no discussion between the two of them. Unfortunately for Riel, the only person who would want to be his proxy turned out to be Caine, whose blithe spiritual resilience and enjoyment of winning allowed him to withstand Riel’s controlling demeanor. However, he also drives Riel insane because he’s 12 and makes the unpredictable moves of a 12-year-old boy.

Chase: Truth be told, he never learned how to play Monopoly or what the point of the game is, because any time anyone tries to explain game rules to him longer than five seconds, his eyes glaze over, or he even get bored and wanders off. Now he plays only to amuse himself by trolling the others; his favorite past time is to replace other players’ pieces with stupid things and see how long it takes for them to notice. The thimble becomes a button, the dog becomes a nut, and etc. Interestingly, he has extremely good luck, and whether by cheating or fortune, he can make the dice roll to any number he wants. Briony, Lavinet, and Red regularly bribe him to help them out with important rolls; thus, another rule has been instated that he can only roll another player’s dice once per game. Typically, they bribe him with more stuff to replace their game pieces with.

Red: he has a strategic mind to rival Riel’s, but he lacks the desire to crush his enemy under his bootheel in order to win at all costs. He tries to make it light-hearted and good, wholesome fun, but it never really goes that way. Still, somehow things work in his favor anyway, and he can cheerfully go, “Oh, I can buy Park Place!” as if just realizing it, an attitude which drives most others crazy. After Riel, he is technically in second place for most games won; he would be tied with Shery if she actually won the games she was in the position to without pretending to lose. However, everyone else being so competitive has made him reluctant to play, so typically he can only be persuaded to if everyone is extra nice to him and promises not to scream to the gods for the others to drop dead on the spot.

Ayla: you might think Trouble is the likeliest to flip over the game board/table, but it’s actually Ayla. She gets easily confused and irritated, bending over the pieces and scratching her head furiously like “wtf is going on??” This makes her angrier, and when Riel starts to gloat, she’s lunging across the table and having to be held back by Briony or Blade; one time she even tried to bite him. She doesn’t even want to play nowadays, but can’t stand to be left out. When she's not so angry the room is spinning, she does alright, and generally can do second or third-best if Riel or Lavinet are not involved (for some reason she does better against Red or Shery).

Halek: are you joking? you think he would play an hours-long game with those maniacs? as soon as he hears the rattle of the game board, he dissipates into the air like smoke

Briony: Briony’s got the spirit of things, but she’s not quite cut out for Monopoly. She keeps trying to bend the rules to work on teams with other people, proposing combining their finances and working together to win the game, like “yay okay let’s be allies ❤!!!” This works out in her favor like 50% of the time; sometimes someone like Red or Shery agrees, even though that’s not really how you play, and they might win; sometimes she gets absolutely burned, notably once by Lavinet, because her partner will then betray her in some way. This drives her to hysterical tears, but otherwise, she can generally handle losing with a smile and a desire to keep the peace. However, she can get riled up when the others get riled up, like “okay Trouble stop yelling and settle down, you’re going to knock over Shery’s tea...” *Trouble knocks over Shery’s tea* *Briony tackles him* “I SAID SETTLE DOWN!”

Lavinet: Behind Riel, Red, and Shery, she’s the best at the game, since Monopoly is fairly similar to the work she does for the fiefdom. She’s also the best at manipulating the others and occasionally even flirting her way to Pennsylvania Ave. She doesn’t care about winning as much as the others--she is very good at dismissing any loss as “just a game” or “it’s not that important, darling”--but is a smug winner just like the rest of them, unleashing her ojou-sama laugh at the moment of her impending victory. Trouble once described that laugh as “the shrieking of a thousand harpies”. Other than that, though, she’s a fairly normal player, though she barely bats an eye at the violent extremes everyone else takes it to.

#Shepherds of Haven #monopoly #board game #silly #all characters #anon

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

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in support of wildfire relief, @theactualpiemaker donated $50, and requested Laurent/Damen, with sub!Damen. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

A month before Laurent’s official coronation, there is a brief but bloody revolt in Barbin, and Damen thinks for a brutal and world-greying hour that he’s lost him.

The Veretian contingent, with a full complement of an Akielon ambassadorial party, had sailed from Ios many weeks before. Ios was more-or-less stable; the kyroi had reassembled, under Damen’s kingship and Nikandros’ steady honesty, and the seeds had begun to be sown. A peace, made between two kings. An alliance, forged from trust and the love-story that couldn’t be kept quiet, considering how many had been witness to Laurent’s trial, and to how Damen had rather aggressively ignored sense to try to save him. To try to save them both. In meetings of their very small private council—Vannes and Laurent for Vere, Damen and Nikandros for Akielos—Nikandros had despaired. No one, he said, will trust now that it is a true alliance. Gossip, he said, and stories that grew bigger with the telling. Like Laurent somehow besting forty men alone on a mountainside, except that now it was somewhat to do with how Damianos’s cock must be mighty enough to win over a frigid northern princeling.

Vannes had laughed, at that. Laurent had looked as cool and remote as a mountain peak. Let them tell it, he’d said, while Damen had his face in his hands. But let’s give them a few more details, to tell.

In every situation, Laurent found an advantage. There were whispers—from Pallas, from Lazar. To Akielons: the blond prince smiled for Damianos when he would not smile for another. To Veretians: the barbarian king protected Prince Laurent with his life, even with his own kingdom on the line. The long enmity between one country and another dissolved, in their two heads bent close together, in the gentle words they exchanged. To the smallfolk, and the servants, and the soldiers low in rank—was it not something to hope for? Love, they said it was. Love that could stop a war.

Not as easy to sell a love-match to the lords of Vere, to the kyroi of Akielos. That had to be done with diplomacy, with displays of advantage. Look what we gain by having the barbarians on our side. Most of Damen’s conversations became about trade routes. Wiser heads understood there was more to be gained from diplomacy than from war. A whisper, passed from servants to Vannes to Laurent, who lay half-dressed in Damen’s great bed at Ios and whose mouth curled, recounting it: if wheat tariffs will go down as Damianos goes down, then all hail the ice-cock of the Prince of Vere.

The Council of Vere had returned home after a chilling and deliberate series of meetings, in which they were closeted with Laurent and Laurent alone. Laurent said little of them, except that he had made his points clear. Damen kissed his jaw, when he said it, and didn’t ask. When Laurent left later with the Veretian ship Damen held him, on the harbor, in front of anyone who cared to look, and Laurent gave him that small unexpected smile and touched his cheek, and when the ship left his bright head was visible for a long time, glinting gold in the sunlight.

Damen’s ship followed, after a month. Time for each of them to rule, for a little while. To be seen as competent, apart. An official invitation was extended for the King of Akielos to attend the coronation of the King of Vere, and it was all the excuse he needed to get Laurent back in his arms. It was also a very public journey, with public stops publically planned, and they were—Damen can’t believe it—too confident.

In the spirit of that first allied campaign, they were to meet on neutral ground. Barbin, with its rolling hills, its farmland, the orchards heavy with apples. A festival in the Veretian style, to greet a visiting monarch, but away from the shadow of the looming castle at Arles. Damen moved more slowly, as king. His entourage was small, but he’d brought advisors, diplomats. Guards, and he never knew relief as he did when he remembered the decision to ride ahead with half of them, to get to the meeting grounds early. That they were there when the fighting started. If they’d been later—if they’d stopped—

The melee wasn’t brief. A planned attack, in three stages. Damen understands the details later, through a fog. What’s stuck in his mind, the detail that matters, is the way he’d seen Laurent’s pennant, the starburst on blue, stagger in the distance and then fall. He’d stood in his stirrups and shaded his eyes, and when he realized—when it was happening—

He’s told that he killed—many. Many. He stands in a tent, one of the brightly pennanted gaudy Veretian things that hadn’t been destroyed in the fighting. He’s attended by a low-ranked soldier who’d been a servant, he said, before he joined the army. He lets the boy remove his armor, carefully, and lets the boy wash the blood from his hands and arms and face, and he stands with his eyes pinned to the blue-silk wall and thinks of Laurent. Riders have spread throughout Barbin and the second there’s word he will be told. He knows this and can’t think past it. He’s waiting, to receive word, that after all their trials and the cruelties of the last year, that here in this godforsaken stretch of muddy farmland, the prince—his prince—

A noise, at the tent-flap. A muffled discussion. The boy-soldier disappears, reappears. “Exalted,” he says, softly, and Damen closes his eyes.

He can’t make the words come out of his mouth. The boy seems to understand—he’s clever, Damen thinks, the thought very distant as though it is all the way back in Ios, and when they finish here he will recommend that the boy be promoted—and there’s a pause, while Damen stands with his clean empty hands, half-stripped to his leather skirt, waiting to be told that Laurent is dead.

“Not how I wanted our reunion to go,” he hears.

His heart’s cracking, in his chest. He sways and there are cool fingers on his wrists, a strong grip, keeping him upright. Blue eyes, above a half-scarf of rough grey wool, and a wink of gold, on the hand matched with his.

“Steady,” Laurent says, his voice gentler, and Damen grabs him, crushes him close. His name is on Damen’s lips but he can’t say it. It’s—it was too close. The pennant falls, behind his eyes.

“I thought,” Damen says, finally, and Laurent says, “I know,” very softly. His fingers curl against Damen’s throat and Damen presses his lips to Laurent’s hair, the foolish disguise of the scarf pulled away. Damen says, “I can’t leave you again,” and Laurent’s slower, that time, to respond, and Damen pulls away to find Laurent’s eyes somber, and he says, “No,” but of course Laurent says, “Yes, you must.”

A plot, he explains. He’d seen shifts. A lord, loyal to the Regent. Whether because he believed the lies the Regent had told or had helped to sow them, Laurent doesn’t yet know. The love-stories and the wisdom of the alliance hadn’t swayed him and he’d thought to lop the head from Vere, to blame the visiting barbarian king. The timing of the attack was a surprise but the fact of it wasn’t, and he’d hoped they would have more time. Still, it could be fixed. But: “This time,” Laurent says, and Damen’s chest aches to hear how carefully he says it, “I really must go alone. I must. You’re too important now to scramble under the trees with me. If the King goes missing, at the same time that the Prince is dead—”

It’s logical. Damen hates it. “Take a guard,” he says, and Laurent shakes his head. “Please—please, for me. I can’t—”

“You can,” Laurent says, with a ruthless sort of compassion. “And you will trust me, and I will be back. Two hours. I swear it.”

It is a genuine, physical pain to end their embrace. Laurent’s hair is mussed from where Damen had gripped it, too tight. Longer, now—to his shoulders, nearly. He tucks it behind his ears, pulls the scarf again over his head. He’s in stolen clothes, somehow—grey woollens, like a farmhand. The jacket makes him shapeless. He lifts the scarf over his face, and then pauses, and lifts on his toes to grip Damen’s hair and pull him into a kiss—a kiss, their first kiss in more than a month, and it’s hard with Laurent’s teeth behind it but Damen clutches him, breathes him, before Laurent wrenches away and turns his face to the side, breathing out, the air shaking. “Two hours,” he says, after a moment, and tucks the scarf over his face again, tucking it back so the only way to recognize him are those remote, cold-sky eyes. Damen clenches his jaw, and lifts the tent flap for him. He watches Laurent disappear between the soldiers trying to organize themselves in the churned-mud battlefield that had been a parade ground, and then closes the flap, and settles to wait.

It rains. Damen listens to the patter on the tent, watches the brazier with its dark orange coals. He has left Meniados and Lycaeus to manage the camp. Everything is paused. The only order he gave was that no one was allowed to leave—no riders for distant forts, no word sent back to Arles. He lies on the pallet made for him in the tent and is alone, to think. To hope.

When he comes it isn't through the flap. There's a rustle, against the other side of the tent, and when Damen turns his head he sees a knife slice through the thick silk, a slice carving through just enough to admit a slim body. Damen sits up, heart in his throat. Laurent slips through and in an instant pins the flap of fabric back into the earth with his knife, and crouches there on the far side of the tent, just for a second, breathing hard.

"Is it done?" Damen says.

His voice sounds strange, thick. Laurent looks at him, sharply, and there's a pause while he pulls the scarf from his head, his hair tumbling out pale and shining in the glow from the brazier. "Yes," he says, simply, but he's frowning.

Damen has one foot on the bare earth but can't seem to stand. Laurent drops the scarf to the ground, slips off his wet shapeless jacket, and comes across the tent to him, and puts his fingertips to Damen's jaw. His eyes searching, his brow furrowed. "Damen," he says, and it's soft, and Damen turns his face into Laurent's palm, hiding himself. Behind his eyes the pennant falls and it isn't enough, that Laurent's here in front of him. These two hours—three, nearly, because Laurent is a liar—they haven't—he's trying to drag up words, but he—

Laurent's other hand touches his hair. "Quiet, now," he says. Calm, but firm. That tone, when he's giving orders and is confident they'll be obeyed. Damen sits, quiet, and Laurent drags his fingers through Damen's hair, gently untangling the curls. "Let me," he says, and Damen nods, his eyes closing. He'd agree to anything, if Laurent's hands stay on his skin. If he just stays and doesn't leave, again.

Laurent unpins the chiton Damen had half put on as a ward against the Veretian chill. The cloth slips away, to lie with Laurent's jacket. He unbuckles the leather skirt and Damen lifts his hips just enough that it can be dragged away, too. He's left naked, other than his golden cuff, and Laurent urges him down to his back with soft touches, and when he's flat on the pallet Laurent sits beside him, and leans over, and kisses him on the mouth, very gently.

Nothing like their kiss, before. He opens his mouth and Laurent licks inside, his hand on Damen's jaw, but when Damen lifts a hand to touch Laurent's hair it's stopped, and pressed slowly but firmly back against the pallet. He's left to lie there, to be kissed. Laurent kisses as he always has, with simple affection, and it's making the heat rise behind Damen's eyes, his chest slowly turning into a complicated, sore tangle.

A shift of weight, a slide. Laurent straddles Damen's hips, still wearing his damp trousers. His thumbs drag over Damen's cheekbones and Damen's fingers curl against Laurent's thighs, holding. He's allowed that, at least. The warmth of Laurent, through the damp wool. The flex of the slim muscle, the confident seat of a rider, as he leans over, carefully shielding Damen from anything outside the heat he's so-slowly stoking between them, here on their shared pallet.

The rain beats hard, above. He can still hear Laurent's breath. A slow touch, over his shoulders, his chest. Massage, he realizes after a moment, his brain working at some lower speed. Laurent carefully working the muscle, gentle circles. His hands frame Damen's ribcage, his thumbs smearing slow over Damen's nipples, which were half-budded but tighten further at the touch. Not as sensitive as Laurent's, not nearly, but he breathes out heat at the tent's canopy when Laurent's mouth touches one, liquid furl, and then the other. His abdomen, then. His hip. Laurent's weight and touch shifts, easy, and when he moves away enough that Damen can no longer hold his thighs his hands curl empty on the pallet, waiting. He feels—drugged. His heart thuds slow and heavy in his ears as a drumbeat.

Laurent's mouth, on his cock. His thighs are spread, easy confident hands on his knees. He drags in air and somehow it isn't even a surprise, when always before Laurent had approached this act as a challenge. Damen had been honored by it, before. Now he melts, into the thin down pad, his mind swirling away. His cock had been half-roused, just by Laurent's presence and the fact of his touch; he rises fully, now, and Laurent's easy, meeting it. Not teasing, not the practiced skill of before. He licks into the slit at Damen's cockhead and then sinks down immediately, sucking steadily, his head bobbing. Damen's thighs flex and his hips lift, thoughtless reaction, and instead of pushing him back down Laurent allows it. Encourages it, one hand under Damen's arse and the other holding his balls, rolling them soft and warm, the touch tender. Damen's fingers curl against the mattress and his hips lift, and again, and Laurent makes the smallest sound, some chest-noise, and stays still while Damen fucks helplessly upward, fucking into the wet liquid heat of him, his mind drained away and all that's left this simple physical pleasure, this knowing that Laurent is here with him, has worked him to this place, has opened himself so that Damen's cock smears the back of his throat. Laurent doesn't choke, doesn't move, only holds Damen's hips in the lightest grip and makes himself soft, and when Damen comes he doesn't expect it. His balls clutch, his heart thudding. He grips the mattress and makes some sound, says something he hardly hears. Laurent's mouth holds him, through it, suckling softly to prolong the pleasure, and prolongs it far enough that Damen's cock hardly softens, just pulsing gently against Laurent's tongue, in his throat. A minute—longer—Damen doesn't know. Time is something outside of him. He drags in air and it feels cold, inside his overheated body. He pools empty, on the pallet.

When Laurent finally pulls his mouth away Damen's heart has slowed, quiet as a sprawling sluggish river. A kiss, to his hip, to the stretch of stomach under his navel. He feels the sensation of Laurent crawling upward, his body stretching out over Damen's, and he expects to be kissed but instead Laurent lies on him, and draws his fingers through Damen's hair, and tucks his face in close, by Damen's ear. He's talking, Damen realizes, after too long. Very quietly, but he's talking.

"You did so well," he's saying, when Damen finally hears him. "You did just as I wanted. You're perfect. I'm so glad of you."

He's speaking Akielon. His accent better, but still with that exotic lilt of Vere. Damen never wants him to smooth it away. "I," Damen says, and feels Laurent's attention sharpen, his body shifting. Damen licks his lips and yet no more words come.

Laurent lifts up, enough that they can see each other. His hair falls over one shoulder. In the low light from the fading brazier his eyes are very dark, enough that Damen can hardly see the blue. "You're here," Laurent says. Damen blinks at him. "Damianos. Here, with me. We're safe. The danger has passed."

Damen comes back to himself in stages. Laurent waits with him, patient. He lifts a hand, at last, and brushes his knuckles against Laurent's fine ivory jaw. "I saw the pennant fall," he says. His voice sounds as rough as if he hadn't spoken in days. "I thought…"

Laurent doesn't answer. His eyes are enough. He holds Damen's neck, his throat, very gently. Damen could lie here for a week, just like this. With the fact of Laurent's heart, beating in his chest. With the body-warm press of the gold they share against his skin.

The rain slackens, against the roof of the tent. The world turns. Damen licks his lips and tries to be a king, and not just a man whose world nearly ended. "What happened?" he says. There are dead to deal with. Orders to be given. He touches Laurent's chin. "Can we—"

"Later." Damen's mouth shuts. Laurent's mouth curls, just a little, at how quickly Damen obeys. He slips slightly to Damen's side. Damen immediately misses his weight. "There's—half an hour, perhaps. We have time, for this."

Damen turns his head and Laurent's looking at him with a tenderness he can hardly bear. He knew that Laurent could hold his heart. He hadn't known, until that moment when Laurent ordered him so gently to be quiet, that Laurent held his body, too. His mind. Every part of him, surrendered. It will be a joint kingdom, he thinks, but really, there will be only one ruler. It is calming, to think it. He bows his head, when Laurent touches his jaw, and lets his forehead settle against the soft rain-smell of Laurent's hair, and sighs. Laurent says they have time. They have time.

#fffr #theactualpiemaker #captive prince #damen/laurent #spent a little longer with this one since it's my first fic for this fandom #and since it was a request from such a steady kind reader :)#my writing

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plasticnightmaredoll · 4 years ago

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"Mortal Kombat" (2021) second viewing thoughts

I watched the 2021 "Mortal Kombat" movie a second time and watched some videos on YouTube from fans who shared their thoughts on the movie. I now have some new things to add in addition to my full review.

Ok, so, one thing that they made a huge mistake on was making the film 1 hour and 50 minutes. It's not even a 2-hour movie, and yet, they tried to cram in 20 hours worth of crap:

Too many cooks in the kitchen

The sheer number of characters featured in this movie was ridiculous and because the writers/producers decided to do this, most characters lacked proper development -- or any development. I mean, let's take a look at the list of characters in this movie (only the "fighters," not the side characters like Cole's family and whatnot):

Cole Young

Hanzo Hasashi/Scorpion

Bi-Han/Sub-Zero 1.0

Sonya Blade

Jax Briggs

Raiden

Shang Tsung

Kano

Liu Kang

Kung Lao

Nitara

Mileena

Reiko

Goro

Kabal

I mean, damn. That's a shitload of characters! It's actually unnecessary to have that many characters, especially if they weren't even going to reach the 2-hour runtime mark. Reiko and Nitara, for example, could have been removed from the story and it wouldn't have made any difference. Hell, even Mileena didn't need to be in the movie (nothing against her character -- I like Mileena but in the movie, she was extremely underdeveloped).

For Mortal Kombat fans, at least they can fill in the gaps because they know these characters. However, what about people who know nothing about the games? I can't see them finding much enjoyment in this film, and that's a problem.

The goal of mainstream blockbuster movies such as this one, one that is meant to launch multiple sequels, is to draw in as many people as possible. You would think they would want this movie to appeal to those who aren't familiar with the games. I mean, it could even make some of those people want to play the games. As it is, though, this movie is too heavily rooted in the fans putting the pieces together.

Why is it not 2+ hours?

Ok, I get it: it's very difficult to pitch 3-4 hour movies nowadays. "The Lord of the Rings" and "Hobbit" movies got away with it because they are based on highly detailed, well-loved books. You can't just treat such legendary writing like fantasy fodder. You go all out!

"Avengers: Endgame" was three hours long, and it worked because they had a) enough material for such a runtime, b) the sheer popularity of the franchise behind it, and c) it was an epic finale for a massive list of films. You couldn't make "Endgame" 2 hours or less and expect it to be good.

Now, "Mortal Kombat" cannot get the budget of a Marvel film (or any Disney property, let's be real) -- many films cannot compete with the amount of money Disney can pour into their movies and series. MK is also not a ground-breaking, incredibly written fantasy story with extensive world-building like "Lord of the Rings." Yes, MK has a lot of stories and a lot of characters but it isn't even in the same league of quality as Tolkein works.

(Don't hate. I am just stating my observations here.)

However, even if they couldn't make this MK movie 3+ hours long, they should have gone for 2.5 hours. 1 hour and 50 minutes just isn't enough time. Add in 40 extra minutes, and you have much more flexibility.

Honestly, you could make 3-4 hour MK movies since there is so much content and so many characters, but realistically, it probably won't happen. So, the writers and producers have to do their best with what they're given, and....they cut this film waaaay too short. Going forward, they need to expand the runtime of the sequels. They need to. Otherwise, we'll keep getting mediocre films and maybe fewer sequels than originally planned.

USE YOUR BEST "TRAIT" FFS

The smartest decision the creators made was casting Hiroyuki Sanada as Hanzo Hasashi/Scorpion. He's a great actor, for one, and he just FITS the role. I mean, I look at him in this movie and, yep, that's Hanzo. They couldn't have picked a better actor for such an iconic character but.........they barely used him.

When you look at it in two ways, it's quite disappointing and confusing: Scorpion is just as popular and necessary as Sub-Zero to the MK franchise. They're like.... Godzilla and Kong for Mortal Kombat. Sub-Zero got a lot of screen time in the movie but Scorpion was only in the movie twice: at the beginning and at the end.

I mean, WHY?! We had a bunch of time dedicated to a new character with Cole, someone who isn't actually necessary for the story. Yet, we put one of the most iconic characters from the games on the back burner?

NO!

They made a smart decision but then they did something dumb with it.

If they make sequels, then omfg, FUCKING USE HIROYUKI SANADA.

Multiple sequels already planned?

While watching this video, I found out that the actor who played Bi-Han/Sub-Zero, Joe Taslim, has signed on for 5 movies, which includes the one we just got. This makes sense because Bi-Han does become Noob Saibot after dying, but that's beside the point: this MK movie series planned to be at least 5 films long.

Granted, that's not nearly as many as in the MCU films that lead up to "Endgame," but it's certainly promising. This is a chance for the writers and producers to fix some of their mistakes and flesh out the characters more as well as add more coherent details to the story.

I'm guessing the goal is to have the movies leading to an invasion of Earthrealm, ala "Endgame." I don't know how they will go about it, but I hope that, in addition to the 5 movies, we get spin-offs that focus on specific characters. The MCU did it, which helped develop the huge list of characters that ultimately made it into "Endgame," and this made it easier for the writers to focus on the story as character development was already done. If the MK movies do something similar, then this could be a good series of films.

The biggest problem, though, is that they got started on the wrong foot. The 2021 film is definitely a clumsy attempt to introduce everyone to this movie adaptation of the games, and it could significantly hinder their progress going forward. I mean, you start off wrong, you have much more work ahead of you if you plan to fix your mistakes.

It's not impossible, though. It's still early -- like, the first movie. We have at least four more to go. If the writers and producers can get their shit together, then they may pull it off.

And let's be real: I think MK is LONG overdue for a good movie.

The trailer and opening scene

The trailer for the "Mortal Kombat" movie was pretty epic, as was the opening scene of the film. Actually, the first scene almost doesn't fit into the movie because it appears to be from something of...better quality in terms of writing and development.

Now, imagine the whole movie was as epic as the trailer but also wonderfully crafted like the first scene. This could have easily produced a much better MK movie. They probably should have focused primarily on Hanzo, to be honest, and have Bi-Han there as well as the antagonist, and have some other characters on the side but not too many. I think that would have made this movie fantastic and would have fixed the issues with character development and poor plot progression.

Final Thoughts

The 2021 MK movie is still decent entertainment and worth watching a few times. However, I truly do hope the writers learn from their mistakes moving forward and give the people something much better.

#mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #mortal kombat #mk #hanzo hasashi #bi-han #sub-zero

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rdwrer98 · 3 years ago

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Alright, time to buckle up because boy howdy is this a long post. But considering what has recently transpired, I feel like rambling on about my recent exploits in the world of Pokemon. And because of how big a deal this is to me, I shall even begin this from when I was a small child! So prepare yourselves for this enthralling saga...

It all began when I was very young. My older brother had a Nintendo 64 (it still works to this day and is a key component to this story) and one of the games on it is Pokemon Stadium. Now I first started playing this myself when I was what, 3? 4? It actually helped me read and unlike most books dedicated to helping children below the age of 5 learning how to read, it was animated with cool monsters beating the crap out of each other with lasers, tidal waves, blasts of fire, earthquakes and spoons. So when you recall how much stuff I have written on my A03, remember that a big reason for my literary prowess is due to this game.

But I digress. Now in most Pokemon games that were out at the same time as Stadium (the original Red, Green, Blue and Yellow) were for Gameboy. In the Gameboy ones, it was the classic 'pick a starter, roam the world, catch and train Pokemon, earn Gym badges'. Stadium doesn't have that, instead it was a way to bring your Pokemon to 3D in (for its time) AMAZING GRAPHICS and compete in multiplayer. But there was another cool game mode on it, the Stadium. Four tournaments that beckon you to compete. My brother won the Petit Cup rather early on, as far as I know it's been won. The Pika Cup was beaten by me older sister a few years ago. But the Poke Cup (highlighted)?

THAT was mine. Many a days I would compete in it, battling my way through its four stages over the years. At Poke and Great Ball levels, it wasn't too hard. At Ultra, I really struggled but pulled through. But to truly win this, you have to beat all four and thus my final challenge remains to this day; the Master Ball level. Long have I failed, clawing and fighting my way through the challengers and losing to AI BS. For the last 17 years or so, this has been my greatest goal in gaming; win the Poke Cup.

But here's the catch; I didn't have a Gameboy as a kid like literally every friend I ever had. I never got to experience the Pokemon Grind until I was 19 and a friend lent his DS to me with Platinum out of pity at being such a deprived child. Now the Gen 4 games are ones I hope to one day win, but it was a lesser conquest compared to the glory of claiming the Poke Cup.

Then for my 21st, I was given the tool of my ascension.

My dear friend @spottermiz came all the way down to the Cook Islands for my 21st (in Maori culture, this is one of the most important birthdays in your life) and gave me a Gameboy Color with Pokemon Yellow. For the first time in years, I had a chance at winning the Poke Cup. I booted up that old game and immediately started out.

Now I will admit, I was hammering out Yellow every chance I had for awhile. I cleared Gyms all the way up to Blaine when it all went south. Y'see, the Poke Cup has a strict rule on what Level your team must be to qualify; Level 50. Now the best XP is won in Yellow from Trainer Battles, but I had won pretty much all of them. And this was on a 1995 or so game so the VS Seeker that lets you rematch the AI didn't exist. Meaning I had to rely on wild Pokemon. Which give much lower XP

This was when I plataeu'd. I was just fighting wild Pokemon in the Seafoam Islands because that was the only place I could actually find worthy enough Pokemon. It honestly took a lot out of me and my dedication waned. Along with a slew of many personal issues in my life (alcoholism, depression, loss, etc) I barely touched the Gameboy for awhile.

Then on a whim, I took my Gameboy with me when I was hanging out with some friends. They were playing Dark Souls on their fancy pants PS4 and there I was with a Gameboy Color. And that was when I realized something; the drive came back when I played Yellow while around other people. We would take turns taking jabs at each other's gaming, there was laughing, there was life, I was suddenly invigorated in Yellow again. So for the past month, a fire was reignited in me and I began playing in earnest (I think the Pokemon Anime was onto something with the Power of Friendship crap XD)

And tonight, after 45 hours and 8 minutes of gameplay over 2 years, my team all reached Level 50. And all were eligible for registration to the Poke Cup.

17 years I have tried and failed time and time again to win. For so long I felt like Sisphyus, eternally in reach of victory yet it would always elude me

Now...

Now there's nothing stopping me. My team is registered, all their moves picked out and each one trained up to the best I can do. The stage is set and I will play through the entireity of the Poke Cup, starting all the way from the lowest level and fighting to the top. Might seem excessive, but this is my first time getting a handpicked and tailor-made team moulded from experienced gameplay into this. The lower levels are good for testing them out in this and will make my final conquest all the sweeter.

And I am taking y'all along for the ride. I'll be making posts detailing my Challenge of the Day on my @rdwrer98 blog, updating it as I go along. But upon finishing a daily challenge, it'll be reblogged to my other blogs.

A lifetime I have spent trying to reach this moment. And I want to share it with all of you.

#pokemon #rdwrer #gaming #video games #pokemon stadium

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mst3kproject · 4 years ago

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The Flame Barrier

I’ve got an awful lot of movies from 1958 on my resume, don’t I? Why is that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Apparently it was just a bumper year for cheap, crappy black-and-white films. This one stars Kathleen Crowley from The Rebel Set and Rodd Redwing from The Mole People, in a movie written by George Worthing Yates, who also penned Earth vs the Spider. Also featuring a blob from outer space, with motives even less clear than the one in The Space Children.

Over yet another stock-footage rocket launch, one of those deep-voiced 50’s narrators informs us that there’s a layer of Earth’s atmosphere called the Flame Barrier which destroys everything it touches. This particular rocket was no exception, and its crash-landing in the Mexican jungle may be related to the disappearance of explorer Howard Dalman, whose wife Carol has now come looking for him. She seeks out a pair of prospectors, Dave and Matt Hollister, to guide her to his last known location. As they go deeper into the bush, they find they’re wandering into something unknown… something that can make men burst into flames!

This movie isn’t terrible. It’s not great, but it’s not irredeemably awful. It reminds me a lot of The Giant Gila Monster, in that there’s a story going on and it’s not a bad story per se, but it’s one that’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the title and premise that drew us to the film in the first place. When the supposed main plot pops up again at the end, it makes for a sudden and jarring shift.

The Flame Barrier starts off all right. We have the inevitable narrator to give us the backstory, and then it gets right on with meeting the characters. They’re introduced one by one, telling us their personalities and goals: Carol is naïve and spoiled but she’s trying her best, Matt is a drunk fool but he’s got a good heart, and Dave is a gruff, cynical realist who loves his brother but is tired of his bullshit. None of them are exactly nice people but you can see where they’re coming from, and they each get an arc. Carol struggles with whether she really loved Howard, whom she barely knew, and the movie allows her to toughen up and learn how to survive in the wilderness. Dave spends much of the movie being a jerk to Carol but eventually realizes he judged her too harshly and apologizes. Matt gets a chance to be a hero and takes it, believing that he owes it to Dave for never giving up on him. The writing is frequently unsubtle but the actors are competent, and these little stories work just fine.

The movie that surrounds them, however, is often very sloppy. The narrator tells us that the space probe from the opening crashed because ‘it unexpectedly lost its gravitational force’. What? What is that supposed to even mean? The narrator also tells us it’s been six months since Howard disappeared, then mere minutes later Carol says it’s been four. There’s a bit where Carol is menaced by an iguana… the creature is never actually in the shot with her, so they couldn’t find anything scarier? The stock wildlife footage on their trek through the soundstage sets of Central America includes hyenas. I can hear Crow saying, “boy, are we in Afri… wait a minute…” And, pet peeve, they describe a snake as poisonous instead of venomous.

This being a jungle movie, obviously there are ‘natives’. I think most of these are actual Mexicans, although Wikipedia says Rodd Redwing may have been from India (if so, I like to think his entire career in Westerns was based on just walking into casting directors’ offices and announcing he was ‘an Indian’, and letting them draw their own conclusions). Being as this is a movie from the fifties, the natives are there largely to provide a body count – white people aren’t allowed to die until the climax. To its credit, The Flame Barrier mostly (though not entirely) avoids the trope where the natives have interpreted the mysterious happenings as supernatural, leading the white characters to scoff at the whole thing. There is some of this, but Dave clearly knows these people well and respects their culture and their warnings.

Then there’s the love story. Obviously this is a movie, so Carol’s gotta fall for one or other of these idiots, but neither of the Hollister brothers is a good choice. Matt is sweet to her but he’s also a useless drunk who only has a job because his brother puts up with him. Dave spends eighty percent of the movie being an asshole and I have no idea what Carol sees in him. At least the two men never fight over her. I guess the love affair is important to the plot, because it spurs the party on to finish their search for the missing Howard Dalman despite the odds being stacked against them… but that basically boils down to Carol and Dave needing to be sure she’s a widow before they can bone.

After all this messing around in the jungle, with the run time half over we get to the plot, and the movie changes gears with an almost audible ka-chunk. Now we’ve got this space blob sitting in a cave (how did it get in there when it’s still attached to the rocket?) doubling in size every two hours, which must be destroyed before it can consume the entire earth! Suddenly we have a laboratory, because all the scientific equipment Howard brought with him is still in perfect condition despite having been sitting in the jungle for either four or six months. Suddenly Dave the rugged survivalist is a scientist and mathematician. It’s like they took the same actors and sets and started trying to make a totally different movie.

Honestly, I think this is more or less what happened. I think the multiplying space blob was the movie somebody originally wanted to make – it starts out as a tiny thing in a test tube, growing bigger and bigger until it consumes the whole building and will destroy the entire city if it isn’t stopped! That sounds like a pretty fun 50’s sci-fi movie in itself. It also, however, sounds like an expensive 50’s sci-fi movie, needing miniatures destroyed and screaming extras and other stuff The Flame Barrier just didn’t have the money for. Hence the need to spend so much time wandering around in the jungle swapping tragic backstories before the characters are allowed to get to that point.

The unfortunate thing about this is that the movie doesn’t really have time to get into the nature of its alien. In Spacemaster X-7, the Blood Rust was offscreen much of the time but we still had a good idea of what it was and of its capabilities, and the explanations we were given made a reasonable amount of sense. In The Flame Barrier, we’ve got this blob that apparently lives in the rarified and super-hot outer atmosphere (the writers seem to have confused Earth’s atmosphere with the Sun’s corona), but can also survive on the ground… and its effects are all over the place. Sometimes when things get too close to it, they’re just electrocuted and disintegrated, as happens to the rocket’s original passenger, a very young chimpanzee. Sometimes people get horribly burned and then burst into flames and are reduced to skeletons hours or days later, as keeps happening to the natives. And then there’s Howard, who somehow managed to get close enough to be swallowed up by the thing and his corpse is still completely intact inside it.

None of this makes any sense. If the blob has that protective electrocution barrier that the humans must be so careful to avoid, how did Howard get close enough to be trapped in it? How did the chimp get out to end up wandering around in the jungle? What the heck is happening to the natives who get burned and then skeletonized and why doesn’t that ever happen to the chimp or any of the main characters? And how do they manage to kill by electrocution a creature that uses lethal amounts of electricity without any harm to itself? ‘It’s an alien – we don’t understand it’ can cover a multitude of sins in movie writing, but the blob’s random effects don’t even feel like they could potentially make sense.

The Flame Barrier reminds me of other MST3K movies, too. Prominent among them are It Conquered the World and The Crawling Hand, both of which ended on the same unintentionally depressing note: they suggest that the dangers of going into space are so great that humans will never be able to overcome them. It Conquered the World tells us that there are eight more Venusians just waiting for their own turn to invade. The Crawling Hand says that exposure to outer space causes mutations that will turn astronauts into mindless murderers. The Flame Barrier posits that not only is space itself deadly, but is also full of deadly creatures, and the only way to avoid them is to stay on the ground.

This has always interested me because movies like this stand alongside things like the tales of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!, in which humans have an exciting future among the stars. Stories set in space can be about either the exhilaration of discovery or the terror of the unknown, and this dichotomy seems to be as old as science fiction – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first work of proper sci-fi, and it encompasses both. Frankenstein tells us that if we let our fear over-rule our curiosity, we’ll miss out on something potentially wonderful. Movies like The Flame Barrier, and even modern space monster flicks like Alien, seem to say the opposite, that we shouldn’t meddle with the unknown at all.

This movie was kind of a compromise on my part. I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and I picked The Flame Barrier as a movie that was kinda stupid but wouldn’t be either a test of my endurance or particularly challenging to write about. I’m hoping to have something a little juicier for you next time.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the flame barrier #boy are we in africa!#50s #we're running out of plots

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sol1056 · 5 years ago

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wuxia/xianxia: a loose and somewhat second-hand introduction to the genre, pt1

Sorry for the unconventional q, but i keep seeing Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation everywhere and I kinda want to get into it but a) don't know where to start (web series? live action adaptation?? wait how many are there!) and b) i don't really "get" wuxia / xianxia, that sorta stuff, i find it really hard to cross that cultural barrier and chinese mentality seems very alien. (it's not that i have no experience w different mentalities but chinese in particular is v hard to grasp w/o sources).

So if you have the time and patience, I'd love to hear a summary of it (like, a coherent summary bc all i get on the wikis is a shower of names and concepts that don't make sense to me) and perhaps some "intro for dummies" abt the relevant parts of chinese history and mentality tied to it? not just the cultivation / buddhist part but also re: familial relationships, philosophy and all that. (v brief and low effort of course) Thank you and sorry for bothering you!

("brief and low effort" referring to what I'm asking from you, not to what I need for me - as in i asked for it so i'm more than ready for a complicated essay, but you can write with as much detail as you like, I don't want to ask for some sort of comprehensive tome)

Okay first, you do realize that if you want “brief and low” for anything, you’re asking the wrong person? I was a philosophy major. brief got drilled out of me a long time ago.

Second... well, explaining what makes The Untamed / Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (mdzs for short, from the chinese title, Mo Dao Zu Shi) such a standout story does require understanding some of the wuxia conventions it subverts -- as well as some that it plays straight (so to speak) very, very well.

I figure the best approach (again, sadly not brief) is to first get a handle on the genre of wuxia. Gonna break this post into two, so you’re not reading in a single three-hour stretch or something. I’ll do a follow-up about mdzs, to hopefully make it a bit more accessible for you.

before I do that, let me first say: I didn’t grow up with this genre, so there’s going to be parts that I may miscast unintentionally. for an insider’s view, my go-to voices are @guzhuangheaven, @atthewaterside, @dramatic-gwynne, @the50-person and @drunkensword. if any of them are reading this and can point to more/other/better voices, please do.

I have three analogies -- like cultural doorways -- and like all analogies, they break down when you get into the finer details. In the broad strokes, though, they mostly work, and if nothing else, hopefully they’ll demonstrate that wuxia may be a chinese-specific version, but part of a storytelling tradition that’s nearly universal.

The three doorways are: the american wild west, the samurai era, and the british arthurian romances. And, in a tangential way, the regency period in the romance genre.

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The term ‘wuxia’ can be translated several ways, but I prefer ‘martial chivalry’. Most wuxia takes place in the jianghu, a harder term to unpack. Generally, though, ‘the jianghu’ has connotations not all that different from what americans mean when they reference the wild west.

More of a concept than a physical place, the jianghu (like the ‘wild’ west) exists beyond the reach of the law and/or civilization. It’s occupied by a diverse cast of farmers, merchants, beggars, and so on, but also by outlaws, gangs, hermits, pretty much all those who don’t like the suffocating nature of the civilized world, for whatever reason. It’s not a lawless place (except to outsiders); it does have laws, but those are only unto itself.

So, jianghu is a world to itself, for the most part -- which also makes it kind of timeless. Tang dynasty, Song dynasty, Ming dynasty, it could be any of them and all of them and none of them. Just as the heyday of the cowboys and the cattle drives was barely a decade long, a culture’s romanticized history stretches into lifetimes that exist separate from any date you could pin down on a calendar.

The average wuxia protagonist would fit in reasonably well as knight errants in an arthurian romance, with one important detail in difference: they’re rarely aristocrats. Wuxia protagonists are just as likely (if not more so) to be lower-born, whether the child of farmers, or servants, some common caste.

This is where wuxia diverges from the british and japanese traditions, which have a bit more noblesse oblige going on (knights and samurai both being upper-class types). Even ‘aristocratic’ characters tend to be so only within the jianghu -- sort of like the way a territory’s elected leader in the wild west would’ve had no pull in Washington, given they weren’t from a fully-recognized state.

Wuxia does often have politics, between competing sects (think schools of learning), but that political infighting is independent of the capital’s rules or wishes. A lot of stories -- in the rare cases the topic even comes up -- tends to speak of ‘the capital’ in disparaging terms.

That’s not to say wuxia is all about the flat social systems (it’s definitely not), but most commonly a rank implies some level of competence/study. The title of sect leader isn’t granted, it's earned. Children inherit, but it’s also a common storyline to have an heir with no skills (who then goes through all the trials and tribulations to finally level up and earn that position in turn).

What makes wuxia hard to grasp is its vernacular: the conventions that form the backbone that make something recognizably ‘wuxia’ and not just ‘historical drama set on a frontier in a loosely-defined time period’.

Frex: in a Wild West story, convention is two gunfighters at opposite ends of the street, and at least one of them is wearing a holster tied to his leg with string in a way that no real gunfighter wore, ever, but Hollywood came up with the idea and now it’s a permanent part of our imagination. In the arthurian romances, convention is carrying the token of one’s lady love (a distant, untouchable figure who rarely appears on-page), or meeting the unnamed knight in black on the jousting field. Convention are the samurai who’ll die for their lord’s honor, always touchy and prickly at the first sign of disrespect.

These are things granted the most remarkable gravity, that to an outsider might seem ridiculous. (Why is there always tumbleweed?)

Now, wuxia is the latest evolution in a long-lived literary tradition (and by ‘long’ I mean like 2000+ years) -- but like any living tradition, each subsequent generation reinvents it for their time. Part of that reinvention comes from particularly influential writers, who put their own spin on things, and their interpretation becomes the next generation’s standard for the genre -- “of course wuxia must have X” or “a protagonist never does Y”. (Like how Tolkien almost single-handedly changed western concepts of elves, in fiction.)

And here’s where I explain what regency romance has to do with it. Another short-lived period, in real history, but along came Georgette Heyer, who took bits and pieces of actual research, blended them with her reactionary politics, exaggerating some things and ignoring other things completely. The result is a time-that-never-was, but she cast (and still casts) a shadow so vast that I’ve seen multiple romance writers complain that readers will see a footnoted-and-researched version as wrong, if it contradicts one of Heyer’s made-up conventions.

Modern wuxia has its own Heyer-sized influencers -- like Jin Yong (the Condor trilogy, Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils), Wen Rui'an (The Four), Gu Long (The Legend of Flying Daggers, The Proud Twins), to name a few of the biggest. If you have a chance or are inclined, the big names get remade on a pretty regular basis, and catching one will at least let you see some ur-tropes in action.

But it also means that you can’t really extrapolate, in the sense of saying, “in wuxia, people do X, ergo, X is also a factor in Chinese culture.” It’s like... take any western made in the 50s, and the vernacular is simple. The bad guys wear black hats, the good guys wear white hats, the prostitutes wear bright-colored dresses with frills and the good women wear subdued colors buttoned up to their neck. It told an audience exactly what character filled what role, but that’d tell you zero about real people you might meet in Nebraska or Utah, let alone New York City.

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Almost forgot: xianxia is basically wuxia but with ‘immortal heroes’ -- so there’s gods, divine influences, non-human beings as characters (main or NPC), etc. (Btw, by ‘immortal’ I mean exactly that, like this character is six hundred years old, that one’s a thousand years old, etc.) You can think of xianxia as wuxia, but amped way up on the mystical scale.

Xianxia will sometimes take place on earth (jianghu) but sometimes in the celestial realm (heaven). Or a mix of both, like stories where a character falls (or is banished, or defects) from heaven and has to go through various trials and tribulations as a mortal human in order to regain a power, rise in rank, fall in love, or whatever their goal is.

A number of wuxia stories are driven by some sort of mcguffin, but in xianxia, the mcguffin is more likely to be a powerful spiritual weapon. But I can also think of a number of wuxia in which the mcguffin would fit right in, in xianxia (some near-mystical thing with significant positive, or negative, power independent of the wielder, which often amplifies or boosts the wielder to an inhuman degree, etc).

Thing is, the mcguffin being divine/infernal supernatural isn’t enough alone to make the story xianxia. I’m pretty sure you need non-human or super-human immortals and/or creatures to be considered in the xianxia genre.

part two

#wuxia #come for the brief essay stay for the dissertation #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mdzs

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softlass27 · 4 years ago

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Flufftober Day 20 – Enigmatic continuing my trend of "canon if robert was still here" fics some context for those who aren't up to speed on the show: bernice recently offered to sell the salon to leyla or mandy – whoever could come up with the money first. mandy won (thanks to paul's dodgy gambling winnings) so now she owns it – despite the fact that she knows sod all about how to run a business. and she's already made the place even more hideously tacky than it already was.

AO3 link here

Aaron sighed as he closed the front door behind him, rolling his aching shoulders with a wince. Having just spent six hours on a scrap run, he was officially knackered. All he wanted to do was order a pizza, have a cold beer and curl up with Robert on the sofa for the rest of the night.

As he kicked his shoes off and walked further into the house, he saw Robert sitting with his laptop at the kitchen table, surrounded by a mass of paperwork.

“Hiya,” he sighed, dropping a kiss on the side of Robert’s head on his way to the fridge.

“Hello,” Robert said around the pen that was held between his teeth, grinning brightly.

Aaron took the cap off his beer bottle and took a long gulp, before pulling up a chair opposite Robert.

“Busy?”

Robert hummed, stretching his arms over his head. “Can I run something by you?”

There was an enigmatic look in his eyes, like there was something he’d been dying to tell Aaron all day.

“Go on, then.”

“I spoke to Bernice this morning.”

Aaron blinked, nonplussed. Of all the things he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. Far as he knew, Robert and Bernice had barely had contact since she'd buggered off to the other side of the world.

“Bernice? She coming back to the village or summat?”

“No, the opposite actually. She’s definitely staying put in Australia.”

“Okay… what does this have to do with you?”

“She’s decided to sell the salon,” Robert said, fiddling with his pen. “And she wanted to give me first dibs on it.”

Aaron frowned. “As in… she wants you to be the new owner.”

“Yep.”

“You?”

“Well don’t sound so – ”

“You’re her first choice.”

“Technically, Nicola was. Bernice wanted her to take it over, since they’re family n'all. But since Nicola’s just bought the cafe, she can’t be taking on another new business right now, so she turned her down. I’m second choice, apparently.”

“Why?”

“If it doesn’t go to family – which I am, sort of – she wants it to still be someone in the village. So if not me, then the next option would have to be Leyla or Mandy. Which… ” He shuddered. “Could you imagine the amount of leopard print Mandy would assault the place with? Talk about an eyesore.”

Aaron stared at him, still trying to comprehend what he was hearing.

“Do you know anything about salons?”

“A bit… ” Robert looked slightly hesitant all of a sudden. “Chrissie owned about half a dozen of them while we were together.”

There was an uncomfortable, but brief, jolt to Aaron’s system at the mention of Robert’s ex-wife. It would probably always be there, but hearing her name didn’t actually bother him, not anymore. He smiled encouragingly, gesturing for Robert to continue. Robert smiled back, resting his elbows on the table.

“Okay, so I used to help her out with them sometimes. Go over the books, help her with pitches, come up with marketing ideas, that sort of thing. So it’s not totally new to me. And it’s not like I’d actually be the one cutting anyone’s hair or doing nails or anything.”

Aaron snorted. “Well I should hope not, not after what you did to my hair on lockdown.”

“How many times, I’ve said I’m sorry! It grew back, didn’t it?”

“I had to wear a hat for two months.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Anyway, it’s a business like any other, right? As long as I can manage the finances, beat the competition and get decent staff, it should be a piece of cake.”

Aaron nodded slowly.

“You think it’s mad?”

“No, “ Aaron said quickly. “Just… I can’t believe you'd want to work with Mandy of all people, for starters.”

Robert gave him an odd look. “I wouldn’t be working with Mandy. She’d have to go. In fact, she’ll be the first thing to go.”

“Good luck telling that to my lot.”

Robert waved an unconcerned hand in the air and powered on. “Honestly, staffing issues would be the least of my concern, there’s loads of stuff that would need changing.”

“So you wouldn’t just keep the place running as it is, then?”

“No, Bernice sent me some stuff to look at and I’ve spent all day going through it. Long story short; it's completely outdated, the whole thing needs a total overhaul,” Robert said, shuffling through some of the paperwork. “It’d be a totally different place by the time I was done with it.”

He pushed a handful of printouts in Aaron’s direction, showing images of trendy-looking salons with sleek, shiny hairdressing stations and cream-carpeted beauty rooms.

“Something classy and modern, more gender neutral. Less tacky pink,” he said with a grimace. “Properly trained, competent employees, not ones who show up looking like they got ready in the dark. That means no Kerry and definitely no Mandy. Vic’s always complaining about how she has to go all the way into town to get a decent haircut or have her nails done. Do you know anyone in the village under the age of 50 who actually goes to Bernice’s place?”

Aaron cast his mind back to the time they’d both watched Marlon sprinting out of the salon with half-dyed hair, screaming at Kerry to stay away from him, and shook his head with a chuckle.

“Don’t think they ever get any men in there, either.”

“Exactly!” Robert grinned, pointing at one of the printouts showing examples of leather barber chairs he'd researched. “So that’s already about half the residents who don’t even consider setting foot in the place. Which is ridiculous, when you compare that to businesses like the HOP or the cafe.

“And if we were aiming for a younger, more diverse crowd, it would need social media, too. Bernice didn’t even use Instagram, for God’s sake. And then there’s Take a Vow; Leyla’s business is really taking off now and there’s loads of deals we could do with her – hen dos, wedding packages, that sort of thing. I bet if we did everything properly, we could double the client numbers – and the profit – within a year.”

Robert’s eyes gleamed with that passionate energy he always got when talking about new business opportunities. It was a look that Aaron hadn’t seen for a while, and he couldn’t help smiling at him with slight bemusement.

“You really want to do this, don’t you?”

Robert paused, before shrugging.

“I can pretty much run the haulage with my eyes closed. The only thing I really like about it is that I get to spend most of the day with you,” he winked, causing Aaron to roll his eyes fondly.

“My heart’s not really in it anymore, especially since Jimmy and Nicola have pretty much ditched everything for the cafe and left me to run it single-handedly,” he scowled, before fixing Aaron with an earnest expression. “I wouldn’t mind a change, a new challenge… and I reckon I could make a good go of it. But I’ll only do it if you’re onboard; Bernice has given me a couple of days to think it over, we have time to decide. So… what do you think?”

“I think… you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Robert’s face lit up, overtaken by a wide smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded, laughing at his husband’s excitement. “If it’s what you want, then of course you should go for it.”

Robert leapt from his seat and yanked Aaron up with him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Best husband ever,” he murmured happily, grinning against Aaron’s lips.

“Don’t you forget it.”

#bit random i know #but honestly putting robert into canon scenarios is the best way to get through the show atm #also i am SICK TO DEATH of the dingles owning so many businesses in the village #it gives them too much power #and MANDY of all people too #she's the last person who should be in charge of anything #robron #my writing #flufftober2020

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cosmoscourge-a · 3 years ago

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Wula Feiyun’s Olympic Journey

with reference to this post

feiyun began her life immersed in sport. like most draconids, she first rode a dragon before she was even able to walk--and like many draconid children enraptured by their peoples’ riding arts, she wanted nothing more than to perform. she grew up watching famous olympians on her family’s barely-functioning TV; the screen often blurred and they often lost connection, but she found what she saw there no less inspiring. she trained hard in her own way, becoming the most athletic little girl in her tiny rural village. but in order to get to where she wanted to be--on the olympic podium--she needed to do something bigger.

both she and her family thought the only solution was to send her to shenhua’s (china’s) olympic training camps. they could not have afforded any other solution; the training camp was the only place that offered to train her for free. neither could they have known the horrible things that went on in the training camps, which they felt much regret for sending her to but which she does not blame them for. once she got there, though, she was thrown into a crucible of force and furor. achievement at all costs was the training camp mantra; she and her pokémon trained until her legs gave out beneath her, and even then she was told to get up and do more. she came out as the greatest olympian china--or later unima--had ever seen. but she did not come out without bruises and scars.

she made history during her olympic debut at the tender age of 11 in the 2016 games, becoming the youngest olympic medalist of all time when she took home the gold in team aerial fancy. (in real life she surely would not have been allowed to compete, but in the pokémon world, where 10-year-olds singlehandedly take down criminal organizations, i don’t think it would be out of the ordinary to put them on the olympic stage.) she made history again in the 2020 games, when she entered individual & team fancy as well as individual & team double body--and won gold in each of those events. she was a shining star who had overcome obstacles of education, mental health and political instability to get to where she was today. she could do things with her body that athletes with twice her experience could only dream of--and she hadn’t even hit her twenties. but her career was not without its struggles.

there were times that she actively hated what she was doing. there were times that she pushed herself to injury because she was still stuck in the training camp mentality that success came before all else. at least twice, she had meltdowns on social media saying that she was going to quit before deleting the posts, apologizing and saying she was staying. just two months before her 2020 games, she dropped out due to mental health reasons just a few days before another international coordinating event known as the champion’s festival when she and her partner weiss were the favorites to win--forcing weiss to withdraw and sparking a furor among entitled fuckheads that feiyun’s partner vehemently defended her against. it didn’t help that she was both a league member in the world’s hardest league and an active olympian. her combined gym training and coordinator training routine went to upwards of 50 hours a week, she often worked and trained 13- to 15-hour days, and she was lucky if she got any breaks outside mealtimes. so it was after her historic 2020 olympics win that she made the announcement to the world: this was her last olympics and she would no longer compete in coordinating on the same level which she had before.

though she had some doubts about whether to give this up, peoples’ shocked and angry responses convinced her she was making the right choice. there were those who were ‘surprised pikachu face’ at the fact that the girl who had multiple meltdowns about quitting was, in fact, choosing to leave her profession. but then there were also those who judged her for “quitting,” “letting her country down” or being “too mentally unstable for the position of gym leader.” it speaks to how much she grew that she was able to hear all this criticism and move forward with certainty in spite of it. she said in a follow-up interview that she made the decision knowing she didn’t have anything more to prove, that she was hard pressed to choose between gym leading and olympic-level coordinating, and that she chose to drop coordinating because she wanted to make a difference for others in a way that only gym leaders could. she also said that she wanted to switch her life focus to a deeper exploration of her pagan faith and also her draconid and chinese cultures, the latter of which the olympics wasn’t exactly great for with its stricter requirements rather than allowing more free-form performances. she was not going to leave coordinating behind, but she was going to do it on her own terms, not the terms of the crowd.

nowadays feiyun is much happier. she has more time to socialize and explore new hobbies, and she continues to improve her service as a gym leader. if there’s one thing she wants people to take away from her story, it’s to let people know that they shouldn’t be afraid to advocate for themselves, even when everybody is telling you the opposite.

#headcanon. || WULA FEIYUN

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arcticdementor · 4 years ago

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The news business just can’t stop clowning itself. The latest indignity is an international fact-checking debacle originating, of all places, at a “festival of fact-checking.”

The Poynter Institute is perhaps the most respected think tank in our business, an organization seeking to “fortify journalism’s role in a free society,” among other things through its sponsorship of the fact-checking outlet PolitiFact. A few weeks back, it held a virtual convention called the “United Facts of America: A Festival of Fact-Checking.”

The three-day event featured special guests Christiane Amanpour, Dr. Anthony Fauci, Brian Stelter, and Senator Mark Warner — a lineup of fact “stars” whose ironic energy recalled the USO’s telethon-execution of Terrance and Phillip before the invasion of Canada in South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. Tickets were $50, but if you wanted a “private virtual happy hour” with Stelter, you needed to pay $100 for the “VIP Experience.”

…

However, the public is regularly misinformed about what fact-checkers do. In most settings — especially at daily newspapers — fact-checking, if used at all, is the equivalent of the bare-minimum collision insurance your average penny-pinching car renter buys. There’s usually just enough time to flag a few potential dangers for litigation and/or major, obvious mistakes about things like dates, spellings of names, wording of quotes, whether a certain event a reporter describes even happened, etc.

For anything more involved than that, which is most things, fact-checkers have to scramble to make tough judgment calls. The best ones tend to vote for killing anything that might blow up in the face of the organization later on. Good checkers are there to help perpetuate the illusion of competence. They’re professional ass-coverers, whose job is to keep it from being obvious that Wolf Blitzer or Matt Taibbi or whoever else you’re following on the critical story of the day only just learned the term hanging chad or spike protein or herd immunity. In my experience they’re usually pretty great at it, but their jobs are less about determining fact than about preventing the vast seas of ignorance underlying most professional news operations from seeping into public view.

Unfortunately, over the course of the last five years in particular, as the commercial media has experienced a precipitous drop in the public trust levels, many organizations have chosen to trumpet fact-checking programs as a way of advertising a dedication to “truth.” Fact-checking has furthermore become part of the “moral clarity” argument, which claims a phony objectivity standard once forced news companies to always include gestures to a perpetually wrong other side, making “truth” a casualty to false “fairness.”

…

But objectivity was never about giving equal time and weight to “both sides.” It’s just an admission that the news business is a high-speed operation whose top decision-makers are working from a knowledge level of near-zero about most things, at best just making an honest effort at hitting the moving target of truth.

Like fact-checking itself, the “on the one hand and on the other hand” format is just a defense mechanism. These people say X, these people say Y, and because the jabbering mannequins we have reading off our teleprompters actually know jack, we’ll let the passage of time sort out the difficult bits.

The public used to appreciate the humility of that approach, but what they get from us more often now are sanctimonious speeches about how reporters are intrepid seekers of truth who sit next to God and gobble amphetamines so they can stay awake all night defending democracy from “misinformation.” But once you get past names, dates, and whether the sky that day was blue or cloudy, the worst kind of misinformation in journalism is to be too sure about anything. That’s especially when dealing with complex technical issues, and even more especially when official sources seem invested in eliminating discussion of alternative scenarios of those issues.

From the start, the press mostly mishandled Covid-19 reporting. Part of this was because nearly all of the critical issues — mask use, lockdowns, viability of vaccine programs, and so on — were marketed by news companies as culture-war narratives. A related problem had to do with news companies using the misguided notion that the news is an exact science to promote the worse misconception that science is an exact science. This led to absurd spectacles like news agencies trying to cover up or denounce as falsehood the natural reality that officials had evolving views on things like the efficacy of ventilators or mask use.

When CNN did a fact-check on the question, “Did Fauci change his mind on the effectiveness of masks?” they seemed worried about the glee Trump followers would feel if they simply wrote yes, so the answer instead became, “Yes, but Trump is also an asshole” (because he implied the need to wear masks is still up for debate). By labeling whatever the current scientific consensus happened to be an immutable “fact,” media outlets made the normal evolution of scientific debates look dishonest, and pointlessly heightened mistrust of both scientists and media.

#matt taibbi #substack #journalism in action #fact checking

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teruthecreator · 5 years ago

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if you're comfortable, could you say what specifically you hated about the finale? i never got into amnesty but i liked balance so i would like to know how disappointed i should be ://

okay i’m gonna explain this in-detail exactly Once bc i’m trying rlly hard to just forget about the whole epilogue and keep it moving like that shit never happened, so for anyone else who is asking me why i don’t like the finale (and im not saying you’re wrong for asking, anon, it just seems that when you vocally do not like a thing there are hundreds of people who come out of the woodworks to ask you why and i think thats kinda Huh, Weird of everyone but like whatever) i’m gonna lay it all out here on the table and you can take this as you will.

i’m not gonna be getting into fistfights with people abt this so if you disagree please don’t try and banter with me. i am running on

also, CRITICISM OF ART DOES NOT MEAN CRITICISM OF THE ARTIST. I AM NOT CRITICIZING THE MCELROYS AS HUMAN BEINGS, BUT RATHER THEIR ARTISTIC DECISIONS IN TAZ: AMNESTY. MORE PEOPLE NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT THERE IS A SEPARATION BETWEEN ART AND ARTIST, AND ONCE YOU (AS AN ARTIST) POST A PIECE, IT BECOMES SUBJECT TO CRITICISM. I AM NOT BRINGING GRIFFIN, JUSTIN, TRAVIS, OR CLINT’S CHARACTERS INTO QUESTION; I AM SIMPLY GIVING A CRITICISM ON THE SHOW THEY’VE CREATED AS A WORK OF ART.

oh, this goes without saying, but i will anyway: SPOILERS FOR AMNESTY (IN GENERAL, BUT ALSO FOR EPISODE 36)

i’m gonna start off by saying, i don’t think the whole episode was a total disaster. there are two things mainly that have ruined the whole experience for me, but for the most part i thought the like first 2 hours of this episode were a lot of fun! the fight scene was a little bogged down in the rolls imo, but it didn’t deter me too much from the overarching boss battle. the intro was a sick concept, i enjoyed the callback bits spliced in w newly scripted bits from mentioned past encounters, that was all well and good. i loved beacon in the episode, and god do i wish he stayed for the whole thing.

my problem mainly sits with the epilogue, which is why i think the whole episode turns sour in my mind. because the epilogue is supposed to be what satiates your desire to know more, right? not to reference balance too much (bc these are two completely different stories w different premises, and for people to so readily compare them is kinda wack. that being said, they are two stories made by the same people that use an epilogue to wrap up the loose ends, so im gonna make this one comparison), but the epilogue told us, the listener, all the things we wanted to know about after the day of story of song. we got to know what they did, a little bit of their interpersonal relationships, and we even got a big group scene with the killarey wedding!

this epilogue, though, feels like it left so much still on the table. one of those things i will swing back to later because it is the largest part of my argument, but after all of this time we still don’t know why everyone at the lodge got exiled! no one talks about it! we don’t know how dani ended up there, or jake, or barclay, or moira, or anyone! they don’t reference the banishments at all, which i think is a huge shortcoming figuring that is the core premise as to why these characters exist in our pc’s world in the first place.

i also feel like the concept of the worlds being divided for a long time is kind of a dumb way to go about framing what they do After The Fact. like, they could have had those scenes happen without the looming concept of them being divided, especially when their big reunion scene is like 2 minutes long and basically does nothing. what would have been a cooler premise is if billy connected the worlds, and the worlds worked together in rebuilding themselves. we still could’ve had the same bits happen (for the most part), but i just think that whole separation bit kinda alienated the pc’s (especially thacker).

but everything up to aubrey’s epilogue bit is fine. i have some problems, but it’s fine. where i started to completely abandon the work itself though is duck’s bit, and i’m gonna get into it by saying this: I know Justin Mcelroy is not legally required to make all of his characters gay, but this whole scene was just a big reminder to me that this show is done by 4 straight white men

and yeah, my big problem with this scene is the fact that justin had to make Duck/Minerva a thing. because it adds nothing to the story while also being a very skeevy concept in-general, and it reduces minerva’s character down to the Hero’s Girlfriend trope and it’s so comphet and she doesn’t deserve it.

my first grievance with this: It adds nothing to the story.

had justin not even mentioned the relationship part of their interaction before the scene actually took place, this scene would be like every other scene involving duck and minerva prior to this. duck says honey once, and even that could’ve been played off as duck just being affectionate to his friends (which is a thing, i call several of my friends “my love” irl and it isn’t a big deal). minerva doesn’t even use pet names, she calls duck by his full name, which is exactly how she addressed him in every other scene! duck’s speech is a genuine heart-puller, but it was completely soured by the fact that justin had to premise this entire scene by saying duck and minerva are a thing.

my second grievance: it’s a skeevy-as-all-hell concept.

this whole premise is nasty seven ways from sunday, and it is my biggest problem with duck’s bit as a whole. for starters, and i think more people need to mention this, minerva meets duck on the night of his 18th birthday. which means duck has literally just stopped being legally considered a minor before minerva appears before him. and honestly, i would still consider duck a minor in this case because he has literally just turned 18!!! his brain has not developed past one of a 17-year-old on the exact date of his birthday, and i argue it will not until he is at least in his twenties. keep in mind, your brain does not stop developing until you are about 25. so while in the legal sense, duck is an adult, in both the mental and emotional sense at that exact moment, duck is still a minor. AND he’s still in high school, as referenced in his response to her call to duty: “i got class tomorrow”. and minerva is old enough to have become the minister of defense for her homeworld, go through an entire war, and have several other chosen ones (including leo tarkesian, who is at least 20 years older than duck) before meeting duck. so that makes her much, much older than duck when she meets him. and i don’t care if they had barely any interaction after that first moment (though they did, as justin legit talks about when he introduces minerva as a concept to the show), that still establishes their initial interaction at a massive age difference. which, regardless of anything, makes their eventual relationship so genuinely messed up.

sure, you can argue that when you get older age doesn’t make that much of a difference, and i would agree. my mother is 53 and her husband is 63, that’s ten years. but my mother and step mother did not meet at 8 and 18, they met at 50 and 60. the initial interaction makes all the difference between “older people meeting and having a relationship” and “a very messed up situation”.

also, in this same argument, taking the mentor-student relationship and turning it into a romantic relationship IS SO MESSED UP!!!! GENUINELY AND HONESTLY MESSED UP!!! i feel like i don’t need to explain this because there have been so many examples already as to why this is a relationship you Should Not turn romantic, but i will anyway because it frustrates me so much that justin completely glosses over this!!! the power dynamic of a mentor-student relationship, in whatever way it is portrayed, displays a power balance that is heavily leaning to one side. there is not an equal distribution of power amongst the two because one person is teaching the other. the one person is weak to the others wills and whims because of lack of experience. think of your high school teacher or college professor; if you started a relationship with them, people would raise so many questions because you are not at equals to the teacher/professor. even if they treat you different, and even if they no longer teach you, it all has to do with the initial interaction. and minerva was still duck’s mentor up until either episode 34 or 35, when she handed off the title of Herald of the Astral Mind to duck. that means for nearly all of their interactions, there was a mentor-student dynamic. to have that turn into a romantic relationship is so sketchy and weird and leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

my third grievance: it reduces minerva’s character down to a girlfriend trope, and it’s comphet as hell

my friend tin (@taako–waititi) phrased this so well in the big group chat im in w her, so imma just quote her on this and then go into the comphet stuff:

“i was dming max about it and they also mentioned, quote, ‘her story was never about romance. it reduced her down to ‘competent woman becomes endgame girlfriend’ trope’ and they are so right it makes me fucking pissed. regardless of any ‘mutual respect’ and ‘emotional intimacy’ kind of thing going on that some people are arguing for, it’s something that didn’t need to happen because minerva’s character becomes that. my thing is mutual respect and emotional intimacy between two people can. exist. without it being. romantic. like. friendship is. also valid. i personally don’t think that mutual respect and emotional intimacy are two buttons that you press to make the machine churn out a romance”

not only does it reduce minerva’s character to tropes, but it also is extremely comphet for a woman who is so heavily wlw-coded or lesbian-coded and it just angers me. you could argue that she could be bi, but if we look at canon for just its face-value, the only romantic interaction she ever has is with a man, which basically makes her straight. this isn’t like aubrey’s situation, where travis clearly states she is a bi woman who is just in a relationship with another woman in amnesty. griffin doesn’t state anything about minerva’s sexuality and then she’s paired off with a man right at the end. and you could argue that she isn’t wlw or lesbian-coded, but i am not the only one who is wlw and thinks this, so i feel like i have more of a ground to stand on in this opinion. and this just feels so, like, textbook compulsory heteronormativity it made me feel physically sick when i heard this bit in the podcast.

so that’s my first big issue with the finale, fully explained. my second issue with the epilogue is that ned’s death continues to be disappointing and his character arc is never completed, which just tanks the whole show for me.

i’ve talked about this several times since ep 28 about how ned’s death was stupid and did nothing for his character arc, but i’m gonna reiterate my main points for the people who find this post without knowing my whole blog:

1. ned’s main interpersonal conflicts are just brought to the surface and never fully delved into before his sudden death. ned doesn’t ever get to explain his history with boyd and why he had to steal shade tree to mama or barclay or really anyone besides vaguely to aubrey.

2. every character is just immediately expected to feel sad about ned’s death, despite the tension that still remains right up until the very end. aubrey shouldn’t have even known that the shapeshifter framed ned because that’s all explained once she goes to sylvain, but i think travis just assumed she did because he heard the interaction between ned, mama, and barclay. so she should’ve had Way more conflicting feelings about the whole thing, but ned’s death is just angst-bait so that doesn’t happen.

3. ned’s death doesn’t make roll sense because clint rolled a mixed success and mixed successes, by definition, are supposed to be less severe moves than a failed roll (which gives the gm the ability to make a hard move). there isn’t really anything harder to do to a character than kill them, but even if you wanted to argue that if clint failed the roll the hard move would’ve been ned failing and letting dani get shot, it still doesn’t change the fact that clint rolled a mixed success when slamming into the pizza hut sign at full velocity and came out of that alive (severely injured, naturally, but still alive).

so, yeah, there’s that. and then theres the fact that griffin doesn’t ever give us any other scenes involving ned directly. ned only becomes a reference from 28 on, which is so disappointing given ned’s importance to the other two pcs. and i understand that the mcelroys have a lot of trauma related to death, but griffin shouldn’t have killed ned off then if he did not want to talk about death in graphic detail. we all have trauma. we all want to avoid topics. but to kill ned off and then never talk about his death in great relation to the others is a genuine disservice to ned’s character.

the day episode 28 aired was the same day i buried my grandmother. i would have loved if death wasn’t brought up, but i don’t control the podcast. the mcelroys do; they had the ability to avoid this topic in a more servicing way to the characters and they didn’t. that isn’t to say they are bad people for not doing it, but it makes the finale even more disappointing because it means we never get the full rounding out of ned’s character arc. he becomes this like brief reference that is, once again, angst-bait or emotional fuel and i feel like he didn’t deserve that. he deserved a genuine reference, a genuine moment. even a dream sequence i would have appreciated!!!

griffin had sylvain directly point at ned in aubrey’s flashback in ep 35, and then did nothing about what that could have implicated in the finale. it sours the entire episode in a major way and disappointed me immensely. there should have been more done with that topic and there wasn’t and i will never forget how deeply it hurt me and turned me away from canon as a whole. not to be ned kin on main, but ned was the backbone of this show and the exact moment he left was the exact moment the whole thing went downhill. it turned less into a story about growth and adversary and amnesty and more into a waiting game for when this very loose end was going to get wrapped up.

i wanted to enjoy this episode. i tried so hard, y’all. but just the thought of ned loomed over me the entire time and i was waiting for a more proper completion to his arc, and it never happened. and coupled with that very bad and skeevy duck/minerva bit i was just so frustrated and hurt last night.

so, yeah, that’s my whole spiel. you are free to disagree with me, but keep that opinion to yourself because i’m not getting into it with anyone. i will just block you; it’s better for us both, anyway.

#taz spoilers #taz amnesty spoilers #ignorance cloud on #im not putting this into the main tag bc i dont want people to bitch at me abt that #so if this shows up in theres its bc tumblr has a terrible algorithm

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forestdragoncat · 4 years ago

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Finished Iconoclasts recently, and really enjoyed it!

But i disliked the Midway section, where Robin must leave Royal behind to escape from base, and it is said that it would be impossible for both of them to do so, except... from story-point (but not gameplay, apparently), it should be? I mean, seriously? A broken door-sensor?! I have read a lot of suggestions from fanbase how this could have been resolved (myself i thought about the seeds - i mean, it DID work when Robin first met Mina, so there is a 50/50 chance?), so this doesn't look very convincing to me (and to be completely honest, Royal is my fave, so his demise was pretty heartbreaking to me)

However!

I understand the importance of this scene to Robin (and player), "you can't save everyone" and all that. So, i thought about this alternative scenario:

What if Robin could have saved Royal? Let's say our brilliant mechanic could fix this stupid sensor, but it would be time consuming in some way (like, she would need to bring some heavy boxes from the other side of the base to press sensor to wall with. Or something like that), and in result Robin and Royal would only barely make it to the Saviorb.

(And Robin would probably need Featherweight tweak, so theoretically this whole scenario could work on New Game +? Fine by me, you couldn't get a True Pacifist ending in Undertale from your first run either, for example).

Royal is still under the effects of mind ray, but hey, he is alive, right? It all worked, we are the champions!

Except when Robin (with still unresponsive magic man shimmerfingers, which slowes her running) makes it to her home (Saviorb landed farther from it, because Robin had little time to enter needed coordinates)... Elro is gone.

He saw the moon explosion, then the Starworm landing, but his sunflower is nowhere to be seen! Did she perished as well?!

Considering Elro's mental (and physical) state, his strangely low faith in Robin (i mean, it takes her literally beating Him for Elro to accept sunflower's competence!), and the fact that he failed to sabotage his sister's suicidal mission, and now he can't even spend the world's last hours with his last remaining family member... this is the last straw for him. And the first chance Teegan's, Gustavo's and Mina's backs are turned (first two could have left already by that time, after providing medical assistance. Though this is a tricky part, yes), he does the ultimate act of desperation.

And it all could have been prevented, if Robin arrived just a few minutes earlier (as it goes in canon).

Meeting Mina goes differently too, she woud probably hear some impact noice and meet Robin and Royal halfway to the house and possibly saves them from some trouble. And then group arrives home and angst ensues.

After some grieving Robin would leave Royal at home and go kick Starworm's tail, as in canon.

Some bonus points for this scenario:

- Player would (most likely) see both resolutions, because you cannot have Featherweight before Midway in the first run (so yes, in the first run your enemies are stupid tall boxes instead of stupid door sensor), and have some choice in the matter;

- It can be left ambiguous if Royal would eventually shake off mind ray's effects (as it is ambiguous if Elro will ever overcome his PTSD in canon, i think), but there would be hope;

- In both scenarious you couldn't save everyone, so the plot point still stands?

What do you all think? Is it too OOC? Or would you like to have something like this in the game?

P.S. I do not hate Elro, i am merely frustrated with him. And i would rather have a full happy ending where everyone lives, but if ending still needs to be bittersweet...

#iconoclasts #iconoclasts spoilers #iconoclasts royal #iconoclasts elro #iconoclasts robin #maybe this scenario is stupid #but i can make it my personal AU

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blahblahblaw18 · 4 years ago

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It’s raining, it’s pouring and I know I am boring.

Floccinaucinihilipilification.

Antidisestablishmentarianism.

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia.

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

Out of these, I think floccinaucinihilipilification is the only one that can be used colloquially. Like slipping it in the middle of conversations to flabbergast people. I’ve done that before. It is fun... you should try it too.

Oh, I just saw an interview of Shashi Tharoor.

It’s eleven past four in the evening and it’s raining cats and dogs outside right now. When I was in school we used to hate it when it rained cause it would mean that the ground would get all wet and slushy and if we were out of luck and had our PT period that same day... then God! There would be all sorts of dramatic scenes in the classroom that day.

There would the ones who would be secretly glad that it rained, then there would be the rest of the class going absolutely berserk with dismay and acting like we’ve all gone completely doolally. Some of us would dance, others sing and yet others chant mantras and even scribble ‘OM’ on the desks, praying and imploring the rain god to leave us and out PT periods alone. And these deranged acts of insanity weren’t to be dismissed as childish idiosyncrasies cause they continued right up till we graduated out of school. There were times when we were lucky enough to have the rains stop right before the PT period which would usually be the last hour but again not so lucky cause the PT teacher would prevent us from going to the ground citing the slush as an excuse and believe me the way we would react to that annunciation! We would beg, beseech, implore, entreat and do all we could so that the teacher would at least out of frustration let us off but god would he budge even a bit!

Those days were still better than the ones when one of the subject teachers would take up our PT classes on a perfectly sunny day to complete the portions... and the how we all would curse that unfortunate teacher... My oh, myy!! S/he would probably forsake teaching once and for all if s/he’d ever heard us. In fact, our batch does have the infamous distinction of having made a teacher resign and leave the school unable to bear with us, but that’s a story for another day.

My mother is not comfortable with me blogging or tweeting... I don’t know why but I am not going to stop this just because someone has a problem with specifically me taking up the activity. She says it’s because she wants me to focus on my exam now... and maybe that is her real reason but I am sure she would not approve of it even if I were to take it up once I am 50 and well settled in life. I won't stop blogging.

I have given in to my parents’ whims and fancies wayy too many times and at the cost of my likings. I don't want to commit the same mistake.

I was a kid of barely 4 or 5 when I wanted to use one of those lipsticks that my mother was applying on her lips. I guess I didn’t really want to use it... maybe just play with it and smell its effervescence. She said she did not want to see me touching them... and I don’t know why but that stuck, she didn’t threaten me or anything... maybe I just wanted to do whatever she wanted me to and be praised for it; again this resistance did not apply to everything she forbade me from doing only a few peculiar things. I still don’t ever wear any kind of makeup. Nothing against makeup or people who use it but I just can’t bring myself to do it. And over the years I have similarly restricted myself from getting involved in so many things that my parents don’t think is appropriate for me... be it a relationship or wearing a certain type of ‘indecorous’ apparel. I have completely shunned any such desires.

But I don’t want to resort to that anymore... it’s not like I didn’t feel like giving this up for her satisfaction, but this time I genuinely don’t want to. Writing is something that I do, not just because it seems so therapeutic and ameliorative, but because it actually helps me polish my language skills. You see when I was in school my English teacher used to give us loads and loads of tasks that involved using the right hemisphere of our brain and we used to love it; in fact, we would urge and plead her to give more of such writing assessment activities... We would compete with each other to flatter the teachers with our abilities and all of us sure loved showing off our skills and creativity. But once school ended there really was no impetus for me to get my gears all working again so I see blogging as an opportunity to clear some cobwebs in my brain.

I just noticed I have used some really good words in this blog... well thanks Tharoor uncle.

Anyway that’s it for today. Bye!

03.09.20 : I

#nextblog #rains #schooldays #ptperiods #indiralakshmi #what'sonmymind #blogblog #funandgames

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wftc141 · 5 years ago

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Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit-Chapter 9: Kingfish

1300 Hours

02/13/18

Goiânia, Brazil

While the analysts continued to go through intel on Sendak's location, the Voltron Lions spent the rest of the night at a local pub for some quality time together. Lance, Hunk and Keith competed against each other in pool while Pidge watched with her glass of Coke. Hunk however stopped the entire game with a story of his life when Lance asked him.

"So you're saying you set off a fire bomb during senior high?" Lance repeated.

"Yep," Hunk answered. "My stupid ass thought it was a good idea to light a firecracker with spray paint in the bathroom. I was a firework enthusiast back then. I ended up with a three day suspension but somebody from the Army was impressed about it and recommended me to the military. So I took that offer after graduation. Got into the EOD for a couple of years before I joined the Rangers."

"That's one way to get noticed."

"So, how many bombs did you defuse while you were in the army?" Keith asked.

Hunk paused for a moment while his eyes remained fixated. Lance lifted his beer to his mouth and took a swig.

"Well...I would say 50 and during my time with the Rangers...250."

Lance suddenly spewed his drink out, spilling it onto the pool table. Other bar goers glanced at them in confusion while Keith and Pidge were equally surprised.

"250 bombs?!" Lance blurted out.

"Holy shit, dude." Keith muttered.

Hunk chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah. While we were on tour, there was this Taliban, don't remember his name. Had a record of planting and detonating IEDs on Afghan troops, including a Blackwater patrol. He planted one next to where me and my unit were while we were on overwatch. I managed to find that bomb and disarm it. And that was not all. When me and my team evacuated from the building we were in, the guy was stupid enough to check on his IED. Once he got there...let's just say he now knows what it feels like to get blown up by his own bomb."

The team already surprised and astonished than they usually were. Lance in particular was confounded and invested for more.

"Yo, that was pure badassery," Lance said, pointing at Hunk with his beer. "You gotta tell us more while we get some more drinks."

Lance and Hunk moved away from the pool table and headed for the bar, leaving Keith and Pidge by themselves. Keith watched as Lance slapped Hunk's back, laughing his head off.

"Wish we had him in our Battalion." Pidge commented, grabbing Keith's attention.

"Yeah but you forgot our C.O was an asshole and would probably be less welcome about Hunk." Keith replied.

"If he saw what Hunk did, he'll probably piss himself and would rather hand his leadership to him."

Keith nodded, silently agreeing before looking away.

"So, how's things with Lance?" Pidge's asked.

"Hm?" Keith glanced at her who was smirking in a teasing manner, in which Keith wasn't fond of.

"You two seem to be getting along really well."

He sighed and looked away once again. "Yeah...he's alright."

"Oh my goodness. It is true! Keith Yeun has admitted that he likes Lance!"

Keith was unable to control his smile before letting a chuckle slip out of his mouth. "Stop."

They went at it for a moment before calming down. Keith then glanced at Pidge's who took a sip of her drink. There was something he wanted to ask. Tensions with NATO is potentially going to escalate if nothing's done to persuade them in withdrawing their decision to shut them down. But Keith felt like there were ulterior motives inside, besides their experiences.

"What's your opinion on NATO?" He asked.

Pidge lowered her glass, sighing. Her eyes gazed forward without a glimpse on Keith.

"We've made some mistakes but that doesn't mean Voltron should be to blame for," She answered, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Either NATO's scared or they just don't trust us."

"Makes sense. Hopefully it won't come to this and they'll allow us to go after the real enemies before more casualties arise."

"Amen to that."

Suddenly, Keith felt his pocket buzz. It was another text message to report back. He got his phone out and read the message before looking at Pidge's who also received one too. They both finished their drinks and headed for the door, alongside Hunk and Lance who had just paid for their drinks. One part of Keith's mind thought that the meeting would be bad news but they'll have to see for themselves.

1320 Hours

The team arrived at the hideout where Shiro and Allura were both waiting for them with Colbert accompanying them. They took the seats allocated for them, facing the board full of intel and pinned photographs. Once they were seated, Allura began her briefing.

"We finally have confirmation on Sendak's whereabouts," Allura said. "The satellite pictures we were provided has found him at the favelas in Rio de Janeiro with his Galra forces where a local militia is assisting them."

"What is this, Modern Warfare? Are they taking it straight off the game or somethin'?" Lance asked.

"Dunno," Colbert shrugged. "That part of the slums is a haven for shady business and organizations as there's no chance you'll find a good place for cover. The locals who live there may join the fight too and eventually vanish off the surface. This militia isn't a bunch of thugs. They're trained killers. They were responsible for multiple murder counts and all that bad shit for the past ten years. It's been giving the military a headache in dealing with them, especially with the casualties they suffered."

"The BOPE were more than happy to lend support and they will be taking point to lead us to the militia's district. We'll need to be quiet on this because the militia does use locals as spotters."

"What about the situation with NATO?" Keith asked.

Everybody turned to Allura and Shiro who were silent. There was still nothing they could find or hear from as of yet.

"We're still working on that," Shiro said. "For now, our mission is bringing Sendak in."

The team began to file out of the room, leaving Shiro and Allura together.

"Hopefully Coran and his analysts know what they're doing." Shiro commented.

"I'm sure they're getting to the bottom of this," She replied. "We just need to bring in Sendak and then we'll focus on the rest."

"You're right."

Allura glanced at Shiro who looked as though he was concerned about something.

"Will you be alright?" Allura asked.

"I will," Shiro answered. "We just have to reach him before he does anything else."

1333 Hours

Coran hung up on the phone and let out a sigh. The damp, lukewarm air floated across the room with the ceiling lights barely bright. The others were already getting themselves ready for another operation that isn't NATO-approved yet a worthy risk. Coran can hear the keyboard tapping near him where Gold was.

"Sir," Gold suddenly called out. "I'm in the servers."

Turning around, he approached Gold who was fixated on the bright screen.

"You're in?" Coran asked.

"Yep, only got a short period of time before they find out who's snooping around."

"That's all the time we need."

Gold began to tap away. Coran watched the screen as he scrolled and changed tab by tab. His experience with the Intelligence Corps and Interpol did pay off after all. Gold was one of those focused and dedicated people Coran knew back in the day. Although he maintained an easy-going attitude outside of work, Gold was quite the magic when Coran first met him. Shortly, Gold stopped typing.

"Found it, sir." He said.

Coran leaned over for a closer view. The screen showed several files inside a folder involving Voltron. There was a lot of files which could contain something useful. Coran ordered him to get the files copied and Gold was already on it. He continued to tap on the keyboard, getting all the files in their drive.

"What is Codename Osiris?" Gold asked.

Coran leaned forward and looked at where the cursor was on. There was a file document titled 'Codename: Osiris'.

"That was the name of our mission in Prague…" Coran muttered before shaking his head. "I don't think it matters. Just get everything copied and we'll sort them out later."

Gold nodded while seemingly disappointed about the response. As he got on with his job, Coran couldn't help but wonder about the operation in Prague. Was there something off behind the reason for the operation?

0700 Hours

02/14/18

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

The Voltron team were immediately greeted with the bright, golden sunrise from the distance as soon as they got off. Dressed in full combat gear to match with their fellow BOPE soldiers, they followed the nine-man team taking point through the cramped streets. The BOPE seemed to know more about the favela more than Voltron does, taking them through areas that aren't usually open to attacks. But the team as always, was accompanied by their recon drone hovering above them with thermal lens.

The streets were eerily quieter than usual, as described by their team leader Cardozo. The shops and houses were barred shut and the windows were pitch black. Shiro glanced around the empty pathway they were on while still keeping his guard up. He couldn't help but feel as if they were being lured into a trap. No favela would be this quiet, even for a place that is infested with armed killers. But the locals at this time would still be fast asleep. Shiro briefly glanced at Keith who was beside him sharing that unsettling feeling.

As the team moved forward into the darker area, Shiro looked up to the rooftops where the buildings cut the sun off. He could feel his heart pacing but he had to keep calm, no matter what.

"You think they would be nice to offer some breakfast? Cos' I'm a little starving." Lance whispered, tugging his shirt collar.

"Santos, focus." Shiro replied.

The team continued to walk down the path in the midst of dead silence. They felt like prey walking into the den of the predators. Something was already off. But they couldn't tell what it was. Once they reached another street, everybody's comm buzzed.

"Lions and Apex 5, you got contacts above you from both sides!" Allura warned.

By the time they heard the news, gunfire erupted from above like a supercell. Everybody was dashing for cover, even though there was not much to hide from. The team lost two BOPE soldiers to the militia. Shiro dived behind an old truck with Cardozo as bullets hailed against it while the others are scattered around the street.

"Seriously? No breakfast?" Lance joked through the gunfire.

"Not now, Lance!" Keith replied.

Shiro risked a peek through the windows to count about a handful of militants with Soviet weapons on each roof before firing back. He managed to shoot one of them trying to load an RPG, causing it to discharge and blow up the entire roof he was on alongside the militants near him. Debris began to scatter around the street and the team began to fight back. Shiro quickly changed mags as Cardozo approached him.

"My men will stay here and hold these Filhos da putas off! You go find the target!"

"Got it," Shiro nodded. "Lions, fall out on me! Apex 1 will stay and hold these guys off!"

The team began to cross the intersection and headed down the alley as the gunfire behind them continued to rumble throughout the favela. They advanced down the narrow hill while reloading their weapons.

"Zero to Black Lion, Kingfish is at the red building near the soccer field southeast."

Shiro said into his comm. "Copy, Zero. Out."

As they reached the alleyway, a loud crack from a distance erupted and Keith fell backwards. Sniper fire. Shiro and the group quickly took cover as another shot went for them, hitting a car windshield nearby.

"Keith!" Pidge's called out.

He was still clinging to his chest where he was hit, gritting his teeth to the pain. Keith was not to move so the sniper wouldn't focus on him. He could still feel the 7.62 round to his plate carrier. All he could do was cough out short, detached breaths. Shiro noticed Keith reach for his comm.

"Sn-sniper...400 yards front...sc-scope flash from the center window of the blue house."

Shiro glanced at Lance who was immediately on it. He positioned his HK416 with the sniper scope on the car he was hiding behind and scoped out for the sniper. He calculated his shot for 3 seconds before pulling the trigger. The flash from the window disappeared and he noticed the rifle fall off the window.

"He's down!" Lance called out.

The team got out of cover and quickly set up a perimeter around Keith. Shiro and Hunk kept watch while Lance and Pidge checked on Keith.

"Keith you good?" Lance asked, lending him a hand.

He didn't hesitate to grab it, although his chest still hurts. "Yep, thanks for that."

Shiro approached Keith and checked his plate carrier for the bullet wound.

"How bad is it?" He asked.

"Its okay," Keith assured, tapping the bullet area. "Only hit the plate. Nothing fatal."

Shiro nodded, relieved of his safety. Without wasting anymore time, the team continued their way to Sendak's location.

Allura tapped into Shiro's group after watching the feed of them taking cover from gunfire.

"Zero to Black Lion, status report, over."

"Black Lion to Zero, Red Lion was hit by a sniper round but the shot wasn't fatal. Heading towards the location, over." Shiro replied on comms.

"Copy Black Lion. Out."

Allura then changed channels to the BOPE team. They were still covering fire for the Voltron team.

"Zero to Apex team. Status."

"This is Apex 5-1, we're still holding position and covering for Lion team!" Cardozo said over the firefight. "We're still going to hold as much as we can, over!"

"Copy, Apex. If you're taking any casualties pull out immediately, over."

"Copy. Apex 5-1 out!"

Once the feed was cut off, Allura stepped back and sighed deeply before glancing at Colbert who was still controlling the drone.

"I hope your team completes this mission, Major." The BOPE captain said.

"I hope so too, Captain." Allura replied.

There was silence in the room other than distorted gunfire. Then, Shiro's comm buzzed.

"Zero, this is Black Lion. We have finally reached the building."

Shiro breached the door into the house. After a quick sweep with a group of militants down, Shiro advanced up the stairs with the rest following him. They stacked up behind a closed door and after a countdown, Lance stepped forward and kicked the door down and the team stormed in with weapons raised. As predicted, Sendak was inside but surprisingly, he was sitting at a table with a tea set unfazed by their intrusion.

"DON'T MOVE!" Lance yelled.

"Now, now, boys. No need for the hostility." Sendak said and stood up with both of his hands raised. "I surrender."

Shiro approached Sendak up close. He was already feeling that urge to act up and do something horrible to his face after all those years Sendak put him in. Those scenes were vivid. Shiro could immediately picture his fallen comrades' bodies and Sven… he deserved something worse. But he knew better than to let his anger take control, especially after what happened back in Al-Khor.

"Nice to see you again, Commander Shirogane." Sendak said, giving him that smirk. It was enough to drive someone mad.

"Keep your mouth shut and maybe you'll see the sunrise again." Shiro hissed.

He pulled him away from the table and cuffed his hands. Once he was fully secure, Shiro tapped into his comm.

"Black Lion to Zero," he said. "We have Kingfish. I repeat, we have Kingfish, over."

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfic #voltron fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #fanfictions #my fanfic #my fanfictions #my fanfics #my fanfiction #voltron: global military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism unit #modern covert counter-terrorist au #modern covert counter-terrorism au #covert counter-terrorist au #covert counter-terrorism au

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avengerofyourheart · 6 years ago

Text

Flour Girl {8} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky (Jimmy), Wanda.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: *incoherent screaming* I’m really looking forward to your thoughts on this part!! :D Any and all feedback is appreciated!! I love you guys.

<<Part 7 Part 8 Part 9>>

Flour Girl Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

_________________________________________________________

“No,” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. “No, no, no, no!”

Having reached the bottom step of the staircase leading to the cellar, you stared at the empty spot on the shelf with despair. Your legs seemed to collapse on their own as you took a seat directly on the step.

You were out of flour.

Dropping your head in your hands, you thought it over and remembered the broken bag of flour that you had neglected to replace when Sam offered the previous week. You would receive several 50 pound bags the day after tomorrow, but that did you no good in your moment of desperation. Business had been going well, thankfully, but that also meant you had been making larger batches of items that required more flour. With that, on top of your savory pastry experiments, you must have used up most of your last bag without realizing.

You were 2 pounds short on the recipe you were currently making and there was still so much left to bake until the flour arrived. If you had to wait, it would be disastrous. Allowing yourself to wallow at the decisions of your past self, you leaned your head against the wall a few minutes before climbing back up the stairs and formulating a plan.

_______

The morning had started off so well and it had the makings of a spectacular day. After agreeing to meet B in person, much to your jittery nerves, you set up plans for coffee the following afternoon. He left all planning up to you, so you thought it over before replying.

It had to be somewhere public and during the day, for safety reasons. You wanted to trust this man you had begun to fall for, but that Stranger Danger sense of self-preservation still lingered. Your dad would be proud. Finally you settled on somewhere familiar and comfortable that was also close enough to the bakery, should Wanda desperately need you. You pecked out a reply and nervously hit send.

FG: How about 4pm tomorrow? There’s a great cafe called the Hawk’s Nest. Do you know it?

B: I know it very well, actually. Wouldn’t it be crazy if we had passed each other there without even realizing? 4pm sounds perfect!

Reading his reply, butterflies gathered in your stomach. You hadn’t thought about that. What if you had seen B in person before without knowing that it was him? Part of you thought you might instinctively know him, but with no idea what he looked like, it was highly improbable. You had been to the Nest hundreds of times since moving into the neighborhood. If he was a frequent visitor…could he possibly live nearby?

Your mind was jumping to conclusions again, so you blinked a few times to clear your thoughts and focused on the screen in front of you.

FG: I’ll be there. :)

Three dots appeared as you awaited his response.

B: Wait! How will we know each other?

Thinking for a moment, you came up with a solution and smiled. This air of mystery was still kind of fun and you surprisingly didn’t want to know what he looked like beforehand. Well, you did, but maybe it would be best to reveal your identities to each other at the same time. An idea popped into your head with a smile so you typed out your thoughts and hit send.

FG: I’ll be wearing my Beatles t-shirt. ;)

A laughing emoji popped up almost immediately.

B: Deal! And I’ll be representing the Stones. I’ll see you tomorrow, Franny. :)

You laughed at the nickname, feeling anxious that in roughly 24 hours he would know your true name. And what you looked like. Nervous energy flowed through you once again, so you locked your phone and took a deep breath. A wide smile stretched across your face and suddenly, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. Practically skipping toward the front of the bakery, you grasped Wanda’s hands in your own, causing her to drop the towel she was using to wipe down the counter but you didn’t care.

“I have a date!” you shouted with glee. “Well, I think it’s a date. Maybe. I don’t know, but he’s the sweetest and funniest and I’m so excited!” you finally paused to take a breath. Wanda looked at you in shock at first and then shared your excitement with a toothy smile.

“That’s amazing, Y/N! You have a date! With who?” Wanda asked enthusiastically.

You paused a moment at her inquiry. “Well…it’s kind of a funny story…”

______________

After your long chat with Wanda in between customers and baking more items for the pastry case, she was almost as excited for your “date” as you were. A few years ago, it would have been crazy to meet a stranger in person that you barely met, but with the internet and dating apps, it was now the new normal. Well, technically, you knew less about him than you would on a dating app, but you were cautious in your plans and felt like it was about time you two met.

That entire evening, you couldn’t stop smiling and practically danced through the cleaning and dishes while helping Wanda close the shop. Not even a call from a tenant at 10pm about a noise complaint could dampen your spirits. Luckily, the noise-makers were willing to turn down their music without any more drama. You didn’t know why the complainers couldn’t solve it themselves, but whatever. People were strange.

The next morning, you hopped out of bed at the first ring of your alarm with a smile on your face. You didn’t want to think that this guy was the sole reason for your smile, but after working almost constantly since your bakery opened, for once you had something to look forward to outside your job. It was a nice change and that spark of joy carried throughout your morning of baking and even as you made your deliveries.

Jimmy was at the counter at the Nest when you arrived and, of course, he had the closest parking spot, but even that couldn’t dull your shine.

“What’s got you grinning so early in the morning, Y/N?” he asked with a skeptical gaze.

Smirking in his direction, you just kept on smiling. “That’s none of your business, Barnes. Can’t I just have a great morning that’s worth smiling about?”

Jimmy scoffed. “I rarely find anything amusing before 9am, personally,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“How sad for you,” you mocked, then accepting your signed paperwork from the cafe’s owner. “Thanks, Clint. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya, Y/N,” Clint replied as you offered one more amused smile to the brunet before exiting.

Arriving back at the bakery, you dove directly into baking with enthusiasm. You were trying to get as much done as possible early in the morning so you might actually have some time to freshen up before your coffee date later. It was during your second recipe that you discovered your flour dilemma.

Upon returning from the cellar, you took a deep breath and ran through a few options in your head. You could buy small bags of flour from the grocery store, but it would be ridiculously expensive and also the chance that it would be organic were slim to nil. Not to mention the change in gluten content, which would mean you’d have to alter each of your recipes. That would be low on your list of options. Next, you went to your office and got a list of bakeries in the area that might have your brand of flour.

Six calls later, you were unsuccessful. One was gluten-free, and therefore had no wheat flour, a few were sympathetic to your cause, but were on the same delivery schedule as you and couldn’t offer their flour for fear of running out themselves. Two of the bakeries flat-out laughed at you for even suggesting they help out the competition. They better hope they never need your help in the future, you thought as you scribbled out the last bakery on your notepad with a pen.

You sat at a table out front as you had made your phone calls, since service was spotty back in your office. Wanda helped out a few customers and as they walked out the door, she came to sit across from you.

“I think you really only have one option, Y/N. I know you’re not gonna like it, but…” she pursed her lips in sympathy. You had told her your problem and apparently came to the same conclusion you had.

Groaning out loud, you finally picked up your phone and found the number you hoped you would never need to call. You hit the green button and the line began to ring.

“Barnes Bakery, how may I help you?” a female voice answered.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you held, feeling like part of you expected Jimmy to answer. Other than deliveries, you didn’t really know his responsibilities, so it’s possible he answers the phone. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

“Yes, this is Y/N calling from City Sweets Bakery? Could I speak to the owner, please?”

____________

The drive out to Brooklyn wasn’t bad, actually. It wasn’t often that you made your way across the Brooklyn Bridge and it was actually nice to get out of the 5 or 6 blocks of neighborhood that you only seemed to frequent.

Pulling up to the building on the address the girl shared, you parked at the nearest corner where the retail shop was found. There was an awning that displayed the Barnes Bakery name and also a vertical neon sign attached to the side of the building that presumably lit up at night.

Stepping in the front door, a bell jangled overhead and the heavenly smell of bread overcame you. The counter was in an “L” shape along the left wall with racks full of all types of breads and rolls and bagels straight ahead, each bagged by the dozen or half dozen and ready to be purchased. What truly caught your eye was the large picture window set into the right wall that allowed spectators to watch the enormous production factory in action.

Your eyes widened as you took in the giant dough mixers and large metal tables where people in aprons and hairnets shaped huge blobs of yeast dough at an incredible speed. No matter what your feelings were toward the Barnes’, business-wise, you couldn’t help to be impressed by the efficiency and size of their bakery.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” a familiar voice called out from behind you, causing your shoulders to tense.

Turning around, you spotted a smirking Jimmy behind the counter wearing an apron. No hairnet for you to mock, unfortunately, but he was wearing a backwards baseball cap, which was amusing. Taking a deep breath, you had to remind yourself that they were doing you a favor, so you tried to paint on a pleasant smile as you approached the counter.

“Hello, Jimmy. I spoke to your father earlier about borrowing a bag of flour?” you asked, placing your hands on the glass display case.

“Yeah, he said something about that. Our delivery guy just got here so I’ll go check with him. I’ll be right back. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased with a wink as he walked through a door into the cavernous factory. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes behind his back.

When you spoke to the owner, George Barnes, he was more than willing to help you out, much to your surprise. You half expected him to be just as cocky and prickly as his son, Jimmy. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Lucky for you, his bakery was on a different delivery schedule, and in fact they were expecting more flour that very day. Their facility was large enough that they could store a surplus of flour and it was likely they never ran out, which made you envious. They also happened to carry the same organic wheat flour you used and Mr. Barnes was perfectly pleasant about the whole thing. It almost made you wonder how he could be related to Jimmy, who seemed to make it his mission in life to be a thorn in your side.

You heard voices getting louder as two men rounded the corner and to your surprise, you knew them both.

“…borrow a bag, so if you’ll just take that out to her car, that’d be great, man,” Jimmy finished as the second man wheeled a bag of flour on a hand cart with two wheels, often used for moving boxes and other large items.

“Sam?” you called out in shock.

“Y/N, hey!” your regular delivery driver said with a smile. “I guess this is for you, then? For that broken bag last week, shit, I’m sorry about that.”

You waved his apology away, know it wasn’t his fault. “It’s okay, I worked it out, thanks to the Barnes’,” you smiled with your eyes flickering to Jimmy’s.

“Well, I’m glad for that. Which is your car?”

“It’s right out front, here, I’ll pop the trunk,” you said as you hit a button on your keychain.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” Sam said, giving a two-finger salute.

Turning back toward Jimmy, there was a beat of silence before you spoke up. “So…do I need to sign something, or….”

“Oh, right! Yeah,” Bucky suddenly remembered as he slid the paper over to you.

Scrawling quickly on the paper, you gathered your keys and prepared to leave.

“Full signature, please,” Jimmy requested with a smirk as he looked down at your scribbled signature. “What does that even say? Doesn’t look like your initials…” he trailed off with a furrowed brow, squinting at the paper.

Accepting the paper and pen again, you answered while you signed. “It’s not. It actually says “FG”, but it’s a habit signing that way,” you sighed, sliding it across the counter one last time.

“What did you say?” Jimmy asked in a quiet voice, which brought your gaze up to his. He seemed to be confused at that, so you went on to explain the initials quickly.

You huffed out a mildly annoyed sigh. “It’s a nickname. My dad calls me Flour Girl cause when I was younger, he would come home from work to see me covered head to toe in flour from baking. It’s silly, but I like having the connection to him while I’m far from home. Happy?” you uttered in a short tone.

Jimmy continued to stare down at the paper as if his gaze might burn a hole through it. “Um…can you…stay? For a moment? I just need to…check on something,” he stammered, seeming to have lost his usual boastful nature for the moment.

Glancing at your watch, you bit your lip in impatience, but nodded anyway. “Okay, fine.”

Jimmy disappeared around the corner then, so you leaned your elbows on the counter and watched the team of employees making bread through the window. It wasn’t that weird to have a nickname like that, right? You loved having that reminder of your dad and had even gotten used to signing the initials at work, too, like labeling containers in the fridge along with the date and what was inside. Labeling was extra important to avoid spoilage and it was also required for when the Sanitation Inspector came around. Any infractions reflected poorly on your business.

You also made the initials your text signature because on the rare occasion that your dad texted, he loved to see that reminder pop up. That you were still his little Flour Girl, no matter what.

Lost in your thoughts, your phone chirped and you fished it out to see a text on your screen. Unlocking the device, a message from B brought a huge smile to your face.

B: Franny!! I’m withholding all my coffee consumption today until I can share it with you. :)

Chuckling at the message, you typed out a reply and hit send.

FG: Well, that’s a high price to pay, but I appreciate it. I’ll see you soon. :)

As soon as the message sent, you pocketed your phone and saw Jimmy return out of the corner of your eye. He seemed to be…not like himself. He still carried the signed paper and had one hand in his pocket as he reached you.

Quirking an eyebrow, you finally addressed his behavior. “What’s wrong with you? No witty remarks today?”

Jimmy blinked at that and shook his head quickly. “Um…nope. Guess I left my wit in my other pants,” he muttered, gaze still on the paper.

You let out a snort, to your surprise and he finally looked up. “Yeah, well…am I good to go? Plenty more work to be done,” you said in anticipation.

“Yeah, sorry. All good,” he nodded with a faltering smile.

“Okay. Tell your dad thanks again,” you told him, shouldering your bag. “I’ll see you around, Barnes.”

Sam had reached the outside of the door as you approached, so he opened it for you. “You’re all set, Y/N. Guess I’ll see you in a few days?”

“Thanks, Sam. Yup, I’ll see you later,” you replied with a wave as you reached your car.

The drive back into the city took a little longer than you hoped, but you felt that nervous excitement fill you again while entering the bakery. Opening the new bag of flour, you channeled your giddy nervousness into productive energy as you watched the clock until your date.

_________________

Part 9>>

__________________________________________________________

Hoooooly crap, you guys!!! Go ahead, scream at me. I’ve been expecting it. ;) I know, we’re not quite to the meeting but SO MUCH STUFF IS HAPPENING!!!! Did you pick up on the clues?? We got to see Sam for a few minutes! And a visit to Brooklyn, what was that about?? heh. Some of you suspected that missing bag of flour would come back to bite her and here we are....oops. Sweet Wanda is so excited for her! And just keep in mind, we’re only halfway through this series. ;) I adore you all!! Any and all feedback is appreciated!! Thank you. <3

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