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thatscarletflycatcher · 3 months ago

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"He told the truth, mainly": what Paul Moses knew about Huckleberry Finn.

(Abridged from Wayne C. Booth's The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction)

Mark Twain had himself done a lot of ethical criticism long before he published his famous warning against morality hunters at the head of Huckleberry Finn ([1884] 1982). I am thinking not mainly of essays like the devastating “James Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offenses” but rather of the criticism implicit in his fictions�� In short, Mark Twain knew well enough what it means to “find a moral” in a tale, and he knew that every tale is loaded with “morals,” even if it avoids explicit moralizing.

What he was right to fear is the destruction that can result for any story, and particularly for any comic story, when a reader busily extracts moralities rather than enjoying the tale… When he mocked courtly romances in A Connecticut Yankee (1889) and adventure tales in Tom Sawyer and parts of Huckleberry Finn, he must have known that his perceptive readers would never again enjoy those originals quite so much. And as the kind of moralist who increasingly was to lay about him with a heavy cudgel, with fewer and fewer freely comic effects, he had good reason to know that people who put their attention on finding the moral in any human story risk destroying the fun of it. Critics like me who do find a moral are going to be distracted from the sheer joy of dwelling for many hours in the mind and heart of a great natural comic poet, that “bad boy,” Huckleberry Finn.

Even so, I suspect that Twain would have been surprised, and no doubt dismayed, at the floods of moral criticism evoked by the tale. Initially the moralists’ attention seems to have been entirely on the dangers to young people of encountering the aggressive “immorality” of Huck himself—his smoking, his lying, his stealing, not to mention his irreverent “attitude.”... Twain could easily have predicted— and no doubt savored the prediction—that the portrait of an appealing youngster openly repudiating most “sivilized” norms would upset good people…

The uselessness of “conscience” is dramatized with example after example of how Huck’s conscience, actually the destructive morality implanted by a slave society, combats his native impulse to do what he really ought to do—what Twain called his “good heart.” The most famous attack on the norms dictated by obedience to public morality—and especially by official Christianity '’—comes when Huck realizes that he is committing a terrible sin in helping Jim escape slavery. Almost two-thirds of the way through the novel, long after Huck has discovered his love for Jim and has been willing to “humble myself to a nigger” and apologize for a cruel trick (709; ch. 15), Huck sits down to think by himself, after hearing some adults talking about how easy it is to pick up reward money for turning in a runaway slave. Though the pages that follow are probably more widely known than any other passage in American literature, I must trace them in some detail, because they have always provided the evidence used by us liberals in opposing Paul Moses’s kind of indictment.

[I omit that part of the discussion, as it is widely known in how the text is taught in schools]

The Indictment

If Twain could have predicted such conventional distress, he could not have predicted Paul Moses’s response, the response, as we might say, of “good old Jim’s” great-great-grandchildren reading the novel from a new perspective—not Jim’s, not Huck’s, not the white liberals’ of the 1880s or 1980s, but theirs: the perspective of a black reader in our time thinking about what that powerful novel has for a hundred years been teaching Americans about race and slavery. It would surely have shocked Twain to find that some modern black Americans see the book as reactionary in its treatment of racial questions:

For black people and for those sympathetic to their long struggle for fair treatment in North America, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn spirals down to a dispiriting and racist close. The high adventures of the middle chapters, Huck’s admiration of Jim, Jim’s own strong selfconfidence, and the slave’s willingness to protect and guide Huck are all rendered meaningless by the closing chapters in which Twain turns Jim over to two white boys out on a lark. (Jones 1984, 34)

As a black parent... I sympathize with those who want the book banned, or at least removed from required reading lists in schools. While I am opposed to book banning, I know that my children’s education will be enhanced by not reading Huckleberry Finn. (Lester 1984, 43)

Such objections might well have seemed to Twain much more perverse than the cries of alarm from the pious. After all, the book does in fact attack the pious; they were in a sense reading it as it asked to be read—as an attack on them. But when black readers object to it, and even attempt to censor it from public schools (Hentoff 1982), are they not simply failing to see the thrust of scenes like the one I have quoted? How can they deny that Jim is “the moral center” of the work, that Twain has struck a great blow against racism and for racial equality, and that the book when read properly could never harm either blacks or whites?

So I might have argued with Paul Moses. So most white liberals today still argue when blacks attack the book. So even some black readers defend the book today. Many critics have objected, true enough, to the concluding romp that Tom Sawyer organizes in a mock attempt to free the already freed Jim. But most of the objections have been about a failure of form: Twain made an artistic mistake, after writing such a marvelous book up to that point, by falling back into the tone of Tom Sawyer. Not realizing the greatness of what he had done in the scenes on the river, he simply let the novel “spiral down,” or back, into the kind of comic stereotypes of the first few chapters. Though put as a formal objection to incoherence, this objection could be described as ethical, in the broadest sense: the implied standard is that great novels probe moral profundities; because the ending of Huck Finn is morally shallow, the book as a whole ought not be accepted as great.

Seldom is the case made that the ending is not just shallow but morally and politically offensive. Most critics have talked as if it would be absurd to raise questions about the racial values of a book in which the very moral center is a noble black man so magnanimous that he gives himself back into slavery in order to help a doctor save a white boy’s life. Why should this book, so clearly anti-racist, be subjected to the obviously partisan criticism of those who do not even take the trouble to understand what a great blow the book strikes for black liberation? Critics, black and white, are inclined to talk like this: [E]xcept for Melville’s work, Huckleberry Finn is without peers among major Euro-American novels for its explicitly anti-racist stance. Those who brand the book ‘racist’ generally do so without having considered the specific form of racial discourse to which the novel responds. (Smith 1984, 4)

In this view, all the seemingly objectionable elements, such as the use of the word “nigger,” are signs, when read properly, of Twain’s enlightened rebellion against racist language and expectations. The defense is well summarized by one black critic who seems enthusiastic about the book, Charles H. Nichols. Huck Finn, he says, is an indispensable part of the education of both black and white youth. It is indispensable because (1) it unmasks the violence, hypocrisy and pretense of nineteenth-century America; (2) it re-affirms the values of our democratic faith, our celebration of the worthiness of the individual, however poor, ignorant or despised; (3) it gives us a vision of the possibility of love and harmony in our multi-ethnic society; (4) it dramatizes the truth that justice and freedom are always in jeopardy. (Nichols 1984, 14)

Accepting the first two and the last of these, with minor qualifications, must we not question the third? Can we really accept this novel as a vision of the possibility of love and harmony in our multi-ethnic society?

It was in an effort to answer that question that I recently read the great novel again, asking what its full range of fixed norms appears to be, a century after its composition, and thus what its influence on American racial thinking is likely to be. While I found again the marvelously warm and funny novel I had always loved, I found another one alongside it, as it were. That novel looks rather different. Here is how a fully “suspicious” interpreter might view it:

“This is the story of how a pre-adolescent white boy, Huck, reared in the worst possible conditions no mother and a drunken, bigoted, cruel, and impoverished father—discovers in his own good heart and flatly against every norm of his society that he can love an older black slave, Jim—love him so strongly that he violates his own upbringing and tries to help Jim escape from slavery. Huck fails in his sporadic attempt to free Jim, but Jim is (entirely fortuitously) freed by a stroke of conscience (the same ‘good heart’?) in his owner just before she dies. (There is some problem of credibility here, since she presumably has good reason to believe, along with others in her town, that Jim earlier killed Huck Finn; but let that pass.)

“At the beginning and again at the end of the novel, Jim is portrayed as an ignorant, superstitious, boastful, kind but gullible comic ‘nigger,’ more grown child than adult. Naturally affectionate toward and uncritical of his white masters, he is almost pathetically grateful for any expression of sympathy or aid. During the central part of the novel he is turned into something of a father figure for Huck; we see him as a loving father of his own children (full of remorse about having beaten a child who turns out to be deaf); and as a deeply loyal friend (once he has found that his ‘only friend’ is the almost equally ignorant but less gullible white boy). He becomes, for large stretches, an ideally generous, spiritually sound, wonderfully undemanding surrogate parent. The implication is clear: wipe slavery away and you will find beneath its yoke a race of natural Christians: unscarred, loving, infinitely grateful people who will cooperate lovingly with their former masters (with the good ones, anyway) in trying to combat the wicked white folks, of which the world seems to be full. (There are no other black characters—just the one ‘good nigger.’) Only occasionally through these middle chapters does the author reduce Jim again to the role of stage prop. Whenever he gets in the way of the author’s plan to satirize the mores of small town and rural American society, he is simply dropped out of sight— and out of Huck’s mind: an expendable property, to be treated benevolently as part of the implied author’s claim to belong to the tiny saving remnant of human beings who escape his indictment of a vicious mankind.

“All the more curious then that we find, especially in a couple of chapters at the beginning and in a prolonged section at the end—al- most a third of the whole book—that Jim is portrayed as simply a comic butt, suitable for exploitation by cute little white boys of good heart who have been led into concocting a misguided adventure by reading silly books. There are moments in the novel when we expect that Huck Finn will discover behind the stereotype of the ‘good nigger- mistreated’ a real human being, someone whose feelings and condition matter as much as those of whites and who at the same time is not, under the skin, merely a collection of Sunday school virtues; a white prince in disguise (‘I thought he had a good heart in him and was a good man, the first time I see him. Then they all agreed that Jim had acted very well, and was deserving to have some notice took of it” [905; ch. 42]). But we lose this hope early, and we are not really surprised, only disgusted, when Huck forgets all that he might have learned and allows himself to take part in Tom’s scheme to free the already freed Jim. Huck is in one sense invulnerable to our criticism here, because he thinks that he is still ‘wickedly’ freeing a slave, his friend. But the novel, like the mischievous Tom Sawyer, simply treats Jim and his feelings here as expendable, as sub-human—a slave to the plot, as it were. We readers are expected to laugh as Tom and Huck develop baroque maneuvers that all the while keep Jim in involuntary imprisonment. Twain, the great liberator, keeps Jim enslaved as long as possible, one might say, milking every possible laugh out of a situation which now seems less frequently and less wholeheartedly funny than it once did.”

”Twain’s full indifference to what all this means to Jim, and his seeming indifference to the full meaning of slavery and emancipation, is shown in the way he exonerates Tom for his prank and compensates Jim for his prolonged suffering. I italicize (superseding Twain’s italics in this passage) the moments that now give me some trouble as I think about what the liberal Twain is up to:

We had Jim out of the chains in no time, and when Aunt Polly and Uncle Silas and Aunt Sally found out how good he helped the doctor nurse Tom, they made a heap of fuss over him, and fixed him up prime, and give him all he wanted to eat, and a good time, and nothing to do. And we had him up to the sick-room; and had a high talk; and Tom give Jim forty dollars for being prisoner for us so patient, and doing it up so good, and Jim was pleased most to death, and busted out, and says:

“Dah, now, Huck, what I tell you?—what I tell you up dah on Jackson islan’? I tole you I got a hairy breas’, en what’s de sign un it; en I tole you I ben rich wunst, en gwineter to be rich agin; en it’s come true; en heah she is! Dah, now! doan talk to me—-signs is signs, mine I tell you; en I knowed jis’ ’s well ’at I ’uz gwineter be rich agin as I’s a stannin’ heah dis minute!” (911; “Chapter the Last’’)

All nice and clear now? The happy-go-lucky ex-slave, superstitious, absurdly confused about the value of money (he happily clutches at the gift of forty dollars while Huck, by the final turn on the next page, gets six thousand), reveals himself as overjoyed with his fate, and all is well. But just what is the “vision of love and harmony” that this novel “educates” us to accept? We find in it the following fixed norms:

1. Black people, slaves and ex-slaves, are a special kind of good people—so naturally good, in their innocent simplicity, that the effects on them of slavery will not be discernible once slavery is removed. Some few whites are like that, too—the Huck Finns of the world who miraculously escape corruption by virtue of sheer natural goodness.

2. Black people are hungry for love (essentially friendless, unless whites befriend them) and they will be (should be) obsequiously grateful for whatever small favors whites grant them, in their benignity.

3. White people are of three kinds: the wicked and foolish, a majority; the foolish good— essentially generous people like the Widow Watson who are made foolish by obedience to social norms; and naturally good people, like Huck, whose only weapons against the wicked are a simulated passivity and obedience covering an occasionally successful trickery. We may find also an occasional representative of a fourth kind, the essentially decent but thoughtless trickster, the creator of stories, like Tom— and Mark Twain. They will entertain the world regardless of consequences.

4. The consequences of emancipation will be as good as they can be, in this wicked world, so long as you (the white liberal reader) have your heart in the right place—as you clearly do because you have palpitated properly to Huck’s discovery of a full sense of brotherhood with Jim. You needn’t worry about his losing that sense almost before he finds it; after all, Huck, our hero, is not responsible for anything that society might have done or might yet do about the aftermath of slavery.

5. All institutional arrangements, all government, all “‘sivilization,” all laws, are absurd—and absurdly irrelevant to what is, after all, the supreme value in life: feeling “comfortable,” as Huck so often expresses his deepest value, comfortable with “oneself,” that ultimate source of intuition which, if one is among the lucky folk, will be a sure guide.”'

6. The highest form of human comfort is found when two innocent males can shuck off all civilized restraints and responsibilities, as represented by silly women, and simply float lazily through a scene of natural beauty, catching their fish and smoking their pipes. As Arnold Rampersad says, “Much adventuring is [like this novel] written by men for the little boys supposedly resident in grown men, and to cater to their chauvinism” (1984, 49). The ideal of freedom, for both blacks and whites, is a freedom from restraint, not a freedom to exercise virtues and responsibilities— which is to say, in the words of another black critic, Julius Lester, “a mockery of freedom, a void” (1984, 46). The final addition to that blissful freedom-in-a-void is to be (or to identify with) a rebellious white child cared for and loved by the very one who might otherwise be feared, since he might be expected to act hatefully once free: the slave, toward whom the reader feels guilt. If we will just let nature take its course, those we have en- slaved will rise from their slavery to love us and carry us to the promised land.

After Such Sins, What Forgiveness?

What can we reply to such a picture? Not, I think, that it is irrelevant to our view of the book. Not that such a suspicious reader “does not know how to read genuine literature, which is not concerned with teaching lessons.” And not, surely, that the fixed norms central to the power of this book are all to the good. The events of the past hundred years have taught us—since apparently we needed the teaching—that America after Emancipation and the aborted Reconstruction just did not work that way, though white northern liberals until this last quarter of a century tended to act as if it did, or should. Nor can we take what is perhaps the most frequent tack in defending Twain: “He rose to a great moral height in the middle of the book, then simply got tired, or lost touch with his Muse, and fell back into the Tom Sawyer gambit.” That line will not work because the problems we have discovered are not confined to the gratuitous cruelty and condescension of the final “evasion.” Though they are most clearly dramatized there, they run beneath the surface of the whole book --even those wonderful moments that I have quoted of Huck’s moral battles with himself.

In the critical literature about Huck Finn, | find three main lines of defense of the book as an American classic.” In all of them, the novel is treated as a coherent fiction, not as a work that simply collapsed toward the end.

The first is the simplest: the attribution to Huck, not to Mark Twain, of all the ethical deficiencies. Since Twain is obviously a master ironist, and since we see hundreds of moments in the book when he and the reader stand back and watch Huck make mistakes, why cannot we assume that any flaw of perception or behavior we discern is part of Twain’s portrait of a “character whose moral vision, though profound, is seriously and consistently flawed” (Gabler-Hover 1987, 69)? In this view, the problems we have raised result strictly from Twain’s use of Huck’s blindnesses as “an added indictment against the society of which he [Huck] is a victim” (74; see also Smith 1984, 6, IO).

Clearly this defense will work perfectly, if we embrace it in advance of our actual experience line- by-line: dealing with any first-person narrative, we can explain away any fault, no matter how horrendous, if we assume in advance an author of unlimited wisdom, tact, and artistic skill. But such an assumption, by explaining everything, takes care of none of our more complex problems. If we do not pre-judge the case, the appeal to irony excuses only those faults that the book invites us to see through, thus joining the author in his ironic transformations. Our main problems, not just with the ending but with the most deeply embedded fixed norms of the book as a whole, remain unsolved.

George C. Carrington similarly defends the ending as of a piece with the rest of the novel, and in doing so he also defends the novel as the work of a great moral teacher who “knew what he was doing.” But he discerns not so much a great conscious ironist as an author exhibiting great intuitive wisdom, a kind of sage. The questionable norms are indeed to be found in the work, but they are fundamentally criticized by it: the views and effects I have challenged are themselves challenged by the great art of Twain, an art that in a sense goes beyond his conscious intentions. The work’s moral duplicity in fact is a brilliant portrayal of the national dilemma following the collapse of Reconstruction. Twain “could not help paralleling the national drama-sequence,” Carrington says; the story of Huck is “rather like” the story of the northern middle class, many of them former Radical Republicans who had fought to free the slaves, [who had become] irritated by the long bother of Reconstruction, became tired of southern hostility, and were easily seduced by strong-willed politicians and businessmen into abandoning the freedmen for new excitements like railroad building. . . . The spirit that led the country to accept the Compromise [of 1877, that abandoned the goals of Reconstruction] might ironically be called ‘the spirit of 77.’ Absorbed in his work and his new life in Hartford, Twain shared that spirit. He thought the Compromise a very good thing indeed... . Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is thus not only a great but a sadly typical American drama of race: not a stark tragedy of black suffering, but a complex tragicomedy of white weakness and indifference. It is one of those modern books that, as Lionel Trilling says, ‘read us,’ tell ‘us’… about ourselves. . . . The meanness of Huckleberry Finn is not that man is evil but that he is weak and doomed to remain weak. . . . Twain did not shirk the presentation, but managed to avert his gaze from the subject’s Medusa horrors by looking at it through his uncomprehending narrator. .. . By experiencing and accepting the ending we can perhaps take a step toward a similar level of self-awareness. A novel that can help its readers do that is indeed a masterwork and deserves its very high place. (1976, 190-92)

While it seems remotely possible that an author with a mind as ironically devious as Twain’s could have worked, consciously or unconsciously, to ensure that some few readers over the centuries would read the work in this special way, obviously most readers have not done so—no doubt because the book itself offers no surface clues to support such a reading. Indeed, both of these defenses spring more from the critics’ ethical programs and ingenuity than from anything that the novel proposes for itself. On the contrary, a vast majority of the artistic strokes, especially during the “evasion,” seem explicitly de- signed to heighten our comic delight in a way that would make these interpretations implausible. They both depend on the wisdom and insight of a reader who has learned to see through the “surface” of the book and recognize that it in fact mocks naive readers who laugh wholeheartedly at Tom’s pranks. They thus leave us with the question, What then happens to the great unwashed, for whom so much of the book has proved totally deceptive? Well, they are going to identify mistakenly with a deceptive implied author who has in some sense worked to take them in. Meanwhile, the real author is above all this,

creating a work that a few discerning readers can make out, after weeks, perhaps years, of careful study. In short, the defense may work well if what we are thinking of is maximum fairness to Twain, but it doesn’t work at all for the critic who cares about what a book does to or for the majority of its readers, sophisticated or unsophisticated. A third influential defense, considerably more complex, has the virtue of leaving the reader able to laugh at the troublesome ending, though embarrassed by the laughter. James Cox argues that Twain set out, through the attacks on Huck’s conscience that lead to his great moment of decision to go to hell, to enact a conversion of morality into pleasure (1966, 171-76). The form implicit in such an ethic demanded an ending that celebrates pleasure and makes everyone “comfortable,” including of course Huck and Jim. But at the moment of choice, that same form requires not the election of pleasure but of another “conscience,” the northern conscience that combats the southern conscience of Huck’s upbringing: “In the very act of choosing to go to hell he has surrendered to the notion of a principle of right and wrong. He has forsaken the world of pleasure [his own eternal salvation] to make a moral choice” (180). It is that conscience which validates, in Huck’s eyes, his going along with Tom, even though he thinks until the end that Tom, who was brought up right, is unbelievably wicked in working to free Jim.

The result is that when we exercise a “northern conscience” that confirms Huck’s choice and find ourselves laughing at the burlesque, “we are the ones who become uncomfortable. The entire burlesque ending is a revenge upon the moral sentiment which, though it shielded the humor, ultimately threatened Huck’s identity [as a natural hedonist]” (181).

If the reader sees in Tom’s performance a rather shabby and safe bit of play, he is seeing no more than the exposure of the approval with which he watched Huck operate. For if Tom is rather contemptibly setting a free slave free, what after all is the reader doing, who begins the book after the fact of the Civil War? This is the “joke” of the book—the moment when, in outrageous burlesque, it attacks the sentiment which its style has at once evoked and exploited. . . . This is the larger reality of the ending—what we may call the necessity of the form. That it was a cost which the form exacted no one would deny. But to call it a failure, a piece of moral cowardice, is to miss the true rebellion of the book, for the disturbance of the ending is nothing less than our and Mark Twain’s recognition of the full meaning of Huckleberry Finn. (175, 181)

Again we see here a critic who saves the novel by rejecting the reading that almost every white reader until recently must have given it. Each reading considers “the reader” —the “we” of these passages—to be plainly and simply the white reader, and neither one considers closely the effects on the white reader who does not feel uncomfortable with the ending. But surely the most common reading of this book, by non-professional whites, has always been the kind of enraptured, thoroughly comfortable reading that I gave it when young, the kind that sees the final episodes as a climax of good clean fun, the kind in fact that Brander Matthews gave it on first publication:

The romantic side of Tom Sawyer is shown in most delightfully humorous fashion in the account of his difficult devices to aid in the easy escape of Jim, a runaway negro. Jim is an admirably drawn character. There have been not a few fine and firm portraits of negroes in recent American fiction, of which Mr. Cable’s Bras-Coupé in the Grandissimes is perhaps the most vigorous, and Mr. Harris’s Mingo and Uncle Remus and Blue Dave are the most gentle. Jim is worthy to rank with these; and the essential simplicity and kindliness and generosity of the Southern negro have never been better shown than here by Mark Twain. . . . Of the more broadly humorous passages—and they abound— ... they are to the full as funny as in any of Mark Twain’s other books; and perhaps in no other book has the humorist shown so much artistic restraint, for there is in Huckleberry Finn no mere “comic copy,’ no straining after effect. (Matthews 1885, 154; qtd. in Blair and Hill 1962, 499-500)

If that is in fact what most white “liberals” have made of the book until recently, it dramatizes the inadequacy of the defenses we have so far considered. A book that thus feeds the stereotypes of the Brander Matthews kind of reader insults all black readers, and it redeems itself only by inciting some few sophisticated critics, many decades later, to think hard about how the story implicates white readers in unpleasant truths. That is surely not what we ordinarily mean when we call a book a classic. Even if we find a reading that at some deep level vindicates Twain for writing better than he knew, our ethical concerns remain unanswered.

Still hoping that I might someday see more merit in these defenses by others, I turn to my own efforts and find, to my considerable distress, that each of them seems almost as weak as those I have rejected. We might first use the “conversational” defense that worked for Lawrence: though Twain’s racial liberalism was inevitably limited, though he failed to imagine the “good Negro” with anything like the power of his portraits of good and bad whites, though in effect he simply wipes Jim out as a character in the final pages, he has still, by his honest effort to create the first full literary friendship between a white character and a slave, permanently opened up this very conversation we are engaged in. We would not be talking about what it might mean to cope adequately with the heritage of slavery, in literary form, had he not intervened in our conversation. There is surely something to this point, but unfortunately the argument fits Twain less well than Lawrence. Twain is not a great conversationalist, not at all “polyphonic”; rather, he is a great monologuist. We have seen here that he is not particularly good at responding to our questions: the critics I have quoted have had to do too much of the work. A great producer of confident opinions—many of them by the time he wrote already thoroughly established (for example, slavery is bad)—he never probes very deep. His positions on issues have not stimulated the kind of public debates that continue about Lawrence’s views. Instead we find collections of colorful expressions, like Your Personal Mark Twain: In Which the Great American Ventures an Opinion on Ladies, Language, Liberty, Literature, Liquor, Love, and Other Controversial Subjects (Twain 1969). Twain has opinions about many matters, but their intellectual content or moral depth would not give many TV shows serious competition. His mind takes me into no new conceptual depths; he is conventionally unconventional, so easily seduced by half-baked ideas that one would be embarrassed to offer him as a representative American intellectual.

Might I “save” him, then—or rather myself, because he is after all quite secure on his pedestal—by talking of the healing, critical power of laughter, the sheer value of comedy? Here is what I might say: “Let us celebrate Mark Twain’s preeminent comic genius, his gifted imaginings of beloved but ludicrous characters in a (quite ‘unreal,’ quite “unconvincing’) world of their own, a world in which I love to spend my days and hours and from which I emerge delighted that my world has included that kind of sheer delight. Samuel Johnson says somewhere that the sheer gift of innocent pleasure is not to be scoffed at, in a world where most pleasures are not innocent. Twain redeems my time by providing me a different ‘time’ during which my life feels quite glorious.

“It is true that in that world, in that time, there are dangerous simplifications and moments of embarrassment: it is a world inhabited only by good guys and bad guys, clever ones and stupid ones, and Twain tries to lead me too easily to think that I—one of the good and clever ones—can tell which are which. There are marvelously absurd clowns and villains, and I don’t have to reproach myself (as I do in life) for finding them clownish and villainous. I relish here good, honest, wholesome, intense sentiment; I relish an absolute sureness that everything will turn out all right and a freedom from the ‘uncomfortable’ burdens of conscience. Just think of that achievement. Twain has portrayed a world of cruelty and misery, a world of national shame, a world in which good people will in fact always be bested by the bad, and he makes us believe that everything must turn out all right! How many other novels can I think of that I can re-read again and again, teach to students and teach again, decade after decade, and still wish, after each re-reading, that they would go on longer? Huck Finn thus provides me with a kind of moral holiday even while stimulating my thought about moral issues. What a gift this is, this terribly misguided, potentially harmful work! If you try to take it away from me (you censors, black or white) I will fight you tooth and nail.

“How, then, you ask, does Huckleberry Finn differ from simple escape literature of the kind that we enjoy for an hour and then dismiss without a second thought? It does so in two ways, both of which we have hinted at already. The first is the quality of the escape: line by line, Twain simply rewards my returns with exquisite pleasures that are not so much ‘escape’ from life as the kind of thing life ought to be for. The second is a somewhat different form of our ‘conversational’ defense of Lawrence. Though Twain’s fantasy of the innocent boy discovering within his natural self the resources for overcoming society’s miseducation about ‘difference’ threatens us with the kinds of dangers I have described, it also moves us with a mythic experience that can lead to endless but fruitful inquiry into what kind of creatures we are. It is no accident that it is Huck Finn of all Twain’s works that stimulates controversy about the ethical quality of its ending and about its central situation. Somehow the fantasy/myth touches us at our most sensitive points.

In brief, long before Paul Moses and Charles Long had ever led me to think ethically about the book, it had already done its true work in this respect. The vivid images of that great-hearted black man crouched patiently in that shed, waiting while the unconsciously cruel Huck and the consciously, irresponsibly cruel adventurer Tom planned an escape that almost destroys them all— hose images haunted me even as I laughed, and they haunt me still.

“I can never know, of course, just how much miseducation the novel has provided while haunting me in this way. Who am I to say that simply thinking about the book can have removed the kinds of distortion that my black friends have pointed out. But I do believe that the mythic force of that book will be a permanent possession, a permanent gift, long after we repair black/white relations as we find them in the twentieth century. Just as Homer’s epics can now no longer harm our children in the specific way that worried Plato—shaking their confidence in the rationality and decency of the Greek gods—I suspect that Huck Finn will survive the longed-for time when racial conflict is no longer a political and moral issue in our lives.”

I seem to have grown warmer in this defense than in any of the others. But always at my back I hear the voices of those readers—including myself now—who see that the infatuation is not after all innocent. They remind me that the hours I spend in that world are after all fantasy hours; whether or not I see them as that, they have the power to deflect my imagination in dangerous ways. Jim is the “Negro” we whites might in weaker moments have hoped would emerge from slavery: docile, grateful for our gift of a freedom that nobody should ever have had the right to withhold, satisfied with a full stomach and a bit more cash than he’d had before. The picture of pre—Civil War America is a fantasy picture, in which all of the really bad occurrences are caused by caricatures of folly and evil, none of them by people who look and talk like people of our kind.” The battle in the novel for freedom from oppressive Christianity is a superficial battle, at best, and the encounter with the realities of slavery is even more superficial. The story thus offers us every invitation to miseducate ourselves, and therein lies the task of ethical criticism: to help us avoid that miseducation. The trick is always to find ways of doing that without tearing the butterfly apart in our hands.

It should be obvious that I am by no means “comfortable” (to use Huck’s word) about the incompatibilities that my project has led me to here. Having made my case against the book as honestly as possible, I now find a distressing disparity between the force of my objections (along with the relative weaknesses in the various defenses), and the strength of my continuing love for the book. My ethical criticism has disturbed a surface that once was serene. But instead of making the work and its creator look at least as great as before (Austen), or renovating a wrongly denigrated author (Lawrence), I have somewhat tarnished my hero, and since I cannot wipe from my mind the readings that black critics have imposed, I cannot, by a sheer act of will, restore Twain’s former glow. Still, though much of Huck Finn amuses me somewhat less when I read it now than it did in times irrecoverable (the recent reading was, like Cox’s, considerably more solemn than the one Twain himself obviously hoped for), the achievement still seems to me quite miraculous. On the other hand… Such a non-conclusion is disturbing to the part of me that used to seek unities and harmonies that others have overlooked, the part that once spent two years attempting to discern the form of Tristram Shandy, the part that still delights in having once “demonstrated” that Sterne actually brought that “unfinished” work to a close (1951), the part that has often earned its keep by teaching students how to see unities where others have seen only chaos. But should we not expect to discover irreducible conflicts of this kind, if each of our imaginative worlds must finally be constituted of manifold values that can never be fully realized in any one work or any one critic’s endeavor?

What is not in question is that the ethical conversation begun by Paul Moses has done its work: it has produced what I can only call a kind of conversion (both words come from the Latin convertere, “to turn or turn around”). Led by him to join in a conversation with other ethical critics, my coduction of Huckleberry Finn has been turned, once and for all, and for good or ill, from untroubled admiration to restless questioning. And it is a kind of questioning that Twain and I alone together could never have managed for ourselves.

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gaykarstaagforever · 8 months ago

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It was the 1960s, and they were just four poor teenagers from Liverpool with goofy haircuts who decided to start a rock band. That mostly just covered Motown songs. But they played in Germany and got huge, until their adult personal lives tore the band apart. They were only together for a relatively short time, but they changed the face of blue-eyed rock'n'roll forever.

I am of course talking about The Liverbirds (or Liver Birds, pronounced "Lyverburds"), an all-female rock band who were directly inspired by The Beatles. They are considered one of the first successful all-female rock bands, and I have never heard of them until today, because they didn't get popular in America (because their only tour offer here was that they play Vegas topless. They declined).

Here they are covering The Vibrations' "Peanut Butter," live in Hamburg in 1965.

youtube

(You'll be tempted to assume this song is a veiled metaphor for a sex thing. It absolutely is not. It is literally a song about how peanut butter is tasty. Go find the lyrics. No I'm not joking. No song has ever been more about exactly one thing as this.)

They attempted to sign with The Beatles' manager, but he didn't think they would amount to much so they abandoned the idea. And, to be fair, they only had like 3 original songs, so he may have had a point.

One of them is this:

youtube

It's good. But The Beatles were pumping stuff like this out like a factory. It was a competitive time.

Speaking of The Beatles, they met John Lennon once, and he was a sexist dickhead to them. Because of course.

They also met Jimi Hendrix. He was chill and awesome to them and they got high together. Because of course.

Lineup changes began when one of them got pregnant, and another one quit to take full-time care of her husband who was injured in a car accident. The band replaced them and toured Japan, but they all apparently felt the writing was on the wall and broke up soon after.

Two of the original members are still living and are part of this great mini-documentary from 4 years ago by The New York Times (blegh, but this specific thing is good).

youtube

There is apparently a stage show based on their story that had a limited run in the UK. Which is shocking that that's it, because this is like the most perfect story ever for an Oscar-bait, feel-good movie biopic. As usual, you suck, Hollywood.

It even has some limited lesbian stuff! Come on!

I wouldn't say they were a great band, and now as then, they were understandably compared to and vastly overshadowed by fellow "Merseybeat" titans The Beatles. Which isn't fair because The Beatles were The Beatles. But as The Liverbirds were directly inspired by them...what can you do?

They are at any rate an historic band that should be more well-known and celebrated for what they were. And who they are.

Plus it is always good to take any opportunity to remind everyone what a shit human being John Lennon was.

#the liverbirds #merseybeat #british invasion #rock'n'roll #1960s #rock #youtube #lesbian #gay #queer history #feminism #feminist history #girl band

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rocohen20 · 10 months ago

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For those of you who follow ColeyDoes Things on youtube may have seen her latest update "The BIGGEST fandoms on AO3". Getting the pleasant surprise of seeing Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin on the tumbnail got me so excited.

I always pictured the fandom of Hockey RPF as a niche on AO3. This fandom got me into tumblr, AO3 along with reading fan fiction all together. I've been part of this fandom for the last 8 years. Hockey in general is a big part of my life. I had so many thoughts, so much knowledge and for years it was the only fandom I read fanfiction for.

I am so excited to see it part of the 20 top fandom on a site like AO3. I didn't expect seeing this fandom so high up, and I'm honestly so excited seeing the video beacuse right now I'm 28 minutes in the video and she's going through place #15 and she still didn't get to HOCKEY RPF and I'm astounded and so excited. I can't wait to find out their placement on the top 20 fandoms. And all through the video I can't wait to see her reaction to the top ships and tags.

Seein in #12 SPORTS RPF and knowing that technically HOCKEY RPF should be under this umbrealla but in actuality HOCKEY RPF usually tagged only under HOCKEY RPF I'm shocked. I know how technically in the last year or so there was a booming in the romance genre of Hockey Romance Books, but I'm not quite sure what it did to the popularity of Hockey on AO3. Plus, hockey is well known as the least popular sport out of the major legues of North America so I am so surprised to see how popular it actually is.

Now after RAVING about the superiority of HOCKEY RPF VS. SPORTS RPF, apparently I was fundementally wrong and got dissapointed.

I was sure that AO3 seperated each and every "sport's field" RPF as a seperated entoty and not logged them together. Through the whole video I was waiting for the moment of the fandom I was so excited about being talked about. With each fandom she would look at the top ships and characters. Through watching the video I was debating with myself about the top 10 pairings. It's been a while since I looked up the exact list. So I was under no impression that Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin would be the number one pair. But as for the others I debated with myself. Just for the fun of it the list I had in my mind who is based on my personal experience and on various post about the top main paieings of Hockey are:

Sidney Croaby/Evgeni Malkin

Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews

Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin (I know fhat it used to be their place, and I am well aware how they are barely any new fics about them, but I still want to believe they are on the top 10 pairs).

Danny Briere/Claude Giroux

Alexander Ovechkin/Nicklas Backstrom

Nolan Patrick/Travis Konecny

Leon Driasytel/Matthew Ktchuk.

Connor McDavid/Leon Driasytel

Sidney Crosby/Claude Giroux

Jeff Carter/Mike Richards (a girl can dream).

After getting it out of the way. What happened in the video was- she read a bunch of pairing from different sports. Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin was in fact the number on pairings. Which was extra impressive when you take into account the different feilds of sports. But in fairness it seemed like Hockey RPF was one of the OG Sports RPF with continued audience. And as for those two they had the benefit of playing with each other close to 20 years.

Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews also made the list, at around number 5. It made me so happy. As someone who was a big reader for 1988 it made me so happy. Also Coley didn't know how to read Toews so she read it as TOE-EZ, and through my mind I thought "Patrick Sharp would be so proud". Also it rather fitting to accidently hit a major theme in many of the 1988 fics, especially the older ones.

She also had a big surprise to see Omegaverse as one of the main tags. As someone who adores omegaverse and specifically reading it with the context of sports RPF it didn't surprise me in the slightest.

It also made me really happy to see the second most kudoed fic being a Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin wedding day fic. Especially because I know I put it in my marked for later list and there is a podfic version of it with 5 hours lengh.

Even though it wasn't to the extent that I wanted to, I still enjoyed the video and seeing even the mention of some major pairings who I read many fics about, gave me joy.

#the nhl #youtube #fan fiction #ao3 #nhl #sidney crosby #evgeni malkin #patrick kane #jonathan toews #patrick sharp

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 5 months ago

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Jesse Duquette

* * * *

The GOP plays “hide the ball” with its 2024 platform

July 9, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Trump knows that if the 2024 election is decided on the issues, he will lose. That is why the Republican Party platform previewed today attempts to distance the GOP from its real agenda. The fact that Trump is playing “hide the ball” with the American electorate is a sign of fear and concern. If the GOP believed its platform would propel Trump to re-election, it would not engage in deceit and sleight of hand.

To be clear, the official Republican platform is horrific, as described below. But the real Republican platform is known as Project 2025—a document that describes a fascist vision for America. But the GOP Platform whitewashes that vision.

For example, the GOP Platform mentions the word “abortion” only once to say that the decision has been returned to the states. Project 2025 references “abortion” 922 times to describe how access to abortion will be denied at the national level through congressional legislation and how access will be restricted in every program possible—from emergency medical treatment to foreign aid to healthcare in the military. (Click the link above, search the PDF for the word “abortion” to confirm the results for yourself.)

But the same is true of other issues. Project 2025 promises to “dismantle the administrative state,” gut the civil service, strip the EPA of its ability to protect the environment, actively discriminate against LGBTQ people (including by excluding transgender people from the military), promote the role of “faith-based” organizations in delivering government services, and more.

Heather Cox Richardson described Trump's recent attempt to distance himself from the toxic Project 2025 in her Letters from An American, dated July 5, 2024. First, HCR notes that Steve Bannon and other Trump allies describe Project 2025 as “institutionalizing Trumpism.” HCR then notes

His social media feed tried to distance the former president from Project 2025. “I know nothing about Project 2025. I have no idea who is behind it,” the post read. Despite this disavowal of any knowledge of the project, it continued: “I disagree with some of the things they’re saying and some of the things they’re saying are absolutely ridiculous and abysmal. Anything they do, I wish them luck, but I have nothing to do with them.”

Any reasonable reading of Trump's statement above suggests that he understands Project 2025 will be a millstone around his neck that will sink his prospects. The reactionaries behind Project 2025 understand the same thing. One of the co-founders of Project 2025, Paul Dans, canceled an interview with NBC to be taped on Monday. No explanation was provided for the cancellation.

Trump's attempt to soften the GOP platform should fool no one. See generally Talking Points Memo, Trump Team Tries Harder And Harder To Hide What They Will Actually Do During Trump 2.0.

Trump's “hide the ball” routine is not escaping the notice of the ultra-right evangelical Christians who have served as the backbone of Trump's solid core of support.

As noted by NBC News,

Social conservatives pushed to retain the platform’s old language promoting an abortion ban and opposing same-sex marriage, but they lost as the politics surrounding both have changed over the years. . . . “It is fair to say that over 1,000 pastors have emailed, texted and called me about their disappointment over where they saw the platform going,” said Chad Connelly, a former chair of the South Carolina GOP who said he was blocked from the platform committee over "being labeled 'too pro-life.'" “The words I am hearing are shocked, betrayed, trampled, depressed, deflated,” he said. “Most pastors I know don’t want Biden and will still probably vote for Trump, but this hurts the energy needed for those folks to do the things it takes to help elect a president.”

Still, the GOP platform presents a fascist, white nationalist, xenophobic view of America. Relevant points include:

1. Seal The Border, And Stop The Migrant Invasion 2. Carry Out The Largest Deportation Operation In American History 9. End The Weaponization Of Government Against The American People 10. Stop The Migrant Crime Epidemic, Demolish The Foreign Drug Cartels, Crush Gang Violence, And Lock Up Violent Offenders 15. Cancel The Electric Vehicle Mandate And Cut Costly And Burdensome Regulations 16. Cut Federal Funding For Any School Pushing Critical Race Theory, Radical Gender Ideology, And Other Inappropriate Racial, Sexual, Or Political Content On Our Children 18. Deport Pro-Hamas Radicals And Make Our College Campuses Safe And Patriotic Again 19. Secure Our Elections, Including Same Day Voting, Voter Identification, Paper Ballots, And Proof Of Citizenship.

There is more to discuss in the days to come. However, the above points align with Project 2025—although they are sanitized to conceal the essential connection between Project 2025 and the Republican Platform. It is up to Democrats to spread the alarm. A good place to start is with Center for American Progress, Project 2025: The Plan To Seize Power by Gutting America’s System of Checks and Balances.

The Supreme Court

Meanwhile, the biggest threat to democracy, the Supreme Court, has glided under the radar in the uproar over Biden’s debate performance. But Professor Laurence Tribe and Judge Michael Luttig continue to sound the alarm.

Professor Tribe has published an article in The Guardian that proposes fundamental reforms in the Supreme Court and executive branches. See US supreme court abandoned the rule of law and triggered a need for basic reform | Laurence H Tribe | The Guardian.

Professor Tribe suggests three fundamental reforms: First, an enforceable ethics code and term limits, and possibly creating several added seats “to offset the way Trump stacked the court to favor his Maga agenda as president;” second, creating a federal prosecutorial arm structurally independent of the presidency; and third, clarifications and limitations on presidential immunity and the pardon power.

As Professor Tribe notes, the process of amending the Constitution need not take long. The first step is taking control of Congress and re-electing Joe Biden (my gloss)!

Also, Professor Michael Luttig discusses the recent immunity decision with Michael Popok on the podcast Legal AF (available on Apple Podcasts). The discussion takes a deep dive into

the dangers presented by the immunity decision.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

#Robert B. Hubbell #Robert b. Hubbell Newsletter #Radical SCOTUS #Project 2025 #democracy #the US Constitution #Bill of Rights #Declaration of Independence #Jesse Duquette #abortion rights #women #women's rights #human rights #election 2025 #republican party platform #immunity decision #corrupt SCOTUS

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phenomenalgirl9 · 2 years ago

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No Game: Idol! Amber x Idol! Reader

Summary: What happens when you have to shoot after you break up. Amber won't let you get away without fighting for you.

A/n: Just a short comfort fic.

_____________________________________

"Please welcome a brand new season of your favourite game show Hwaiting, with your most favourite host Eric Nam. And these are the contestants" Eric said as he introduced everyone. The contestants for the new season were, Asley, Jamie, Amber, BM, Keeho, Mark, Woosung and you.

Filmimg a new season of hwaiting should have been very fun right? And it was, except for a few unexpected parts. Well, to be fair you didn't know you'd break up and you'd have to shoot it with your ex-girlfriend when you signed it. You both thought it would be fun until it all went tumbling down. You were stuck with some promotions in Korea while Amber was busy in America for days. She was busy working on an album and you couldn't be any more proud. But recently things were difficult for both of you, the reporters were being too nosy with their questions and your management wasn't doing anything about it. And you were exhausted, you haven't even bbeen able to speak to Amber in the past week, and you felt shitty and guilty about it. When you called and were talking just something happened, it wasn't even her fault but you just snapped at her. "You know what if you don't understand then it's better if you simply don't," you said. "Y/n what?" she said in shock "babe slow down". "NO! I am having enough of this and I don't need more from you. I think it's better if we take a break and focus on ourselves" you said and hung up, going straight to bed. The next day you woke up feeling like shit, well what you did was utter shit and you knew it.

You felt worse for her, she didn't deserve this, and thus, you took the decision to not call back. Even Jamie tried to reach out to you but you just said "things won't work out". Things would never work out for you, how could they, you were you. Always messing things up, you would never be good enough for her, no, she deserves better.

But, Amber knew you by then, she knew what you were going through and was very familiar with your process of shutting everyone out when you are down. And so she waited for this one opportunity. She knew she had to work up to it cause you will do everything in your power to avoid any out of game conversations with her or her on whole. As expected you did that, but it seemed even luck wasn't in her favour, 4 games down and she didn't get to be in the same team as you even once. Even, your friends were getting agitated, they all have tried their share to try to get you talking to Amber. Keeho and BM went as far as to push you both at each other but you dodged and Keeho bumped into Amber instead making all three of them look like idiots. But Eric then had an idea which he shared with the rest of the cast.

Then came the 5th game. You were sent the list of games and stuff, but you didn't really read through them so you were curious to know what it was.

"Now ladies and gentlemen is a well demanded game from last season, Titanic and the bottle cap" Eric said (refer to Hwaiting ep 8 if ydk)

Eric explained the game and the special punishment for the two people who came last. Everyone seemed to want to put each other in trouble, this was a thrill, you were actually having fun in this shooting, something you haven't had in weeks. Keeho standing infront of you poured a hell lot of cola into the cup, you were sure you would be out, but you managed. Ashley seemed strangely too good at this. "I won't lose" she said. Woosung after her did well too. Amber who came up next got the glass submerged as soon as she poured one drop into the glass. After a tough game it seemed you and Amber were the ones who lost this round.

"The punishment is..Pe-pe-ro" Eric said. Now if this was anybody or any other day it would have been fine but this was Amber.

Even after a lot of whining they would change the punishment so here you were, standing with the pepero stick in between you lips. You knew facing her was inevitable but this was too much. You wanted to close your eyes but when they fell on Amber's they couldn't move away. Your eyes were stuck on hers and so were hers. You suddenly saw her lip "fuck this" and she tugged and threw away the pepero from your mouth and held you, fisting your t-shirt in one hand and holding your neck with the other and slammed her lips on yours and your eyes immediately close. You were stiff and almost forgot to move, it was like second nature to you your body responded to her touch and kiss on its own. Your head told you this was against all you reserves but all your walls were broken down by her, the one you love. And finally you parted to the sound of claps.

"You are enough" she told you "You are stuck with me and I am yours, I understand you snapped, and I might snap too, as long as we understand each other and not take each other for granted it's fine. I love you" she said pulling you into a tight hug.

You suddenly heard Eric say "Can you not make porn during my game show?". To which BM said "Eric you're an American, you've watched this growing up"

"Yeah but the asian in me is really loud right now!" He said and all of you broke into laughter

_____________________________________

Other Works

#imagines #amber x y/n #amber x reader #f(x) scenarios #f(x) amber #amber x you #comfort #Amber Liu #amber liu

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year ago

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Thomas Barrow x Male!reader - love to hate you, hate to love you

Part 8:

The following day, you saw everybody off with Mr Carson and you turned around to face him.

“Are you off to bed now Mr (L/N)?” He asked.

“I am, yes.”

“Very well, goodnight.”

Nodding your head you walked inside and to your room, changing out of your uniform and into normal suit, you walked into the shadows.

You appeared by the side of the building and looked around the place.

“It’s coming together rather well.” You said.

“General!”

The man stopped walking and turned to face you, his hands clasped behind his back.

“General?” You asked.

“Yes sir, we are to call you captain now. It has been announced by the main camp in America that the demigods are most likely at war, and you are the general.”

“By who?”

“Chiron has announced the Oracle has a rather cryptic message, but clearly labelled you as the general in this situation. He’s in the big house.”

“Thank you…?”

“Leon sir.”

“Thank you Leon.”

You made your way to the half built large White House and inside you walked to the only finished room.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the Oracle?” You asked.

“I knew you’d be coming here soon enough, I wanted to wait.”

Chiron handed you over the paper.

“The son of hades as general, the army will gather on each side? Why is it always so cryptic?”

“I couldn’t tell you, but you know she only gives out quests.”

“This isn’t a quest.”

Chiron shook his head with a heavy sigh.

“No. It’s a warning.”

“I see…”

Setting the paper down you looked at the blueprints for the new camp.

“Right now your father has given the protection it needs, barriers to keep us safe and for uninvited people to pass through without seeing a thing. Even invited they’ll see the Pegasi as normal horses, anything remotely related to the gods will have a reasonable explanation.”

“I see, very kind of him.”

“Zeus is aware and agreed it was best.”

“That’s shocking news, Zeus does not agree with gods getting involved with their children.”

There was a loud crackle of thunder.

“No, he does not. And he does not agree with you saying that.” Chiron chuckled.

You smiled a little and sighed, pushing yourself away from the table.

“It’s coming together quickly.”

“They’re working tirelessly to build it, right now they’re taking a days break, some of gone to a fair nearby if you’ve heard about it.”

You remember what Thomas said last night, and pushed it to the back of your mind.

“Yes, my men have gone there today as well.”

“You did not want a break?” He asked.

“I haven’t the time Chiron, there’s too much going on. How many cabins are built?”

“Nearly all of them, they want to know whether to build one’s of the big three?”

“I suppose we have too. I’m the only child of the big three, just have them build a small one for my fathers honour in thanks for his protection of this camp. As well as small ones for Zeus and Poseidon. After the cabins, we need the training grounds finished.”

“I agree, I’ve already told them this.”

You nodded your head, and you walked to the steps of the big house, and the centaur followed you, standing next to you.

“We’re bringing as many as we can. The rest arrive in the next few days, we have others coming too, at my request.”

“Thank you Chiron. Once everything’s done, we need to begin with the preparations.”

“We need to draft up battle plans and begin forging armour, weapons and creating medicines.” He said.

“Medicines and armour first. Ares children for the weapons, I’m sure they’d be eager. Apollo’s children for medicines, let everybody else partake in making armour, they will need various sizings. I believe Athena’s children would be best at the battle plans, but tell them to bring all drafts to you, me and you will finalise them.”

“Of course.”

Chiron looked at you, and he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Try not to think about it right now, just think of it as training.”

“How can I? I know there is something out there coming Chiron.”

“And worrying about it will do you no good.”

“I am the general, the son of hades himself, it is my job to ensure the safety of as many people as possible. Everything must be ready as soon as possible, then if nothing happens we can take a break.”

Chiron went to say something, and you were both interrupted by a younger Demigod running over, slightly battered.

“Monsters near the fair!”

“I’ll go.”

You ran away and jumped into the shadows, you heard your pocket watch ticking as you slowly began to move around, hand in your pocket.

You made yourself invisible and you began to jog through the fair.

You couldn’t keep this up long, and you needed to find the monsters soon.

You glanced at the guardsmen’s and Servants having fun, playing tug of war and you kept running, and you sensed it.

Death.

Dying.

So you followed it and you ran over to a bridge and stood on it, drawing the coin from your pocket.

“General!” One yelled.

“Go back to camp all of you!”

They nodded and picked up their injured friends and they rushed away.

There was one monster left, a Cyclopes and you looked at him.

“I see you’re one of the demented ones, I’ll make easy work of you.”

You flipped the coin in your hand, and it grew into a golden sword that you caught.

Twirling the hilt between your fingers, shadows licked at the edge of your blade as you looked at the monster.

It looked back and took a swing for you.

Jumping up on the edge of the bridge, you ran along it and jumped off, swiping the monsters knees making it drop.

It cried out in pain, and you jumped back as it tried to hit you again.

You couldn’t get close enough to land a safe attack, and you were punched back into the trees.

Coughing a little bit, you stood back up, brushing some dirt from your clothes and blood from your lip, you gripped your sword tightly and charged.

The monster roared and went to attack you, and you vanished, appearing it behind you threw the monster, killing it instantly.

Taking a deep breath, you spat some blood on the floor and grimaced, pulling out the glass bottle from your pocket, you fold the golden liquid and coughed, leaning over the edge of the bridge.

You watching Jimmy go running from under it and you hide yourself again, and you slowly walked down, standing hidden to listen to what was going on.

There was a ringing in your ears and you immediately showed yourself making them stop.

“This is hardly a fair fight.” You said.

They all glanced at you and you looked down at Thomas.

“This ain’t nothing to do with you.” One snapped.

“Oh it does, you see I owe this man a favour. And I simply cannot have you two ganging up on him.”

You stepped under the bridge, a hand in your pocket you felt the coin return itself.

They shoved Thomas to the ground and the looked at one another.

“Don’t look at each other.” You sneered.

You took another step forward.

“Look at me.”

They went to hit Thomas, and you grabbed one of them mens hands, pulling it back, holding it in a vice like grip.

“Look at me!” You yelled.

Both men looked at you with wide eyes.

You shoved the one you were holding into the other.

“If you want a fight then let’s fight.”

“(Y/N)… don’t…” thomas gasped out.

You took your jacket off and draped it over him.

“Look after that.”

You turned around and ducked under the fist aimed for your head, and you pushed him.

You put your hands into your pockets of your trousers.

Thomas watched you carefully, wondering if what he was seeing was right.

You spun around one of the men’s attacks, you back to his, and you ducked under another punch, stepping past a kick.

It was like you weren’t even thinking about it, simply just acting on pure instinct.

Spinning around, you took a hand out of your pocket, pushing one of the men’s arms making him falling into the water, and you the others wrist, pulling him around you, you slammed his back against the wall.

You watch as the both scrambled back up.

“Get out of my sight, the pair of you.”

“Or what?!”

You walked over, backing them to the exit of the under bridge.

You stared into their eyes.

“I will send you down to the deepest depths of the underworld…”

You pointed up, and they looked up, finding a few of the demigods from before crouching on the bridge with their weapons drawn.

They slowly backed away and ran, and you flicked your eyes up, giving a small nod of your head.

They nodded back and they left.

You turned around and walked over, kneeling down your grabbed your jacket and pulled it on.

You reached out and touched the side of his face with a heavy frown, and he let out a grunt of pain.

“It’s not like you to get into fights Thomas Barrow…”

He didn’t say anything and you looked around before looking back to him, taking a look at his injuries.

You pulled out your handkerchief and pressed it just under his nose.

You coughed a bit into your palm, looking at the blood you chose to ignore it and he looked at you.

You heard voices and looked up, taking his hand you pressed it to hold the handkerchief.

“I have to leave, no one knows I’m here. Say nothing…” you whispered.

You stood up and looked at him one more time before you took a few steps backwards and jogged out from under the bridge, looking up you took a few steps and ran, jumping.

Thomas watched so you were pulled up and vanished from sight and just as you left everyone came rushing over to him.

“You are badly hurt sir.” A demigod said.

“I’ll shadow travel us, come on.”

You shadow travelled your small group back to the camp and you were greeted by one of Apollo’s children ushering you to cot and immediately began looking you over.

“Nothing serious, it’s already slowly healing. Did someone already give you medicine?” He asked.

“Chiron has sent me over a load yes, I had some on me. Though I drank the whole bottle, is that bad?”

“I would advise drinking against the whole bottle general, but no as long as it was the one that’s fine.”

You nodded your head.

“Why are you turning the ambrosia into liquid?” You asked.

“It’s easier and quicker to consume in a pinch sir.”

You nodded your head.

“Can I ask something?”

He nodded and you sat up, pulling your shirt back on.

“Ambrosia cannot be given to humans, but, can you make me something that can ease pain, bruising and swelling for a normal human?” You asked.

“Actually I already have something, here.”

He handed it over.

“The others told me about the man under the bridge, they assumed him a friend of yours and I had this made up. He’ll have no issues with it, he will be tired and may feel nauseous but that’s it.”

You nodded your head and slipped the purple bottle into your pocket, and you carried on getting ready, wincing at your agitated the pain in your back

#Downton abbey #downton abbey x reader #downton abbey x you #Downton abbey imagine #thomas barrow #thomas barrow x you #thomas barrow x reader #Thomas Barrow imagine

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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'The stars of director Christopher Nolan's new film Oppenheimer left the London premiere of the movie early on Thursday ahead of the Screen Actors Guild strike announcement.

Cast members Cillian Murphy, Robert Downey Jr., Matt Damon, Emily Blunt, Florence Pugh, Kenneth Branagh, Josh Hartnett, and Rami Malek were all present to be photographed at the event, which began an hour earlier than had been scheduled because of the impending strike action, but the actors did not appear onstage with Nolan at Leicester Square's Odeon Luxe cinema.

According to footage from the event posted on Twitter by Deadline, Nolan first praised his cast and then explained that their absence was because of the likely strike action, which the filmmaker said he also supported.

"I have to acknowledge the work of our incredible cast, led by Cillian Murphy," says the director in the clip. "The list is enormous. Robert Downey Jr., Matt Damon, Emily Blunt, Florence Pugh, Kenneth Branagh, Rami Malek, and so many more. And we have to acknowledge, you've seen them here earlier on the red carpet, unfortunately, they're off to write their picket signs for what we believe to be an imminent strike by SAG, joining my guild, one of my guilds, the writers' guild, in the struggle for fair wages for working members of their union, and we support them."

SAG-AFTRA's national board voted unanimously to launch the guild's first strike, the union's President Fran Drescher and National Executive Director & Chief Negotiator Duncan Crabtree-Ireland announced Thursday.

After failing to reach a deal with the Alliance of Motion Pictures and Television Producers (AMPTP) when their June 30 contract deadline expired, the guild extended the negotiation period through July 12, but they were still unable to negotiate a contract that was agreeable to both parties. Their sister union, the Writers' Guild of America, has been on strike since May 1.

"It came with great sadness that we came to this crossroads. But we had no choice. We are the victims here," Drescher said during Thursday's press conference. "We are being victimized by a very greedy entity. I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly. How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they're losing money left and right while giving hundreds and millions of dollars to their CEOS. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment."

In Nolan's film, Murphy plays theoretical physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer, the so-called "Father of the atomic bomb." Oppenheimer is released July 21.'

#Oppenheimer #Cillian Murphy #Emily Blunt #Florence Pugh #Robert Downey Jr.#Rami Malek #Christopher Nolan #SAG-AFTRA #Kenneth Branagh #Fran Dreschner

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livelymyrtle · 1 year ago

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Honestly atp I don’t know how to feel about Lin Manuel Miranda. I don’t want to be in that crowd of the “Hamilton and everything else he does sucks and it’s all awful” because it’s not really true… Hamilton was very good (mostly brought down from excellence by the second act), and I actually quite liked Encanto (aside from the fact that Abuela gets pretty much excused at the end + Disney forced him to do stuff like writing in Isabela). In The Heights I haven’t paid much attention to, but what I saw I remember being good, and I know he has plenty of other gems…

so why is it that I, like so many people, am just not feeling it? Netizens have recently been feeling more meh on him or even begun to hate him. So why this shift in perspective?

I think the sudden scrutiny against LMM has two main components:

1) Overexposure

After Disney has been putting him in everything, which was already after everyone was saturated with Hamilton and ITH stuff, I think people are just getting a bit sick of the man. It’s especially damning for Lin that he tends to make every main character himself, and that he has such a distinctive lyrical style(or rather, he is unwilling to diverge from that style - he wrote How Far I’ll Go for Moana and that was more off par for him). As a result, it just feels like you are watching the same thing over and over and over again with him - and at this point it’s just getting kind of exhausting to see him all the time doing what feels like the exact same thing.

It also probably doesn’t help that he has become associated with Disney just as Disney has begun losing popular favor. Nowadays, they mostly are doing mediocre movies with the exact same plot, characters, art style, aesthetic, and message(basically trying to be Studio Ghibli in plot except that they don’t have the slow pensiveness, nor the understanding of what consumers actually want, nor the desire to create art for art’s sake), and extremely awful live action remakes that literally nobody likes, so Disney’s new stuff has been bleeding popularity like a bullet wound. Now, people think of Lin in the same vein that think of their disappointment with Disney, which is probably not making him look better. I’ve even seen people blame Disney’s negative shift on him, which isn’t really fair, but… I can see why someone would draw that conclusion, you know?

2) More importantly, cultural shift in attitudes.

Post COVID and what I like to call the Reality Exodus, everyone went on their phones, got really depressed and pessimistic, and got really online. I think that this has directly lead to why people are no longer ok with some aspects of LMMs stuff. In 2015-16, we all loved Hamilton: it was an inclusive and fresh new take on US history, something that we were pretty starved of pride in. With the election of Trump, things seemed bleak: but people remained hopeful still that there could be pride in this country. The concept of Miranda only hiring actors of color was also just the right amount of groundbreaking but not too shocking for the culture - we were committed to diversity, but not so much to the point where we wanted truly diverse stories to be told, so the all-POC cast in a very white story was a good way to knock on the glass ceiling without breaking it. The added message of “we are all a part of America” was fitting for the widespread “we don’t see color, everyone is welcome, hakuna matata” brand of anti-racism that was the most widely accepted narrative at the time.

But as we got into COVID, we see In the Heights released. And all of a sudden, the Twitter mob has come out against LMM for… colorism in his casting, of all things??? Casting that was very diverse?? And that he wasn’t even in charge of anyway???

In hindsight the whole Twitter cancellation thing seems ridiculous, but I do think it’s an important example of how much more aware and critical we had gotten as a culture. And I think our new perspectives shifted our views on some of his earlier work, too: namely, Hamilton.

After COVID, a play written by a nonblack man about rapping slave masters (but they are all played by POC) didn’t really seem all that revolutionarily anti-racist. We as a culture had developed our understanding of racial theory to a different, more radical narrative: we should start uplifting the stories of real POC and make actual changes. All of a sudden, LMM’s rooting for diversity just didn’t seem genuine anymore the the culture at large. I think that has played one of the biggest parts in his loss of popular favor.

And that’s where we get to now: I just don’t know what to think. I mean, on the one hand, of course Lin Manuel Miranda does some great stuff artistically. But his art, his messaging, his image in general has become associated with an era of lenient attempts at equality that I just don’t really support. And no, before you think it, this isn’t going to devolve into the regular separation of art and artist stuff. But it is a question of separation: Can we separate the goodness of an art piece from its intent? Can we judge art or media as being good objectively? And how important of a part does messaging play in what makes something “good”?

My answer? I don’t know. I need a cup of tea and a nap. Peace.

#lin manuel miranda #alexander hamilton #lmm #in the heights #encanto #hamilton musical #musicals #personal essay #commentary/opinion #social commentary #media analysis #we live in a society #theater #discourse #philosophy #breadtube

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sexually-confused-goblin · 1 year ago

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In a former post I talked about how I think some people hate The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power because they’re basically too impatient to wait for the story to unfold. I honestly thought that was already bad, seeing how many of those critics proudly admit to not even watching one episode. I was aware of the harassment the cast had received just for existing in the series - but then it just kept coming and Ismael Cruz Córdova’s account of just how terrible it actually was and most likely still is shocked me.

How is it possible for a grown person to be so bothered by an elf’s skin colour? Just because in the original works the elves are described as fair-skinned doesn’t mean we can’t have more diversity in adaptations, especially when it’s evident how much time has passed between the creation of both.

As a white cis woman I have many characters in media representing me. However, a lot of people don’t have that. For them, Arondir might just be one of the first POC elves or Disa one of the first female and dark-skinned dwarves ever seen on TV. Putting more diverse characters into shows and movies doesn’t take anything away from anyone. As long as the characters are written well and not just stereotypes it will be especially great for children. Kids need role models, so why should we refuse them a hero they can deeply relate to?

Netflix’s The Dragon Prince is probably one of the best examples I can think of in regard to great representation: disability, POC, LGBTQ+ and strong female characters, just to name a few - and it just exists, it’s normal in that world to encounter all sorts of people. I wholeheartedly believe that is a great approach to teaching children tolerance while giving them a chance to see themselves in great characters.

I want to end this post with a fitting quote from America Ferrera’s TED Talk “My identity is a superpower -- not an obstacle”

Because the truth is, I am what the world looks like. You are what the world looks like. Collectively, we are what the world actually looks like. And in order for our systems to reflect that, they don't have to create a new reality. They just have to stop resisting the one we already live in.

#lord of the rings #lotr fandom #lotr rop #rings of power #the dragon prince #media #representation in media #racism #homework

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 years ago

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Hii!! Thought I'd stop by and drop a request! This one's for Joe and Cherry from SK8 (separately): They both were high school skateboarding rivals with reader who is a sporty and tomboyish girl but later develop a crush on her.

Unfortunately, they haven't spoken to her in years after she left to study in a prestigious college recommended to her by her strict dad (fyi her parents are divorced, she does not get along with her dad, her mother still lives in Okinawa giving them updates about her).

Years go by and they hear of a small yet popular bakery that recently opened that sells a bunch of tasty goods and so, hungry and curious, they decided to pay a visit. As soon as they walk in, who do they see amongst all the yummy treats? The reader. Now a beautiful woman, even with her hair in a messy ponytail. The boy(s) decided to ask to speak with her and she's surprised (but happy) to see them after all these years.

Kojiro

Kojiro sighed as he covered his eyes from the blaring son. Figures the one day he decided to walk and not board it would be a scorcher. Squinting his eyes, he checked the address again. Only a few more blocks. He could make it.

He’d heard of this new pastry chef in town that was making some big waves in the community. Not usually one for flash (except with himself of course) he had ignored it until he tasted one of their treats from a pop-up downtown. It had been delicious! A true marvel of culinary arts. No, no, not that. Alchemy. Kojiro decided he had to meet them and see if they would be willing to collab on a menu for his restaurant. His desserts always fair, but weakest area of cooking.

Turning the corner, he came to the end of a narrow alley that listed the name & number of the business but little else. ‘No wonder they’re doing pop-ups’ He thought. This place wasn’t big enough to house more than a dozen customers at a time, and completely non-descript. Kojiro kind of liked it though. It added to the mystique, and he wanted this partnership even more.

“Hello.” He called out as he let himself into the, hopefully, open shop. “Anyone here?”

“Be right there!” A voice called from the back. A woman’s voice.

‘Good.’ Kojiro thought as he posted up by the counter bar. A woman would be much easier to deal with. He’d put on his charm and a devilish smile, and he’d get his way in no time. ‘Maybe even get her’ He added lecherously. ‘But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

“Sorry about that. What can I get started for you?”

“Well actually I was….” His voice trailed off as he came face to face with a ghost. “…[Y/N]?”

“Hey! Kojiro! I thought that was you.” She replied. Beaming at him like old times and coming up to the counter. “I’d recognize that green mop anywhere.”

“What are you doing here?” He was still in so much shock that he couldn’t get past basic questions.

“You mean, why am I not in America in some fancy high-story law firm?” That was the last he had heard of her. That was the last that any of them had heard from her after high school. That she was going to go off to some fancy school, then law school, and make it big as a lawyer in some major firm like in all the movies. To his knowledge, and updates from her mother, she had. So, what was she doing here? “After everything that happened the last few years, I realized that I wasn’t very happy. I did what I was supposed to, but not anything I wanted. Plus after mom got sick it kind of put everything in perspective. So, when things opened back up, I moved back here and opened this place up.”

“This is your shop?” Kojiro asked. Looking around with a fresh set of eyes.

[Y/N] giggled. “Yeah. Putting that law degree to good use hn? But if I ever get sued for food poisoning or someone burning themselves with a hot coffee, I’m covered.”

Kojiro scoffed as she went over to the espresso machine to make them some coffees. “I guess. You seem to be doing well. I actually came here to sweet talk the owner into doing a collab menu with me at my restaurant.”

“You really opened that then? I thought mom was joking.” [Y/N] teased as she set the milk to steam, then came over a few minutes later with two cups. “Seriously Joe, I’m happy for you.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up hearing his nickname from her. She gave it to him. ‘Joe’. She gave them all their names back when they used to all be so close and were stupid enough to think that’s how it would always be.

“So you want to collab on something?”

Kojiro looked up from his coffee and memories. Startled back to adulthood at the reminder of work. “Oh…yeah. I thought we could work out a pre-fix menu for the season crowd coming up. My dinner, your desserts. Maybe even a sweet/savory board thing?”

“That sounds great!” [Y/N] agreed. “Why don’t I come over this week and I can try your food, and then work out a menu. I usually do French classic, but Italian desserts are a pretty easy spin off. We’d make a great team!”

“Yeah. We would.” His tone was a little wistful. Then he pulled out his phone to ask for her number so he could text her. “I’m closed on Thursdays. So come over then and I’ll make you something special.”

“Just the two of us?” She asked, with a hint of a smirk, getting his attention. “How scandalous.”

Kojiro blushed. Probably for the first time in 10 years. “Just be there!” He clipped. But then smiled and thanked her for the coffee before he had to leave. He couldn’t stay there all day reminiscing, even if he wanted to, with his own restaurant to get ready for the dinner rush.

KaoruHe thought the gorilla was lying when he told him. Some cruel joke. Or wishful thinking in that big dumb head of his.

Kaoru been shocked beyond reason when he invited [Y/N]’s mother over for tea and she told him that yes, she was back in Okinawa for good. He felt a little jilted that she hadn’t told him before; making him regret all the times he had invited her over for tea in the past. At least he knew now, he supposed.

Heading down to the small shop, he let himself in and found [Y/N] cleaning off the counter in an apron. The smell of fresh bread & coffee in the air. This surreal feeling of walking into a dream, rather than a small café run by an old friend.

“I wondered when you’d show.” [Y/N] said, not seeming surprised he was there.

“Your mother mentioned that we spoke?”

“No,” she said as she flipped the dust rag onto her shoulder. “You know her policy on gossip. But since Kojiro was here, I guessed it was only a matter of time before he told you.”

“You should have told me.” Kaoru hissed in irritation.

Who could she not tell him she was back? Sure they had grown apart when she went abroad for school, and then work, but he thought they were still close. With her back, it changed everything. And he was angry she didn’t feel the same.

“I figured you were busy. What with being a big shot calligrapher now and all. Who would have guessed?” [Y/N] mused as she poured a cup of green tea and sat it on the counter. A peace offering.

Kaoru scrunched his lips, but walked across the café to the counter. Taking the cup. “I had to get a job eventually. Calligraphy just sort of worked out.”

“The things we do for our parents, ney?”

He looked up from his teacup. Watching [Y/N] wax nostalgically. His parents were never happy with his alternative lifestyle in high school. Pressuring him to be a more suitable young man they could be proud of; like her father pushing her into law. After high school he decided he had to grow up and be an adult. Plus with Adam and [Y/N] leaving, being ‘edgy’ just wasn’t as much fun anymore. So he became the suitable young man his parents always dreamed of, and they weren’t around to even enjoy it.

“I take it your working with the gorilla on some secret menu promotion?”

“Hehe, yes,” [Y/N] confirmed with a giggle. “He wants to do a collaboration. His food. My desserts. Should be fun.”

“When is it?” Kaoru asked nonchalantly as he sipped his tea.

“Why? You want to come?”

“Tsk. Hardly.” He rebuttaled. “I detest crowds. And I’m at Sia often, so I’d like to know the dates to avoid such commotion.”

“Awww. You think we’re gonna draw crowds?” Kaoru balked and blushed a little at [Y/N] turning the tables on him. “But, if you don’t like crowds. We’re picking the menu next Thursday. Why don’t you come by? We could use another taster. That way you can try the menu and help decide what’s on it. It’ll be like old times!”

“Old times hn?” It was Kaoru’s turn to wax nostalgically. If only for a moment. He quickly cleared his throat and sat his empty teacup down. “I’ll have to see if my schedule allows. I’m very busy.”

“Of course.” [Y/N] said in that know-it-all sort of way he just remembered he hated. “Well, if you can. Kojiro said to come over at 5:00. Again, if you can.”

Kaoru grunted, but made a mental note of the time (and to show up at 5:10 as to not seem eager). He thanked [Y/N] for the tea, and told them he was happy to see her. She smiled and said she was happy to see him too, and to come back anytime.

He made another mental note to come back in two weeks. As to not seem eager.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 the infinity scenarios #sk8 the infinity imagines #sk8 scenarios #kaoru sakurayashiki #sk8 cherry #sk8 joe #kojiro nanjo #female reader #scenarios #imagine

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aardappel-van-mijn-oog · 1 year ago

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Advice on being an antifascist nuisance?

There is a LOT of preface to this so buckle up.

I saw an ad on YouTube today that made me sick to the stomach. For context, I live in the Netherlands but am not from here. The ad I saw was for the FvD Political Party (Forum voor Democratie, a far-right political party here), because election season is coming up. I've also had a few more, mainly from D66, but this one shocked me because of how much it reminded me of political discourse I hear in Britain (where I'm from) and America. Just random buzzwords about drag queens and "save the children" and scaremongering about the malicious gays, it makes me worried about the state of politics here.

I'll link the video below, it is in Dutch but I'll put a translation underneath it. TRIGGER WARNING OMFG THIS IS AWFUL:

Translation: "Ik ben nonbinair" (I'm nonbinary) "Ja, maar ben je man of vrouw?" (Yeah, but are you a man or a woman?) INDOCTRINATIE (Indoctrination) SEKSUALISERING (Sexualisation) VERMINKING (Mutilation) Bescherm onze kinderen. (Protect our children.) Stem FVD. 22 November (Vote FVD. 22nd of November) "Wat is nonbinair?" (What is nonbinary?) 'De partij van hoop, optimisme en herstel.' (The party of hope, optimism and revival)

What can I say but yikes.

Seeing this just horrified me. I know it's from a fringe political party; FvD has 5 seats in the Tweede Kamer (kinda like the Dutch Congress/House of Commons) but they actually won the provincial elections by a fair margin only a few years ago so it's not like we can just ignore them. Plus, they might make up part of the coalition that a staggeringly popular new political party literally formed in August of this year called the NSC wants to make. I have always thought of the Netherlands as (culturally at least) an open, accepting and free country, and at the very least a tolerant country. I recently travelled to Poland with my boyfriend and I remember feeling so strange about not being able to hold hands or kiss in public for fear of getting harassed. Even in England I don't think I'd feel entirely safe doing that! So when I saw this ad, something inside me just went "NO!" I will not have this beautiful, magical freedom to be who I am and not have to worry about it be threatened by a man who looks like someone fed Jake Gyllenhaal to a sheep and yanked him out the other end before it had finished digesting.

So. The meat of the matter: How can I best go about making life as difficult and annoying as possible for the horrible people at the FvD? I already reported the ad four times but I want to try and be deliberately and directly antagonistic. I'm 17, so not quite old enough to vote here currently, therefore that's kinda off the table (although if I were, coalitie GroenLinks/PvdA de hele weg babeyyyy) so I need a way, however small, that I can fight the good fight against these zusneukende paniekzaaiende klootzakken for disrupting my daily YouTube Shorts brain rot hours. Their headquarters are quite close to my house, so there's a start? Although frankly Amsterdam is so easy to get around that everything feels close to my house.

Anyway, thanks in advance :)

#nederblr #nederland #leftism #anti capitalism #antifascist #dutch politics #leftist #socialism

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antlereyes · 2 years ago

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Fascination of the Flesh

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▏ This post will go into the history and media of cannibalism, and at the end how my identity ties into the subject.

I do not condone the actions mentioned.

And I will not go into graphic details, but this is a warning about the content of this post. ▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▏ If I am going to be discussing the history about cannibalism it is only fair to start of with how it has harmed the indigenous community. The word "cannibal" is possible to have come from Christopher Columbus himself. He mentioned to the Queen of rumors about a indigenous group called the "Caribs" that cooked and ate their prisoners. This was then frowned upon so the Queen wished for these people to be enslaved. And when things did not go the way Christopher wanted it to, he simply labelled every protester as a "caribe" having them captured. Then somewhere along the years the word carib became what we use today, cannibal.

Still today tribes of different nations are affected by the western view of them and cannibalism. Seeing anyone not living in the "modern world" as cannibalistic and wild. This thought have partly been caused by movies portrayals, general hatred and differences in cultures.

For there are so many cultures that have different practices surrounding cannibalism, without it having been strange untill people from outside said culture found out about it. Examples being ritually eating a dead relative, eating the flesh of the ones fallen in battle, eating a person to gain their powers or religious sacrifice. It can be horrible in certain circumstances, but it can also be a beautiful thing that is part of a rich culture.

What is more horrible rather than beautiful is when it comes to mummies. Not all too long ago, europeans themself were cannibals aswell. Although they did not like to go by that name and they didn't see themself as such. Peaking in the 16th and 17th century many people ingested remedies containing alot of different human parts. And where from? Mummies stolen from Egyptian tombs ofcourse. There are many different ways the remedies were created, and usage of the parts from the mummy varied. And I can recommend for those intruiged to read about this part of history!

Fun fact, once upon a time catholics next to Indigenous people were consindered equally "savage" due to their consumption of Christ's body and blood. It's funny to see how cannibals themself would call others out for their cannibalism whilst turning a blind eye to their own practices.

This is just brief on the history of harm in differences in culture, next I want to discuss a little bit about media that have further caused harm to indigenous people. There has been quite alot of cannibal centric movies since the 1900's, one old very famous one that has been adapted quite alot is Sweeney Todd. In 1963 there came a bang, cannibal movies reborn when Blood Feast was released. And the "cannibal boom" properly started in the 1970's through the 1980's. Sadly these new ones weren't just horror movies, they also gave a bad light to foreign cultures (non-western). Taking place in south america, africa and asia, often in rainforests. This once again made white people see people of colour as "savage" and primitive. And I believe a particular movie might pop into the minds of certain people reading this, Cannibal Holocaust. There are so many awful things surrounding this movie, and it's not something worth watching either. It centers around a cannibalistic group of people in the amazon and the awful acts that follow.

Movies like these are only made for shock value and to put it shortly, misogynistic and extremely racist. And they've only caused harm to peoples perception of indigenous groups. But thankfully we've moved past this point, and now cannibalistic media focuses on other themes and people.

I find cannibalism to be a interesting and creative tool for storytelling, and I believe that is why it has become so popular. It can be used as something metaphorical or even political. Take the movie Fresh as an example, here we see a white cishet man who is clearly making alot of money. And how? By selling women's body parts to other rich men. Now movies surrounding cannibalism like these have gone from being misogynistic and using women, to being a statement about how men use women. Similar to Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, a book written by a woman to show how ridiculous white rich men are. Ironically that movie flew over the head of most men it was making fun of, and they saw Bateman as the version they all want to be. Slightly terrifying!

It is quite refreshing to see how women have taken over the genre in a sense, and really transformed cannibalism into something unique and mesmerising. Focusing on sexuality, self-discovery, inner rage, fighting the patriarchy or the struggles in friendships etc.

Raw is a good example, it's a coming-of-age movie that focuses on the character Justine. A vegetarian that starts her first year of veterinary college, although the school has some "rituals" for the new students. One being to eat a rabbit kidney, and this is the start of her spiralling craving for meat. Cannibalism in this movie is used in such a clever way of showcasing a person finding who they are in life and how they are going through rapid changes. It's beautiful and chaotic.

Or even that of the movie Under the skin, which isn't really about cannibalism in the same sense as these other movies. But it shares similar themes and images. It follows a woman, that might not be fully human learning about humanity by luring men to her. But especially about the darker sides of humanity like gender roles and sexism. "cannibalism feels ripe for a feminist makeover because so much about femininity centres on consumption – what we can eat, how much we can eat, how to present yourself as appealing, and how those questions are inextricably intertwined." - Vogue

So how does this topic work it's way into my identity? More ways than one, and we shall start with what is probably the most famous one when it comes to cannibalistic media.

Growing up with parents that love movies and collect an insane amount of dvds, there existed alot of horror themed ones in said collection. I didn't get to watch them at first, but that did not last long and I believe I saw my first horror movie at the age of six or seven. It would not be long after that someone in my family put on The silence of the lambs. Hannibal Lecter is just such a switch-up from what people had previously seen about cannibals. He isn't wild nor a monster. He is sophisticated and intelligent with a taste for the finer things in life, and well, human flesh. He is terrifying in that he is so smart and how easily he can read and manipulate others around him. Being respected and well thought of helps him get his way with things in life. I loved this movie and I was deeply intruiged with Hannibal. That was however all there was, untill a certain man called Bryan Fuller decided to write a show.

This show is Nbc's Hannibal, in which we get to follow Will Graham. An FBI criminal profiler who is plagued by his ability to empathise with serial killers. One of the serial killers he is working on catching is Hannibal Lecter, who also happens to be Will's psychiatrist, colleague, friend and eventual love interest. Hannibal in this show is once again less of a monster and more of a man, although perhaps one that sees himself above other people. He is a doctor, a culinary expert and an artist in many ways. He enjoys the finer things in life, from opera shows to an expensive suit.

Murder in this show is art, and i'm not just talking about Hannibal's way of killing and digesting. Everything in this show is made with such a poetic and emotional touch to it. A man resembling the person you love turned into an origami heart, or people's backs skinned and turned into wings so they can look like angels watching over the murderer who suffers from cancer. It is rarely sloppy or brutal, and when it is that also carries meaning. Such as giving in to your repressed feelings and instincts or becoming who you feared you would ultimately end up as.

Cannibalism in this show is also shown in many different angles. A way to control someone, appreciating the people around you to the fullest, playing God or even homoeroticism. And if you weren't aware or haven't understood it by now, I identify as this version of Hannibal Lecter. And whilst my identity as Hannibal is about so many things, such as his interests above. It is also about cannibalism, it's how and why his character was made and it is simply unavoidable. The intimacy, eroticism and the power that comes with it. Allowing yourself to release what you keep hidden, and to find similar minds. Is all part of me and also connects to my other identity I shall discuss, that of a vampire. "If you look at cannibalism throughout history there is something extreme about consuming somebody else. If you love someone fully the most extreme you can go with that is to digest them and make them be part of you." - Mads Mikkelsen There is nothing quite as intimate as that of a vampire consuming it's victim, or perhaps, partner. And similar to cannibalism, vampirism has been used as so many metaphors throughout history. Such as, repressed desires, social fears, spreading of diseases, Queer identities, addictions, lust and so on.

It definitely connects to my general identity, thoughts and the struggles i face in my day to day life. Intrusive thoughts, desires, a want to escape humanity, fear of death, morbid curiosity and sometimes a need to feel powerful. And with the consumption of blood there comes something so raw and personal with it. Perhaps you lured or tempted a person to go with you, with the idea that you'll do something else but end up the your meal. Draining them of their life to sustain your own. Their blood living on forever in the body of the vampire. It's passionate and intimate.

I think Hannibal can sometimes be likened to that of a vampire, the man was even raised in a castle. His mysterious but sensual and intruiging aura. His way of words and quotations. Even just how he presents himself and his meals. It is all like that of an ominous vampire lurking and manipulating to end up with a deeply passionate feeding session.

My final part to this long dive into my psyche is that of Remus Lupin, and being a werewolf. One would think that someone that identifies as a vampire wouldn't also identify as a werewolf. But they do have alot of connections! Especially if you look into the original Dracula story, in which Dracula himself could turn into a wolf.

Remus is very laid back and careful, and I believe alot of that comes from his "disease". It plagues his mind and he deeply fears that he will hurt the ones he loves, even to the point of running away from them. But he loves deeply, and that is probably his greatest strength just as it is his greatest weakness. Being a werewolf is also a wonderful way to represent this. Trying to hold back from hurting but ultimately failing to do so as the beast and urges from deep within comes out. Something i've personally struggled with myself, and still might from time to time. Because sometimes our biggest fears are ourselves and what we are capable of.

I could probably talk about this topic for ages and dig deeper into my thoughts and feelings regarding it. But I do also fear it would become rather confusing after some time- and just too much to take in. It's not an easy thing to write out your thoughts! But nonthenless I do hope this was of interest and perhaps some of you can recognise yourself in this. If you read to this point, wowza!

Sources: Britannica, TED-Ed, Collider, Smithsonian Magazine

#Therian #therianthropy #fictionkin #fictotype #Cannibalism

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sixty-silver-wishes · 2 years ago

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It's 2023 and I live in Florida.

I've lived my whole life in central Florida (with the nearest city being Orlando), and the general political climate I grew up in was pretty moderate. The far-right shift things have been taking honestly came as a shock (although to be fair, confronting the rise of fascism in your backyard is a tough pill to swallow no matter where you live), considering the atmosphere I was raised in; I remember going on vacation to places like Georgia and Tennessee when I was a kid and being shocked to see people flying Confederate battle flags and selling them as souvenirs in gift shops. Florida always felt like more of a mixed bag, albeit a whiplash-inducing one; you can go down to Mims and see Trump signs tacked up everywhere, or you can go to Lake Eola and see pride flags in all the windows.

Both the Pulse and Parkland shootings happened when I was in high school, and I distinctly remember how both of them rocked my community. We staged walkouts at school, had conversations with our families and friends about topics like gun control and the LGBT+ community that lasted for weeks, and it felt like a sense of mourning and desire for progress could be felt within everyone I knew.

Which is one of the many reasons why whatever the fuck Desantis is doing infuriates me so much. I hate to see the place I grew up in turned into what it's becoming, and frankly, it's painful not just to see outsiders see it first and foremost in this way, but for them to be right about it. When Kathy Hochul told conservative New Yorkers to "move to Florida," to me, that felt like a stab in the gut, that the place I lived and grew up in should be recognized nationally like this. For me, that just wasn't Florida. Did we have conservative crazies? Sure, but overall, I always saw Florida as a much more diverse and multifaceted place than people give it credit for. But unfortunately, with the insane laws being passed here and Desantis receiving a level of support that to me seems unthinkable (I swear, he could write "I am a fascist" on his forehead and people still wouldn't give a shit), and the fear I feel every day that things are getting worse and worse, the apathy that follows as a survival mechanism that I keep reminding myself that I can't give into, it feels unrecognizable. And yet, this didn't come out of nowhere.

My advice to those who are still reading? Don't be apathetic. Oppression is happening here, and will continue to worsen, and by writing off entire populations as people unworthy of compassion, you are writing off the people who are oppressed and may not be able to "just leave," who are suffering the most under such legislation and sociopolitical climates. Fascism thrives off of fear and dividing people into "us" and "them," so I'm begging you, remember the humanity of those who are suffering under it- and yes, that includes the people who have been indoctrinated into it. Do you have to like them, excuse them, or forgive them? Absolutely not. But their fears and ignorance are being preyed upon, and that will end up hurting more people in the long run.

Secondly, don't think it can never happen to you. I've seen people in blue states constantly dismiss whatever Desantis and co. are doing because it doesn't affect them, but if he runs for president and wins, he becomes the entire country's problem. And it doesn't have to be him; we've seen far-right ideology spreading across the country, perpetrated by multiple people. I've seen Europeans and Canadians blaming the rise of far-right movements in their countries on Trump and America, and while Trump and far-right American movements may have encouraged them, fascism can show up anywhere; the first step to fighting it acknowledges that there's never just one person to blame; it works systemically and thrives off of apathy. Think critically, stay educated, and most importantly, stay compassionate.

#florida #florida politics #politics #discourse #vent #rambles

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 7 months ago

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"Lex is gone. You're safe now. Let me introduce myself. I'm--"

"Lena."

Shock crosses Lena's face, and Red Daughter doesn't know how to feel about how Lena feels. Lex had always spoken of his sister with affection. Why would she be surprised Red Daughter knows who she is?

"You're safe now," Lena repeats, schooling her features to a cool regard.

Red Daughter tilts her head. "I have always been safe, here."

This time, it is Lena's turn to look quizzical.

"Alex would never allow harm to come to me."

One eyebrow lifts, dark against fair skin. Clearly, she has her suspicions, but she does not speak them. Instead, she takes a step forward, one hand tucking into the pocket of her coat.

"Will you come with me?" Lena asks. Almost before the words have fully passed her lips, Red Daughter offers her reply.

"Yes."

With Lena, she would go anywhere.

---

She boards a luxurious aircraft on the base's runway, trailing behind Lena as she drinks in the opulence. She'd expected to be shuffled into one of the military crafts she's seen so often, yet had no use for, with netted seats and room for cargo. Not this.

"Sit wherever you like," Lena invites, her voice low. Smooth. Rehearsed.

Red Daughter sits as close to Lena as she is able, in the seat facing her across a small table. As the engines whir to life, Red Daughter studies Lena.

"What purpose do you have for me?"

Green eyes lift to hers. For a moment, she sees sympathy in them.

"You are not a tool," Lena returns. "Nor a weapon."

"I am a soldier," Red Daughter clarifies. She is proud to be such.

Lena gives a single shake of her head. "No."

Red Daughter swallows her indignation. Lena does not know, she allows. She does not understand.

"Then what do you intend?" Red Daughter inquires. "When we reach America?"

"If you'll allow me, I'd like to evaluate your health. From there, I can help you acclimate to American life if you wish."

Red Daughter does not need to assimilate into American life. She already has a life, as a proud child of Kaznia. But she finds herself nodding.

It will keep her in Lena's presence. Keep them close.

"I would like that."

---

Though also underground, Lena's laboratory is spacious and clean, with none of the dank air that had permeated the Kaznian facility. Lena provides her a new set of comfortable garments, and talks her through every step of her evaluation. Red Daughter is stymied by her gentleness-- the scientists in Kaznia had never explained their intentions. They had simply taken what they needed.

"This last part requires a blood sample," Lena says. "Due to the impermiability of your skin, a kryptonite needle is required. Contact will be brief, but you may experience some pain." Her eyes regard Red Daughter carefully. "Do you wish to proceed?"

Red Daughter nods. The prospect of pain means little in the face of performing well for Alex's sister. Lena is true to her word. The flare of fire in her veins is short-lived, and Lena swiftly ejects the cartridge of blood and deposits the syringe in a lead lined container.

"Thank you," Lena says, setting the sample aside. "The test should be completed in a few hours, but it seems that you are in good health."

She busies herself with scribbling a note on her clipboard. Red Daughter finally gives voice to the thoughts that have plagued her since Lena first introduced herself.

"May I ask you a question?" she asks.

Lena's head lifts, and her attention settles on Red Daughter like a tangible weight. "Of course."

"Alex... he spoke of you often," Red Daughter says. "He said you were selfish."

Delicate lips curl in a bemused smile. "I suppose I am."

"Yet you have shown me nothing but kindness."

"The two are not mutually exclusive," Lena delivers easily. She settles on a small padded stool, wheeling herself towards where Red Daughter sits on the exam table. "I can see that you care for him."

Red Daughter nods. "As he cares for me."

A quiet exhalation escapes Lena. It would have been imperceptible if not for Red Daughter's gifts. She doesn't quite understand what it means.

"One thing you should know about my brother," Lena continues, "is that every word he says, every move he makes, is to manipulate others to his own benefit."

Red Daughter frowns in consternation. "I don't understand."

"He disparaged and complimented me in the same breath, I assume?" Lena says. "Brilliant yet selfish, kind yet foolish?"

Blood rushes to Red Daughter's cheeks. He had not used those words exactly, but Lena had guessed correctly.

"Neither untrue, yet phrased in just the right way to cast himself as affectionate, yet superior." Lena smirks. "Am I close?"

Tucking her chin, Red Daughter studies her hands in her lap, twisting anxiously. "He loves you."

"He loves me as much as he loves you-- as a tool, for what we can do for him. The moment you ceased to be of use, he would have abandoned you." Lena shifts on her stool, crossing her legs elegantly. "You haven't asked what happened to him."

"Supergirl."

The taste of the HERO'S name on her lips fills her with a dark and sudden rage. Her jaw tightens as her teeth grit themselves together. She doesn't need confirmation, but looks to Lena anyway.

Alex's sister says nothing for a long moment. Then, she tilted the screen of her computer towards Red Daughter, then pulled up a newsfeed with just a few keystrokes.

Together, they watch a figure in humanoid armor raining destruction down on National City. Windowed buildings explode in a shower of glass and fire, until a smaller figure zips into view, putting out the fire with a gust of what Red Daughter knows is the same icy breath she has.

"That is not Alex--"

As though listening to her words, the feed cuts to a closer view of the terrorist, revealing a bald head and familiar bearded features. Red Daughter's breath catches in her chest.

"But..."

She watches as Alex extends a palm to fire a plasma blast towards innocent bystanders, only for the shot to be intercepted by a red cape.

"He needed to be stopped," Lena delivers quietly, gently. "He forced her hand."

"No," Red Daughter issues, thoughts racing. "He wouldn't. He wanted to save this country, its citizens."

"He only wanted power. When manipulation didn't work, he resorted to force." Lena gazes at Red Daughter, but she can't tear her eyes from the screen. "He would have never stopped."

Eventually, the news shifts to a sponsor break, and Lena turns it off. After a long moment, she reaches for Red Daughter's hand. Red Daughter pulls away, even the faint brush of Lena's fingers suddenly scalding.

"I wish to be alone," she says forcefully.

She expects a protest, or fear, but Lena simply nods. She rises gracefully from her seat, and gives a low murmur.

"Press this button if you need anything," Lena says, gesturing to a prominent button on the desk's phone. "I'll check in later."

With that, she leaves the room, leaving Red Daughter to her swirling thoughts.

---

Red Daughter doesn't know how much time has passed when Lena re-enters the lab. In her hands she carries a number of paper bags, transluscent with grease. Whatever they contain fills the air with a rich, savory aroma that sets Red Daughter's stomach to growling.

"I surmised as much," Lena says, amused. She hands the bags to Red Daughter, keeping only one of the drinks for herself.

She watches, sipping on her straw, as Red Daughter wolfs down burger after burger. Somehow, Lena has brought her exactly as much as she needs to feel full. It's an unfamiliar feeling.

"Supergirl is looking for you," Lena says in a low voice.

Red Daughter blinks, yet isn't quite surprised. Alex had told her it would only be a matter of time before the so-called hero tried to eliminate her.

"It's only a matter of time before she tracks you here." Lena regards her calmly, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of being caught harboring her. "Do you wish to speak with her?"

Her rage flares again, curling her hands into fists as her muscles clench with the urge to smash and rend and destroy.

"No."

Lena nods. "Very well."

---

Lena doesn't restrict her to the lab, though she does advise Red Daughter to keep out of sight during working hours. Even that, however, is mitigated by Lena visiting a few days later with clothes and a curious accessory.

"It's an image inducer," Lena explains. "It disguises your identity by projecting computer generated features over your own."

She reaches up to affix the device to Red Daughter's skin, just behind her ear. The ghostly touch of Lena's fingers sends a shiver of something down Red Daughter's spine.

"Nothing too egregious. Different nose shape, eye color, that sort of thing. No one will notice unless they're looking for it."

There's a curious tickle across Red Daughter's face when the image inducer activates, but it passes quickly. A satisfied smile flitters across Lena's features before she turns to the pile of clothes she's brought with her.

"I've brought a few options for you to choose from," she continues. "I sincerely doubt my brother gave you much choice in wardrobe, so I'm happy to help if you'd like some input. But feel free to try them on to see what you prefer."

Red Daughter obeys, feeling simultaneously foolish and giddy as she disrobes and begins trying on clothes. It's frivolous, another example of American consumerism, but it's fun to see her appearance change in the mirror, depending on color and fit.

In the end, she settles on all black-- fitted jeans and boots, with a long sleeved shirt that fits comfortably snug against her skin. When she turns for Lena's reaction, Red Daughter sees a slight bob in the woman's throat as she swallows.

"Wow," Lena says, smiling. "Looks perfect."

"They are very comfortable," Red Daughter returns. "Thank you."

Lena waves her gratitude away. "It's nothing." She turns to grab several items off the table behind her. When she turns back, she offers Red Daughter a packet of folded leather.

"Wallet," Lena says plainly, passing it over to Red Daughter. "Phone. Keys."

The keyring is bare, Red Daughter notes, with a single key, a laminated paper tab, and a metal charm depicting a smiling cat.

"Wallet has cards and cash," Lena continues, "phone is programmed with my number. The key is to my apartment-- you're welcome to visit. The tab will get you back into L-Corp if you prefer to return here."

"And the cat?"

Lena grins. "For flavor."

Red Daughter blinks as suddenly the pieces in her hands start clicking together. "Why are you giving me these things?"

Her host fixes her with a bright gaze. "You aren't a prisoner here. You're welcome to come and go as you please-- these are so you can navigate the city comfortably."

Apprehension coats Red Daughter's throat. She knows what to do with them-- Alex has prepared her for eventual infiltration, after all. But... she does not know where to go.

Lena senses her distress, and continues.

"I would go with you, but I'm concerned I'd draw too much attention, after... well."

After Alex, Red Daughter knows. He had warned her how cruel the american press can be, when they set their sights on someone they believed could be a story. It doesn't help her feel any better.

"How about this?" Lena takes the phone back and taps at the screen. "I'm plugging in a cafe I enjoy. And I'll make a note here for a drink suggestion I think you'll like."

"What do you like?" Red Daughter asks.

Lena pauses. She looks up at Red Daughter with an indiscernable gaze.

"Flat white two pumps hazelnut."

The answer means nothing to Red Daughter, but her feelings of foolishness for asking ebbs when Lena shoots her a smile.

"Don't worry," she assures her, "You'll get the hang of it in no time."

She taps more, then returns the phone to Red Daughter. The screen displays a map with a dotted line-- her intended path, it would seem.

"I added a stop for the city library," Lena says. Her smile softens. "I saw the books in your barracks. You like to read?"

Elation floods Red Daughter-- Lena had noticed! Not only noticed, she has inferred her love of books, as though she had some preternatural ability to see into Red Daughter's mind.

"I do," Red Daughter says with an answering smile.

"Then you should visit. Or do anything else that interests you on the way. And if you do go, you should find some books to check out and bring home."

Home. Home feels like a distant memory, as far away as Kaznia, and quickly being eclipsed by the feeling she has here and now in Lena's presence. A sudden wash of disappointment fills Red Daughter that Lena would not be joining her on her exploration.

"I would feel much better if you would come with me."

Lena sighs softly, the sound kind to Red Daughter's ears. Her lips purse thoughtfully as her brow creases, before her gaze brightens.

"Come with me."

Red Daughter follows Lena to the small elevator that takes them to Lena's office. It is not her first visit upstairs, but it is the first to occur while daylight streams through the windows. She watches as Lena rummages through her purse, then emerge with a soft "hah!"

"Here," Lena says, opening a small plastic case. Inside sit two communication pieces, not unlike the devices the soldiers used in field operations. Red Daughter carefully plucks one from the case and puts it in her ear.

"When you get downstairs, call the number in the phone. We can talk while you explore, and you tell me whether you like that drink."

Red Daughter feels a beaming smile of her own creep over her features.

"Yes," she says softly. "I would like that."

---

To Red Daughter's surprise, the streets outside L-Corp are relatively empty.

"I had expected there to be more people."

"It's Saturday," Lena says in her ear. Classical music plays in the background, a peaceful soundtrack to a bright, comfortable day. "I expect you'll run into more people when you get closer to the park and restaurant areas."

She's correct. Individuals, partners, and families all mill about the city center enjoying the sunshine. It disorients Red Daughter for a few moments until she adjusts. Lena speaks to her through the overstimulation.

"You're doing really well," Lena says. "Just focus on me. Do you see the shop on the opposite corner?"

"Yes," Red Daughter answers, grateful for the smooth cadence of Lena's voice.

"That's where you're going. There's likely a line-- if you don't know where the end of it is, ask around until you do."

Red Daughter nods. She can do this. She's on a mission-- a mission to acquire coffee, and render a report. She navigates across the street, following the streams of people until she reaches the door of the cafe.

She does indeed find the line, and proceeds to wait in her assigned spot, slowly moving forward until she reaches the counter.

A friendly looking woman meets her gaze. "What can I get you?"

Red Daughter glances at her phone, but looks up a moment later, resolute. "Flat white two pumps hazelnut."

There a small noise in Red Daughter's ear, communicating Lena's surprise. After she pays, she finds a relatively quieter corner to wait in.

"That's not the drink I recommended," Lena says in a low voice.

"I want to try what you like," Red Daughter returns. When her drink is announced, she takes a long pull and swallows quickly.

"It is awful," she tells Lena.

Lena's answering laugh fuels her grin all the way to the library.

----

With Lena in her ear, Red Daughter quickly learns how to navigate the library and its seemingly endless stacks of books. There is so much information, so much knowledge, that she feels utterly incapable of absorbing it all. Yet she wants to.

There is still much she does not know about this world. So much she yearns to.

"There's a limit to how many you can take home," Lena warns. "So choose carefully."

She provides recommendations at Red Daughter's behest, and though Red Daughter finds a seat in the library to read there, she lingers only a moment before she rises and makes her way back to L-Corp.

Lena looks up in surprise when she enters, carrying her heavy load of books with ease.

"Back so soon?"

Red Daughter shrugs. She is glad that Lena doesn't push for a reason-- she isn't ready to admit that she isn't interested in being anywhere Lena isn't.

---

She rarely returns to the laboratory after that. Instead, Red Daughter finds herself integrating not only into life in America, but into Lena's life. Where Alex kept her cramped in a stone cell in the bunker's barracks, Lena grants her leave to make herself comfortable in a spare room of Lena's own apartment.

They share meals, discuss politics and philosophy and literature. While Lena works diligently at her computer after hours, Red Daughter reads. Oh, how she reads. Every novel makes her yearn for experiences she's never had, every geography makes her long to see every corner of the world.

She could, she knows. She could see each corner twice over in the space of a breath, but she wouldn't live them. Wouldn't drink in their cultures or peoples, wouldn't witness the sunrise or sunset... she wouldn't be with Lena. For when she imagines herself in these far off places, in the scenes of her books-- Lena is always right there with her in her mind.

It is on one such evening, spent in quiet, comfortable coexistence, that Lena issues a soft, "oh."

When Red Daughter glances up at the sound, she finds Lena staring at her.

"I just realized..." Lena says softly, hesitantly. "I'm sorry, but-- I've never asked you your name."

Red Daughter blinks. It hasn't occurred to her either. Such a thing is trivial when alone in the same room, as they so often are.

"The General called me Red Daughter," she returns, considering. "But Alex sometimes called me his Snowbird."

Lena's gaze darkens, almost imperceptibly.

"Do you like either of those?"

Red Daughter pauses. The General's name for her doesn't feel right anymore, after so long away from Kaznia. It was more a codename than a name, she knows. Now, no longer a soldier, it doesn't fit like it used to.

And Snowbird... it was Alex's name for her. Though she has come to accept the mistakes Alex had made, that he had become the villain he had tried so hard to vanquish, it still feels precious to her.

"No," she says simply.

Lena nods. "Is there a name you do like?"

There isn't one. None of the names from her books seem appropriate, as she is real and they are not. But... Red Daughter's thoughts drift to the forged identification in her wallet, which she sees every time she pays for coffee.

"Josie."

Lena's brow crinkles for a moment before it clicks. "Oh! No, that was just an alias I chose at random. We can change it--"

"No," Red Daughter says quietly. It is the name on her library card, after all, the identity under which she has learned and lived since joining Lena. "I like it."

A smile answers her, soft and gentle with eyes as warm as a fire's cooling embers.

"Very well. Josie."

---

True to Lena's expectations, it isn't long before Supergirl comes searching for her, with Lena.

"I know you're hiding her, Lena," Red Daughter-- Josie-- hears through the bathroom door of Lena's office ensuite. But instead of demanding where she was, Supergirl has a different question.

"Why?"

Red Daughter stands poised to break through the door the moment Supergirl threatens Lena. As much as she wishes to avoid the caped crusader, she will not allow Lena to come to harm.

"I'm afraid that's none of your business, Supergirl."

Lena's voice is cool and crisp, leaving little room for argument.

"She's dangerous--"

"Only as dangerous as you," comes the calm reply.

"Lena..."

"She doesn't wish to speak to you," Lena stands firm.

Red Daughter can almost hear the scowl in the hero's voice. Looking through the door with her x-ray vision, she sees fists on hips, and slender arms folded in equal defiance. After a tense moment, Lena softens minutely.

"Just go, Kara."

Kara's scowl deepens with displeasure, then splinters into realization. Red Daughter remembers the words inscribed in the reporter's diary, the anguish of having to keep her true identity secret from the person she called a best friend. She hadn't told Lena.

Yet Lena knows.

"Lena..."

"Go."

Finally, Supergirl acquiesces-- too cowardly to stay and fight for their friendship, to explain herself. Only then does Red Daughter emerge. Lena turns to face her, a grimace on her face.

"You know the truth," Red Daughter says, unneccessarily.

Lena shrugs half-heartedly. She resumes her seat at her desk, and Red Daughter returns to the couch where her newest book awaits. After a moment, Lena's voices breaks the silence.

"You never asked what happened to my brother."

Red Daughter looks up to meet her gaze. "Supergirl."

She has seen the news footage of his demise, the fatal fall from Supergirl's hands. But Lena shakes her head.

"No," she says, voice heavy. "Me."

Red Daughter feels her brow furrow. The admission is unexpected, and she doesn't quite know what to do with it. But the rage she feels towards Supergirl does not transfer to Lena.

"I did not understand, before," she says quietly. "How you could turn away from Alex. From your blood. But... now I see the cruelty of his ideals. A cruelty that did not exclude you, Lena."

Wide eyes sparkle with tears.

"You tried to turn away, but he would not let you. And if there is one thing I understand about Alex, is that he would not have stopped."

Lena gives her a mournful smile. "He must have truly valued you, Josie."

Red Daughter looks at her quizzically.

"To let you call him Alex," Lena continues. She shakes her head. "He always abhorred that name. He was only ever Lex."

---

Supergirl lies in wait for her. Red Daughter can feel her hovering just out of Lena's sight, waiting for a moment to get Red Daughter alone. When the apprehension and anger grow too great, Red Daughter makes the choice to stay home one day, instead of going to L-Corp with Lena.

"Are you sure?" Lena asks, concerned. It is out of character for her to decline an opportunity to be at Lena's side.

She nods. "Yes. I need to visit the library."

"Would you stop by for lunch?" As soon as the question passes her lips, Lena's cheeks flush. "I mean, of course you don't have to..."

"I will bring your favorite," Red Daughter promises.

Lena nods, relieved. "Okay. Then, I'll see you then."

Red Daughter nods. As soon as Lena's town car pulls away from the curb below, Supergirl alights on Lena's balcony. She scowls at Red Daughter through the glass, who does not hesitate to join her in the open air, lest the hero decide that Lena's windows weren't worth keeping in tact.

"What are you," Supergirl demands. Suspicion emboldens her.

"I am your match," Red Daughter replies. She meets the hero's gaze with a hard stare. "Lena told you to stay away."

"She's being foolish--"

"And you are a coward who mistakes kindness for weakness. Just as Alex--" She falters. "Just as Lex did."

Supergirl glares at her. Red Daughter wearhers it easily, unfazed as she continues.

"Leave Lena alone," she says, "or I will make you regret the day you came to Earth."

"Lex is gone. You're safe now, let me introduce myself. I'm–"

"Lena."

AU in which they deal sooner with Lex's ass and Red Daughter is alive Or Supercorp AU where Lex found Kara's pod and trained her for years to be his weapon.

#supercorp #art inspo #red daughter corp #red daughter lives au #not sure where this is going #but its already come quite a ways #so here #also-- ive already spotted a continuity error #but im too lazy to fix #thats what i get for writing on my phone lol #sorry not sorry #enjoy!

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