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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 4 years ago

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Severed blood ties...

A gift for the dear @sergeant-donny-donowitz

Hope you will enjoy the story...

France, 1945.

Tied to a chair, Hans Landa, the infamous "Jew Hunter," furiously glanced at his jailers. The enemies he vowed to bring down were the ones who finally defeated him. Those men who the German troops nicknamed "The Basterds" put an end to the Nazi regime, stopping the war in the process.

Holding his head up, he arrogantly said:

"May I guess that you're happy, Lieutenant Raine?"

"Ya bet I am! It's been a long time since I wanna catch ya! And here ya are!"

Landa has a rictus.

"You pretend to be a hero, but we both know that you are only a redneck murderer from Maynardville!"

"Lieutenant, do ya want me to make him shut up?" asked Donny as he held his prized baseball bat.

"It would be very distracting, indeed!" smirked Wicki as he lighted his cigarette.

"Na, not now, guys!" answered Raine.

The Apache turned to the Nazi and explained:

"To answer ya question, Hans, you don't stop a war without getting yer hands dirty, right? After all, you are an expert in this field..."

"Unlike you, I don't kill people..."

"Not directly. But every time you're somewhere, it's like a death sentence!"

"I return you the compliment, Lieutenant Raine!" snarled Landa.

Utivitch raised an eyebrow.

"Is it just me or Landa seem mad at us?"

"I share your impression, Private," stated Hicox.

Stiglitz glared at their prisoner with all the hate he had. For the deserter of the S.S, Landa was the epitome of what he loathed the most.

"Why can't we kill him on the spot?" he growled.

"The orders are the orders, Hugo: the general staff wants him alive," answered Omar.

"What a shame!" scoffed Hirschberg.

"Anyway! Now, I would like to know why he seems pissed!" asked Sakowitz.

"Don't bother! He would never tell us..." scoffed Zimmerman.

"Okay, who dared drink his beer?" jokingly asked Kagan, making his comrades laugh.

However, this joke pissed off Hans, who snapped:

"You EXACTLY know what you've done!"

All the Basters stayed silent, surprised by Landa's outburst.

Wicki replied:

"Apart from screwing your plans up and killing your men, I really don't see what you are talking about..."

"Killing! What an appropriate word for your biggest crime against me, Private Wicki."

Annoyed, Donny roared:

"WHADDYA TELL US WHAT WE HAVE DONE, PRECISELY?"

"Calm down, Donny, calm down!" said Omar.

"Okay, Landa... What pisses you off right now?"

The S.S officer found his calm composure and asked:

"Do you remember Captain (Y/N) (L/N)?"

"Captain (Y/N) (L/N)... It rings a bell to me..." muttered Utivitch.

"This guy was one of the youngest captains of the Wehrmacht. A lot of people said he was a brilliant officer and a capable leader," explained Hugo.

"Sergeant Stiglitz is right. According to MI6 files, the young Captain (L/N) quickly rose to the top. He excelled both at his exams and at his missions. Even the Führer held him up as an example..." added Hicox.

"I got it! Was it not the guy we met in Italy during our mission over there, two years ago?" inquired Zimmermann.

"That's right! It was the young Kraut captain who fought us near Milan! Hell, we struggled to save our skins!" exclaimed Sakowitz.

"A brave boy, I admit. Crazy, but brave." nodded Raine.

"Tell me if I am wrong, Landa, but you hold a grudge against us because of this boy?" asked Wicki.

"Why? Because he was your boyfriend?" snickered Hugo.

"HE WAS MY SON!" exploded Landa.

When they heard that, all the Basterds screamed:

"WHAAAAAAT?"

"(Y/N) (L/N) was ya boy?" asked Raine.

Fuming with rage, the Jew Hunter sighed:

"Yes, he was. (Y/N) was my only child."

"But you don't share the same last name." pointed out Sakowitz.

"He took his mother's name when he entered the army to avoid any accusation of nepotism."

"Okay... So, all you have done against us until now... was only to avenge your boy?" inquired Omar.

"Your judgment is remarkable, Private Ulmer!" said ironically Landa.

"Don't be a smartass, Landa! Maybe the general staff wants you alive, but we can have fun until we arrive in the United States!" snapped Stiglitz.

"Would you dare wound a defenseless opponent, Sergeant? I know it is your modus operandi, but still..."

"If I were you, I would keep my mouth shut. Because my dear friend Donny here would like to bash your skull like a baseball!"

"Ya bet I do!"

"Calm down, boys!"

Suddenly, Landa heard a door opening behind him and a young masculine voice saying:

"My apologizes for being late, Lieutenant Raine."

"Don't worry, boy. We just chat with our guest."

Puzzled, Landa asked:

"Who is it?"

Smirking, Hicox replied:

"In your defense, Landa, you could not know our dear friend here. He prefers working in the shadows... Such a humble boy!"

"I am flattered by your compliment, Lieutenant Hicox." replied the newcomer.

Trying to see who is talking, Hans scoffed:

"And why is he here? Is he going to torture me too?"

Much to his surprise, the newcomer replied in perfect German:

"Nein, dafür bin ich nicht hier. Es wäre Zeitverschwendung!" (No, that's not what I am here for. It would be a waste of time!)

Impressed, Landa replied with a smirk on his lips:

"Du sprichst Deutsch wie ein Einheimischer..." (You speak German like a local...)

"Das liegt daran, dass ich in Österreich geboren wurde." (That's because I was born in Austria) replied the mysterious young man as he walked to Landa.

This voice sounded familiar to Landa, but he cannot tell where he did hear it. But this accent... He was sure he heard it before!

"Wer bist du?" (Who are you?)

"Du weißt wer ich bin ... Vater." (You know who I am ... father.) replied the young man as he sat in front of Landa.

When he saw the face of the person he was speaking to, the Jew Hunter nearly had a heart attack.

"(Y/N)..."

"Himself, father." replied the young man with a smirk on his lips.

The S.S colonel could not believe it: his flesh and blood was alive! A wave of relief went through his body. But he cannot help but wonder how (Y/N) managed to survive at the hands of the Americans.

Stammering, Hans asked:

"But... But you died! The survivors of your detachment told me that you get killed by Lieutenant Raine!"

"They thought Lieutenant Raine killed me. But the truth is... I faked my death!"

"WHAT?"

Landa could not believe his ears: his son dared betray the army he swore to serve!

"But... How could you do such a crime?"

"Let me return you the question, father. How could you sleep at night while knowing that you send innocent people to their death?"

"That's not the question! You betrayed your army, you dishonored our name..."

The loud slap on his face made him shut up. When he looked at his son's face, he saw a wave of boiling anger in his eyes.

"You thought that I dishonored our name? But look at you: you paraded with this stupid uniform until you crawl in front of the Americans for saving your skin."

"Do not talk about crawling in front of the Americans, boy! You did not act better than I do!"

(Y/N) looked at his father with disdain.

"Maybe. But at least, I redeemed myself by helping the Allies. Did not ask yourself how the Basterds manage to outsmart you?"

Hand stared in amazement as he realized.

"YOU WERE THE MOLE?"

"Bingo, dad. Unfortunately, your loyal lapdog named Hellstrom knew something was wrong and was not far from discovering the truth. It was at this moment I planned to fake my death... with the help of my new friends, of course!" explained the young man while gesturing at the Basterds.

Hans fumed with rage: he hated being outsmarted. But the betrayal of his son was the last straw!

"I can't believe you even dare betray me, your father!"

The icy glare of (Y/N) sent a chill down his spine.

"You're right: you're my father, but only for blood. The fact is you never loved me. You belittled me, pushed me away... All because you wanted me to be your carbon copy. I tried to be the son you wanted me to be, but nothing was enough for the great Hans Landa."

Every word (Y/N) was full of hate and pain, and they hit Landa like a punch.

"But I must admit that you were a great teacher. I've learned a lot from you. Thanks to you, I have learned to speak different languages. With this skill, I can exchange pieces of information with various interlocutors.

Thanks to you, I mastered the art of deception. Do you want an example? While I gave the pitch of the perfect little Nazi, I helped many Jews escaping from you."

The young man smirked like a predator.

"I have acquired so much from you that I was able to foresee all your comings and goings."

Trying to keep his composure, Hans retorted:

"And you came here just to say that?"

(Y/N) burst into laughter.

"No, dear father... I am here also to say goodbye!"

"Goodbye?"

His son nodded.

"Yes, indeed. Because this touching meeting is our last!"

"What does it mean?"

"The general staff allowed me to see you one last time before your trial... and your move to Nantucket Island. After that, you will never see me again."

(Y/N) shrugged.

"After all, you're not supposed to see me, as I am officially dead!"

He got up and said:

"Now, if you excuse me, Colonel Landa, I have some work to do before we depart for the United States. Enjoy your stay in France!"

(Y/N) went to the exit, followed by the Basterds.

Losing his temper, Hans yelled at him:

"Sure, go away! Anyhow, I have no son!"

(Y/N) turned his head and said:

"As for me, I consider myself as an orphan since my father said Heil Hitler!"

He smirked.

"Besides, (Y/N) (L/N) belonged to the past... as well as (Y/N) Landa. Now, you can call me (Y/N) Raine, like the father I found."

Smiling, Aldo gently ruffled (Y/N)'s hair.

"Come on, kiddo. Time to get home!"

As the door closed in front of him, Hans Landa let out a scream of pain and anger: this time, he lost the war for good.

And the fatal blow came from his son, who severed their blood ties with his sharp words.

Even him, the great detective, did not see that coming...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story!

Your requests are always welcomed here!

Stay safe and see you later! 😘🥰😍

#requests #gifts #inglourious basterds #hans landa #christoph waltz #jannik schümann

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tiredb0igivemesugars · 4 years ago

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How did we meet?

Tony Stark x male reader ✨Established relationship✨

note: I haven’t posted anything in 4 weeks and I felt guilty so I wrote this last night. Officially taking criticism.

words: 1.3k

Summary: y/n goes to an event, where a reporter asks when he met Tony for the first time, y/n finds it an interesting question and takes it up with Tony.

“Hey y/n, how did you and Tony meet?” A reporter asked as soon as you stepped out of the car. You never liked Tony’s parties, but you promised that you’d go. The woman’s question made you think. How did you meet Tony? You felt as if you had always just known him, but as your boyfriend, that spot he had only filled publicly for only a few months. But in private, years. Tony had been known as a ladies man so imagine everyone’s surprise when the oh so anticipated new girlfriend was actually a boyfriend. The world seemed to go into a frenzy for a second, but luckily everything calmed down. You promised yourself that you would try to remember the reporter’s question and think about it later on once you were back home.

You walked inside the building where the party was held. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, red carpet covered the floor. Tens, maybe a couple of hundred round tables filled the space, a lot of important people sitting and standing around them. Tony was launching a new something today, thus, the party. You could feel people staring at you, the boyfriend.

Your eyes searched for your boyfriend. Once you realised that you couldn’t find him, you sat down at the table that was reserved to you and the avengers for the evening. You listened as the avengers bickered back and forth, laughing whenever you felt it was appropriate. ”You know, it doesn’t matter that none of you like me. Hitler would’ve loved me,” Steve said after listening to Natalie and Barron make fun of him for god knows how long. You laughed at Steve’s remark. ”Hey y/n you have to be on our side! If you get us mad you’re far more likely to die, Steve, she is just gonna slap you with his frisbee,” Natalie noted. The table laughed again. ”Hey cut him some slack! He looks like he’s going to start crying any minute!” You tried to defend Steve.

All of them quieted down when you noticed that Tony got on stage to present his invention. ”Today I’m here to present you all with something that could quite possibly change the way we see everyday life. This is not a butterknife that moves by itself, y/n made sure of that. I came up with this idea when I was sitting in my marvellous tower one morning..” He went on explaining. The crowd laughed and clapped with Tony. He looked so passionate when he talked, you could see that he believed in himself, for once. Before Tony even had the chance to tell what his invention was, you could still see that everyone was in on it. They all believed in his idea before they even knew completely what it was.

But in your eyes, that was just Tony in general. He talked you in and out of things so easily, it’s not like it bothered you. It was nice that someone ”did the thinking” for you, for once. Once the audience had given Tony a standing ovation, you came back to your senses. You could see Tony walking down from the stage, he was walking from table to table now, well not to every table but to the ones with possible sponsors and such. You allowed yourself to get carried away by listening to the conversation Bruce, who was sitting next to you, was having with someone who sat at a different table. After what seemed like an eternity, you felt a tap on your shoulder. ”How you doing?” Tony said. ”Fine, a bit tired,” you confessed. Tony massaged your shoulders a bit. ”We’re leaving soon anyway, the party portion is starting soon,” Tony said. He pulled an empty chair from another table and sat next to you. Tony had quit drinking a while ago, it wasn’t noticeable usually, except for at events, he always left early. You always left with Tony, no matter if it was early or late, you wanted to go home with him and there wasn’t much that parties could offer you. ”It’s just not my scene, you know.”

”Wanna leave now?” Tony asked. You nodded without a thought. He stood up and grabbed your hand as you followed. The reporters outside still asked questions when you went outside. Did they ever get tired? Happy drove Tony’s car in front of the venue and got out. Happy threw the keys to Tony and walked to his car. So that he could drive behind you. Tony walked around the car to the driver's side and got in, you followed suit.

You drove in silence, at least until you spoke up. ”Do you remember how we met?” You asked. Tony changed his position so he could somewhat face you. ”I mean yeah, it was sometime in spring, dad forced me to come to have lunch with him and his business partner. I came, you were there, in your school uniform. I could tell that you didn’t want to be there. Why?” Tony said. ”I don’t know. A reporter asked,” you explained. ”I thought that you were very handsome. I wanted to impress you since you were so cool and all,” you chuckled. ”It seems like that was such a long time ago, but it has only been what? 15 years?” Tony said. ”I’d correct you but I’m not very good at math,” you admitted. Tony let out a little laugh. It was silent for the rest of the ride.

”When I see vintage cars or try to remember my 20th birthday I’ll remember you,” you suddenly blurted out when you got into the elevator with Tony. He turned to look at you. ”I’ll remember how you couldn’t decide whether to look at my lips or my eyes when I talked,” you continued as you reached to wrap your arms around Tony’s neck. His hands easily found their way to your waist. ”I’ll remember how you never complained about me resting my head on your shoulders when I slept. You’ve never woken me up either, even if you had a meeting to get to. It always made me feel so guilty when you missed something important like that because of me.” ”What do you expect me to do? You’re cute when you sleep,” Tony tried to defend himself. You smiled. ”I wasn’t finished,” you said with a borderline mischievous smile. ”Talk all you want, I’m all ears,” Tony said as he lovingly gazed you. ”I remember how you said things that were supposed to be just ordinary sayings, but instead they got stuck inside my heart. And now, for the rest of my life, I’ll hear those words with your voice saying them. And perhaps the most important part, for the first time in over 10 years I felt safe in the arms of someone, and I knew that you wouldn’t ever hurt me,” you confessed. Your past was something that wasn’t talked about, you liked it that way, even Tony didn’t know all of it, but he knew how serious the last part was. He gently kissed your lips as his hands found their place on the sides of your face. The elevator dinged, signalling that you had reached your floor. ”I’m tired,” you said and began leading Tony to your bedroom. You both took your suits off and got ready for bed in comfortable silence. ”I still don’t know all the things that happened to you, I don’t need to know all of it, unless you want that, but I want you to know that it means the world to me that you feel that way about me,” Tony said as you made your way under the covers. You smiled at your boyfriend. He could be a pain in the ass but most of the time he was really sweet and understanding. You pecked your boyfriend's lips, "I love you," you said. "I love you too," Tony said as he kissed you back.

#marvel #imagine #oneshot #tony stark #x reader #x male reader #male x male #tony stark x reader #tony stark x male!reader

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 40 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Happy Halloween, and welcome to Chapter 40! Only 82802291 to go! (JK…kind of.) Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet and Sutan made things official.

This Chapter: All of New York’s fashion elite shows up to Heidi’s Klum’s annual Halloween party. (Seriously. Everyone is in this chapter.)

***

“Go a little higher-” Katya was cut off as the door to Pearl’s room opened.

“Urgh!” Pearl looked up, a mess of grey spiderweb in her long blonde hair and on her hands where she had raised them to protect her face when she had left her room. “What the fuck!”

“Whoops.” Trixie grinned, the cobweb shooter he had been using to decorate in hand.

“Hi Pearl.” Max smiled, waving his hand from where he was standing next to Katya, holding up the string of lights they were attempting to mount on the wall.

“Sorry!” Katya laughed. “I didn’t know you were in there.”

“How does that make this better?” Pearl groaned, peeling the sticky web off of her hands. “I was just taking a nap.”

“We’re very sorry Pearlie girl.” Trixie smiled, reaching out to gently get the web in her hair.

“What are you even doing?”

“It’s a haunted house!” Katya gestured, Halloween decorations covering almost every visible surface. Katya loved Halloween, being allowed to scare her first graders something she looked forward to every year. Over the weekend, Trixie had been working on his own costume when they had started talking about making a miniature haunted house, and it had quickly snowballed into a giant craft project taking over the entire apartment.

There weren’t a lot of kids around them, but the few that had all figured out that Katya and Trixie gave out full sized candy bars for Halloween. And while Katya loved seeing all the little faces light up in delight as she dumped candy into their buckets, the idea of scaring the bejesus out of them first was extremely exciting.

“You’re not planning to use my bedroom for this extravaganza, are you?” Pearl asked skeptically.

“No, don’t worry! We were thinking that we’d cover your doorway in spiders and spiderwebs and have freaky lights and spooky sounds coming from inside.”

“It felt fitting,” Trixie added with a laugh.

“Do you want to help?” Max smiled. He had originally only come over to borrow a bowler hat for his Charlie Chaplin costume, Katya telling him with a grin that he had to remember to keep the hat on unless he wanted to end up looking like Hitler.

“No thanks.”

“Really?” Trixie looked confused for a moment, picking the last piece of web out of her hair. “But you love Halloween!”

“I have to go meet up with Adore.” Pearl shrugged, reaching behind Max to grab her jacket. “She wanted to look at costumes together so we can coordinate.”

“Awh,” Katya grinned, Pearl shooting her a sharp look. “That’s adorable.”

“Okay mom.” Pearl almost seemed like she was annoyed, but Katya could see in her eyes that she took the tease for what it was.

“I think it’s nice.” Trixie loaded the cobweb shooter. “It’s cute that you like someone.”

“Yeah, well…” Pearl mumbled something unintelligible as she slung a bag over her shoulder.

“What was that?”

“I said she’s the cute one!” Pearl exclaimed, and when all three of them began ‘aww’ing again, she immediately left, giving them exaggerated eye rolls.

“A couple’s costume?” Trixie said, pressing a hand to his heart as he sank down onto the sofa, eyes shining. “You think it’s getting serious?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s still Pearl,” Katya told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

***

“Fame?” Patrick called out, closing the door behind him. He wasn’t sure if his wife was home yet, but the light was on, a Birkin on their entrance table.

“Up here!”

Patrick smiled to himself, Fame’s voice traveling down from upstairs. If he knew her right, she was probably sitting at her desk, going through whatever creative she hadn’t had time to look at at the office.

“I’ll be right down! Our costumes finally came!”

Patrick grinned, the sound of a computer closing and Charles perking up coming from upstairs. In reality, Patrick would have been fine with something from a boutique, or even no costume at all, but Fame had never been able to resist going all out, least of all for Halloween, and he found it charming enough to play along happily. Patrick loved his wife, had since he saw her for the first time, but she was also wonderfully, insanely extra.

Patrick watched as his wife came down the stairs in a flurry of white, a cape draped over her shoulders, her hair still in the delicate updo she had twisted it into that morning, their dog right behind her.

“I’m so glad they arrived in time!” Fame smiled as she opened the hallway closet, pulling out two garment bags.

“Hey boy.” Patrick smiled, scratching Charles' head, the dog nudging against his hand once before walking away when he realized that Patrick didn’t have any treats and that there was no promise of a walk on the horisont.

“You’re going to love them this year.” Fame grinned, unzipping one of the bags.

“Let me guess,” Patrick took a step forward, the dress a stunning golden piece with feathers. “Are you-”

“It’s Cleopatra!” Fame pulled the dress out. “1963.” Fame smiled brightly, the detail of the gown beyond decadent for a Halloween party, even if it was Heidi Klum’s.

“Ah.” Patrick smiled. “Of course, and who will I be then?”

It wasn’t that Patrick didn’t care, but he hadn’t actually been aware that he was going to that specific party until he had checked his shared calendar, Fame more often than not completely in charge of their social life.

It was how Patrick liked it, and since all of their friends would be there, he had found no reason to complain.

“How can you even ask?” Fame chuckled, opening the second bag. “You’ll be my adored consort, Mark Antony.”

“Of course,” Patrick chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple.

***

“I’m so so sorry-”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m only your boss when we’re at work, cutie.” Raven grinned as she heard Raja’s silky smooth voice, a clear hint of delight in the deep tone, Sutan chiming in from the front seat.

“Don’t call her that.”

They had just picked up Violet on their way to Heidi Klum’s Halloween party, Raja and herself in the back, while Sutan had taken a seat in the front with their driver, which was why they were even in this situation.

Violet had opened the door to the car, saying hi as she slipped in and placed a quick kiss on the cheek of the tall, mustached, suit-clad person in the middle seat. What Violet hadn’t noticed, until her lips had been pressed against skin, was the fact that it was not actually Sutan, but instead Raja, dressed up as Groucho Max.

“I swear I didn’t mean-” There was a hint of panic in Violet’s voice, the woman dressed up as Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the jewels on her neck clearly fake, but Raven guessed that it was only Halloween once a year, and Violet didn’t seem like the diamond type.

“Don’t worry,” Raja grinned, leaning back in her seat. “I rather liked it.”

“Raj-” Sutan turned his head, looking back at them. “Please.”

Raven had to bite her lip not to snicker, her corset digging into her hips. She knew Raja was only doing this to mess with Sutan, and it worked perfectly, the normally so cool, calm and collected man looking genuinely distressed.

“Scared I’ll steal your girlfriend?” Raja wiggled her brows, her fake mustache moving as she put an arm around the back of Violet’s seat, the other woman sitting completely straight, her hands in her lap.

“Hey!” Raven turned her head, a flash of jealousy washing over her, causing Sutan to laugh. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Awh,” Raja smiled, letting go of Violet. It was one of the weirdest things about Raja. Somehow, she seemed to genuinely like whenever Raven acted possessive, and if Raven had decked a girl here and there, or torn out an earring or two, that was no one's business but theirs.

“Princess.” Raja put a hand on her dress, the red sequined fabric probably scratchy to the touch. “You know,” Raja leaned in, “You’re the only one for me.”

“Oh god.” Sutan groaned. “Here we go again.”

The mustache felt weird as Raja kissed her, but Raven still put an arm around her neck, holding her close.

“Please tell me we’re almost there.”

Raven flipped Sutan off, making him laugh, her engagement ring almost getting tangled up in Raja’s wig.

***

“Ugh, I feel like such a basic bitch,” Courtney whined.

“That’s cause you are!” Morgan said, making Tyra laugh.

Courtney whimpered, looking around at the crowd outside Heidi Klum’s party. They were waiting for Adore to let them in, and she was rapidly losing confidence. She’d gone all-out on a Marilyn Monroe costume to fit the party’s “Old Hollywood Glamor” theme, even getting advice from her drag queen brother in Sydney (who did Marilyn regularly as part of his act), and of course, she’d already seen about 4 other girls with the same idea.

“Okay, but come on, you’re definitely gonna be the best Marilyn here,” Tati assured her.

“Easy for you to say,” Courtney said. “You actually had an original idea.”

Tati was dressed as Jeannie from the classic TV show, in a costume that showed off her gorgeous body to perfection. Courtney couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, wishing that her own costume was more creative. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was being just another generic blonde--especially at a chic event like this. She also probably needed to admit to herself that a big part of her nerves came from being in this kind of crowd again, possibly running into her boss.

“Happy Halloween, bitches!” came Adore’s voice, and they all turned around to see her sauntering down the sidewalk in a tailored pinstripe suit, Pearl on her arm in a pencil skirt and beret.

They were the hottest Bonnie and Clyde that Courtney had ever seen. Ugh, everyone was killing it and it made her feel even less worthy of being at the party in the first place.

“You guys look amazing!” Tyra exclaimed, and Adore grinned.

“Thanks, we know.” Adore gave them a sassy wink, a hand on Pearl’s lower back guiding her forward to the bouncer, where she waved her invite and then grandly beckoned the whole group inside.

***

“Ivy!” Jinkx’ face lit up with delight. She wasn’t expecting to see her beautiful crush tonight, but it was a wonderful surprise. Her costume was as adorable as she was, a cute and fashionable nod to Judy Garland in The Pirate when she sang “Be a Clown,” something that Jinkx knew very well that not many people would appreciate. “Hi! You look absolutely incredible!”

“Hi Ms. Mon-sorry, Jinkx,” Ivy giggled, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I guess you’re my daughter tonight, eh?”

Jinkx laughed as Ivy gestured to her Liza costume, shrugging and saying, “I guess so, Mama...wait no, that’s weird. You must be at least 5 years younger than me. Forget I said that. Please.”

“Consider it forgotten,” Ivy grinned again, asking, “So how have you been?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I’m so glad to see you, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jinkx took Ivy’s offered hug, squeezing her tightly but being sure to release her quickly, lest it get awkward.

“Oh yeah, well, my boyfriend works at Vogue and his boss couldn’t make it, so he gave us the tickets.”

Jinkx felt her world shatter at the words that had just left Ivy’s mouth. Boyfriend? What was going on?

“Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, his name is Keith. We’ve been together for years, he’s over there by the bar.” Ivy waved happily to what Jinkx was sure was a lovely man in a coordinating costume.

“Right,” Jinkx nodded, because what else was she supposed to do? She only hoped that her face didn’t show how absolutely crestfallen she was.

“Actually, I was trying to remember that book you recommended because he’s super into local food too, but I couldn’t remember the title.”

“Oh, um…” Jinkx swallowed, suddenly wishing she was anywhere but here. “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.”

“Right! Thank you. Sorry, I’m such an airhead when I don’t write things down.”

Jinkx could see Keith approaching them now, two glasses of beer in his hands.

“It was so great to see you, but I really have to run. I was on my way to the bathroom, so-”

“Oh gosh, sorry!” Ivy smiled again, that beautiful smile, and gave her one more quick hug. “Find us later and we can talk some more!”

“Of course, sure! Bye, Ivy!” Jinkx turned towards the restrooms, hoping she could make it into a stall before her stupid tears started to fall.

***

Courtney peeked around a column, the butterflies her stomach going crazy when she spotted Bianca walking away from the bar with a couple of drinks, looking exactly as glamorous as expected in a deep blue silk wrap dress. She bit her lip, trying to gather the nerve to go say hello, when she realized that Bianca wasn’t alone, handing one of the drinks to a tall, absolutely stunning young woman--obviously a model.

To add insult to injury, the girl was also dressed as Marilyn, but her costume was a perfectly tailored version of the low-cut, high-slitted red sequined dress from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. It fit her lithe, willowy frame like a glove, and made Courtney all too aware of how out of place she was, in a cheap polyester version of Marilyn’s infamous white dress, the fake tits and hip pads that her brother had insisted she wear now feeling totally ridiculous and clownish.

As Bianca and her lady friend strolled forward, laughing and chatting, Courtney made sure to stay out of sight behind the column, heart sinking, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling like a creepy little stalker.

“There you are.”

The voice behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin, and she whirled around to face Tyra with a guilty flush rising to her cheeks.

“What are you doing skulking over here all by yourself?” asked Tyra, a hand on her hip, lips pursed in judgment.

“Nothing. Why?”

“I need another drink,” Tyra said. “Come on.”

She grabbed Courtney’s hand and pulled her towards the bar. Courtney followed, sighing, wishing she wasn’t such a chicken-shit baby.

***

“Hey.” Alaska nudged Jinkx with her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

They were perched on a couple of bar stools, Alaska looking cute as anything in classic Katharine Hepburn menswear, a look of concern on her face. Jinkx shook her head, feeling like an idiot for going so far down the hopeless crush rabbit hole with Ivy without even knowing whether she was single.

“Nothing, I’m just stupid.”

“Well, you’re definitely not that.” Alaska took a sip of her sparkling water.

“You give me too much credit,” Jinkx said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m being so lame. Let’s go dance.”

She began to slide off the stool, but Alaska stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“We can dance, but first tell me what’s going on. Please,” Alaska smiled. “Maybe I can help.”

“I don’t deserve a friend like you, Lasky,” Jinkx said, lowering her head pitifully to the table. She had spent so much time going on and on about Ivy for over a month. It was shocking, actually, that Alaska still wanted to spend time with her at all. She must have been insufferable.

“Jinkx.”

Her voice was so soft and warm, it almost made Jinkx feel like crying again. She thought she’d gotten it all out in the bathroom earlier, but apparently not.

“I saw Ivy tonight,” Jinkx admitted, blinking fast to try and get rid of her tears. “Did you know she has a boyfriend? A serious boyfriend? I feel so fucking dumb for never-”

Alaska’s eyes had widened in surprise. This was clearly news to her too, which made Jinkx feel a tiny bit better.

“Jinkx, I’m so-” Alaska took her hand, grasping it tightly. “I’m so sorry. I know I was supposed to ask around about her, and things have been busy and I just-”

“It’s not your fault! Omigod, please don’t apologize.” Jinkx squeezed Alaska’s hand.

“But I promised you, and I never-”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” Jinkx shook her head. “Look, it’s a bummer, I guess, and I’ll probably be a mopey asshole for awhile, but I’m glad I found out before I totally embarrassed myself.”

“Anything I can do?” Alaska asked, eyes still soft and sympathetic.

“You can dance with me,” Jinkx said.

“You got it.”

Jinkx giggled, a mischievous smile spreading across her face as Alaska offered her arm and led her towards the dance floor.

***

“Come on!” Juju pulled on her husband's hand, trying to get him to walk faster through the crowd. It had taken forever to get the twins to bed after they had gone trick or treating, Julia and Owen beyond high on the sugar rush after Detox had allowed them to go ham in their Halloween buckets.

“But I want a drink-” Detox whined, and Juju almost rolled her eyes.

“You promised.” Juju looked over her shoulder, “Remember?”

“Right.” Detox smiled, pulling her in to press a kiss against her cheek.

“Ew!” Juju laughed, pushing him away, not willing to risk his orange makeup rubbing off on her face.

At first, when Detox had presented the ideas for their Halloween costumes, Juju had refused to dye his hair Oompa Loompa green, but once her husband made up his mind, it was nearly impossible to change it.

“Ah! Fame!” Juju waved as she spotted her friend, Fame’s hair covered by a stunning golden headdress.

“Juju!” Fame smiled, holding her arms out. “You made it!”

“Sorry we’re late.” Juju grinned. She had given her oldest a wad of cash before they left, Juju making sure that Kelly put it in her bra as a just in case, before she left for whatever high school students did these days.

As always, Juju’s friends had gathered in a corner, Fame almost allergic to open areas at parties. She spotted someone had to be Raja on the couch, making out with Raven, Detox already off to talk with Patrick.

“Juju!” Sutan smiled brightly, his new girlfriend sitting besides him. Juju had almost not believed it when she had read Raven’s text, her best friend swearing up and down that they were officially official. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Same,” Juju grinned, leaning into his hug Sutan got up to give her. “And who are you supposed to be?” Juju looked up and down, Sutan wearing a gray suit with a gray tie and a white shirt. “You decided to come as yourself? That’s real creative.”

“No!” Sutan huffed, sounding almost offended. “Look!” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and putting them on before he threw his arms out. “See!”

“Oh wow.” Juju drawled. “You’re yourself on a sunny day?”

“Please,” Sutan tipped the glasses down, “I’m Cary Grant. From North by Northwest.”

“Sure.” Juju smiled. She still didn’t believe that Sutan was actually dressed up, but it wasn’t his fault that Raja had gotten all the creativity. “Whatever you say, peaches.”

Sutan laughed, taking the sunglasses off again. “At least I’m not dressed as whatever the fuck-” Sutan pointed with the glasses, before putting them back in his pocket. “Your husband is supposed to be.”

“He’s an Oompah Loompah.” It sounded stupid even now, but it was what Juju had promised him when they’d gotten married, support in both good times and bad. “Duh.”

“Cheers bro!” Detox grinned, raising a glass. Juju had no idea where he had gotten it, the brown liquid unmistakably alcohol. That damn liar.

“Listen, does it surprise you that these two have the weirdest costumes?” Bianca slid up next to them, putting her arm around Juju’s shoulders. “It’s very on brand for them,” Bianca smiled, taking a sip of her drink. “Don’t you think?”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Juju chuckled, tugging on the white Peter Pan collar of her Veruca Salt costume and fluffing her pigtails.

“Hey,” Detox appeared at her side, Juju’s annoyance dying down immediately when she saw the glass of ginger ale that Detox was holding for her. “We just like to have fun.”

Juju took the drink, taking a sip of it, nose wrinkling. She was nearly halfway through this latest surprise pregnancy, and she was already sick of it. Her only consolation was the fact that Detox had finally agreed to a vasectomy, so there would be no more precious little accidents in the Sanderson household. Juju absolutely adored her children, but with a full-time job, a precocious teenager and 3 year old twins, she had her hands full and then some.

On the other hand...she was looking forward to that new baby smell. She rubbed her slightly swollen bump thoughtfully, and considered the fact that since this would be her last pregnancy, she may as well enjoy it. Even if a shot of tequila would be amazing on a night like tonight.

“Juju!”

Juju turned her head to see that Raven had finally pulled herself away from her makeout session with Raja, her still red lipstick annoyingly pristine.

“Look at you!” Juju threw out her arms. Raven was dressed like the only Jessica Rabbit, waist cinched tighter than Juju had ever seen, and of course her tits looking beyond amazing.

“Holy shit!” Juju reached out, grabbing the left tit. “How did you do this?”

“Custom made breastplate.” Raven grinned, pushing her red wig over her shoulder. “Doesn’t it look fan-fucking-tastic? I almost want to get a boob job.”

“As long as they look like this!” Juju laughed.

“Did you hear that Raj?” Raven yelled over her shoulder. “Juju thinks I should get a boob job!”

“Not the one against it!” Raja raised her drink, a smile on her face. “Ask the warden.”

Raven turned quickly to Sutan with a pointed look.

“How am I the villain here?” Sutan looked around.

“The people want boobs.” Juju snickered, leaning her face against Raven’s fake breasts. “You should give us the boobs.”

“I’ll make sure to inform the houses that porn star tits are in high fashion style.” Sutan rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.

***

Kissing Pearl made Adore feel high.

Well, she was high, but kissing Pearl made it even better. Especially tonight, her girlfriend looking all luscious and feminine with her demure little skirt and glossy, cherry-red lips. All Adore wanted was to eat her up. They danced close together, and Adore couldn’t help hold her close, couldn’t stop her hands from roaming all over her.

She knew that people were watching them, could feel their eyes, and it made things even better. She moved her mouth to Pearl’s neck, letting her perfume wash over her as she sucked at her pulse point, hands squeezing her ass roughly.

Why not give ‘em a show?

***

“Raven!” Violet bit back a giggle as she made sure Raven didn’t fall, their fingers tightly clasped together. “Watch out!” They had gone to the bathroom together, Raven whining that she needed someone to help her with her dress. “You’re like a baby giraffe.”

“As if,” Raven snorted, her cheeks pink, a light in her eyes. “I’m a model.”

“Okay.” Violet smiled, shaking her head as they made their way across the floor. Violet was pleasantly tipsy, her body light and tingly with the alcohol in her blood. The party was a lot more fun than she had ever expected it would be, all the different costumes a joy to look at.

Violet was just looking around, taking in a man who had chosen to arrive on stilts for some reason, when she spotted an incredibly familiar face, the green eyes ones she had sat across from for months.

“Courtney!” Violet exclaimed, suddenly realizing that she actually almost missed the blonde.

“Violet! Hi!” Courtney smiled brightly, her entire energy like an overexcited puppy. Violet felt Raven let go of her hand, the other woman throwing herself at Adore who caught her with a laugh.

“You look-” Violet glanced down at Courtney’s costume. “... Did you get a boob job?”

“What?” Courtney looked down at herself. “No!” Courtney laughed, grabbing her own chest. “No, no these are fake.”

“Huh.” Violet bit her lip, the padded bra looking almost disturbingly real to her tipsy mind. “Good. You’re pretty with your own breasts.”

Courtney grinned, lashes fluttering as she said, “Well, thanks for noticing, Violet.”

Violet smiled back, shaking her head. It was like she had never found Courtney annoying at all, the blonde just a beacon of good vibes. She tried to remember the last time she’d even seen her at work, when something popped into her head.

“Wait. Wait wait wait.” Violet reached out, grabbing Courtney’s wrist. “What happened with that dress?”

Courtney looked puzzled, her head tilted in confusion. “What dress?”

“The dress for Fame?” Violet still remembered vividly how stressed Courtney had looked. “With the golden pockets?”

“Ohh, that.” Courtney waved her hand. “She looked at it for a few seconds and then demanded eight more unrelated things. The usual.”

A giggle bubbled up from Violet’s chest. Now that she wasn’t working in Miss Fame’s office anymore, she was allowed to find Courtney’s irreverence a little bit amusing.

“Courtneyyyyy come get shots with us!”

The most beautiful girl Violet had ever seen in her life suddenly appeared, tugging on Courtney’s arm. Violet’s eyes barely knew where to land, taking in her wide brown eyes and full lips, the pink and gold of her costume making her tan skin glow.

“Violet, have you ever met my friend Tati?” Courtney asked, and Violet blinked, reaching out her hand.

“Wow. You’re…” Violet swallowed. “Beautiful.” She instantly felt her cheeks heat up, a terrible blush no doubt blooming on her cheeks. Violet wanted to throw herself out the window, the whole thing terribly embarrassing, but thankfully, the angel just laughed.

“Hi,” Tati smiled. “You should come get shots with us!”

“Um. I have to…” Violet tried to force her brain, tried to remember how to be a human being. “I have to…” Violet turned around, leaving without another word in a desperate attempt not to make more of a fool of herself.

This.

This was exactly why she didn’t have friends.

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santaclausdeadindian · 4 years ago

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Sorry for doing it this way, I think OP deleted their post or blocked me like a mature, balanced person would, so I have to tag you in

@mr-laugh

Oh boy, lot to unpack here.

So you didn’t even know there were that many subgenres of fantasy, one of the most popular classifications of fiction on the planet... And you think you know enough to tell ANYBODY what classic fantasy is?

And where exactly I attempted to do that, huh?

If you don’t even know the most common subgenres of this vast pool of fiction, why are you jumping into this discussion? You just admitted you don’t know anything!

There is no discussion, there is a stupid ass post. Don't flatter yourself, you don't know jack shit.

Me not knowing what exactly are the precize subgenres of a genre of literature, which, btw, are completely arbitrary and for your information, sword&magic is a legitimate category, has absolutely nothing to do with what that post you were so keen on agreeing with above. It was you who said pretty much any classic fantasy is like that: some poorly written, self-indulgent and borderline racist.

Did ya read the link, buddy? Howard talked about knowing what burning black man smelled like. He was quite approving of these things! And the books are pretty racist, it’s not hard to see, unless you ain’t looking.

Yes, I started reading and by the end of the first paragraph I was convinced he was ahorribly racist man. And? Still doesn't change the fact, that for my 12 year old self, there was nothing racist about it. I definetly wasn't looking for it, that much you got right. If I'd read it again, I'm sure I'd catch on to it now, that I know what kind of asshole he was. So the implied racism would be there. You got a point for that.

Rugged individualism? It always amuses me how that argument always pops out of the mouths of guys who are aping what they’ve heard their buddies say. If ten thousand mouths shout “rugged individualism”, how individualistic are they?

Then you should amuse yourself by looking up why this thing crops up as of late. It's coming from certain, supremely racist yet unaware of it publications that claim ridiculous shit like "rugged individualism" is a hallmark of white supremacy, among other, equally laughable things, like punctuality. It's a joke.

Again, I will give Howard to you, if someone that racist writes a black man saving the hero of the story, I bet there was something else still there to make it wrong.

Conan’s not some avatar of rugged individualism.

Uhm, yeah, he pretty much all that.

He’s as unreal and unrealistic as the dragons are,

It's called fantasy for a reason, buddy.

but more dangerous because White Men model their ideas of reality on Big Man Heroes like him;

Glad you are totally not racist, yo!!! It's such a relief that White Men are the only ones with this terrible behavior of looking up to larger than life, mythic superpeople and nobody else. Imagine what it would be like, if we would have some asshole from say, hindu indian literature massacering demons called Rakshassas, by the tens of thousands, or some bullshit japanese warlord would snatch out arrows from the air, or a chienese bodyguard would mow down hundreds of barbaric huns without dropping a sweat, or some middle eastern hero would fight literal gods and their magical beasts in some quest for eternal life.

it's a poison that weakens us, distracting us from actually trying to solve the world’s issues, or banding together to deal with shit.

This is what you just said. It's up to the white man, to get their shit together, be not racist and solve the world's problems, because those poor other people's just can't do it. If we would just not be oh, so racist, then China would surely stop with the genocides they are doing now, or blowing more than half the greenhouse emissions into the athmosphere, the muslims would stop throwing their gays from rooftops or ramming trucks into crowds and would just start treating women as equals, India's massive rape problem would be gone, subsaharan African would be magically bereft of the host of atrocities committed there on a daily, yeah, you sure have that nonracism down, buddy!

A rugged individualist would be smart enough to realize that even the most individualistic person needs others; no man’s an island, and a loner is easier to kill.

Individualism doesn't mean at all what you think it means, it's a cluster of widely differeing philosophies that puts the individual ahead of the group or state, it's ranging from anarchism to liberalism and is also has nothing to do with my point.

Central Europe? What, Germany? Because let me tell you, historically they are SUPER concerned about race!

Germany traditionally considered western european, central europe would be the people stuck between them and the russians, to put it very loosely. We are equally nonplussed by the self-flagellating white guilt complex and the woe me victim complex of the west. We did none of the shit those meanie white people did to the nonwhites and suffered everyting any poc ever did and then some. We don't give a shit about your color, we care about what culture you are from and if you respect our values.

I’m an American from a former Confederate state; trust me, race is everything. It always is.

No it really isn't. How old are you? Asking without condescension, genuinly curious, because if you are in your low twenties at most, it's understandable why you think like this.

See that hike? Do you know what happened at that time that made virtually all american media suddenly go all in with racism?

Occupy Wall Street, that's what. It's a brilliant way to sow victimhood and hate and desperation amongst the people who have one common enemy, the powers that be, the banking sector, the politicians, the megacorporations.

Can't really blame you if you are in your early 20's at most, you grew up with this bullshit hammered into you. If you are older, step out of your echochamber please!

If you actually believe, that mankind doesn't progress naturally towards a more accepting society purely on the merit of there being more good people than bad and sharing a similar living with all the hardships in life, seeing that our prejudices inherited by our parents are baseless, that's how we progress, not virtue signalling courses and regressive policies. I was raised as any other kid, I had a deep resentment towards the neighbouring nations, I said vile, racist shit against people who I actually share a lot of genes with, of which fact I was in deep denial about, and then as I gradually got exposed more and more actual people of these groups, I started to realize I was wrong and everybody should be judged by their individual merits. It works throughout the generations, my grandma was thought songs about Hitler and how all jews are evil in school, she legit thought all black people at least in Africa are cannibals and shit, my mother stillsays shit that would get her cancelled in the USA, and I will probably have a mixed race kid as we stand now.

This whole racism is an eternal problem is laughable and disingenuous and I am actually sorry for you that you feel like that.

Moving on. As for Dany, the “noble white girl sold to scary dark foreign man” is a very popular trope, especially in exploitation films, which Martin draws on much more heavily than most authors do.

No, he fucking doesn't. I already wrote a bunch of examples from the books you seeminly ignore willfully. First of all, she is sold to those olive skinned savages by a white man, who is a terrible, increadibly evil man. He want's to fuck the then 11-12 ish Dany so bad, she picks his slave most resembling her and rapes her repeatedly, "until the madness pass." He also maimes children and traines them as disposable slave spies by the hundreds. There is no boundaries colour here, GRRM prtrays all kinds of people as reprehensible, evil and disgusting. Just like you can find plenty of examples to the opposite.

What is he drawing from your exploitation movies exactly? He writes about the human anture, he writes about the human heart at war with itself, that's his central philosophy of writing.

ASOFAI is basically just a porn movie with complicated feudal politics obscuring it, which is probably why it worked so well as an HBO series (up until the last two seasons or so.)

There is no gratuitous sex scene in the books, the rapes are described as rapes, they are horrible, they are very shortly described and usually just alluded to.

The people commiting them are not put into generous lights and one of the single most harrowing stories hidden behind the grand happenings of the plot is a girl named Jeyne Poole, whose suffering although never shown, is very much pointed out, along with the hypocrisy of the people who only fight to try and save her, because they think her a different person.

Honestly, if you actually read the books and they came of to you as porn, you might want to do some soulsearching.Btw, the HBO series was a terrible adaptation, it immedietly started to go further and further from the books with every passing season and the showmakers made it very clear to everybody, that they didn't understand the very much pacifist and humanist themes of Martin. And neither did you.

We also get no indication Essos will eat it when Winter comes; hell, they seem to not know Winter exists, given the way people act, even though that is also unrealistic and weird. Essos was just super badly designed, and Dany is a terribly boring character.

to be continued

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jo526 · 4 years ago

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“What are we to make of Jesus Christ?’ This is a question, which has, in a sense, a frantically comic side. For the real question is not what are we to make of Christ, but what is He to make of us? The picture of a fly sitting deciding what it is going to make of an elephant has comic elements about it. But perhaps the questioner meant what are we to make of Him in the sense of ‘How are we to solve the historical problem set us by the recorded sayings and acts of this Man?’ This problem is to reconcile two things. On the one hand you have got the almost generally admitted depth and sanity of His moral teaching, which is not very seriously questioned, even by those who are opposed to Christianity. In fact, I find when I am arguing with very anti-God people that they rather make a point of saying, ‘I am entirely in favour of the moral teaching of Christianity’ — and there seems to be a general agreement that in the teaching of this Man and of His immediate followers, moral truth is exhibited at its purest and best. It is not sloppy idealism; it is full of wisdom and shrewdness. The whole thing is realistic, fresh to the highest degree, the product of a sane mind. That is one phenomenon. The other phenomenon is the quite appalling nature of this Man’s theological remarks. You all know what I mean, and I want rather to stress the point that the appalling claim, which this Man seems to be making, is not merely made at one moment of His career. There is, of course, the one moment, which led to His execution. The moment at which the High Priest said to Him, ‘Who are you?’ ‘I am the Anointed, the Son of the uncreated God, and you shall see me appearing at the end of all history as the judge of the universe.’ But that claim, in fact, does not rest on this one dramatic moment. When you look into his conversation you will find this sort of claim running throughout the whole thing. For instance, He went about saying to people, ‘I forgive your sins’. Now it is quite natural for a man to forgive something you do to him. Thus if somebody cheats me out of five pounds it is quite possible and reasonable for me to say, ‘Well, I forgive him, we will say no more about it.’ What on earth would you say if somebody had done you out of five pounds and I said, ‘That is all right, I forgive him? Then there is a curious thing, which seems to slip out almost by accident. On one occasion this Man is sitting looking down on Jerusalem from the hill about it and suddenly in comes an extraordinary remark — ‘I keep on sending you prophets and wise men.’ Nobody comments on it. And yet, quite suddenly, almost incidentally, He is claiming to be the power that all through the centuries is sending wise men and leaders into the world. Here is another curious remark: in almost every religion there are unpleasant observances like fasting. This Man suddenly remarks one day, ‘No one need fast while I am here.’ Who is this man who remarks one day, ‘No one need fast while I am here.’ Who is this Man who remarks that His mere presence suspends all normal rules? Who is the person who can suddenly tell the School they can have a half-holiday? Sometimes the statements put forward the assumption that He, the Speaker, is completely without sin or fault. This is always the attitude. ‘You, to whom I am talking, are all sinners,’ and He never remotely suggests that this same reproach can be brought against Him. He says again, ‘I am the begotten of the One God, before Abraham was, I am,’ And remember what the words ‘I am’ were in Hebrew. They were the name of God, which must not be spoken by any human being, the name which it was death to utter. Well, that is the other side. On the one side clear, definite moral teaching. On the other, claims which, if not true, are those of a megalomaniac, compared with whom Hitler was the most same and humble of men. There is no halfway house and there is no parallel in other religions.If you had gone to Buddha and asked him: ‘Are you the son of Brahma?’ he would have said, ‘My son, you are still in the vale of illusion.’ If you had gone to Socrates and asked, ‘Are you Zeus?’ he would have laughed at you. If you had gone to Mohammed and asked, ‘Are you Allah?’ he would first have rent his clothes and then cut your head off. If you had asked Confucius, ‘Are you Heaven?’ I think he would have probably replied, ‘Remarks which are not in accordance with nature are in bad taste.’ The idea of a great moral teacher saying what Christ said is out of the question. In my opinion, the only person who can say that sort of thing is either God or a complete lunatic suffering from that form of delusion, which undermines the whole mind of man. If you think you are a poached egg, when you are not looking for a piece of toast to suit you you may be sane, but if you think you are God, there is no chance for you. We may note in passing that He was never regarded as a mere moral teacher. He did not produce that effect on any of the people who actually met him. He produced mainly three effects — Hatred — Terror — Adoration. There was no trace of people expressing mild approval. What are we to do about reconciling the two contradictory phenomena? One attempt consists in saying that the man did not really say these things; but that His followers exaggerated the story, and so the legend grew up that he had said them. This is difficult because His followers were all Jews; that is, they belonged to that Nation which of all others was most convinced that there was only one God — that there could not possibly be another. It is very odd that this horrible invention about a religious leader should grow up among the one people in the whole earth least likely to make such a mistake. On the contrary we get the impression that none of His immediate followers or even of the New Testament writers embraced the doctrine at all easily. Another point is that on that view you would have to regard the accounts of the Man as being legends. Now, as a literary historian, I am perfectly convinced that whatever else the Gospels are they are not legends. I have read a great deal of legend and I am quite clear that they are not the same sort of thing. They are not artistic enough to be legends. From an imaginative point of view they are clumsy, they don’t work up to things properly. Most of the life of Jesus is totally unknown to us, as is the life of anyone else who lived at that time, and no people building up a legend would allow that to be so. Apart from bits of the Platonic dialogues, there is no conversation that I know of in ancient literature like the Fourth Gospel. There is nothing, even in modern literature, until about a hundred years ago when the realistic novel came into existence. In the story of the woman taken in adultery we are told Christ bent down and scribbled in the dust with His finger. Nothing comes of this. No one has ever based any doctrine on it. And the art of inventing little irrelevant details to make an imaginary scene more convincing is a purely modern art. Surely the only explanation of this passage is that the thing really happened? The author put it in simply because he had seen it. Then we come to the strangest story of all, the story of the Resurrection. It is very necessary to get the story clear. I heard a man say, ‘The importance of the Resurrection is that is gives evidence of survival, evidence that the human personality survives death.’ On that view what happened to Christ would be what had always happened to all men, the difference being that in Christ’s case we were privileged to see it happening. This is certainly not what the earliest Christian writers thought. Something perfectly new in the history of the universe had happened. Christ had defeated death. The door, which had always been locked, had for the very first time been forced open. This is something quite distinct from mere ghost-survival. I don’t mean that they disbelieved in ghost-survival.I don’t mean that they disbelieved in ghost-survival. On the contrary, they believed in it so firmly that, on more than one occasion, Christ had had to assure them that He was not a ghost. The point is that while believing in survival they yet regarded the Resurrection as something totally different and new. The Resurrection narratives are not a picture of survival after death; they record how a totally new mode of being has arisen in the universe. Something new had appeared in the universe: as new as the first coming of organic life. This Man, after death, does not get divided into ‘ghost’ and ‘corpse’. A new mode of being has arisen. That is the story. What are we going to make of it? The question is, I suppose, whether any hypothesis covers the facts so well as the Christian hypothesis. That hypothesis is that God has come down into the created universe, down to manhood — and come up again, pulling it up with Him. The alternative hypothesis is not legend, nor exaggeration, nor the apparitions of a ghost. It is either lunacy or lies. Unless one can take the second alternative (and I can’t) one turns to the Christian theory. ‘What are we to make of Christ?’ There is no question of what we can make of Him; it is entirely a question of what He intends to make of us. You must accept or reject the story. The things he says are very different from what any other teacher has said. Others say, ‘This is the truth about the universe. This is the way you ought to go,’ but He says, ‘I am the Truth, and the Way, and the Life.’ He says, ‘No man can reach absolute reality, except through Me. Try to retain your own life and you will be inevitably ruined. Give yourself away and you will be saved.; He says, ‘If you are ashamed of Me, if, when you hear this call, you turn the other way, I also will look the other way when I come again as God without disguise. If anything whatever is keeping you from God and from me, whatever it is, throw it away. If it is your eye, pull it out. If it is your hand, cut it off. If you put yourself first you will be last. Come to Me everyone who is carrying a heavy load, I will set that right. Your sins, all of them, are wiped out, I can do that. I am Re-birth, I am Life. Eat ME, drink Me, I am your Food. And finally, do not be afraid, I have overcome the whole Universe.’ That is the issue. “

C.S. Lewis

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things2mustdo · 4 years ago

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Last week I expounded the idea that we should take the time to ponder about emotions. These matter much in prompting us to take action or not to, to think about something or not to. Sustained emotional states can lead us to pedestalize girls, ignore our own needs, or refraining from caring about our own interests, whereas others push theirs every day. They can also allow said girls to go shamelessly after short-term pleasure, or be complacent to rapefugees while shrieking and finger-waving against men of their own kin.

Pondering passions and emotions does not mean getting led by them at the expense of critical thinking. Rather, it is the exact opposite, as it allows us to spot the shrewd ones who want to push our emotional buttons, as well as being freer to take more thoughtful and actually less emotion-determined actions. Once we have gained awareness of passions, we can decide which ones we want to stimulate and why.

Following this idea, I made some suggestions of how and in whom we could stir positive emotions such empathy, hope, and love. Today I will do the same with four other passions or emotions: admiration, shame, humility, and fear.

1. Admiration

Society, I think, should admit some victimhood to those who were raised as weaklings or acted cluelessly out of good intentions. Women in particular should be more empathetic and nurturing towards nice and beta males—as long as their empathy does not extent out of admitted boundaries—hence taking an opposite direction from the egotistical, uncaring orientation a lot of them currently harbor. Of course, this should not equate to validating too much the unhealthy, unmanly men: women should also be trained into validating more manlier men. And here admiration comes into play.

As Nassim Taleb put it, we are living more and more in an “extremistan” where those at the highest level take the lion’s share while the resources diminish quickly down the ladder. Girls today tend to admire only the most famous or high-status people, which leads them to despise the ninety-nine per cent. This exasperated hypergamy should be tamed so that the average man, as long as he achieves the minimum and/or is upstanding and dutiful, gets his fair share. A more “democratic” but still conditional distribution of girls’ admiration would reward actual good behaviour for men and decrease the intramasculine competition.

Girls should also admire—and not mock—proper feminine role models. Upstanding mothers, females taking proper care of themselves and so on ought to be at least esteemed by the average girl.

2. Shame

Shame arises from measuring our actions against moral standards and discovering that they fall short. If our actions fall short and we fail to notice, we can ‘be shamed’ or made to notice… Shame is normally accentuated if its object is exposed, but, unlike embarrassment, also attaches to a thought or action that remains undisclosed and undiscoverable to others. (Neel Burton, Heaven and Hell, chap.4, p.38)

A particularly strong emotion, shame usually comes as a blow, makes one lose face or composure, to eventually feel guilt or remorse. Just like other strong emotions, it has been used with consumed malignancy by the Left.

Leftists created a narrative where whites are held entirely responsible for dreadful historical phenomena such as slavery, the Holocaust, an oppression of “minority” groups, or “racism.” As these phenomena are constantly talked about and expanded, whites are also supposed to feel a correspondingly boundless guilt. The sheer power of guilt can explain why so many whites have been afraid to stand up: being shamed as a “racist” or “Nazi” can be enough to endure rejection from one’s family, lose reputation and employment.

Shame can be aroused through two levers: the standards one agrees with, and one’s purported responsibility. Both levers have been skillfully used to unshame the liberal-favored groups. As for the standards, feminists attacked what they called slut-shaming while also shaming relentlessly manly behavior, and as for the responsibility, pretty much all those who claim to identify with a “minority” tend to deny all by slipping it over the majority’s shoulders.

This is how you get persistent offenders or Jihadi families expressing neither shame nor remorse, whereas the productive, working, and normally sociable person gets nagged for being white. In the Current Year, better be a true rapist who can evade responsibility and shame by invading Europe than a young virgin of European descent.

What we should do here sounds pretty obvious in theory though it will be much harder to carry on in practice, as people evidently hate being shamed, especially when they have been accustomed of blaming everything on the others.

Shame the fatties, shame the arrogant snowflakes whose unwillingness to respect is all too obvious, recall the self-determination of anti-white liberals and criminals. They all made free choices. They should carry all associated responsibility.

As for us, we must keep our face straight, never make clueless concessions to skillful framers or hysterical SJWs. If they appeal to moral standards, put forth your own as legitimate. If they appeal to your purported actions or responsibility, emphasize theirs—and how it cannot be boiled down to external factors.

Even dogs and cats are considered responsible by their caretakers so they can be punished for bad behaviours and learn: likewise, granting certain people or groups a constant de-responsabilization amounts to give them a free pass for destroying everything. Criminals of said groups have agency, and the liberals who gave them a pass to plunder and kill whitey are responsible as well.

Shame can also arise from being associated with something or someone deemed as despicable. The liberal policy of distinguishing sharply between terrorists and documented aliens, in spite of how much the latter to house the former, allows for the latter going without shame even when they are closely associated with terrorists—whereas every white is threatened with shame if he has a “-ist” or “-phobic” acquaintance.

Turn the table. Shake off the burden from the disenfranchised majority, and put it back on those who have been acting with impunity for too long.

3. Humility

Current Year girls’ overinflated ego is enough, notwithstanding economic or racial factors, to explain a host of social problems. Blinded by it, girls ignore how much they are determined by their own cravings, short-term desires, or by the latest fashions around. They drink loads of booze, fuck with random strangers, reframe their story as a “rape” later so they can blame it all on the guy. They never learn to cook, clean, take care of something else than their Instagram account and corporate career. (Speaking of corporate: isn’t it striking that so many men are badly in need of employment, sex, and have almost nothing, whereas spoiled corporate drones believe they can have—take—it all?)

Ego makes one lose any sense of proportion or balance. It leads to complacency, merciless exploitation of others, refusal to take responsibility, and open despise.

Augustine of Hippo wrote that humility was at the foundation of all other virtues. This makes sense. If one’s ego is inflated, one does not feel the need to practice virtues and feels entitled to never be ashamed of her shortcomings—that are easily denied or blamed on someone else. Ego also leads to wasting resources on luxury, parce que je le vaux bien, as says a famous brand of cosmetics, instead of focusing on self-improvement or caretaking.

Though girls should be the first to have their ego smashed, as the survival of basic family units depends on it, bloated ego is a general disease in our age. Men too can be sold the idea that, say, being a smug urban elf is a proof that one sides with progress and civilization whereas they are actually weak, dependent and unable to fix anything by themselves. It’s not all about our individual selves.

4. Fear

Readers asked for it, so, here it is. Fear is a very powerful emotion, to the point of prompting one to freeze, flee, abandon a previously planned course of action, or never even think to consider an idea or an action. The Left has been using it in two different, albeit complementary, ways.

First, it has constantly accused conservatives to “play on fears,” implying irrational or unjustified fears, when they dared to ask serious questions or making realistic assessment. When the 1965 Immigration Act was voted, democrat senators pretended that opening up the borders would not change the ethnic mix of America and that any suspicion it might happen was “highly emotional.” In France, the socialists and mainstream righters alike have been carrying the same accusations. Here the Left accused any doubt to be a hint of unjustified and intolerable “fear.”

Well, what happened since? Doesn’t it look like every “fear” from the right was justified—especially since the post-WW2 Right has always been incredibly wary, not to say coward, when it came to criticize the Left’s moral high ground?

Second, the Left has also been keen on doing exactly what it accused the conservatives to do, namely, stirring fear about political bogeymen. Liberals invented “rape culture” or “patriarchal oppression” when men actually became weaker. They associated to “Nazism” any white person who assumes his race should basically survive. They shamelessly bludgeoned whom they could call “white supremacists” as if defending one’s right to live in peace against hordes of thugs and violent parasites was equal to being Hitler himself.

Whites were led to fear their own supposed “authoritarian” tendencies, as the shrewd Jews who intrigued through the Frankfurt school put it (see Kevin MacDonald, Culture of Critique, chap.5). Whites were led to fear some of their fears—better have one’s daughter killed by Muslims than expressing concerns about them to other whites, because racism is so evil, boo.

When I was younger, I noticed the local thugs had a huge advantage over us normal people: they were much more fearless. They had this devil-may-care, provocative attitude, which made them potentially dangerous to the bourgeois prude beta male and attractive to females. Not incidentally, the first movie of the French essayist Alain Soral Confessions d’un dragueur (“Confessions of a Womanizer”) shows a young Arab with decent pick-up experience taking a young middle-class white boy under his wing as to help him escape from virginity.

Feeling fear is a necessary step in life. Fear appears greatly useful when there is something to flee from or watch as a potential hazard, but being too fearful or afraid of the wrong things can be a serious liability. Never trust a liberal who either points finger at you for being “fearful” or tries to paint you as dangerous and justifying his own fear-mongering.

On the flip side, being feared by others is not always a negative. Some people need to be afraid to respect you: if you try to treat them correctly or let free rein to your innate generosity, they will harm and exploit you. Such people, just as everyone around who may be tempted to disrespect, should be kept in check by a minimal fear. Better be feared and respected than getting tread upon.

Conclusion

Frame and unframe whatever matters when you have to, as you have to. The left cursed us by locking us into an always negative framing: when we fail, whatever the reason, we are despised as weak or “losers,” and when we succeed they say we are “privileged” and “oppressive.” In both cases, the chosen framing leads to negative emotions associated to us—no matter what we actually do.

Fortunately, it is always possible to turn the tables, provided we keep a tight frame, and change these emotions as well. For example, when we are weak, we should elicit empathy, be noticed for our good intentions or noble infirmities, and when we are strong, we should elicit admiration and trust.

Think, frame, feel positive about us and about what we do. Get rid of those who won’t.

Read Next: 3 Emotions Men Should Master

https://www.returnofkings.com/99453/3-more-emotions-men-should-master

Passions and emotions are an almost bottomless pit. Start digging there and you will find new ones, or new relations between this and that tidbit of emotional content. So-called Enlightenment philosophers who tried to theorize the passions—something that had been done at greater length, actually, by Thomas Aquinas—could never agree on how many there were or even how much they exactly mattered in the course of life.

Whether or not you have been reading my last two pieces on the topic, remember this is about mastering passions in the most general sense. This is not only about emotional restraint or seduction. Our own emotional states are the first in line, but mastering the passions is also about spotting what other people are feeling, how they can be led to a specific course of action, and what tends to make them tick. Mastering the passions is far from evident, it rather takes times and experience: the concepts and directions I am providing here aim at giving some conscious clarity about things that are by nature a bit muddy.

Artists, though they often suffer from mental problems, are skilled at painting a particular vision in vivid colours, allowing their public to share a specific point of view and emotional state. This is something the elite know very well. Critics trashed Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged because they could see themselves painted there as passive-aggressive cultural parasites. Rand’s novel was more cogent, and attracted more heat, than her barely original “philosophical” pieces today sold at the cheapest price on the second-hand book market.

More recently, the movie The Fall (2004) got backlashed by some of the mainstream media on the grounds that it depicted Hitler as “too human.” While seeing actor Bruno Ganz pondering, eating, talking to his closest company or getting angry, the viewer could perhaps feel a bit of empathy to him. Which is, of course, unacceptable to a Left that clings to the idea of a crazy, careless, “inhuman” dictator to be forever cast as an embodiment of evil. Hollywood directors do not like witnessing others competing with their own emotional mastery.

We need artists, as well as qualified cultural critics, to take some distance from the mainstream propaganda disguised as entertainment and expand an alternative culture and artworks. Emotions explored in the present series can be used just that way.

1. Gratitude

Gratitude denotes a trained and refined disposition. Being graceful means “recognizing that the good in our life can come from something that is outside us and outside our control” (Neel Burton, Heaven and Hell, chap.8, p.61). It focuses on positive things we already have and that cannot be ascribed to our sole merit or efforts.

The traditional world, whatever the particular cultural or religious form it was embodied into, always emphasized the necessity of being grateful. You owed your existence to God, to your family and your community. None of these goods were actually deserved, which meant you had to be grateful for them and repay them by being a dutiful member of the community as well as a dutiful father for your own children. A lot of prayers and ancient rites imply a thanksgiving for what one already has.

Moving later in time, it is striking to see that modern progressivism breeds the exact opposite mindset. The ideology of rights make many goods granted, not a “thank you for” but an “I have a right to.” Neophilia (the relentless pursuit of novelty) always casts a bad shadow on what has been around for some time, as if what was coming later was always better.

Advertisement, gossip culture, economic growth pressure, quest for victimhood lead to envy and always being more or less frustrated with what one already has, regardless of what it is. By leading us to always want more, progressivism makes us oblivious to what we already have or how it does not stem from pure individual merit—and, when it flatters the ego, it makes us complacent and far from cultivating the art of being thankful.

Turning our backs from the modern, ungraceful mindset is easier said than done. To start with: loud-mouthed girls should be remembered they owe their nice, luxurious workplaces to the men who built them, LGBTBBQ should thank their heterosexual parents and ancestors for their very lives, anti-white black activists should remember they would not even exist had their ancestors not benefited from their white colonizers healthcare technology. Feel free to expand the list. Ultimately, I think, every person who is modern or westernized enough can be outed as ungraceful for something.

2. Trust

A famous study showed that multiculturalism was closely correlated with defiance and a lack of trust in each other. Provided that we enlarge a bit our definition of multiculturalism, this absolutely makes sense. Some ethnic groups are especially prone to violence, and some “minority” groups are rewarded for freely accusing the silent majority, but the hegemony of political correctness made it a taboo. Communities have been fragmented by individualism, i.e. each person looking to take as much as she can, and by an “antiracist” white guilt that soon became an intra-white generalized suspicion of “racism.” People do not identify anymore with the larger society and often cannot even identify with a smaller community—which makes everyone else a potential enemy.

Yet, without trust, life becomes unbearable. If you can’t go to the streets without the possibility of getting mugged by, say, BLM activists, or go to a family meal without the prospect of a lukewarm struggle with aging leftist parents, or have a relationship with a girl without the possibility of her making a false rape accusation, there aren’t a lot of things you can do on the long run. Without trust in other people, you have to trust the complex of big corporations, NGO, and State institutions we call the system—and be dependent from it for things as basic as food and shelter.

Only trust in each other can make life sustainable and long-term projects workable. To re-create trust, we have to make people accountable and bound to precise rules, reward good behaviours while punishing bad ones. Actions must bear consequences. But before neomasculinity gets into power, men should strive to establish a reputation through reliability, persistence, and a strong mindset. I could wager you have been more trusting of your Facebook friends last years than of the mainstream media, the former conveying more trustworthy information than the latter.

3. Desire

Modern capitalism and progressivism always ran on desire. Want cheaper prices? More goods? Better goods? More TV channels to watch? More monies? More ego and thinking you are the hot shit? Well, just buy in X or do some work for Y, and here it is… um, nah, you just have to do some more, and some more, and some more. In the end, you forgot why exactly you are doing what you’re doing, or why you started to watch TV. But it all started with you led to perform something, no matter how surreptitiously framed as spontaneous or normal it was.

The system plays on desires in three ways. It sets things to be desired, things to be feared or never desired at all, and things to be consummated without end. Things to be desired include everything the advertisement wants you to desire, like a revolving credit, a new sofa, an SUV or whatever, as well as the next step of “progress” as it has been elaborated on the top of the pyramid.

Things to be feared are where the system wants you to be resigned and fatalistic: did you ever feel sad to see all these girls losing themselves into a sea of fat, bitching, and SJW-propaganda spouting? Too bad, that’s globalization, resistance is futile, move on! At last, things to be consummated are mainly produced to keep you busy and programmed though you are not really practising anything beyond staring at a screen.

Lately, an important shift has been happening between the first and third ways to play on desires. Decades before, the average consumer had to desire owning more junk or being part of the “progress”: the system needed him to work and monitor his peers. Today, the junk is already everywhere, PC culture is already hegemonic, and the average American worker is no longer needed. Active desire is not needed anymore.

Thus, the system has shifted into making the average Joe more passive. Instead of actually desiring more, the consumer should be content with surrogates of everything—pseudo-group identity with team sports, pseudo-sports with football and basket on TV, pseudo-sex with porn, pseudo-life with video games, pseudo-family life with animals, pseudo-expertise when the average libtard obnoxiously parrots the media on everything. This is Brzezinski’s tittytainment in a nutshell.

Even if you don’t give up on having a real life instead of a surrogate, the system will still want you to desire things only for yourself, thus retreating into individualism, instead of trying to actually weight on the world. Either you surrender to “the progress” or you try to ignore it before it comes for you. As if nothing could change.

Don’t let the elite frame the world according to its own interests. Desire self-realization and weighting on the course of the world. Of course, our female counterparts should desire being loving, caretaking, and definitely on our side.

To conclude this series

Once again, it is hard to sketch in a few words what could be done with passions or emotions. What I have mostly dwelled into is how those already in power manipulate them and what we could do as to take them back. If you find the topic worthy of interest, you can expand it in two directions: first, documenting yourself on a particular passion or emotion, and second, using some by stirring it with a certain aim in mind.

In the former case, I would recommend Neel Burton’s Heaven and Hell (quoted several times in the course of this series) as a point of departure. In the latter, being creative or simply assertive is up to you. Whether this looks more like efforts or self-persuasion or artistry does not matter much.

Here, as well as in seduction, a tight framing is key. Whatever the topic, no vocabulary and no picture are really neutral, which is a problem as our perception and thinking orientation are often conditioned by these. The mastery of emotions is reinforced—and reinforces—the mastery of representations. If this sounds far-fetched, let me provide some examples of use, examples you are absolutely free to expand as it suits you.

In the comments space, several guys here have been giving a very negative portrayal of the nice guy: he would be a fake, a “sneaky bastard,” a “jerk.” So guys who want to get laid or have their own interests, just as everyone else, are jerks? This looks like internalized feminist thinking. In my opinion, nice guys should elicit empathy, which goes through a positive portrayal emphasizing their willingness to respect the girl or how they were likely raised by an unmanly culture.

A recent ROK piece about mainstream media has shown how these are making a conscious effort to hide and de-legimitate white victimhood: they paint vividly any crime where the victim is non-white and the perpetrator is, but mention no detail or do not mention at all any crime perpetrated by non-white(s) on white(s).

The same pattern appears in the movie Elysium (2013), when the (of course) white villain mentions children she wants to protect from a mass of brown invaders, yet these children are never shown and consequently stir no empathy from the average watcher, whereas the brown-skinned are vividly depicted as humane and not responsible for their own poverty.

Analyzing these phenomena is fine, but ultimately insufficient. Creative people on our side have to provide an alternative that includes mastered emotions. Picking up girls is part of, and gives some experience in, this wider game.

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kob131 · 5 years ago

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https://rwdestuffs.tumblr.com/post/616806790896680960

Ironwood: Yells, screams, rants extensively, shoots things, breaks things

He never screamed, he never ranted, he broke like one thing (a chess piece) and shoot one guy (who in his mind was trying to stop him from saving people).

Yeah, Ironwood is emotional. He’s a fucking veteran Huntsman fighting a war that he was lied about by the man he trusted and the allies he thought he had. He also kind of just had HIS ONE GOOD ARM FUCKING SCORTCHED AND HIS PARANOIA CONFIRMED. Pretty fucking understandable, you shouldn’t be misrepresenting him.

Fandom: Clearly this man is a rational, logical person who is making his decisions based solely on cold reason. RWBY is being too emotional.

Who the FUCK has argued that James is operating under cold logic? He’s not, of course he’s acting under emotion.

What are you even saying?

RWBYJNR: Lies, cheats, steals, rants about a politician trying to do his best to protect a kingdom from going to shit, and also harassed a kid when they’re lied to

You know, Psyga, it doesn’t help that not only are you ALSO misrepresenting shit (They never cheated, the stealing of one airship pales to the numerous DEATHS that would have been caused, they didn’t rant and ONE PERSON messed with Oscar while the LEADER RUBY comforted him) but you yourself are guilty of this shit (Lying, cheating and stealing? Gee I wonder who else does that? *cough* RWDE *cough*)

Fandom: Clearly these group of well thinking, mentally scarred teenagers are rational, logical people who are making their decisions solely on reason. Ironwood is being too emotional.

Again, WHO IS SAYING THAT? Also, implying that Ironwood isn’t basically a walking mass of mental scars.

Has it ever occurred to you that maybe grown men in charge of armies should be held to a slightly higher standard than teenagers, rather than the other way around?

Has it occurred to you that they’re both adults, they’re both fucking up and everyone screwed Salem’s pooch here? Honestly the only guy doing good is Ozpin. Yeah, he started this mess but he did some damn good work before Cinderella.

Also no Psyga, I am not supporting your hypocritical ass. “they’re taught to be pinnacles of man kind’’ By the headmasters....which includes IRONWOOD.

I laugh at the idea of James “A few city blocks” Ironwood trying to do the best to protect his kingdom. Especially when he peaced out and decided to scarper not cos of Salem but due to a chess piece, all while ignoring the fact he had Salem agents on his stupid little rock already to instead focus on shrieking at RWBY a bout loyalty.

The same James “I’ll promote you all to Huntsmen, I’m the one to tell my subordinates the truth first and I SUFFER FROM PARANOIA AND PROBABLY A HOST OF OTHER MENTAL SCARS” Ironwood right?

I mean you support Yang Tumblingxelian because ‘uwu vagin- I mean PTSD’ so SURELY you support Ironwood RIGHT?

Also, he freaked out about a chess piece because it’s SALEM’S SYMBOL. Its like saying “Oh its not Hitler it’s just his CALLING CARD”. And no shit James is calling out Team RWBY, he trusted them and they lied to his face. You know, the same position Team RWBY was in with Ozpin.

Plus Ironwood himself lies and steal in regards to supplies from Mantle and rants too, except unlike RWBY he doesn’t have nearly as good of an excuse save for the fact he’s surrounded himself with enablers and refuses to accept or seek out help.

Amity? Yes.

Supplies? Where? Robyn says they should be going to Mantle, that doesn’t mean they’re Mantle supplies. Show me where it was shown, said or explained he TOOK the supplies.

Also, what enablers? People who put their trust in him? That’s like saying Team RWBY were enablers for Ozpin: it’s the Ace Ops and Winter’s fault for not looking out for their leader, just as it was James’ issue for not looking out for Ozpin.

Like seriously, nothing is ever done to show RWBY as unstable or irrational, at best they are uncertain which is frank;y better than Ironwood or Opzin’s “I know best” attitude because it means they are open to changing rather than breaking the moment they run into a problem their methods can’t solve.

Changing, like going from opposing lying to lying themselves right AFTER knowing how bad of an idea that is.

This is the fucking Yang/Adam situation all over again, removing fault and agency just because you don’t like the other side.

We also literally see their rationales, they need to get he lamp to Atlas before either Salem’s agents find them or it potentially lures Grimm in. They make a good plan that only doesn’t work out cos the local general decided t bust out a super mech and prance around screaming and they still hung around long enough to help solve the problem that idiot created.

Strange that you don’t their talk of telling the truth....

When it comes to Mantle their rationales for why its awful and Ironwood’s decisions are wrong are explained both morally and in terms of practicality, Ironwood sometimes listened but usually ignored them cos he’s an arrogant ass.

Or, you know, he’s been lied to numerous times, he’s in immense physical pain right now, his mental issues are being played on and he’s in a rushed, fucked if you do fucked if you don’t situation.

You know, WHAT THE SHOW FUCKING SHOWS.

On one side is a pack of teenagers dragged into a lot of nightmarish shit they were in no way ready to deal with, who are trying to work together and find a way to save the world. They do this despite being horribly traumatized, physically dismembered in two cases, having to fight off their abusers (to the death in one case), all the while admitting they’re in over their head, they’ve made mistakes, and trying to fix them and generally improve things.

The other side is a military general blatantly abusing his political power to deprive a city of critical resources, leaving them exposed to man eating monsters, declaring martial law to stop the rest of the government from stopping him from outright abandoning the people of that city (and the rest of the planet) to those monsters, ordering the cold-blooded murderer of an elderly woman to steal her magical powers, ordering the arrest of a group of teenagers and one older man because SOME OF THEM vocally disagreed with these actions, then shot a teenage boy for politely disagreeing with him, with the intent being that the boy would die from either the bullet of the long fall that followed. He does all this while insisting he’s being logical, that he’s making the hard choices on everyone elses behalf, and that he is always right. While hallucinating, ranting and screaming about disloyalty, all of which because he failed once (And that’s ignoring how he backstabbed several supposed friends before that traumatizing incident.)

A. Ironwood is also dragged into this by the same metric.

B. James is ALSO in over his head. Everyone not named ‘Ozpin’ is and Ozpin BARELY qualifies.

C. And James is being abused and used too!

D. ‘physically dismembered in two cases’ One and *taps Ironwood’s metal arm*

E. To try and help EVERYONE he’s ‘depriving resources’ because shit ain;t infinite.

F. Aas opposed to the genocidal, ancient witch CONTROLLING the man eating monsters?

G. And the other option? Have everyone DIE in his eyes.

H. Cold blooded murder...that she agreed to of her own volition....

I. You misspelled ALL as SOME. As in, ALL of the protags disagreed with him.

J. ANd you know, trying to stop him.

K. You know, like literally everyone else

M. He never hallucinated, ranted or screamed

James Ironwood is a coward and a traitor to the Kingdom of Atlas. On top of that, he is an entitled little shit that neglected his responsibilities to the civilians of the Kingdom, and then was so fucking arrogant that he was actually OFFENDED that people were angry with him for not doing his job. Quite a lot of that can be blamed on the culture of the Atlas military, of the demands of blind loyalty and yes-men creating an echo chamber without him even noticing. But in the end, he made the decisions. He decided the people of Mantle are an expendable resource, months or even years before Cinder broke into his office. He decided to order the murder of an elderly woman, to overthrow his government, to arrest anyone that dared to disagree with him, and to personally shoot a boy in cold blood.

You want to know the twisted part? I think those of us that admit Ironwood is in the wrong actually respect him more. We can see how he came to this point, the cultural indoctrination, the dangers of military culture, the PTSD he’s clearly suffered since Beacon... We can feel sympathy for a fallen hero. Those who support him continue to insist that he’s in his right mind, that all his decisions, from volume two onwards, have all been completely logical... And what kind of person would that make him?

Oh fuck you with that “Because I disagree that makes me better bullshit.”

You didn’t portray a fallen hero, you portrayed a flatter version of Adam, denying Ironwood’s reasons, glorifying Team RWBY and painted it black and white.

And before anyone claims I am supporting Team RWBY:

Actually look up my opinions of them on my blog. Or hell, this single post. I think both parties are at fault for the situation here for their own flaws. ANd I feel sad for both them.

The conflict in the fandom, however?

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gongju-juice · 5 years ago

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HANA

Part One

Word Count: 2628

Warning: Language and Some Angst

Synopsis: President Namjoon can no longer sit and watch his people suffer in the long drawn out war with Daeian Kingdom. But he finds the only to do so is to proceed in a marriage alliance with the daughter of his country’s worst enemy.

Not everyone likes that.

The thing that defines a nation is not the prosperity of its people, its economical accomplishments, or the culture that affects the everyday lives of millions.

It is the integrity of its leader, the very face and image of the people who allowed him to rise to power. Perhaps, this is where other great nations fail. From Julius Caesar to Hitler—the ambitions of one man can steadily build a nation to power over the course of many years, but just the same, burn it to ashes in one single day.

Kim Namjoon, honorable President of Hana knew this too, and knew it well. Ever since his inauguration, he’d made it a priority to brave the best smile for the citizens of his country. As one of the only true Democratic nations left in such a corrupt world, Hana was constantly being looked to both as a beacon of light and as a target overdue for destruction. There were shadows lurking about that seeked not only the downfall of Hana, but the permanent eradication of Hanaeian way of life and government.

So why, you might ask, was he standing behind his presidential podium on the top balcony of the Pearl Palace, announcing to his people and the Blue District his intentions to marry the daughter of Hana’s most formidable enemy nation?

“Brothers and Sisters,” he called, leaning into the podium. His nails dug deep into the ancient rose wood, carving indents into the glossy covering. “I come to you again in the name of reason. We have been in a stalemate war with the Kingdom of Yeir for three decades now, wasting generations of our sons’ blood for a fight that has long lost its purpose. It is time we make peace, for Hana was founded on this precious ideology that the rest of the world refuses to partake in.”

A sea of gasps sounded below the balcony, and as far as he could see, people were crowded onto the broad green lawn of the Pearl Palace. This war they’d been fighting, this war they’d been dying for—it was a ceaseless cycle of bloodshed and violence. How could Hana proclaim to be the most sensible nation when in reality it had been constantly fighting its demons and draining its people of morale and hope?

“I have sent a proposition to King Dae and his royal court,” he continued, “in an effort to arrange a peace agreement and end this unceasing war once and for all.”

The people surged in approval, and although he was a high above them in the Pearl Palace, the sound was nearly deafening. He cleared his throat loudly, and the sound reverberated throughout the courtyard, bringing the people to contented silence.

“With compromise comes sacrifice. As your leader, I pray that you are willing to lend me your trust. Dealing with this. . .kingdom and its ancient form of government, there are bound to be terms and limits that may not exactly align with Hana’s policies. Please understand that these are all necessary stipulations.”

The crowd remained quiet, and it both pleased him and terrified him. The next words he were to say would define the remainder of his term. Four years. . .in Hana; one could be President for life. However, it was very easy to go down in history books as either a saint or sinner, and Namjoon hoped to go down as the former. But for the sake of the country, he’d be willing to go down as the latter if it only meant it would guarantee the safety of his fellow countrymen.

“King Dae has offered Crown Princess Y/N’s hand in marriage in exchange for a complete cease of fire.”

Suddenly, the crowd erupted. There were people shouting his name—some in support and others in, well, quite the opposite. The guards monitoring the situation moved in closer, but there was not much they could do. Namjoon pre-instructed the Head of Security, Matthew Kim, not to let his guards touch the people. He couldn’t risk the situation escalating any further and further paint the situation in a negative light.

“I know it sounds absurd. As a Democratic nation, Hana never envisioned having to put itself in such a precarious position. But sadly, the world does not revolve around Hana, and if we are going to peaceably exist in this world, there will be things we will have to do in order to ensure that privilege.”

Namjoon felt his Secretary of State, Jung Jaehyun, tense at his side. As the Secretary of State, he was responsible for foreign affairs and the diplomatic handling of other nations. Namjoon internally beat himself over it; he was the one who’d ask Jaehyun to arrange the engagement with the Yeir Kingdom, which would in turn not only damage his own reputation, but Jaehyun’s reputation as well. He was a good man, and good men did not deserve the blame he was sure to receive.

“Because I know this is such a tremendous task, I shall be the one to carry the responsibility of being wed to the Princess,” he explained, gripping the podium even tighter. “And I know you’re probably wondering why you did not hear of these plans through Congress. I’m using the authority of my limited executive orders to get this task done.”

Cameras snapped and children screamed in the crowd. He straightened the papers on the podium and quickly skipped to the end of his speech.

“Once again, I acknowledge the fact that my decision is not a popular one. But as President, it is not my duty to be popular. It is my duty to see to it the people of Hana continue to exist in peace and self-autonomy for generations to come.”

He watched as the telepromopter changed to Vice President, Lee Taeyong’s, dialogue, and he turned and left the podium with screaming people behind him. Fiddling with the sleeves of his suit, he fell into step beside his Secretary of State and felt the heated stares of his cabinet burn a whole in the back of his head.

“How are the plans going?” he said after he couldn’t bear the fiery silence any longer.

Jaehyun tucked his files under his arm and seemed to speed up. The ambitious young man was the perfect choice for the position, which is why he immediately hired him in his cabinet. When they weren’t working, which wasn’t often, they sat around the Pearl Palace and drank Soju as just friends. It was during these times that they could be normal civilians, just associates hanging around without the mandated roles of being public officials.

“The Princess and her arrangements are underway, but King Dae requests the traditional wedding present in the form of a dowry.”

“Dowry?” the President repeated. “Like money?”

“Land. He wants her to inherit one of the islands of the coast of the country, and he wants her future son to have a guaranteed position in the Pearl Palace.”

Namjoon gulped. “Son? Like, he expects us to—”

“Conceive a child? What did you think this was? There’s no way a tyrant like him would jeopardize his lineage all for the sake of a peace treaty.” Jaehyun gave him a worried glance, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a president, Namjoon. And he’s a king. Honest men shouldn’t work with men like King Dae, and honestly, if I didn’t trust you as much as I do, I wouldn’t have done half the things you’ve asked me to do recently.”

They rounded about one of the corners and came into the Rose Office, which was Namjoon’s personal study. Inside, the Governors of all eight districts were present.

Hana was divided into seven districts with seven separate Governors that reported to the President occasionally. Usually, these meetings were done digitally, but with the special situation at hand, Namjoon wanted the seven leaders to visit him in person.

Lisa Manoban, his Secretary of Domestic Affairs; and Park Jimin, his Secretary of Treasury, were also present for the occasion. They were his right hand people, and he trusted them with his life.

“What the hell is wrong is with you?” Kim Jognin demanded, as he whirled on his heels. “Do you think we’re some kind of pushovers who’ll let you do whatever you want? We are the ones in charge of the nation, not you. You’re just a name. A figurehead. We did not give you authority to do such a rash—”

“If you keep speaking to our president like this, I will make it my priority to make things difficult for you in the future,” Lisa warned, folding her arms across her chest. “Namjoon doesn’t have to inform you of anything if you won’t give him a fair chance to begin with.”

Namjoon sat down in his swivel chair, hands finding purchase in the thick of his hair. “That’s enough. We have business to discuss. Everyone take a seat, please.”

They did as they were told, and now it was silent as they waited for the president to make ready on his promise.

“I should’ve told you about the deal,” he admitted. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I knew that if I would’ve, you would’ve never gone along with it. Congress would’ve never gone along with it. I found an opportunity, and I had no choice. King Dae wasn’t going to wait much longer.”

“So how are we supposed to quell the people’s worries?” Chungha asked. “They absolutely loathe the Daeian people. How could they stomach a Daeian Princess in the Pearl Palace?”

Namjoon’s fingers fell to his jaw and he reclined back in his chair. “Once they see their sons, nephews, and fathers coming back from the front, they will accept it. It’ll take time, and it won’t be easy, but they’ll come around. With your help.”

“Our help?” Im Jaebum chuckled. “And why the fuck would we ever give you that?”

“Because Namjoon already told the public that you’re on board. You have no choice but to do it now, because if you don’t, then you’ll be going back on your word.” Jaehyun answered, turning on the holographic display of his watch to show the signed letter sent out to every household in Hana.

“And that’s supposed to scare us? That you lied and have no proof behind it?”

“It should. It should terrify you. Because even if you didn’t agree and this flops and they crucify Namjoon, who do you think they’ll come after next?”

Jaehyun had a point. Arguably, the Governors were the most powerful individuals in the country after the president. But in the heat of anger, the public would hunt them down and overthrow them just as sure. They had no choice but to cooperate.

“Another thing,” Jimin began, “Her dowry. Jinyoung, I hate to ask this favor of you—”

The Governor raised his hand. “Say no more. As Governor of the Lilac District, it would be an honor to aid our president in protecting our country. Which island does she want?”

“Preferably the Southern Isle. We’ll have to find accomodations for the refugees living on that land elsewhere. The Federal Treasury will completely cover the cost, so do not worry.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jennie, Governor of the Blue District, growled. The Blue District happened to be the home of the Capitol and Pearl Palace, so she and Namjoon constantly got into power struggles. “This is bullshit. Now you’re taking away Jinyoung’s land?”

Namjoon shook his head. “I didn’t say this would be easy, folks. You think I want this marriage to happen? Do you think I wanted to be married to the daughter of my sworn enemy?! I’m doing this for you, so your children won’t have to continue to fight in this bloody, eternal war. Hopefully in the future we can make arrangements so Jinyoung won’t actually have to lose power, but for now, we have to at least pretend if we’re going to get this deal to go through.”

It was quiet as the Governors took everything in. This would mean big changes, not just for their lives but the country as a whole. And refusing to cooperate could potentially mean the end of Hana—hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

“You didn’t have to do this,” San considered, a sigh leaving his lips. He was the youngest Governor among the bunch, but he never seemed to have any problems. He represented the Green District, the district responsible for agriculture and food reserves. “But I’m glad you did it anyway. For years, my people have been required to send at least one adult male from their family to fight for the country. The labor is mostly left up to the women and children, and it’s affecting their education and morale. It’s less noticeable in other districts because of the type of work that is assigned to them, but in my district, we work in the fields and barns all day long, and it isn’t easy to provide for the entire nation.”

“Perhaps the refugees who have passed most of their background checks can be relocated to my district,” Irene suggested thoughtfully. She governed the Indigo District which was composed mainly of barren snow desert with a few scattered villages that harvested oil.

Namjoon nodded at them appreciatively. It was ironic that the least powerful Governors were the ones who had his back. But still, it was better than nothing. The last thing he wanted was his other people to be split apart. He wanted them to at least try to fulfill his plan.

“The Princess will arrive next week to the Red District,” Jaehyun informed them. “Jognin, you will be responsible for her safe delivery and accommodations. We expect nothing but the best for our guest.”

He rolled his eyes and sank lower into his chair. “Fine.”

“And, Jennie, while she has her tour of the District, you must prepare the Blue District for her arrival. The wedding, reception, and royal accommodations will all be in your hand. The Treasury will cover you for that, but you must consult Jimin before any permanent transactions are made.”

Namjoon rose to his feet. “I really do appreciate you for all of your hard work. It isn’t accomplishing something as controversial and risky as this. I do believe if we all work together, we can get this done and spare the people of this war. If you won’t do it for me, then please, do it for them.”

The Governors bowed and began leaving. As they left, Namjoon studied their facial expressions. They were angry for sure—offended by the thought of having to work with the Daeian government—but he sensed hope. Perhaps they weren’t so totally against it as they first let on.

Just before the last person left his office, Jennie stopped in place and waited until they could no longer hear the voices receding.

“Just remember, Namjoon,” she spat, heels clicking as she resumed walking, “We’ve been here longer than you have. Our families have shaped these districts and made it the great societies they are today. If this goes sour, we will not hesitate to take things in our own hands.”

He sighed and looked up at her, noticing the glistening eyes behind her thick designer glasses. She was still hurt. He could see it in her eyes, the way she looked at him with hatred and malice burning in her heart.

“I won’t let anything happen to this country,” he promised, “and most importantly, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She stared at him in disbelief, her hands curled in fists. “Tell that to the princess,” she advised, “because with the staggering amount of people who’ll inevitably come for her life—she’ll need it.”

I don’t know if it’ll be this long every time, but I’m usually long-winded, so maybe so lmao.

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shewrites02 · 6 years ago

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I want you (Erik Killmonger)

A/n: This is my first Killmonger story, so don’t crucify me lol. I’m not completely satisfied with it but I couldn’t keep staring at it so here it is. I’m open to any criticism or feedback. Enjoy :)

Erik Kilmonger was a name all too familiar in Wakanda. If not fear that struck people's heart when hearing his name than it was Anger. Kilmonger was an infamous criminal in the eyes of most Wakandans, while others agreed with his point of view and opinions. But no matter where I stood on the matter, on March 5th when Erik Kilmonger walked into the elder's meeting along side King T'challa after being dead for a year now.... time stopped.

Most couldn't understand how a King so determined not to make the same mistakes as his predecessors, like T'challa, could hide such a secret from the people. Lots question T'challa's ability to rule, but it has been 3 months since that day and things have yet to fall apart. The people wait aniouxly to see how this unfolds.

I for one am no spectator to the kings actions, but an active participant as one of the king's advisers and future dora milaje general once Okaye steps down... or should I say if Okaye ever steps down. And as of now I am assigned as Erik's personal adviser, which entailed being a babysitter over anything else.

"Why you always muggin me?" erik interrogated finally stopping and facing toward me. His solid black button up hugging tight his biceps, but loosely draping the rest of his torso due to his refusal to actually button the shirt. He face broke into a slight smirk as he watched how visibly uncomfortable he made me.

"I do not mean mugg you... What does that even mean?!" you retorted.

Erik sort of chuckled. The lack of knowledge wakandans had about black culture was still surprising to him, especially after they've had a whole year of exposing themselves to the outside world.

"It's that look on your face right now." He shrugged. "Aye but I get it, I did try to kill the King right?"

I scoffed rolling me eyes. In my line of work, my opinion didn't matter, how I felt didn't matter. The only thing that mattered were the king's orders and the laws of Wakanda. And right now the king order me and Erik at the ceremony. So no matter how I felt personally about Erik, my job was to be by his side, and that is what I am going to do.

"Damn. I was fucking joking, I cant get a laugh?" Erik continued to prod.

I scuffed slightly narrowing my eyes. 'joking' putting Wakanda through turmoil and choas was comedic to him. I clentched my fist till the tip of my fingers were white, and I could feel my heart beat in my throat. Angry was not a strong enough word to describe how Erik Killmonger made me feel, infuriated didn't quite grasp it either.

"Sorry If I don't think anarchy is something to joke about. You... you lack any respect for this nation. You almost ruin the royal family and send all of wakanda into choas and that funny to you! Oh Bast!"

Erik now was the one rolling his eyes. From the moment T'challa refused to let him die in Shuri's lab, Erik knew he would always be the man who tried to ruin Wakanda. The Adolf Hitler in their history books. He had come to accept it and maybe even feed into it from time to time. Eager to be the villian again.

"What are you doing?!" I interogated my tone still hostile from my previously ignored rant. I watched him fiddle with the buckle of his belt until that as well as his pants were off.

"I'm changing."

"Erik we need to go, The King requested our pressence at the ceremony to be timely!"

"And it will just let me change damn! Yall got a nigga out here dressed like kirk franklin and shit!" He grumbled now sliding off his shirt.

No one had quite managed to annoy me in the way that Erik did. He made my skin crawl like literally itch with the words that came out his mouth, and right now... right now I was at my witts end with him.

"No, lets go! Now!" I shouted. Balling up the clothes he had shed and throwing them toward him. Although his back to me and the clothes landing to the left of him not grazing him even the slightest, I knew Erik had seen what I'd done

Erik quickly turned around a haze covering his eyes as his face scruntched and twisted as if it were trying to find the right expression for this situation. The look in his eyes very similar to that of when he burned the heart shape herb.

It was dead silent before his dark chuckle broke the air and turned into a full blown laugh. As if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He walked until his body towerd over mine. Till i could feel his breath sweep across my cheek and I could feel his scars lightly graze my skin.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you're talking to,but you can dead all that shit right now! Got it?" He growled lowly in my ear. His voice raspy and dark.

My knees almost went weak caused by the shortage my brain was having at the moment. The low growl of his voice, and feeling of his skin against mine was enough to overwhelm me but holy Bast the smell of his cologne fresh out the shower had me beside myself.

It was no secret that Erik was an attractive man, but no woman in Wakanda dared to admit it. I for one hadn't realized just how attractive until this moment right here. Maybe it was the touch of his skin or the look in his eyes. I'm not sure but, without much thought and pure impulse I smashed my lips into his. He seem surprised at first but had no hesitation in kissing me back. He brought his hand to my throat pulling me into him as he slippied his tougne into my mouth. A small moan escaped my lips as his free hand began to explore my body.

Quickly I pulled away.

"I- I'm-" I had no words.

My first instinct was to run, go far away from this room with this man standing in front of me. I reached for the door getting it slightly ajar before Erik slammed it closed. I turned to face him, my back pined to the door. He rested is left hand against the door while snaking his right arm around my waist. His teeth ever so slightly bite his bottom lip and his eyes grazed my body as if undressing me already.

Where my heart pounded with anger it now speed with anticipation and angst. I wanted so badly to feel his lips against mine again, to fell his hands rome my body again... just to feel him. But every logical thought in my mind, well the very few that remained, were telling me this was a bad idea.

"If you wanted a nigga... all you had to do was ask."

"I- I-"

I struggled to form a single coherent sentence. This only widen the already large grin on Erik's face. He had now completely pressed is body against mine, resting his member comfortable on my thigh.He bent down resting his head in the crook of my neck just where my ear was.

"Come on... Beg, daddy. Tell me you want me." his whispered his warm breath tingling my neck.

"I want you."

#Erik × reader #erik killmonger #black panther #black women #Wakanda

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quakerjoe · 5 years ago

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This is a long read, but it’s the best damned thing I’ve read in a long time... ~Joe

I stopped watching Chernobyl after the first episode because a lifetime ago, I was a serious physics nerd and everything they were saying was absurd about the levels of radiation. Last night we watched the other 4 episodes and I thought maybe I might try and push the rock up the hill again and maybe open some eyes about where we are right now in this truly dystopic Orwellian nightmare. J. Robert Oppenheimer was a particular hero to me as a teen because he was so brilliant and accomplished the impossible in just 18 months. If you have not read American Prometheus, I highly recommend it because it details a time when we had a government of imbeciles running around with their hair on fire about communists who threw people in jail who wouldn't admit to that old drunk McCarthy that they were communists. Like all demagogues, McCarthy thought he was the lone arbiter of who was and who wasn't a patriot and he rose to such prominence because he was willing to lie about anything to make his baseless allegations. But Joe McCarthy was no patriot nor was his principle henchman Roy Cohn. They used the collective paranoias of stupid people to manufacture a crisis that did not exist. They destroyed lives and relished doing it to what would be referred now as the 'elitist liberals' like Dalton Trumbo and Oppy. Oppy was an extremely educated liberal who spoke to other people like him. Some of whom were communists. This made him a threat in the minds of the men who put Julius and Ethel Rosenberg to death. Ethel was entirely innocent but that didn't matter to a public brought to full froth by the hysteria of the day. Those men beating the drums of patriotism could not conceive of a man like Oppy talking to a communist and not be a communist himself, the same was said of Trumbo. Guilt by association was just enough for the likes of Cohn and McCarthy. "For each lie, a debt to the truth is incurred." Chernobyl Historians have written heroic books about the great generals of WWII, MacArthur and Patton being the most famous and they do deserve their notoriety but they ignored to a large extent who actually won the war for the allies and that comes down to two men: Alan Turing and J. Robert Oppenheimer. By any measure, Alan was the greatest man of the 20th century. Oppy is a bit harder to fit into that calculus and he said so himself because he knew atomic weapons would change the world and not in a good way. It's true the Japanese were whipped and that Doolittle could have continued to firebomb Japanese cities until the Japanese came to heel but that is still speculation. After Nagasaki, the war was over right or wrong, Oppy did that and saved hundreds of thousands of American troops. After the war, McCarthy went after Oppy. He wasn't treated like the hero he was and didn't want to be. He was treated like a Soviet agent and stripped of all of his security clearances because he would not name names. He was threatened with prison, his jobs were taken from him and he was exiled from the community of scientists that *he* built because of the lies of scum like McCarthy and Cohn. Alan Turing didn't fair much better from his government either. The McCarthys of that time didn't really believe in America at all, he wasn't a patriot no matter how loudly his supporters screamed it. McCarthy didn't think the idea of America could survive 'communist infiltration'. He had no grasp of why communism spread in Russia like wildfire because to his primitive and ignorant mind, he didn't know what it was like to live under a Tsar. 'If it spread there then it can spread here' was the thinking because McCarthy didn't understand or believe in the ideals that founded America. To him, they were so weak and feeble that communism would be preferable than what we had in America. That lie destroyed lives, destroyed families and stands as a black stain on our nation's history. The thing about liars is that they have to tell bigger and bigger lies to cover for all the small ones and then that debt to the truth comes due. It came to McCarthy when Joseph Welch lanced the festering boil that was McCarthyism with the truth. Before Welch delivered his fatal blow, he reacted to McCarthy's slander with this: "And so, Senator, I asked him to go back to Boston. Little did I dream you could be so reckless and so cruel as to do an injury to that lad. It is true he is still with Hale & Dorr. It is true that he will continue to be with Hale & Dorr. It is, I regret to say, equally true that I fear he shall always bear a scar needlessly inflicted by you. If it were in my power to forgive you for your reckless cruelty, I would do so. I like to think I'm a gentle man, but your forgiveness will have to come from someone other than me." Then a moment later, he drew the blade that ended the national nightmare when he murdered McCarthy with the indelible truth: Mr. Welch: You've done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last? Have you left no sense of decency? McCarthy and Cohn of course had no decency. Cohn delighted in going after homosexuals and destroying their lives while being a homosexual himself. They were the most vile hypocrites the world had ever known. McCarthy incapable of feeling shame, drank himself to death after he was humiliated as the coward he was. I sat there thinking about this as the full horror of what happened at Chernobyl unfolded. The entirety of the Russian government played out exactly like Trump having all of his cabinet praising his greatness, it was vulgar, it was disgusting. Then I remembered all the other dictators I've read about in history who surrounded themselves with sycophants. Martin Bormann being the reference example who served Hitler so faithfully. Bormann was a slack-jowled imbecile who was barely qualified to lick stamps but nobody in the Reich dare cross the thug because he was Hitler's favorite yes man. I remember that day Trump's cabinet took turns telling Trump how honored they were to serve under his super terrifically awesomeness and that they were but boot-licking sycophants. Pence really had to lather up Trump's ass before he could muster a vulgar enough kiss to satisfy that insidious git. I sat thinking that this was the lowest moment in the history of the Republic. What separated them from the Soviet Central Committee under Gorbechev? Not a damn thing. They *all* lie for a living and kiss the dear leader's ass. It was the most unAmerican thing ever done in the White House. It was sheer cowardice by each and every single one of them. Any man who had a lick of honor would have walked out in disgust to save what's left of their honor. The *only* one who got out of this administration with any was General Mattis. And you can see this cult in all of its terrible glory if you just glance at any of the stories coming in from visitors to the concentration camps now open on United States' soil. There are zero testimonials from any objective visitor who says conditions are fine. Last Thursday a government Lawyer argued to 3 appellate judges that giving toothbrushes and toothpaste were luxury items not to be afforded for the $700-$800 a day American tax payers are paying private prison companies to house these thousands of misdemeanor offenders. Republicans have strenuously objected to calling these 'detention centers' 'concentration camps' because nothing offends cult members like the truth about what they are really do. Ask any Scientologist if you're not positive of this undeniable fact. Children are living outside, locked up and fully exposed to the elements without food and running water because the man who concocted this policy is a 32-year-old psychopath named Stephen Miller who has devised schemes to strip parents of their children as a 'deterrent' from coming to the US. I remember wondering as I read The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich how so many people were duped into voting Hitler into office and here I am now witnessing it. I see right wing lunatics actually calling people 'Antifa' as if it is some slur. "Antifa'' meaning 'anti-fascist.' They seem wholly unaware that Americans won a war against fascism because we were all against what the Axis was doing. What the nazis knew was that they needed to control the press. What modern fascists like Rupert Murdoch have learned is that it is easier to control the masses with propaganda and to do that is to obey Goebbels' edict to 'accuse the other side for what you are guilty of.' This is where Republicans are now. There is no Republican party anymore. It is a cult of personality except it isn't Hitler being exalted by the hoards of half-literate morons, it's Trump. Trump lies to them and they breath in his lies and they repeat them with a religious fervor because none of them are aware that for each lie they tell, they incur a debt to the truth. In Germany and in Chernobyl, those lies always caused death on a mass scale either through incompetence or outright evildoing. Here we are at a crossroads in American history with an ignorant electorate chanting 'lock her up' as if that's something that's going to happen. The Secretary of the Treasury is openly breaking federal law in full few of all these miscreants and the cult doesn't care. The Attorney General of the United States, the highest law enforcement official in the land openly committed perjury before the US Congress. The President has committed election fraud, violated the emoluments clause and committed more acts of obstruction of justice than can be counted in full view of the American people and the sad fact of the matter is nothing is being done about it. The Republican cult doesn't even want to pretend like they don't want the Russians involved in the next election. They've done exactly nothing to safeguard our elections from Russian interference because they are so easily bought by Putin that they aren't going to do a damn thing to stop someone who is trying to help them win elections. I don't know what it takes before the people take to the streets but if opening up concentration camps isn't appalling enough to put the spurs in then nothing will. This is how it was done, the chipping away of normalcy with outrage after outrage until insanity became the new normal because as Voltaire so presciently said, 'anyone who can make you believe absurdity can make you commit atrocities.' Little children are locked up outside in the elements without so much as a blanket to protect them. They have no rights to anything because the courts are so overwhelmed with cases now that it will take many years before any of these refugees get a hearing. They're standing children up in front of a judge without a lawyer to defend themselves against imaginary crimes of crossing a line on a rock turning 35,000 mph in a small solar system. Republicans stole a supreme court seat and they will continue to lie, cheat and steal to remain in power. That's why Mitch has delivered over 100 carefully selected members of the Heritage Society to fill vacant judicial posts because he does not care about our democracy, he cares about power. As many Republicans have said, they only need someone to sign stuff, they don't care who. Trump is perfect for their agenda and democracy has never been on their agenda, usurping it is. 20 years of Murdoch's brainwashing has gotten us to this point and if anyone really believed in justice in this country, the heads of everyone at Fox would be rolling down main street as a lesson to future ambitious propagandists who mean to undermine our nation as that rogue Australian has done more than any other. To rid ourselves of this seditious scourge is going to take all of us who agree to speak with one voice at the ballot box. It's going to take protests on a scale not seen in the US. Blood is already being spilled in these concentration camps. Edmund Burke's warning that all it takes for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing is coming to pass *yet again* and here we are at tyranny's doorstep. How much is enough? What atrocity must be committed on American soil before we get off our sorry asses and start doing something about it? If you don't think we aren't at war with a very determined enemy bent on destroying our country then you need to wake up to reality before we wake up that one morning like Martin Niemöller did when he said, "First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me." Every single Republican in office right now is an enemy of the United States who are conspiring with our foreign enemies to keep themselves in power. So are the people who vote for them because they are no different than the people who voted Hitler into office. I sincerely hope if you agree with what I have said here that you spread this message with any like-minded people because as of yet, I haven't seen any presidential candidates calling these concentration camps what they are. If we don't start preparing for next November today, we could wake up to another 4 years of Trump. Our nation cannot survive such a reckless criminal administration the likes of this one for another four years. The nation will be bankrupt and in its death rattle. We can start speaking in unison this Independence Day by squelching this Trump celebration in DC by turning the real patriots out on a scale he can't imagine. It's time to start fighting and dirty at that while there's still something worth fighting for. #Resist Your very life depends on it as does our future.

- Thomas Clay

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jenniferladybug · 5 years ago

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Essay Wars - it’s a doozy

Last night my friend got in a texting debate about the story structure and character developments of Star Wars (a majority of it Kylo Ren). Well, what started off as my vigorous texting writing turned into full-blown essay responses.

Alright, let’s get into how this actually happened.

First, I was so excited about The Rise of Skywalker Final Trailer and I began to sing praises for Kylo Ren/Bendemption. My friend did not like that...so I whipped out the big guns.

I began to send scattered texts about certain things, mostly pertaining to:

Kylo Ren was turned to the dark side before he was even born via Bloodline, where Leia describes a dark presence over her womb.

Someone must be impersonating Darth Vader when Kylo goes to the Vader mask for advice.

Leia and Han were emotionally neglectful/did not know how to raise their son in the right way, mixed with brainwashing lead to Kylo Ren.

The Jedi are not good for the galaxy (yes, yes I know, but see my explanation down below...if you last that long)

Kylo wants to let the past die and start fresh with a new ‘order’, leave behind the Sith, Jedi, First order etc.

I also rambled on about a few other things in separate texts, but that is the gist of it.

So, in response to my scattered texts I received this from my friend Sammy, and oh boy was I ready:

So, let’s start with the story of Ben. The dark side since before he was even born thing is interesting and the fact that he’s been influenced his entire life by it is something they should have made much more clear in the films. That’s actually one of the problems I have with this new expanded universe- it just seems like damage control for the movies. The Previous EU EXPANDED everything, giving backstory to the characters we know and understand, in addition to secondary characters. Hell, they even gave us new characters as well but they never negated or changed the meaning of the films which is the bread and butter of the franchise, so if this super important info is coming from the book I think that’s just silly. You really shouldn’t have to read the novel iteration to understand what the movie did a bad job of interpreting. But I digress, that is some crucial info…

The Vader mask scene and the theory that it’s someone else like Snoke who has been pretending to be Vader is interesting, and I buy that, but like…Kylo didn’t know Vader was redeemed? Did Luke, Leia, Han, Chewy, Lando, Akbar, Wedge, or like literally anybody else form the Rebellion forget to tell him that? Big yikes.

IMO, feeling “misunderstood and neglected by his parents” isn’t a valid excuse for him to kill his own dad and being ok with his mom getting bombed to hell. Idk, you can ask why it’s ok for us to forgive Vader through his redemption arc but I think comparing his experiences to Kylo’s is like comparing apples to oranges. Vader was a BAD guy, but he ended up doing the ultimate GOOD thing in the end, and then the prequels fleshed out how he became bad intangible way, which to be fair, Kylo doesn’t have. But still, this is why most fans don’t take him seriously.

About the Jedi not being good- I challenge your credentials. “For a thousand generations the Jedi knights have been the guardians of peace and justice for the Old Republic”, then they were hunted down and everything turned to shit. And both in this canon and the previous one, it’s wildly considered that the few thousand years preceded the events of the movies things were super peaceful all things considered when the Jedi were in charge…and the Sith traditionally only operates in agents of 2. So how come everything was so peaceful for a thousand generations when there were a million Jedi and 2 Sith…ying yang in this case is bollocks.

And if Kylo really wants to “Start fresh”, why’d he start by becoming Supreme Leader of like the Star Wars version of ISIS? This is something we’ll need to find out in this next movie. I agree, his motive is to dismantle the Jedi and Sith way and create something else entirely, but the second Rey says “nah” he goes back to how he was. It’s not looking good.

The George Lucas rhyme thing lets not forget he’s talking about Episode 1 which was arguably one of the worst Star Wars movies made and he ended it with “hopefully it’ll work” and then grimaces…IDK bud lmao. And I doubt back in 1977 he knew there was going to be an episode 9 because he didn’t even know what he just made was Episode 4! It definitely was never a 9 episode arc from the get-go. Now, I know for certain after the prequels he had another trilogy in mind, and when he sold the rights to Disney he did hand them his drafts and notes, but even Bob Iger, CEO of Disney, admitted in his new book, they didn’t follow those drafts AT ALL. LIKE NOTHING. And he said that George felt betrayed. This idea of a new trilogy is something that was created in 2012, but I suspect they have been making this up as they went. After this last movie, Disney scrambled to get JJ Abrams back and figure out how they were going to get everything back on track. Daisy Ridley herself said JJ wrote a story for each of the 3 new movies, but Rian ended up created his own completely. I think that alone shows that production for these movies has been inconsistent, I don’t buy this was all part of some 9 series plan with a definitive beginning, middle, and end from the get-go.

Not sure what Rey’s lineage is, we’ll find out for sure in this next movie. I read one theory that Palpatine created her sorta through the force like many people think he did with Anakin.

So that was what I was up against.

Let’s take a brief moment to appreciate this:

Okay now that that is done...great.

My turn!

Now, I wrote my response (copied below) at top speed in about an hour, so maybe some of the things I say start sounding rushed or not as fleshed out as they should be. But I cracked my knuckles and gave it a go:

I am the first one to advocate for a film to have the ability to ‘stand-alone’ in any particular universe, whether it be Marvel, DC, Hunger Games, and Star Wars. By introducing a backstory for Leia’s pregnancy and hers and Han’s marriage in ‘Bloodline’, LucasFilm is doing just that: giving a backstory. In both The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, there is proof that Snoke is the one pulling the strings when it comes to young solo. In the first film, Leia is quoted saying to Han, “There’s still light in him I know it! No. It was Snoke. He seduced our son to the dark side”, and in the second film Luke is quoted as saying, “Snoke had already turned his heart”. It is made apparent that ‘Kylo Ren’ is the production of Snoke, and Ren suffers abuse both mental and physical from his master. Though this changes when Kylo finally becomes free of the shackles Snoke once had on him when Ren slices him in half. The look of shock and release on Ren’s face when he realizes what he’s done says it all. Who are we to judge someone who is freshly out of the control of their captor? By just watching the films it is clear that Kylo Ren is not fully in control of his actions and he is being manipulated consistently as shown by the quotes above. When having that manipulation in conjunction with the neglect of a parental figure, then you get the full-blown reality that is Kylo Ren.

Feeling “misunderstood and neglected by his parents” is a valid excuse for turning to the Darkside in the world of a fictional fairy tale. Keep in mind we are not in a reality where this is okay, yet the world in which Star Wars exists allows such things to be redeemable and explainable. Take for example when Padme knew about Anakin killing younglings; she wanted him to still come home because she ‘loved’ him. If he had turned back to the light at that moment she would have most likely accepted him back. It is a danger of the force. They are not dealing with everyday normal emotions; the force, as well as the genre of the franchise, creates a heightened sense of urgency which is apparent throughout the forty-plus years Star Wars has been around (hell, as long as any fairy tale has been around). When you point out that Vader did the ultimate good thing in the end, do you mean to save his son and push Palpatine down a duct? If so, then this would be his redemption which occurred in the last of the original trilogies. If you are to treat Kylo with the same rules as Vader, then we must give him a chance to ‘do the right thing’, something which the filmmakers have been steadily building his character-arc for. Vader did numbers ‘wrong’ things, some of them much worse than Kylo has done. But yet the audience still chose to respect him, even before the prequels which fleshed out the story of Anakin Skywalker.

Now, you may be correct in that Ben Solo knew of Vader’s redemption, and I misspoke, to which I am sorry. He, in fact, learned of his heritage when he was training with Luke at his academy when he received a letter from his mother. The contents of the letter are unknown, though it is assumed she told him of his heritage when he was in his late teens. This was only because one of her rivals she was campaigning against in the senate threatened to leak the knowledge to the public that Leia was the daughter of the infamous Darth Vader. Ben had no idea before-hand though, so once again we assume that this had some type of impact. Imagine finding out your grandfather was Hitler. Would that be fun? But, since we addressed the fact that external material should not need to be consumed in order for a film to make sense, then we should disregard any idea as to how Ben Solo came to learn of his heritage. It is not mentioned in the films, but it is a widely held belief by many in the fandom that if Kylo Ren knew of his grandfathers’ redemption then he merely took this as a lapse in judgment in his late years (especially since it is hinted to in the films that Ren is speaking to someone via the Vader mask). Perhaps said mask has been telling Ren lies in lieu of the true story of the redemption. But that is speculation. What is not speculation is the line Ren utters in The Force Awakens, “Forgive me. I feel it again... The pull to the light... Supreme Leader senses it. Show me again... The power of the darkness... And I'll let nothing stand in our way... Show me... Grandfather... and I will finish... what you started.” What we can tell from the film is that Ren is in a constant struggle to stay within the dark, and through his words, it is expressed how this warrants forgiveness. The second half of the statement is even more worrying in the fact that Ren says ‘show me again’, referencing a previous time this ‘Vader’ has shown him what the darkness entails. Will we find out in episode nine if there was an imposter (Palpatine?) feeding more lies and brainwashing to Kylo Ren? That means not only was he getting terrible treatment from Snoke, but from his ‘grandfather’ as well. Perhaps this is why in the final trailer for episode nine we see Rey and Ren destroying said helmet. Until the film comes out, this will still be a mystery.

In coming to why I believe the Jedi are bad, I side with Luke Skywalker on this one. As he says in The Last Jedi, “ At the height of their powers, they allowed Darth Sidious to rise, create the Empire, and wipe them out. It was a Jedi Master who was responsible for the training and creation of Darth Vader.” To that, Rey points out that it was also a Jedi who saved him. Which is true! Yet, the rules surrounding the Jedi order are such that allowed for Anakin to search elsewhere for support. True, he was very conflicted, but the Jedi are so extreme that they do not welcome outside opinions or thinking. You are either all light or you’re bad. There is no intermediary. That is why the answer is grey Jedi. I know those exist, and what needs to happen is a yin and yang between the light and the dark. Working together fosters acceptance and love within the galaxy. Even the symbol in the pool of the Jedi Temple in which Luke tucked himself away had a figure in a yin and yang pattern. “Powerful light and powerful dark...a balance”. Yet, any dark whatsoever that the Jedi see they stamp out.

When Anakin says, “If you’re not with me, then you’re against me”, Obi-wan responds with, “Only sith think in absolutes!”. Well, can you see the issue there? Obi-wan is also thinking in absolute. Using the word only further segmented and cast aside Anakin, by labeling him a lost cause. Such a similar thing happened with Kylo Ren and the incident with Luke at the Jedi Academy. The momentary lapse which Luke expressed to Rey was the tipping point. In Ren’s eyes, even his Master saw him beyond saving. And since everyone around him insists on thinking in absolute, then he must be bad according to them, right?

Slowly, Ren is beginning to realize there is another way, something not presently defined within the Star Wars universe. It is not Sith, it is not Jedi, it is not the First Order: it is the ‘new order’ which he proposes to Rey. Yet, he is not ready for redemption yet. The entire point of the scene was for Rey to realize that Kylo Ren cannot be saved by anyone but himself. This is a very powerful message and I am quite looking forward to seeing how his self-realization occurs in Episode Nine. Now, keep in mind that he had banked everything on Rey saying yes, and in his mind, she is “Still. Holding. ON!”, which she is, and he is right that it is holding her back. How can you expect someone from a family of yelling, angry people to get it right the first time? In fact, Adam Driver had to ask Rian Johnson if Kylo Ren had ever kissed a girl before. Kylo is not experienced in this ‘love’ world. He did not receive much love language from his absentee parents, so the only relationship he’s known for most of his teen and adult life is that of Snoke and General Hux. At that moment in which he wakes up to realize she is gone is one of abandonment and rejection. He thought he had found his match, the answer to his loneliness, and she snapped his lightsaber in two. He is basically throwing a grownup temper-tantrum, which is blatantly apparent in the standoff with Luke. When Kylo threatens everything, even ‘destroying’ Rey, Luke claims that everything Kylo says is “a lie”. It is clear in the last few moments of the film when Kylo is defeated and on his knees holding his father’s die that the audience begins to realize his anger was all a facade. In that shot, he is merely a lost and lonely boy realising the path he has chosen is wrong. The final force-bond between Kylo and Rey exhibits every one of those notions. There is no anger in his face, not very ‘destroy-ee’ of him, and he looks up with her with an almost longing. But when she sternly shuts the door on him, once again he is left alone, the die slowly fading from his gloved hand.

If that doesn’t sound like poetry then I don’t know what is! George Lucas was quoted saying in the behind the scenes of the prequels, “You see the echo of where it all is gonna go. It’s like poetry, sort of. They rhyme.” Similar themes and sequences occur within the franchise, and they have kept that alive at Disney Lucas Films, especially in regards to the parallels drawn between Anakin/Padme and Kylo/Rey. They even designed their respective costumes in a similar fashion. Kylo has his mother and father’s anger and stubbornness. They had a rough idea of where it was all going to go. And in regards to JJ Abrams and Rian Johnson, JJ Abrams was an executive producer on Episode 8 and had a say in the general outline of the plot. JJ had set up the relationship between Kylo and Rey in The Force Awakens, and Rian continued along that path. He followed the skeleton needed to get the plot from 7-9. But think about it, Disney would not allow Rian to just veer off the path completely. Yes he had some creative license but within parameters. Sometimes I don’t think people understand the workings of a large corporation with creative decisions. On a project like Star Wars there is always input from the higher-ups. In addition, JJ Abrams auditioned potential Kylo Ren actors with the script from Pride and Prejudice (Mr. Darcy of course). This is made clear in the writing decisions and parallels which have been made for that particular character.

Lastly, would you really want George Lucas at the helm of this new trilogy? People thought the prequels were terrible and Lucas went back and digitally altered the originals against the will of fans. He is not technically the best when it comes to scriptwriting (Exhibit A: “I hate sand, it gets everywhere!”) Also, Mark Hamill was interviewed in the early ’00s and said, "You know, when I first did this, it was four trilogies. 12 movies! And out on the desert, any time between setups...lots of free time. And George was talking about this whole thing. I said, 'Why are you starting with IV, V and VI? It's crazy.' [Imitating Lucas grumble,] 'It's the most commercial section of the movie.'” Yes, the first film was a stand-alone, since they had no idea they would receive any further funding. But then the immense success allowed for Lucas to develop the franchise further.

What I think people tend to forget is that Star Wars is a fairy tale, and it is not supposed to be about ‘a mass murder’ who is going to jail. It is supposed to be about redemption at its very heart. George Lucus had expressed that he intended Star Wars as a series for “twelve-year-olds”. This explains things like Jar Jar Binks and other bizarre choices he has made as a creator. Though this explains a lot of why most of the people who hate the franchise now are angry adults online who live in an overly politically correct world judging a fictional character who is in the middle of a character arc. As JJ Abrams had said in the director's commentary of The Force Awakens, “We looked at it like […] a fairy tale. What are the elements that you’re going to see that makes it this genre, this specific genre? […] You’re probably going to have a castle, and a prince and a princess, if you’re looking at a fairy tale. We wanted to give these fundamental, not cosmetic, but prerequisite elements.”

Okay, I’ve talked too much. I am going to end it there for now. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

Haha hope that was entertaining and that sparked some thinking and inspiration. I know I let my keyboard run away from me and please excuse the odd typo from time to time. Let me know your thoughts.

I mean just look at that beautiful man.

Love you all!

#reylo #star wars #kylo ren #rey #long reads #in defense of kylo #ben solo #george lucas #bendemption

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amplesalty · 5 years ago

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Day 12 - Chillerama (2011)

The last drive in...

As is tradition around these parts, we like to toss in the odd anthology film just for some variety. Now, it has been a while since we properly covered one since the last few I watched were in that blind period where I’d be watching stuff but not blogging due to laziness, namely Trick ‘r Treat, V/H/S and Tales from the Darkside. Between those and early entries like Creepshow I/II/III and the Twilight Zone movie, I feel like I’ve hit upon the bigger names of this sub-genre. I think the other big one would be Tales from the Crypt, which occupies this space in time between the comic and the TV show. I will freely admit, I’m watching this for one reason alone which we will get to.

Things start with a guy digging up a corpse and getting his dick bitten off before exclaiming that he’s ‘late for work’. I suppose that’s one way to avoid answering any awkward questions in the office. ‘Good weekend?’ ‘What did you get up to last night?’. No one ever asks you what you did before you came to work, clearly the best time to get your necrophilia ways in.

I don’t get the significance of the blue blood though, other than maybe it standing out because it’s so unique? It’s not like they’re trying to tone down the movie or anything, doing a Mortal Kombat turning the blood grey and calling it sweat. We will see later that this movie gets very graphic.

Turns out he works at a drive in movie theatre that is shutting down, tonight being the last night. This serves as the framing device to tie all the other stories together, cutting back to the drive in between segments to catch up with some of the main characters.

Up first is ‘Wadzilla’ the story of Miles, whose swimmers aren’t so strong if you know what I’m saying. His doctor, played by Ray Wise, prescribes him some new medicine that hasn’t been approved for market yet but he would make a good test case for. It wont help him make any more sperm but it will give what he does have a little more pep.

Or in actuality, cause him to grab his dick everytime he so much as feels the slightest arousal and have a look of the guy from the ‘Jizz in my Pants’ video.

Turns out that new medicine is causing his sperm to grow massively. Look at the size of that thing, must be like passing a kidney stone. The good doc advises he cease taking the pills and, should this happen again, he needs to jerk off as soon as possible to get the little bleeder out.

Unfortunately, Miles heads out on a blind date and catches sight of his date’s cleavage so has to rush to her bathroom to rub one out. What ensues is a chaotic scene in which the released sperm starts scurrying around the room like a lost gerbil and Miles trying to stop it. He even wrenches the shower curtain off the wall and tries to harpoon the gooey troublemaker like he’s Captain Ahab. Well at least we avoided that horrible trope of the date blocking the toilet.

Or so I thought, as Miles tries flushing his wasted offspring, only for it to cause the toilet to backup and spew water everywhere. Miles’ date wonders just what the hell is going on in there, only to get attacked by the beast which has even spawned teeth by this point. It even tries to fulfil it’s destiny of getting inside her, only for Miles to intervene and launch it out of a window.

This sperm doesn’t stop growing though as it starts to go on a rampage through the city like it’s the T-Rex is Jurassic Park 2, starting by eating this Worzel Gummidge looking hobo.

Pretty soon it’s destroying buildings and the army have been called in. But even they can’t stop it from what it wants to do...

Hump the Statue of Liberty.

It even has fantasies of the statue doing a sexy dance. LADY LIBERTY’S TWERKING, MAGGLE!

This calls for General Bukkake, played by Eric Roberts, to call in an airstrike which destroys the creature and the statue, even if that means he ends up living up to his name in the resulting explosion.

Our two love birds even get to finally share a kiss, though it’s a lot closer to snowballing under these circumstances.

Blocked toilet tropes aside, my most hated of tropes, this one was pretty fun. Definitely has that 50’s b-movie quality down with some fake film grain, green screen and practical monster effects.

Meanwhile, back at the drive in, dickless the clown is in the store room and the implication is that he’s jerking off. But I don’t know what he’d exactly be jerking off at that point except a small stump. The only other thought is that he’s trying to clean the wound or something but there’s a definite jerking motion going on. Either way, he sticks his hand in the popcorn butter so he can rub it where his junk used to be. Unfortunately for everyone intending to eat that night, one of the staff comes in to restock and chooses that can. This doesn’t end well.

Segment two is ‘I was a Teenage Werebear’, Werebear being a sub-genre I feel Hollywood has not explored sufficiently. The best way I can describe this one is Grease if it was written by Chuck Tingle, with some supernatural elements thrown in. Pounded In The Butt By My Closeted Lust For The Local Greaser Thugs Who Happen To Be Werebears. Just a strange mix of musical, horror, LGBT and beach movie.

Cosplay James Dean and his girlfriend here are in the middle of song when she promptly gets run over and surprisingly not killed. She’s just left in this sort of half brain dead state for the rest of the segment where she’s spouting random nonsense. This isn’t all bad as it lets him focus on his real love, Cosplay Albert Wesker.

What he doesn’t know is that leather daddy here is a werebear and, during a wrestling match, he gets bitten on the ass and infected with the werebear curse. There’s worse things you can be infected with through the ass. This does lead though to a homo-erotic argument cum slowdance set to the remarkably catchy ‘Love Bit Me on the Ass’ sung in a 1950/60’s rock and roll style.

But it’s a love that cannot last and Ricky knows he has to save the good people the only way you can stop a werebear, by sodomising them with a silver pole.

This one is certainly...different, I’ll give it that. I certainly wasn’t expecting a coming of age story dealing with the confusing world of the developing sexuality of the hormonal teenager so kudos to it for pushing some boundries.

Now, onto the reason I picked this one out, ‘The Diary of Anne Frankenstein’. My gosh, what a glorious pun. I should have known just from that that I shouldn’t take this movie seriously so I’m not sure why I was so surprised when it turned out to be a goofball horror comedy but oh well.

I don’t know quite what I was expecting from this but I still feel letdown slightly. It just feels like an excuse to poke fun at Hitler by making him a bit stupid but I feel we already explored this idea quite thoroughly in the Producers. Still, I guess they had to make things up a bit considering this involves creating a Frankenstein monster from the limbs of concentration camp victims. Christ.

It does end with the Monster beating Hitler to death with his own arm before dancing over his decapitated corpse so it does have it’s upsides.

We then get faked out with the next segment ‘Deathication’, a movie so scary it will make you shit. Only, the projector starts playing up and the movie cuts out. I for one am glad because the 30 seconds we see of this was bad enough, I don’t think I could have taken a whole segment of it. Te come to find that the drive in owner is being attacked by dickless who has turned full zombie. Turns out his special brand of butter has contaminated all the popcorn and turned the patrons into zombies as well.

That is to say, randy zombies that engage in a blood orgy that would make the people in Event Horizon blush. People are giving blow jobs to intestines, stump fucking, spit roasting people before tearing them in half and engaging in even more stump fucking.

It feels like someone else wrote this section specifically because it turns into the drive in owner going out in a blaze of glory, bandoliers and weapons strapped to his body as he tries to save the last few kids left alive. All the while he’s just speaking almost exclusively in movie quotes, most notably when he sodomises one of the zombies with his shotgun and invites it to say hello to his little friend. Lot of sodomy in this flick.

I’d say this matches what I’ve come to expect from anthology movies, strong book ends with an indifferent middle. Wadzilla is a cheesy take on the old giant monsters and the zombie outbreak at the end is a bizarre spectacle. If you’re into those Troma type movies, this one is worth looking at.

#Halloween 2019 #Chillerama

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thinkingagain · 5 years ago

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The Demesne was awakened early that same morning by a buzzing roar. In a space of a few seconds, all the grounds were covered by grasshoppers. Millions. They began decimating every piece of vegetation available.

Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest (A Novel of the Revolution) Book Two: Empire Chapter 34

The next morning, the Commandant’s submarine fleet moved into action. The plan of the three subs was to further erode several large coral reefs in a way that damaged the fragile life along the reefs. Damage would be blamed on the U.S. Navy in an attempt to goad a Magic Animal response.

All information about the plan was rigorously scrambled, but Basil had cracked multiple codes and Lucky had pierced through many layers of muffling surrounding the communications technology. Together they deciphered all the relevant details.

The submarines hadn’t gone far from their base when the crew discovered a host of small problems in their operating abilities, none detected during checks prior to launch: clogged drains and ventilation systems, malfunctions in the weapons and honing devices, loose wires, seaweed stuffed into the engines. The mission had to be postponed.

Meanwhile, some armed whaling boats that set out to kill whales from a port in Iceland found themselves harassed, bumped, led off course and in one case scuttled by a series of a quick strikes from a never identified force.

Oddly, a group of mixed species whales was reported as floating nearby; whales seldom traveled in mixed species groups. Still, the strange grouping could only have been coincidental. Official blame was soon placed on the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, although several men from the boats involved admitted publicly that never at any time did they see another vessel engaged in an attack.

The Frog Teams responded quickly. For them, grasshoppers were a delicacy, and they scooped them up by the tongue-full. Many other Demesne animals did the same, whether or not grasshoppers were occasional features of their diet.

Yet while the animals found themselves eating bunches of grasshoppers, they soon discovered that most of the grasshoppers disappeared the moment one tried to touch them. Ling Ling communicated between everyone rapidly. She and Leo and Sy quickly realized that while some thousands of grasshoppers had indeed descended on the Demesne, the millions that everyone saw were only holographic projections. The Demesne grounds hadn’t been decimated.

The complaining animals who had arrived on the Demesne the day before had been given a nice grassy or muddy spot to sleep, depending on their preferences. They had been watched closely through the night, in two hour shifts, in case they tried any anti-Demesne espionage.

Through much discussion with the complainers the previous day, Leo had become sure that they were indeed Magic Animals. They had all found themselves isolated from other Magic Animal companionship, often through ruses, and had encountered holographic animals with whom they’d had long, misinformed conversations. The Demesne cause was portrayed as full of illusion, arrogance, and hopelessness. The Commandant’s cause was described as trying to find healthy compromises between Beast and Magic Animal excess.

Leo had talked with the complainers for hours. Indoctrination was difficult to overcome. “The issue speaks to the dangers of isolation in the Magic Animal world,” Leo told the complaining animals, making sure that anyone else nearby in the Demesne heard as well. “Those of you who visited yesterday, barraged by lies and insinuations meant to damage your self-worth and sense of purpose, have been attacked by a Beasts principle called ‘The Big Lie.’

“The concept was first developed by that infamously murderous Beast Adolf Hitler. If you tell a lie long enough, making sure that animals hear no information to the contrary, you can persuade any animal to think what you want.

“This fact brings up a problem which needs more attention: keeping channels of information open to more isolated Magic Animals. We need to listen for news about Magic Animals who have been heard of by other animals but not often seen.”

By late morning at the Demesne, the grasshoppers, holographic or real, had disappeared or formed a fine meal. Many at the Demesne had settled in for a bit of post-feast rest while maintaining necessary patrols. The complaining visitors were allowed to stay or go as they pleased. Some, still confused or alarmed, dashed away as quickly as possible.

The complaining hippo stayed, enthralled that other animals actually thought he was handsome. He asked Leo many questions about the concept of the Big Lie. Sy and others lolled in the grass near them.

Leo was explaining some of the ways in which Beasts denied themselves and others important information when Maximilian hurried up from the spot he had maintained beside the Demesne Lake. “You should see this. Significantly unpleasant.”

Sy and Frank and Matilda followed him to the Demesne Lake. It had turned dark red and smelled of hot blood. Into its cooling waters, many gallons of blood were flowing from somewhere invisible.

The lake was connected to underground caverns and waterways beyond the Demesne wall, Sy reminded everyone. It was likely that the blood had come from them. How that had been managed wasn’t clear.

As the animals stood beside the side of the lake, Beast paper appeared in the sky and fluttered to the ground. Sy picked up one page that landed right in front of him. “The Blood of all the animals who died today fighting stupidly against their ally the Commandant has been returned to you,” he read. “Stop now before many more die.”

Sy looked at his three animal friends. “The cheapest effect yet. I wish Jack were here. I’m sure he could explain why exactly Beasts find this ludicrous stuff intimidating.”

Just then, communication from Ling Ling came into Sy’s mind. “Head down to the Beast Media Room. More information coming in.”

Maximilian stayed behind to keep an eye on further developments in the lake and to assess the likely laborious cleanup. The others hurried underground.

Sy and Frank and Matilda found Lucky in the Beast Media room. Basil and Green Bear waved at them from a small room where the frog and bear were working with complex equipment. “I wouldn’t recommend watching any more than you have to,” Lucky said the moment Sy and the others reached him.

Over the Beast Media screen, a montage of images was spewing an appalling story. The pictures were film after film of animals being shot or poisoned by Beasts.

The murders were graphic, sickening, with Beasts looking up gleefully from mangled animal bodies. Sometimes it was just a single animal being killed; more often it was groups. Elephants were slaughtered, rhinos and hippos, tigers and lion, large animals and small. Streams were contaminated and fish rose dead to the surface of the water. Rabbits were poisoned or gunned down.

After watching a few moments, all the animals averted their eyes. “Unthinkably disgusting,” Sy nearly spit.

Lucky said, “Some of the footage is old and has just been spliced in, I can tell. I hate to say it though. Some of it is new, within the last two or three days.”

Basil came in from the next room and held out his heart to everyone. Its edges appeared to be bleeding. “We’ve been tracking multiple atrocities, real or faked, many probably instigated by the Commandant. The Aquatic Teams have stopped quite a few, but there’s only so much we can do at once.”

“And while all this has been going on,” Sy said, “the Commandant has been distracting us with carnival house Beast games.” He looked at Lucky. “The Sir needs to know, now.”

“I’m alerting him through Ling Ling,” Lucky said.

“Basil?” Sy looked at that gracious, generous frog. “We need everything you and Green Bear have. Do you think you can do it?”

“We have located the essential resources.” Basil’s expression was still haggard from the atrocities he had witnessed, but he smiled his benevolent frog smile. “We’ve located the Commandant too.”

#bunny #rabbit #revolution #empire #satire #animals #animal rights #politics #adventure #theory #fantasy #science fiction #environmentalism #sir sleepy

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jewish-privilege · 6 years ago

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In the 1920s and 1930s, it looks like Columbia found a loophole. Sifting through old newspaper articles and University records from this time, I come across dozens of permits and permit applications, all to allow the University to obtain alcohol during prohibition by sending it to a college within the University—a college called Seth Low Junior College. With further research, I find that the college had a premedical program—this explained the alcohol, since science classrooms would need alcohol to clean lab equipment. The true loophole took further digging—while the college was not created to obtain illicit liquor during prohibition, it did prevent Jewish students from attending Columbia College.

SLJC, a community college attached to Columbia through a shared administration, was established in 1928 in Brooklyn Heights by the board of trustees and then President Nicholas Butler as fundamentally a place where Columbia would send Jewish applicants. While the University has changed within the past century—Columbia today has a vibrant Jewish life on campus—the anti-Semitism that led to the establishment of Seth Low Junior College persisted past the college’s closing, but its memory hasn’t.

By the 1920s, Columbia College experienced some significant changes: The Core Curriculum had just been introduced, Baker Field Stadium finalized its construction, and Columbia’s academic life expanded from Manhattan to the greater state of New York, accumulating schools such as Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson under the University umbrella. Located in the same building as Brooklyn Law School, Seth Low Junior College was ostensibly a preprofessional school for students hoping to attend law or medical school. According to Leeza Hirt, a former writer for The Current, a Jewish publication at Columbia, and a member of Columbia College’s class of 2018, students weren’t offered a degree because the idea was that they would go on to earn a degree at a professional school. Historical evidence today, based on research by Barnard history professor and Columbia historian Robert McCaughey and documentation from the early 20th century, suggests that SLJC was created with the explicit goal of reducing the amount of Jewish students on the Morningside campus. In Stand, Columbia: A History of Columbia University, McCaughey notes that enrollment of Jewish students at Columbia College after Seth Low Junior College’s opening dropped from 40 to 25 percent.

...According to McCaughey, while half of the Columbia College applicants in total were accepted, only one in six Jewish applicants were admitted during the early 20th century. McCaughey tells me that though there was no specific quota, Jewish students, when interviewed, were advised to look toward NYU or CCNY, schools with larger public school graduates—which included many Jewish students—at the time.

The tension between the the two schools extended across the East River. The editor of SLJC’s undergraduate newspaper “condemn[ed] Columbia’s attitude of scorn toward its branches in general and Seth Low in particular.” The segregation was upsetting, and some students didn’t hesitate to express their dismay. Will Katz, who left Seth Low before he could graduate, wrote in a letter, “I can see only one reason for this action of the entrance board of Columbia College in rejecting me—even after I offered to throw away my Seth Low credits and enter as a freshman again.” Katz revealed his sadness and disappointment with Columbia, and wrote, “My pride was hurt at the insult that Seth Low throws to the Jewish race.”

There were many disadvantages to attending SLJC: It didn’t provide a degree, there wasn’t any guarantee that students could go to Columbia professional schools, and the school existed within Brooklyn Law School rather than holding classes within its own space—and yet tuition was just as expensive as that of Columbia College, according to The Current. Compared to Brooklyn College—a public college with no tuition at the time—SLJC seemed much less attractive. In 1936, after eight years of segregation and discrimination of Jewish students, a New York Times article made public Columbia’s intention to close down the college, citing financial hardships. Both students and faculty at SLJC were against this decision. Students thought this would lead to a “loss of identity as a separate unit,” and faculty were concerned that they might be fired. But in addition to Brooklyn College, CUNY opened its doors in Brooklyn directly following the closing of SLJC, and many students went on to attend those schools. Other students who were still at SLJC became absorbed into University Extension, another undergraduate school at Columbia, which would later become the School of General Studies.

I sit down to talk to Dr. Robert Pollack, professor of biology and former dean of Columbia College from 1982 to 1989, to talk about coeducation at Columbia, but our conversation shifts to SLJC. After his discovery of SLJC, he decided to research some of its graduates, and came across acclaimed science fiction writer and one of Pollack’s personal favorites, Isaac Asimov, who attended but never graduated from SLJC.

Pollack invited Asimov to his own office to give him an honorary diploma. But first, Pollack made Asimov complete a few Columbia College requirements, including the swim test. Rather than taking him down to Dodge Fitness Center, he got creative. “I invited him to my office. I had a bucket of water and I said, ‘Take off your shoe and put your foot in it,’” Pollack tells me, and I try to imagine his organized office with bucket on the floor, water spilling out of the sides. “He did, and I said, ‘You just passed the swim test,’” Pollack recalls. It was as simple as that.

And to Pollack, it was one small thing he could do after discovering the history of SLJC. “That, I think, is the low point of Columbia's self-regard as protecting some ideal of humanity from the lesser people,” Pollack says.

So how did Columbia get from the discrimination of Jewish students to a campus that promotes diversity and inclusion? Change certainly didn’t come quickly. Schoolwide discussions of the “Jewish Problem” were still held regularly through the 1940s. New York City held a rally for Hitler in 1939. As the 20th century progressed, more Jewish students began attending Columbia College. There were no longer publicized discussions about a “Jewish Problem.” Jewish students were allowed to miss class on Jewish holidays starting in the 1950s...

As I speak with Hirt over the phone, we talk about the legacy of Seth Low Junior College—or lack thereof. That may be one of the key factors in how Columbia has come to be seen as having a great community of Jewish students; Columbia has forgotten about the past. It isn’t necessarily that it has been covered up. If it had been named “Seth Low Jewish College, right?” she tells me, “then I think people would remember, but the fact that the kind of anti-Semitism aspect of it is a little more subtle, it makes it more difficult to, you know, isolate like this dark period in Columbia’s history.”

Hirt reminds me that, without making a conscious effort to remember Seth Low Junior College, its existence could easily slip through the cracks. “Unless there’s effort made to memorialize something,” she says, “then it’s not going to be remembered.”

#antisemitism #institutional antisemitism #Columbia University #jewish quotas

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