#(my other friend is Indian for context) and she like thought for a second and turned to me and was like ‘ur Arab so u probably know’

[gentlehue]

I love when different cultures have things in common it’s so cute how despite it all we’re all connected 💖

[timetravesty]

(Queen B Book 3) Say You Love Me Pt. 9

✨Pt.9 is here!✨ Please Enjoy!

Context: Okay, thank you all for being patient with my uploading schedule 😮‍💨 Many things keeping me busy lately (😒 they know who they are), but I am hoping to get back into the swing of writing very soon! 😊 This series might be paused for just a little bit while I get a couple of requests out, but no worries! This fic has got a long way to go 👍

Masterlist

General Content Warnings: Mature, Angst, Possible NSFW, Cursing, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Semi-Violence, Cheating, Slow Burn, Don Sterling 💀

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“There she is!” Bea’s group exclaimed, clapping when Gina arrived, a furious blush on her face as she held a small bundle in her arms. The Indian woman smiled gratefully at the group, handing her husband the little bundle as Gina went around, hugging each of her colleagues. 

“Girl, congrats on motherhood!” Mei exclaimed, standing up just a little to engulf Gina in a hug. Gina hugged her back, patting Mei on the back as she reached Bea’s side of the table. 

“Oh,” Gina said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve met you before.” Gina said, looking down at Lana who stretched out her hand. 

“I’m Lana Bennet. Bea invited me.” Lana smiled as Gina shook her hand, casting a wink to Bea who smiled into her water glass. 

Even though she looked composed, Bea was anything but. Sitting a few tables down was the one and only Poppy Min-Sinclair: her former flame from Belvoire, the bane of her existence, her current boss, and Lana’s current boss. 

Bea took a sip from the glass, setting it down a second later as Gina came to sit right next to Bea. She expected it, after all, Gina had been her mentor when Bea first started out at Rensler. 

Casting a glance over to Poppy’s table, the woman didn’t seem to be paying Bea any attention. She must have been too enraptured by her current conversation with Don Sterling, but Bea knew that Poppy had seen her when she walked in. 

They had made eye contact for a split second before Poppy went off towards her table, leaving Bea flabbergasted. Now, only ten minutes into the dinner, Bea felt quite uncomfortable and the desire to leave was fairly strong. 

In true Poppy fashion, she would probably hold this over the girl, telling her Bea had somehow broken their contract which would probably make Bea’s life a living hell. The thought was annoying and Bea did her best to keep her glances to herself, but the scene was shocking. 

In all of Bea’s time at Belvoire, she never did see Poppy go out with a man. There was Carter and some other party dates she had to make Bea jealous probably, but Bea had never seen Poppy willingly go on a date. 

She wasn’t the dating type at Belvoire and it was hard to believe she had suddenly wanted to when she got out. In fact, Bea actually wondered if-

“So, Bea, I want to know how you and Lana met.” Gina said beside Bea, touching her shoulder playfully as Bea turned to look at the woman. Even as a new mother, Gina still looked flawless. Dark skin, gorgeous eyes, and the prettiest smile; Bea would be lying if she said she didn’t have a crush on her when they first met. 

Now though, Gina was more like an older sister to Bea. 

“We met at one of Zoey’s sets. Lana was hanging out with some friends and I was… wanting to hang out with them.” Bea smiled as Lana rolled her eyes. 

“She was non stop flirting with one of my mates and I told her to buzz off.” Lana smiled at the memory as Bea blushed red. Gina only laughed as another person at the table began to speak with her. 

“I was not flirting with your friend. I was asking her politely if she wanted to see a picture of my husky.” Bea whispered to Lana who stuck out her tongue playfully. 

“Jokes on you then. All my friends like cats.” She said as Bea mocked a gasp. 

“You guys are the worst. Dogs are obviously superior. They’re loyal.”

“They’re dirty.” 

“They like to play with you.” 

“They act like babies 24/7.” 

Bea frowned, playfully bumping Lana on the shoulder as the copper-haired girl giggled. “I’ve got two dogs at home right now and they’re well trained on top of that.” 

“Maybe I’ll learn to like dogs then…” Lana smiled subtly as Bea smirked. Lana really was an amazing girl. 

“So, should we order?” Mei asked as a waiter immediately approached their table. They all went around, shouting their orders and asking for recommendations as the party laughed and chatted amongst themselves happily. Bea normally didn’t like going all out on parties and whatnot, but she had to admit, being here with Lana was a nice experience. 

That is, until Bea’s thoughts ran back to the table sitting a few seats down from hers, where Bea heard Don shout happily as he spoke in a loud booming voice. Glancing over to Poppy’s table, the woman didn’t even bother to look at Don, circling her wine glass with a sharp nail as the man ran with conversation. 

Her hair was falling slightly in front of her eyes, lips pursed just a little as Don continued to boast. She looked like she was having an awful time. 

Bea couldn’t hear what he was talking about, but it was probably along the lines of wealth and popularity. Two of Poppy’s favorite things.

“I’ll have the Caesar salad.” Lana said beside Bea as she handed her the menu. Bea took it, looking over the options and frowning. Fancy food was definitely not her comfort food. 

“Just the penne rigate.” Bea smiled at the waiter, handing him the menu as he nodded, leaving the table to ring in the order as the group began their discussion again. 

“Gina, Bea has a huge client from Kath!” Mei told Gina who gasped, glancing at Bea who was currently swirling her wine glass. She was never one to boast about her jobs, but Mei did most of the boasting for the whole firm. Perks of being a receptionist. 

“It’s Po-” Bea gave Mei a warning look as the girl closed her mouth, instead smiling her wide smile and looking at Gina. “It’s a huge client and Bea might be in line for a huge promotion soon!” 

Gina turned towards Bea, clinking their wine glasses together as she smiled. “Congratulations Bea. Hard to believe you were a measly intern only two years ago.” 

“Oh my gosh. I was not a measly intern.” Bea laughed as Gina shook her head gently, gorgeous curls falling around her face as she looked at Bea fondly. 

“You were. Barely a baby in the world of architecture.” Gina said, looking at Lana who glanced at Bea. 

“Oh, the big bad architect Bea used to be small? That is hard to believe.” 

“Both of you, be quiet. Gina, I’m trying to look cool here.” Bea pleaded as Gina laughed, taking a sip from her wine as she smiled at Bea. 

“Bea Hughes is very cool, Lana. A true catch.” Gina added as Lana nodded. Bea shot her a grateful smile, turning to look at Lana who was no longer looking at Bea. 

“Um, Lana?” 

“Oh my gosh, is that… Don Sterling?! Do you think I can get an autograph?” Lana asked, jumping up from her seat quickly as she moved to get a better look. Bea’s eyes widened, connecting the dots that Lana definitely didn’t know who his dinner date was. 

Bea, thinking with her feet, jumped up as well, apologizing to their group as she walked up to where Lana, Poppy, and Don were. Conveniently, Lana got caught, but the girl was immune, a dazzling smile as she looked over at Poppy. 

“Poppy? What a small world!” Lana exclaimed when she reached the table as Poppy looked up from her sulking, looking Lana up and down before turning towards Don. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but… Mr. Sterling, I’m a massive fan!” Lana exclaimed, hands placed on her chest as she looked at Don with awe. 

“Oh, do you and Poppy know each other?” Don asked, smiling dashingly at Lana who looked like she would faint on the spot. 

“She’s one of my temporary contract models.” Poppy answered, looking at Lana who was still fawning over Don. She probably wanted to be on the date more than Poppy did. “Now, what are you doing here Lana?” Bea, who was hiding behind a waiter, finally emerged behind the man and walked up to the table, trying to retrieve Lana before Poppy spotted her. 

It was too late, however, since Don spotted her first. “My gosh, it is a small world!” Don said, standing up from the table and waving over at Bea. “Bea Hughes, right? You came to my party a few weeks ago!” He exclaimed as Bea bit her lip, walking forward as Poppy’s eyes zoned in on Bea. 

The two looked at each, stuck between Don and Lana who were all fawning over the wrong people. “It really is…” Bea cringed when Don patted her on the back. Poppy, ever observant, looked between Lana and Bea, eyebrows raised as she tsked. 

“Are you two here on a-” 

“No.” Bea cut her off quickly as Poppy startled. “One of my colleagues invited Lana. We just met tonight.” Bea concluded as Poppy hummed to herself. 

“That… that’s right.” Lana said as she glanced back towards their table. “My friend Mei invited me.” Lana smiled at Bea who avoided her gaze. Poppy definitely didn’t look convinced as Don gasped. 

“Really? Well, why don’t you both join us for a while? Your group can wait, right?” Bea was about to protest, but Lana began to reach for a chair, pulling it closer to the table and taking a seat. Don smiled wide, sitting back down at the round table as Bea sighed heavily. She moved around, grabbing a spare chair and dragging it across the floor, taking a seat next to Poppy and directly across from Lana. 

Bea could smell Poppy’s perfume strongly, the scent thick and a little too good as she avoided Poppy’s gaze. 

Don, smiling kindly at Lana, turned to look at Bea. “So, you and Kath came to my party to woo a client right? Tell me you bagged the bastard?” Don said, laughing at his phrase as he took a sip of wine. 

Oh, Bea didn’t like this guy at all. She cleared her throat as Bea stole a glance towards Poppy who looked absolutely done with this conversation. “Actually yes, Ms. Min-Sinclair and I are working on her building now.” 

Don, the idiot he was, choked on his wine, coughing loudly as some waiters came around to assist him. 

“Oh, it’s a really small world! And you two know each other?” Don asked, looking between Lana and Bea. Poppy perked up at the question as Lana nodded. 

“We met tonight.” Lana smiled as Bea shot her a grateful smile. “I didn’t know she was working with Poppy though.” 

Poppy, silent till now, glanced over at Lana who was admiring Don from a distance, then she looked at Bea whose eyes were trained on the table cloth. “What are you both doing here tonight?” Poppy asked as Bea felt a zip of chills hit her spine. 

“We’re celebrating the return of one of the senior architects at Rensler.” Bea told Poppy who nodded into her drink. “It’s really shocking to see you both here though. Sorry to interrupt your date.” It was Poppy’s turn to choke on her wine. She glared at Bea, before turning away and dabbing at her lips with her cloth napkin. 

“It’s not a-”

“It’s alright, really!” Don said as he smiled over at Poppy. “I was just telling Poppy about my latest venture into marine life.” 

“Oh, are you a marine biologist?” Bea asked as a waiter set a glass of water in front of Lana and her. Don laughed heartily, smoothing back his shiny black hair with a smile. 

“Not quite. I’m buying a 62 ft yacht soon and I was discussing a party to christen the girl.” 

It… it was probably the complete opposite of saving the environment as Bea nodded subtly into her water. Lana, however, looked thrilled. 

“You’re buying a yacht? That’s amazing, have you decided on a name yet?” She asked as Bea shot her a confused stare. Lana shrugged, returning her attention back to Don who looked ecstatic that someone was actually interested in his idea. 

“I’ve had one since I signed the contract. I’m getting it lettered in a couple of days, but~” He held his wide palms up, phrasing the letters as if one could see the words. “The Blooming Poppy.” 

Bea choked on her drink, causing Lana and Don to startle as Bea dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Wow, I’m so sorry. The name is just…. So beautiful.” Bea smiled at Don who nodded happily. 

“I even asked Poppy’s father for permission. It took me forever to come up with, but I think it does this beautiful woman justice.” He looked at Poppy, lust and no hint of love in his eyes as she avoided his gaze. Instead, Poppy was looking at Bea, staring at the girl who could feel Poppy’s eyes on her. She gulped, continuing to dab at her clothes before setting the damp napkin down. 

“Well, it certainly is a keeper.” Bea told Don who went on to describe the boat to Lana who was the only one interested. Bea turned her gaze over to Poppy who continued to look bored. She had given up circling her wine glass and was now looking down at her sharp nails, tapping them against the table as Bea watched her. 

While Lana and Don conversed, Bea’s thoughts traveled back to her original inner monologue. 

It was certainly strange to believe that Poppy was on a date with Don. Firstly, he didn’t seem like her type at all. Secondly, Bea had always thought that Poppy was…

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“Is this where I die?” Bea mumbled to herself, walking through a few leaves as she ventured further into the forest. Bea had forgotten to check on the maps where Poppy was sending her, but she certainly didn’t expect it to be in the middle of nowhere. 

For such a mighty queen, Bea had expected Poppy to pick somewhere that at least had a sidewalk, but instead, Bea had spent the last twenty minutes walking through mud and dirt. Her sneakers were probably filthy, something she wasn’t going to have fun cleaning up when she got back to her dorm. Zoey would probably also have a fit, especially since her roomie was such a neat person. Surprisingly, kind of a germaphobe. 

Wacking away a tree branch, Bea heard the distant thump of a speaker coming from nearby. She walked closer to the sound, stopping when she approached a large house, right in the middle of the woods. 

Approaching, Bea knocked twice on the wooden door. She heard the speaker silence, heard a click of heels, before the door was thrown open and Bea had to look down. 

Poppy stood, a familiar pink coat wrapped around her shoulders as she looked Bea up and down. Bea was only wearing a simple letterman jacket with jeans, nothing spectacular and Poppy was obviously aware of it. 

She moved away from the door, letting Bea enter as she stepped in. Inside, a huge pool sat in the center, multiple couches and lawn chairs along with a huge bar. It looked like a great party place, but it was surprisingly empty. Only Poppy stood in the room as she turned on her heel, crossing her arms as Bea rocked on her heels. 

“I should just ask if you’re going to kill me, cause I can’t promise I won’t put up a fight.” Bea told her as Poppy scoffed, loudly. The sound echoed around as Bea bit her lip. 

“I wouldn't ruin the marble in this room. It costs more than your life.” Poppy said as she went closer towards the pool. Bea believed it. Everytime she moved, it squeaked like it was brand new. 

“So, what am I doing here? In this creepy clubhouse, might I add?” 

“Get over here Hughes. I have a proposal for you.” Poppy said as Bea shrugged, walking closer to the pool and peering down. 

“Shit, are you going to drown me? Warning, I have great lungs so you’ll have to hold me down for about five minutes if you really want me-” 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kick you out.” Poppy warned, slipping off her heels as she moved to take a seat on the floor. She dipped her feet into the pool, the water hitting her ankles as Bea shrugged. She followed her, slipping off her sneakers as she took a seat next to Poppy. Not close to where they touched, but close enough that Bea could smell her perfume. 

Gosh, she loved the smell of Poppy’s perfume. 

“I’m assuming based on your carefree attitude right now, you haven’t checked the recent rankings.” Bea quirked a brow, pulling out her phone from her back pocket and scrolling to the T. 

Sitting in big bold letters at the very top was no longer Queen Poppy, but now, Queen Chloe St. James. 

“What the hell?” Bea mumbled, refreshing the page to check if it was real as Poppy rolled her eyes. 

“It’s real you idiot and I’m furious.” Poppy growled, kicking some water with her foot as Bea placed her phone to the side. 

“So I guess I’m going against Chloe now.” Bea mumbled as Poppy shook her head. 

“I think the eff not. You’re going to help me take down the snake.” Poppy snapped as Bea leaned back on the palms of her hands, looking at Poppy who looked like she was foaming at the mouth. 

“How the frick would that help me? Chloe is easy to take down, no one likes her.” 

“Then your point of redeeming Belvoire just got a whole lot more pointless. You think Chloe will stay in this spot? She’s going to fall back down soon, but I don’t take well to traitors who think they can rise above.” Poppy told Bea who nodded, thinking it over for a second. 

It was true. There was no way Chloe was going to stay in this rank and if Bea were to help Poppy… maybe Bea could redeem a debt soon. 

While Zoey would think this was a bad idea, Bea thought it was brilliant. “Okay, what do you want to do to her?” Bea asked as Poppy smiled wickedly. 

“I have it all planned out, Hughes. I just need you to show up to the address I’ll text you later. After that, you just need to follow instructions like a good little piggy.” 

“Ouch, insults aren’t going to make me follow you Poptart. Gotta treat your colleagues with respect.” 

“We’re not colleagues. You’re doing this for me as much as I am doing this for you.” Poppy punctuated, glaring over at Bea who was staring out across the pool. 

“Yea, but like… not really cause I could just go woo Chloe.” 

“Woo Chloe? She’s straight, dumbass.” 

“Really? Cause the way she kisses your ass-” 

Poppy held up her palm, silencing Bea from making some crude joke. “I am not in the mood to hear some gay joke you’re going to make about that snake.”

“What? How did you know I was gay?!” Bea mocked a gasp, looking over at Poppy who rolled her eyes so far back, her face looked like it would be stuck for a minute. 

“You dress like that and you’ve probably slept with every woman on campus.” Poppy shivered at the thought, sticking out her tongue in disgust as Bea broke into a laugh. 

“I’ve only been here for like three months? You think I’ve been with that many women?” Poppy shrugged, as if the thought was unwanted even though she had brought it up. 

“First off, I wish, and secondly…” Bea looked Poppy up and down, stopping at her legs as Poppy glared at Bea from the sides. “Definitely not every woman on campus.” 

“Fat chance Hughes. If I even find myself in a bedroom with you, I would rather wear flannel shirts for the rest of the school year.”

“Who said it had to be the bedroom?” Bea asked as Poppy looked like she was going to absolutely murder the girl. She glared daggers at Bea who smiled innocently. 

“If I am ever in a place where our clothes magically fall off, I’d rather wash the feet of every single Alpha bro than even touch your hand.” 

“Ouch, you would rather get athlete’s feet than sleep with me?” Bea whistled under her breath, smiling subtly as Poppy groaned aloud. Though Poppy looked straight, Bea had the small gay hope that maybe she wasn’t completely. 

She didn’t want to be anyone’s test subject, obviously, but she had meant what she said before. Poppy made her curious and now… she was even more curious since her boyfriend was off the hook. 

“Though really, you’ve never been curious about girls?” Bea asked as Poppy rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t give two shits if you’re gay Bea, but I’m not. So drop it and get out of my clubhouse. I’m done with you.” 

“Hold on now, drama queen.” Bea smirked, stretching a little more as her legs dipped further into the pool. “You’re telling me, you’ve never like, looked at Veronica and thought, ‘woah, she’s hot.’” 

Poppy glared at Bea, as if stopping herself from pushing Bea into the pool. “Is this your indirect way of telling me you have a thing for Veronica? News flash, I don’t care.” 

“Cool, so can I have her number?” 

Poppy let out a sharp gasp, hands moving and shoving Bea into the pool as Bea yelped. Bea landed with a small splash, standing up a second later as the water only came up to her waist. Pushing her short brown locks out of her eyes, Bea sighed, ducking her head low and looking at her drenched letterman jacket. 

“Okay, okay. I guess I deserved that.” 

“You did. Now dry off and leave.” Poppy stated, pushing herself up and reaching for her high heels. Bea rolled her eyes, shrugging out of her jacket, revealing her black tank top as Poppy’s eyes darted over to her frame. 

Tattoos lined over toned tanned arms, Bea was certainly attractive and something told Bea that Poppy knew it. Not in the typical, oh that person is attractive, more like, Poppy definitely wanted Bea to walk around with no shirt on attractive. 

“Something to say, Pops?” Bea asked, smiling up at Poppy whose face was lightly blushed in red. She looked a mess and Bea was the one who was wet. 

Poppy gulped, shaking her head and returning to her usual stoic expression. 

“Yea, don’t drip water on the carpet or else.” Poppy concluded, moving away from the pool and walking out of the clubhouse a second later. She toddled off in a hurry, as Bea let out a soft chuckle. 

Bea threw her jacket towards the floor, conveniently landing it on the fluffy blue carpet as she hoisted herself out of the pool. Shaking off the water from her arms, Bea went in search of a towel. 

Finding one in a hamper next to a large coffee table, Bea threw the towel over her neck, rubbing it against her head to try and dry off. Though, she was thoroughly soaked. 

Her phone luckily didn’t take too much damage in the pool as she plopped down in one of the club chairs. It was strange, she had never heard of this place before and it certainly wasn’t on her tour map when she first came to Belvoire. 

It was… pretty. A large glass dome with wooden walls, it even smelled like fruit and judging by the other doors, there were probably more areas to explore that Bea would have to check out later. After all, if this was some secret clubhouse for the tops of Belvoire, Bea should be able to join very soon. 

Moving the towel down to her jeans, Bea paused, looking at a neat pile of papers sitting on the wood, conveniently in a familiar cursive that only Poppy Min-Sinclair could write. 

Bea smirked to herself, dropping the towel on a nearby chair and reaching for a paper. It was a simple discussion post for one of Poppy’s Economic classes, two pages long and double-spaced. 

Pretty boring topic of recent economic downturn. Bea rolled her eyes, moving to pick up another paper that was similar in topic. It seemed, Poppy was not lying about her GPA. While Penelope Dogwood once told Bea that Poppy stole her test answers from her, judging by the stack of papers in front, it seemed like Poppy was actually a decent student. 

Hopefully, decent enough to not ruin their shared project. 

As Bea approached the last of the papers set on the table, she stopped at one that was labeled “rough draft of Com.” Bea raised her eyebrows, picking it up and smiling. Even the great Poppy Min-Sinclair did stupid rough drafts. 

Flipping to the last page, which was where everything was interesting, Bea stopped as a small piece of paper slipped out. It fluttered to the floor as Bea hummed, leaning down and picking it up. She unfurled the folded note, clearing her throat as she read. 

“Poppy, I know you said not to call, but you said that last time…” Bea frowned. 

“Seriously? How many guys does this girl hook up with?” She mumbled as she felt her ideas slip out of her head. No game if Poppy had a new boo. Shaking her head, Bea continued down the letter. 

“I’ll get to the point and the point is, I miss you.” Bea pursed her lips. It seemed like a crazy idea to miss someone like Poppy, though, maybe this guy knew something that Bea didn’t. 

“Miss the way you smell, the way you talk, that thing you do with your tongue when…” Bea’s words trailed off, reading the rather detailed explanation that this rando gave on whatever Poppy did with her tongue. The imagery left little to imagination as Bea felt her cheeks warm. Damn. 

“Anyway, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I love you Poppy. Love…” Bea’s eyes widened, rubbing them with her knuckle like she was in a cartoon before holding the paper closer. Maybe water had gotten into her eyes or her brain was fuzzy with the idea that someone could love Poppy, but it was in a messy scrawl, big letters against white paper. 

“Carol?” 

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“And so, what did I tell the man? I said, “Excuse me sir, that is my car and you owe me two thousand dollars!”” Don said as Lana burst into laughter. She was having the time of her life as Don joined in her cheers, smiling wide as Lana held her stomach. 

“That is the best story I have ever heard in my life!” Lana smiled as Don shrugged, cutting into his medium rare steak as Lana took a bite from her salad. 

Magically, the two had relocated, leaving Bea’s colleagues at their own table while Bea sat beside Poppy who was currently fiddling with a small plate of Salmon. After Don’s yacht talk, he had ventured into other subjects. Specifically, cars, wealth, modeling possibilities, and the ever inflated ego debate. 

“I like to give to others, I know where I come from.” He boasted as Lana looked at him with puppy eyes. For a girl who knew very little about the guy, she looked like she knew him by heart. 

Bea spun a noodle around on her plate, excusing the waiter who offered more wine as Don held up his glass. Out of the four, only two seemed to be having a good time. 

Bea had kept her glances to herself, not bothering to look at Poppy who was clearly avoiding her gaze. The restaurant certainly hadn’t quieted down, more patrons streaming in with talks of the food. 

While Bea was enjoying her pasta, it certainly wasn’t something she would try again. Fancy food probably wasn’t her thing, if she was being honest. 

“So, are you and Poppy dating?” Lana asked, smiling between the two as Don grinned at Poppy who ignored him. 

“Well, this is our first date, so we’re taking it slow.” He told Lana who looked like he had just professed his love for Poppy. 

“Wow, well, I know you’re my boss Poppy, but you and Don would make a gorgeous couple!” Lana smiled at Poppy who looked like she was seconds from popping a blood vessel. Her face was heated red, though, it was hard to tell since the lighting in the restaurant was orange. She gave Lana a curt nod, nothing else before she stood up sharply. 

“Excuse me, I need to retouch up my makeup.” Poppy said, frowning as she left. Don nodded, blissfully unaware at the daggers Poppy was throwing with her eyes as she left the table.

“Oh, I should tell you about my party with the prince of Fakustivich!” Don told Lana who nodded excitedly. Bea, focused on Poppy’s retreating form, looked at Lana who sat across from her, paying her no attention, might she add. 

Sighing, Bea pushed her dish away, standing up and excusing herself. The two didn’t care, too enraptured in their conversation as Bea walked back to her colleagues. 

“Bea, hey! Where did you run off too? We’re splitting desserts!” Mei smiled when Bea rejoined. She took a seat next to Gina who was conveniently holding a little bundle in her arms. Clearing her throat, Bea smiled kindly at the group. 

“Sorry, I actually ran into my temporary boss… Poppy Min-Sinclair.” Bea said as the table broke out into gossip. 

“Oh my gosh, she’s so pretty!” One of Bea’s colleagues exclaimed as she held back a wince. 

“I wish I had her figure! Did you see the latest issues about-” Bea drowned the talking out, glancing over at Gina who was rocking her daughter. 

“Poppy Min-Sinclair huh?” Gina asked as Bea nodded, eyes trained on the little baby as Gina smirked. 

“Want to hold her?” She asked as Bea quickly shook her head. 

“I… I don’t know how, so it’s best not to drop her.” Bea concluded as Gina snorted a laugh. While the table continued to converse, Gina gently maneuvered Bea’s arms to support the little girl’s head. 

“Wow, you’re so shaky. Stop it.” Gina murmured, resting Bea’s palm against the baby before leaning back. Sitting in a rather awkward position with her hands on the baby’s front and back, Bea raised a sharp brow over at Gina who grinned wide. 

“Isn’t she adorable? Her name’s Candice.” Gina smiled, rubbing the baby’s head as Bea nodded. 

She was a cute kid, but… a little too perfect looking. “Here, you can have her back now.” Bea said as Gina rolled her eyes, taking back her daughter as she rocked her carefully. 

“You ever thought about kids Bea?” 

“Not really.” Bea mumbled, resting her chin on the palm of her hand as Gina tsked. 

“That’s a pity. You’d have gorgeous children.” 

“Too bad cause I’m definitely not getting pregnant.” Bea smiled, sticking out her tongue as Gina smacked her gently on the arm. 

“There are other methods now, Bea. Perhaps your future wife might want kids?” 

“Who said I’m getting married? Maybe I’ll just be a player for the rest of my life.” Bea turned to look at Gina who shook her head. Her baby, silent till now, began to stir as Gina handed her off to her husband who stood to help. He seemed like a good man and Bea was glad Gina had found him. 

“I saw the way you looked at Lana. You obviously like her and…” Gina’s eyes trailed over to where Lana was laughing with Don. Apparently, Poppy hadn’t returned. 

“I’m hoping she likes you just as much.” Gina finished as Bea shrugged. 

“I think she does, but… we can’t really go on a date since she’s got this stupid contract that doesn’t allow her to.” 

“Really? Bea Hughes? Following rules?”

“Hey, Lana is a fantastic model. I don’t want to ruin any chances for her.” Gina nodded, rubbing her wrist as the waiters came back around for another glass of wine and dessert orders. 

“Well, just make sure you really like her Bea. Lana seems great, but… don’t you think she’s getting a little friendly with that guy over there?” 

“Don Sterling?” Bea looked back over her shoulder. From what she could tell, Don only seemed interested in Poppy. Besides, Lana could smell through that guy’s bullshit, right?

“He’s full of hot air, no worries.” Bea said as Gina sighed, deciding to drop the conversation as Bea pushed back her hair. The gel was starting to wear off, but luckily, she stashed a small tube in her pocket. 

“Excuse me for a minute, I’m heading to the restroom, though, save me a cannoli or something.” Gina chuckled, waving Bea away as she stood. Bea left the table, maneuvering through the tight crowds and into the ladies room that even had a waiter waiting outside with breath mints. 

Bea smirked, pushing open the doors and walking in before stopping in her tracks. Standing with her back against the wall and her phone in hand, Poppy was scrolling furiously through her phone. The air in the room felt colder as Bea wondered if there was another bathroom around. 

“Excuse me, you’re blocking the door.” A woman said from behind Bea, causing her to jump out of her trance from staring at Poppy. 

Poppy finally looked up, eyes locking on Bea who moved out of the way for the woman to enter. 

Bea stepped in carefully, feeling Poppy’s eyes on her as she stood in front of the mirror. Feeling around in her pocket, Bea gulped as she placed the packet of hair gel on the counter, hearing the bustling of other women in the bathroom before it went quiet. Bea’s hands clenched the granite, biting her lip as she tried her best to keep her gaze from falling on Poppy who wasn’t looking at her. Somehow, the girl was good at avoiding Bea’s eye contact. 

Seeing all of the open stall doors, Bea cursed. It was like before. Bea and Poppy, all alone in a fancy bathroom with no words exchanged between the two, that is, until Poppy finally spoke, still avoiding Bea’s gaze as she looked off in the distance.  

“I need to talk to you.”

-------------------------------------

세계의 끝까지

[dancedance-resolution]

andi mack friendom, are you interested in some more thoughts about my andi mack / american girl crossover (which is actually just a thinly veiled info dump about american girl history and drama)? if so, you're in the right place!

the andi / buffy / cyrus doll set i designed would be a contemporary line.

CONTEXT (forewarning, this is basically just an ag info dump about the 2017 contemporary line) (also, tagging @kirstensleepey because i think this write up might be useful for the ag project you're working on <3):

so in 2017, american girl did a brand new thing. they released 3 dolls who were contemporary characters but not girls of the year. (prior to these dolls' release, which are called "the contemporary line" by the ag fandom, the only categories of ag dolls were historicals, girls of the year, and just like yous.)

the contemporary line was controversial for many reasons.

first, we have our main character, tenney grant. (tenney is basically taylor swift as a doll, if taylor were uncool and a r*publican lol.)

one of the reasons why tenney is so controversial is that she overshadowed the girl of the year (henceforth abbreviated as goty) 2017, gabriella mcbride.

tenney was released only one month after gabriella's release. ag's social media gave much more focus to tenney than gabriella. upon tenney's release, gabriella's store displays were downsized (which is unheard of for a goty). tenney even had a larger collection than gabriella!

why are we mad about tenney overshadowing gabriella? well, gabriella was ag's first (and as of 2021, ONLY) black goty. also, gabriella was ag's first doll to have an explicity confirmed disability - her stutter.

BRIEF INTERMESSION - SOME STATISTICS ABOUT DIVERSITY IN CHARACTER DOLLS:

only 7 out of the 22 total historical characters have been dolls of color. only 3 out of 22 historicals have been black (one of which is now retired). only 2 out of 22 have been aapi (one of these dolls, ivy, was just a best friend doll and is now retired; and the other doll, nanea, has a problematic face mold. i wrote an essay about why her facemold is problematic here!). only 1 historical doll, josefina, is hispanic, and ag has actually misspelled her name as "josephina" on their social media before.

only 1 doll EVER has been native american, kaya'aton'my, who is a historical character from 1764. (not even any of the just like you dolls have had kaya's face mold! kaya is truly the only indigenous doll!) in fact, ag has had more colonizer characters than indigenous characters. felicity and elizabeth are white character dolls from 1776, and their books fail to address the issues surrounding colonization and treatment of native americans. and kirsten is a swedeish immigrant to wisconsin in 1854. her book does acknowledge the existence of native americans, and kirsten has an indigenous friend named singing bird. (i haven't read kirsten's books and i'm not indigenous, so i can't comment on this storyline.) ag actually had a controversy about kirsten just this year - in 2021, the t-shirt design for kirsten said "settlers gonna settle", and ag actually ended up changing the design to "cabin sweet cabin" after backlash.

moving on to the girl of the year line - out of 21 goty dolls, gabriella is the ONLY black goty. only 6 out of 21 gotys have been dolls of color. there have been 2 hispanic characters (luciana, who is generally regarded as an excellent doll; and marisol, who is controversial because her book talks about how her family moved from pilsen chicago - a real area of chicago that is home to many hispanic immigrants - to a white suburb due to crime. this storyline involves racist stereotypes.) also, goty 2016 lea clark (slightly tan skin, blonde hair, light green eyes) is 1/8th brazilian, and some brazilian ag fans consider the emphasis on lea being 1/8th brazilian racial feticization. next, there have been 3 aapi gotys. one of these dolls, sonali, was one of two best friend dolls for chrissa (goty 2009) - yep, you heard that right, yet another doll of color that is a side character! sonali is the bully in chrissa's books, but she gets a redemption arc. to this day, sonali is ag's only south asian character doll. [additionally, there has been some criticism that all of the aapi gotys are mixed race - jess mcconell (goty 2006) has a japanese mother and an irish/scottish father, kanani akina (goty 2011) has a french/german mother and a japanese/hawaiian father, and sonali matthews has an indian mother and a father of unknown race/ethincity. perhaps notably, the only aapi historical doll who is not currently retired (nanea) is also mixed race (hawaiian mother and scottish father).]

as for the disability thing i mentioned - ag also has a disappointing track record regarding disability representation, lol. it was very lightly implied that mckenna (goty 2012) had a learning disability, but that was never confirmed. mckenna's tutor, who used a wheelchair, was ag's first big disability rep, but she was just a side character in mckenna's story. then, many ag fans were disappointed when mary ellen, a historical character released in 2015, was able-bodied (in canon, she had polio as a child, so it would make sense for mary ellen to be disabled and use mobility aids). finally, in 2020, goty joss gave us some disability rep - she has a hearing aid.

ag's lack of disability rep is very frustrating, especially considering that doll companies, like our generation, have made some really cool disabled dolls. and ag has been doing this ad campaign with the paralympics that feels performative to me - like, they want to seem inclusive by featuring dolls with prostetic legs, but they don't even sell dolls like that!!!

lastly, religious diversity - iirc, there are three jewish dolls (rebecca, goty 2001/2002 lindsey, and goty 2009 chrissa). the rest of the dolls are either christian or of unspecified religion. there has never been an explicitly muslim, hindu, or buddhist doll, or a doll who is a member of any religion other than judaism/christianity/unspecified. (there is some hope that we might get a muslim doll, though, since an outfit with a hijab was leaked, and ag trademarked a persian name that i can't recall off the top of the head at my moment. but take these with a grain of salt - ag trademarks a ton of stuff that they don't use, and the leak could be false or just a truly me outfit.)

END OF INTERMISSION - BACK TO THE TENNEY/GABRIELLA CONTROVERSY:

so, we get our first black goty, and she's being totally overshadowed by tenney.

here's where a conspiracy comes in:

we can track when ag trademarks their character names. goty names are usually trademarked early in the year prior to their release (by may). but gabriella mcbride wasn't trademarked until october, iirc.

and gabriella is a very underdeveloped character in comparison to most gotys. one of her main hobbies - dancing - was the same main hobby as both marisol (goty 2005) and isabelle (goty 2014). her store displays were underemphasized in comparison to tenney's, as i mentioned before. she was the first goty who didn't get a movie in six years (since kanani, goty 2011). and gabriella didn't even have a big ticket accessory item available until summer!

so, we get our first black goty, and she's underdeveloped, underemphasized, seems to have been rushed (due to her trademark date), and overshadowed by tenney just one month after her release. why is that?

well, some people think that tenney was actually supposed to be goty 2017! (i agree)

tenney was trademarked earlier, had more development, had a bigger collection, etc. we think that tenney was supposed to be goty 2017, but ag decided to do a doll of color (gabriella) at the last minute. (keep in mind the climate of 2015/2016 - ag probably wanted some clout for doing a black goty, and they also probably heard the ag fandom's demands for more dolls of color.)

so that's tenney.

next we have logan everett. logan was ag's first boy character doll. i'm glad that ag had a boy character doll, but logan kinda missed the mark for me. the main source of controversy surrounding logan is his face mold: he, a white boy, uses the kaya face mold. !! it kinda felt like a slap in the face to many indigenous ag fans - kaya is literally The Only Doll with the kaya face mold, and when we finally get another doll with her face mold, he's not even indigenous.

lastly, we have z yang my beloved <3. z yang was done dirty - she is yet another doll of color who is a mere side character, and also, she was available for only a total of 20 months before being retired!

so, that's everything i have to say about the 2017 contemporary line.

now i'm going to talk about the 2021 contemporary line :3

so, it's summer 2020. the black lives matter is becoming more mainstream. brands are now getting clout for appearing "woke."

so, admist this climate, ag is (as always) facing demands from its fandom/collectors to diversify its doll line. so they announce that they're going to be doing a new contemporary line, to be released in "the second half of 2021"!!!! and they promise that the contemporary line will have a black lead character

fast forward to modern day. thanks to ag's trademarks, we can safely assume that the new contemporary line will be called "world by us." we can safely assume that the line will have 3 characters. the 3 characters all live in washington dc and are best friends :) we can safely assume that the characters will be maritza ochoa, evette peeters, and makena williams. i talked about makena and maritza on that ask regrettable-username sent me about my andi mack/ag headcanons! personally, i'm excited for world by us, and i think it has a lot of potential!

alright sawyer, that's the end of the ag info dump fhjhdhfskf.

now for my andi mack friends:

i think the andi/buffy/cyrus line would be structured similar to world by us: andi is the main character, and buffy and cyrus are her best friend dolls :) all 3 dolls would be released at the same time. andi would have 3 books that have buffy and cyrus as side characters, and buffy and cyrus would have one book each.

the big ticket item for this collection would be andi's andi shack. i'm imagining its design sort of like kira's tent mixed with lanie's camper mixed with blaire's farm. andi the walls of andi shack would open up so that when it's fully opened, the four walls are on an even plane with the back wall and extended out like wings. you remove the roof before opening up the walls. the shack is tall enough that the doll can comfortably stand up even with the roof still attached, and wide enough that all three dolls (andi, buffy, and cyrus) can comfortably stand next to each other inside of andi shack.

andi shack would come with a ton of craft supplies inside of it. it would also come with a little flower box that has cece's african violets, like blaire's flower box. (thanks to regrettable-username for coming up with the african violets idea fdjfsj.)

alright i have to go now, so these are all my andi mack/ag thoughts for now, but i might be back later with more thoughts fhdfjs (hopefully not though, since typing this out took me over three hours [sweating emoji]).

sorry for any typos and sorry for how scatterbrained this is! also this may have some forgotten things/mildly incorrect things bc my only source is my brain (and a photo of all the dolls so i can count how many dolls for the statistics portion) and my brain is not the most reliable thing on earth lol.

[richincolor]

Learning About the Present Through Our Past

There are people who would say that students in the U.S. do not get a comprehensive education when it comes to history. So how can we understand our present and work toward our future without a clear view of our past? There may be some schools or teachers who are doing an excellent job, but in many cases we still have a very long way to go. This makes access to thorough and accurate accounts all the more important for young readers. Here are two recent books that could help fill in some gaps.

Revolution in Our Time: The Black Panther Party's Promise to the People by Kekla Magoon [available Sept. 28] (Review copy provided by Candlewick)

Publisher summary: In this comprehensive, inspiring, and all-too-relevant history of the Black Panther Party, Kekla Magoon introduces readers to the Panthers’ community activism, grounded in the concept of self-defense, which taught Black Americans how to protect and support themselves in a country that treated them like second-class citizens. For too long the Panthers’ story has been a footnote to the civil rights movement rather than what it was: a revolutionary socialist movement that drew thousands of members—mostly women—and became the target of one of the most sustained repression efforts ever made by the U.S. government against its own citizens.

Revolution in Our Time puts the Panthers in the proper context of Black American history, from the first arrival of enslaved people to the Black Lives Matter movement of today. Kekla Magoon’s eye-opening work invites a new generation of readers grappling with injustices in the United States to learn from the Panthers’ history and courage, inspiring them to take their own place in the ongoing fight for justice.

A few thoughts: Aside from the middle grade book One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia and Kekla Magoon's own teen novels The Rock and the River and Fire in the Streets, not much literature exists for young readers featuring the Black Panthers. That was why I was very excited to see this available for teens, but I think adults will also appreciate it. Revolution in Our Time begins with one of the events that brought the Panthers to national attention, but also goes back hundreds of years explaining many actions and events in history that led to that moment. Readers can see how the organization came together, shaped their collective identity, and got to work.

It's a very comprehensive look at the members and their day-to-day activities, victories, losses, and the many challenges they ran up against. It also includes a look into the many instances of governmental opposition. The Panthers were strong and did want to be seen that way, but their opponents painted them as violent and dangerous and that image is the only picture that many folks still hold in their memories. Here people can see a much more complete and accurate view.

The actual details and the stories are awesome by themselves, but the way that Magoon connects the past to our present makes this an incredibly powerful work. The final sections of the book are a call to action. The Black Panthers' average age was 19. Young people can do amazing things. There's a lot to learn by looking at the past and there's so much potential and opportunity for young people to make change happen today.

From a Whisper to a Rallying Cry: The Killing of Vincent Chin and the Trial that Galvanized the Asian American Movement by Paula Yoo Norton Young Readers

Publisher summary: America in 1982: Japanese car companies are on the rise and believed to be putting U.S. autoworkers out of their jobs. Anti–Asian American sentiment simmers, especially in Detroit. A bar fight turns fatal, leaving a Chinese American man, Vincent Chin, beaten to death at the hands of two white men, autoworker Ronald Ebens and his stepson, Michael Nitz.

Paula Yoo has crafted a searing examination of the killing and the trial and verdicts that followed. When Ebens and Nitz pled guilty to manslaughter and received only a $3,000 fine and three years’ probation, the lenient sentence sparked outrage. The protests that followed led to a federal civil rights trial—the first involving a crime against an Asian American—and galvanized what came to be known as the Asian American movement.

Extensively researched from court transcripts, contemporary news accounts, and in-person interviews with key participants, From a Whisper to a Rallying Cry is a suspenseful, nuanced, and authoritative portrait of a pivotal moment in civil rights history, and a man who became a symbol against hatred and racism.

A few thoughts: It's clear that Paula Yoo did an incredible amount of research and she carefully unraveled many layers of this complicated story. Vincent Chin was brutally killed and though to some it may seem like an isolated event, it happened during a time when there was increasing anti-Asian sentiment brewing. Yoo takes the time to explain many things that had happened contributing to the creation of this environment. She uses the personal history of Vincent's family and even goes back through U.S. history as a whole to see the threads of hatred and racism that had been there over time.

The narrative includes many people involved in the case and explores their lives and actions--and where possible--their motivations. Seeing Vincent's friends and family up close makes the loss very difficult to witness even just via the page.

A powerful aspect of this book is seeing the way people pulled together and spoke up. They formed Asian American advocacy organizations and some aspects of the justice system were even changed as a result of the work done around Vincent's case. Unfortunately, this book is very timely. It was published during a time of rising violence and racism against people of Asian descent in the U.S. Yoo shows readers that our present has come about because of our past, but our past can also inform and inspire us.

Here are links to a few more YA nonfiction history books that we've featured in the past:

An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States for Young People by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz adapted by Debbie Reese and Jean Mendoza

We Are Not Yet Equal: Understanding Our Racial Divide by Carol Anderson and Tonya Bolden

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds & Ibram X. Kendi

A Few Red Drops: The Chicago Race Riot of 1919 by Claire Hartfield

Courage Has No Color: The True Story of the Triple Nickles by Tanya Stone

Infinite Hope: A Black Artist's Journey from WWII to Peace by Ashley Bryan

They Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, & Harmony Becker

Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School by Adam Fortunate Eagle

Darkroom: A Memoir in Black and White by Lila Quintero Weaver

The March graphic novel series books 1-3 by John Lewis with Andrew Aydin and artist Nate Powell

In addition to books written specifically for the YA market, there are also some fantastic historical picture books for children, teens, and even adults. Here are a few that are exceptional:

Unspeakable: The Tulsa Race Massacre by Carole Boston Weatherford illustrated by Floyd Cooper

Queen of Physics: How Wu Chien Shiung Helped Unlock the Secrets of the Atom by Teresa Robeson illustrated by Rebecca Huang

Freedom in Congo Square by Carole Boston Weatherford and R. Gregory Christie

I Am Not a Number by Jenny Kay Dupuis and Kathy Kacer illustrated by Gillian Newland

Twenty-two Cents: Muhammad Yunus and the Village Bank by Paula Yoo illustrated by Jamel Akib

Separate is Never Equal: Sylvia Mendez & Her Family's Fight for Desegregation by Duncan Tonatiuh

The Book Itch: Freedom, Truth & Harlem's Greatest Bookstore by Vaunda Micheaux Nelson illustrated by R. Gregory Christie

Fry Bread: A Native American Family Tradition by Kevin Noble Mailland illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal

Paper Son: The Inspiring Story of Tyrus Hong, Immigrant and Artist by Julie Leung illustrated by Chris Sasaki

A Day for Rememberin': Inspired by the True Events of the First Memorial Day by Leah Henderson illustrated by Floyd Cooper

Overground Railroad by Lesa Cline-Ransome and James Ransome

Soldier for Equality: José de la Luz Sáenz and the Great War by Duncan Tonatiuh

If you are aware of other books we should watch for, please let us know.

[winnetou-oldshatterhand]

That scene with Nscho-tschi in the bushes

So yeah, I collected and translated a few versions of that scene I wrote. For completeness’ sake: The first one is Karl May’s version, also translated by me.

Then we have a scene from my fic Das Buch, two scenes from a WIP with time loops that probably won’t make sense without context and at the end a little something about sibling banter written by someone with no siblings lol. That one is just for fun and written in about fifteen minutes max.

Original: (translated by me, from Winnetou 1 as on the Karl May website. Page ca 436)

I was already in the process of reaching out with my hand when something Winnetou said stopped me.

„Should I fetch him?“, he asked, whispering.

„No“, Nscho-tschi answered. „He will come.“

„He won't.“

„He will!“

„My sister errs. He has learnt everything very quickly; but your trace passes through the air. How is he meant to find it?“

„He will find it. My brother Winnetou has told me that Old Shatterhand is impossible to lead astray already. Why is he now claiming the opposite?“

„Because today he is facing the hardest task possible. His eye will find any trace; yours, however, is only to be found with his mind, and he hasn't learnt that yet.“

„Still, he will come, for he can do anything he wants.“

She merely whispered those words, and yet there was such confidence, such trust in her tone, I could have been proud of it

„Yes, I have never met a man who so easily learns new skills. Still, one thing remains he will never learn, and Winnetou feels deeply sorry about it.“

„What is it?“

„The wish all of us share.“

Just then I had wanted to make them aware of my presence; but Winnetou spoke of a wish, something that stopped me in my tracks. What wish would I not have loved to fulfill for those good, kind people! They had one and weren't telling me because they didn't believe I would fulfill it. Maybe now I would hear what it was. Therefore I stayed silent and listened.

„Has my brother Winnetou already talked to him about it?“ asked Nscho-tschi.

„No“, replied Winnetou.

„And Intschu tschuna, our father, hasn't either?“

„No. He wanted to tell him but I wouldn't allow it.“

„Not? Why? Nscho-tschi loves this white man deeply; she is the daughter of the supreme chieftain of the Apaches!”

„That she is, and more besides, much more. Every red warrior and every white man would be glad if my sister wanted to be his squaw, everyone but Old Shatterhand.“

„How can my brother Winnetou know this if he hasn't talked to him about it?“

„I know it anyways because I know him. He is not like other white men, he has higher wants than them. He will not take an Indian woman as squaw.“

„Has he said that?“

„No.“

„Does his heart belong to a white woman?“

„Neither.“

„You know this for sure?“

„Yes. We spoke of white women and from his words I understood that his heart hadn't spoken yet.“

„So it will speak for me!“

„My sister mustn't deceive herself! Old Shatterhand thinks and feels differently than you believe. If he chooses a squaw she must be amongst women what he is amongst men.“

„And I am not?“

„Amongst the red girls, yes; no one is equal to my beautiful sister. But what have you seen and heard? What have you learnt? You know how women live amongst our people but nothing of what white women must have learnt, must know. Old Shatterhand looks not for the glimmer of gold, nor for beauty of a face; he looks for things he will not find in a red girl.“

She lowered her head and stayed silent. So he lovingly caressed her cheek and said:

„It hurts me, breaking my good sister's heart, but Winnetou is used to always speaking the truth, even if it is a sad truth. Maybe he knows a way on which Nscho-tschi might reach the goal for which she strives.“

Upon hearing this she rapidly lifted her head and said:

„Which way is this?“

„The one leading to the cities in the East.“

„That's where I should go, you think?“

„Yes.“

„Why?“

„To learn what you must know and be capable of if Old Shatterhand is supposed to love you.“

„So I will go, and soon, very soon! Will my brother Winnetou grant me a wish?“

„Which one?“

„Talk to Intschu tschuna, our father, about this! Ask him to let me go to the cities in the East! He won't say no, he - - -“

That was all I heard, as I started crawling back silently. It felt like sin, having listened to the sibling's talk. If only they didn't notice me now! What shame for them, and even more so for me! Now, on my retreat, it was even more important to remain careful than on my approach. The slightest noise, the smallest coincidence, was enough to betray my knowledge of the beautiful Indian woman's secret. And in that case I would have to leave my red friends the very same day.

The Book: (Winnetou decides to read Winnetou 1)

Of course Charley described their last practice, the last test in detail. He had done incredibly well, many more experienced warriors would have taken longer to find the trace.

Wait a moment – Charley had attempted to sneak up on them? Winnetou vividly remembered him approaching them from the opposite side of the clearing. His brother had overheard him talking to Nscho-tschi? How could they not have noticed? Apparently he didn't have every right to criticize careless young warriors if he himself had paid that little attention.

Of course, he knew why he hadn't been paying attention. His plan had been to tell Nscho-tschi about his own feelings for Charley while they were sitting in the bushes, waiting. Telling her the true reason why he hadn't brought up her feelings for his brother. He had changed his mind at the very last second – a choice he was feeling eminently grateful for in hindsight.

Maybe his reaction to Nscho-tschi's words had been a little harsh but he had been jealous, pessimistic and his own heart had already been broken. Of course he had wanted to wish them all the best, his sister and his friend, but he hadn't known what exactly Charley wanted. His assumptions had gone towards someone just as perfect, as smart, as educated.

But back to the book. The wish he had meant, the wish he had refused to elaborate on was one his brother still hadn't fulfilled. To simply remain in the West, at Winnetou's side, with the Apaches. Of course the rest of his family had wanted Charley to stay as Nscho-tschi's husband, he himself would have preferred that didn't happen, though he'd never have said that. So his words sounded supportive, his deeds were less so. Sometimes Winnetou wished for his sister's confidence, but how could he ever hope his brother's heart would speak for him.

Maybe if he'd been less harsh, if he'd reacted differently to his sister's pain, anything but quickly suggesting education in the cities of the East, maybe his family would still be alive, maybe they'd never have met Santer.

Winnetou still felt surprised that he'd so entirely missed Charley's approach and retreat. Regardless of his heartache, you couldn't pay that little attention. Had it been an enemy both of them would have died. Still, why would Charley have felt he had to leave them over this conversation? Shame of overhearing them and still not reciprocating Nscho-tschi's feelings? That wasn't his fault, no one could control their heart.

After Nscho-tschi had asked to be allowed into the cities of the East, Winnetou had gotten lost in his thoughts. He had worried for her, considered the prejudices she would encounter, all for some vague hope. Their father hadn't been able to deny them any major wishes, not since they had lost their mother, not since he had lost the love of his life.

As of yet unpublished time travel/time loop fic 1:

Maybe it was a mistake, following the script his memories provided, but as of yet he hadn't woken up in the past again... Still, Charley didn't know if he could repeat all of his actions from back then, not identically at least. He had changed.

In spite of his twinging conscience Charley hid back behind that same bush in which he knew the siblings were hiding. It was truly remarkable that he had managed to succeed in sneaking up on Winnetou – a feat that had never been easy, neither in the past nor in the present.

„Should I fetch him?“, Winnetou asked, whispering.

„No“, answered Nscho-tschi, „He will come.“

„He won't come.“

„He will!“

„My sister errs. He has learnt quickly, astonishingly so; but your trace goes through the air itself. How is he meant to find it?“

„He will find it. My brother Winnetou told me himself, Old Shatterhand can no longer be deceived. Why is he contradicting his own words?“

„Because this is the hardest possible task. His eye may find any trace; but yours can only be found with thought. Winnetou doesn't know if his brother has learnt that already.“

Maybe it was his imagination, but Charley felt as if Winnetou had just a little bit more trust in him. Barely there, but something had changed.

„He will come, he can do anything he puts his mind to.“

Nscho-tschi whispered this, like she did back then, her voice full of trust.

„Yes, I have never known a man who is as skilled in everything he touches. There is just one thing he won't do, and Winnetou is terribly sorry about it.“

„What are you talking about?“

„The wish we all share.“

The wish to take Nscho-tschi as a wife – Charley didn't want that, true. If the wish was him staying in the West, well, he was planning on it. Last time he had desperately wanted to figure out which wish to fulfill but no one had ever told him. Would they speak of their wish now?

„Has my brother spoken to him?“, Nscho-tschi asked.

„No“, Winnetou replied.

„And Instschu tschuna, our father, has he asked?“

„No. He wanted to tell him but I refused.“

„You refused? Why? Nscho-tschi loves him, he respects our culture and knows our language; and she is the Apache chieftain's daughter!“

„She is, yes, and she is more than that. Every red warrior and every white man would be happy to have my sister as his squaw. Everyone but Old Shatterhand.“

Winnetou was right about that, unfortunate as it was, Nscho-tschi was not someone who would make him happy, regardless of her skills or beauty.

„How can my brother Winnetou know this, if he hasn't talked to him about it?“

„I know it anyways, I know him. He is not like other white people, he wants freedom. He will not marry.“

„But if his heart speaks? If it speaks for me?“

„My sister must not lie to herself! If Old Shatterhand chooses a squaw she will be amongst women as he is amongst men. He wants to travel. He won't stay.“

She lowered her head and remained silent. Seeing that he lovingly stroked her cheek and said:

„It hurts me to be breaking my sister's heart, but Winnetou will always speak the truth, even if it is not a happy one.“

Nscho-tschi paused a while longer before she suggested: „I could go to the cities in the East, learn, what Klekih-Petra meant to teach us. Learn what Old Shatterhand would want in a squaw, learn his culture as he learnt ours. Not just for him.“

„Winnetou knows Nscho-tschi wouldn't head to the East just to change for a man. She may like Old Shatterhand but what she really wants is to find a way for us to survive.“

Charley was glad to hear as much. He knew her love for him had little hope of ever being requited. She was a beautiful woman, a good friend, but once upon a time he had married a beautiful woman whom he had appreciated as a friend and as a person. Neither of them had been truly happy.

If anyone could find a way to preserve the Mescalero culture Nscho-tschi was surely one of the best candidates. But she had to die. This was his hell and there was nothing he could do.

This was everything he needed to hear so it was time to head back out of the bush and greet his friends openly.

As of yet unpublished time travel/time loop fic 2:

Those hunts and practices that once filled their first months together were fun now, not schooling. Charley proved himself over and over, proved that he knew his way around the West. Rather than painstakingly learning culture and language of the Mescaleros from Nscho-tschi he helped her teach what Klekih-Petra used to teach. He made friends with other warriors, sat with them at night to talk about the hunt for buffalo and bears. He listened to them talking about their squaws and children.

He was more part of the tribe than he had ever been in his first life.

This time when Charley got the task to find Nscho-tschi after Winnetou carried her he didn't listen in on them. He would be fine, regardless of what they were planning. If they wanted something they needed to tell him.

This time he entered the clearing openly, calling them out of the bushes straight away. Winnetou clearly showed his surprise at the speed at which they had been found, proud of the brother who had barely ever been his student as far as he remembered.

A new one with actual banter as a treat: (this is pretty much crack)

As I slowly and carefully crawled towards the bush I knew Winnetou and Nscho-tschi to be hiding in I began hearing furious whispers.

„You never let me spend time with him alone!“, Nscho-tschi was accusing her brother.

„Well I met him first! He's my blood brother, my friend first!“

„That doesn't mean you're his only friend!“

„Of course not, shut up!“

„You shut up!“

I had never witnessed the siblings quite so relaxed, even in their argument there was no malice behind their words.

„Nscho-tschi do this, Nscho-tschi do that, Nscho-tschi I don't want to play with you, Nscho-tschi ate all the berries daddy!“

„Oh shush you did eat those berries.“

„You're just jealous he wants to spend time with me too!“

She seemed to be poking his side as she was talking.

„Seriously Nscho-tschi, shush – if we keep this up Charley will find us just by hearing us talk!“

„You started it... But fine.“

And certainly, the siblings quieted down. Of course, I had already found them, not because of their noise, but they wouldn't believe that if I showed myself now.

It was strange, listening to them tease each other like I had witnessed my sisters argue about dolls and playmates, argue like I had argued with my siblings about everything and nothing at all. Winnetou had always seemed so regal, so otherworldly. He was human though, just like the rest of us.

As if on cue, Winnetou whispered a last time: „This is not going to be a Fort Tennessee situation, clear?“

Whatever he had meant with that, it was time for me to retreat.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Treat Your S(h)elf: Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging by Sebastian Junger (2016)

“Humans don’t mind hardship, in fact they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary. It's time for that to end.”

- Sebastian Junger,  Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging

The phenomenon of tribal solidarity is the subject of Sebastian Junger’s enthralling book, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging. Junger offers a rich but unevenly researched patchwork of history, psychology, and anthropology to explore the deep appeal of the tribal culture throughout history. The result is less of a tour de force book that I would have expected from the likes of Sebastian Junger than an interesting and thought provoking read. Certainly it should be read by anyone interested in the human condition.

As a British ex-military veteran and a fan of Junger’s other books I naturally found it fascinating.The memory of my most recent tour in Afghanistan was still raw upon my return to Britain. Although the book really focuses on returning American army servicemen and their integration back into the American ‘tribe’ there were several themes that I and many others who had seen war could readily identify with.

“Tribe” is not a typical Junger book. He doesn’t tell one knockout story, as he did in the “The Perfect Storm,” which made him rich and famous, or as he did in “War,” which — along with his documentaries “Restrepo” and “Korengal” — established him as one of the world’s most mesmerising chroniclers of the Afghanistan war. Rather, he gives us an extended-play version of an article he wrote for for Vanity Fair — one that’s part ethnography, part history, part social science primer, part cri de coeur. Junger previously served as a war correspondent for Vanity Fair, embedding for long stretches at remote American outposts in Afghanistan’s frightful Korengal valley. This experience may help explain his interest in the intimate bonds that define tribal societies as well as the despair that can come from being wrenched out of a situation that makes those bonds necessary.

Junger’s premise is simple: Modern civilisation may be awesome, giving us unimaginable autonomy and material bounty. But it has also deprived us of the psychologically invaluable sense of community and interdependence that we hominids enjoyed for millions of years. It is only during moments of great adversity that we come together and enjoy that kind of fellowship — which may explain why, paradoxically, we thrive during those moments. (In the six months after Sept. 11, Junger writes, the murder rate in New York dropped by 40 percent, and the suicide rate by 20 percent.)

“I do miss something from the war,” Bosnian journalist Nidzara Ahmetasevic tells Sebastian Junger halfway through the book. Ahmetasevic is talking about the wartime closeness she shared with friends in a basement bomb shelter in besieged Sarajevo. “The love that we shared was enormous,” Ahmetasevic says. “I missed being close to people, I missed being loved in that way.”

The sentiment lies at the heart of Tribe, a book offering a surprising thesis about the ways humans have traded communal belonging for excessive safety.

Junger gets a considerable amount done in a quick 133 pages: Tribe posits a reason why white settlers found life among Native American tribes appealing, theorises about false PTSD claims among returned U.S. veterans, and conveys the author’s equality-minded view of how heroic behaviour varies between genders — all in addition to remarks on hitchhiking, attachment parenting, Junger’s dad’s opinion of military service, and more. It’s an awful lot of ground to cover in such a short book, and it’s inevitable that Tribe would either feel inchoate and sketched or else aggravatingly dense. Because Junger is an adventurous storyteller (rather than, say, an academic theoretician), he opts for the former.

It’s not necessarily a good thing. The book’s lightness makes it accessible, an easy entry point to weighty subject matter. But its concision can make Tribe feel breezy even as it discusses life and death — if not sometimes confusing.

As a former anthropology major, Mr. Junger takes a special interest in tribal life. He notes that a striking number of American colonists ran off to join Native American societies, but the reverse was almost never true. He describes the structure and values of hunter-gatherer groups, including the ones that lasted well into the 20th century, like the !Kung in the Kalahari.

Unfortunately, these parts of the book are also the dullest and most problematic. There’s a numbingly familiar quality to much of the social science research he cites. It is not exactly news that nations with large income disparities are less happy than those without them, or that group cooperation increases levels of oxytocin, the bonding hormone. He notes, for example, that American mothers in the 1970s had a level of skin-to-skin contact with their babies that traditional societies would consider criminally low. Fair enough. I wonder, though, if he realises that in saying this he’s crashing open the gate for every helicopter parenting (or attachment-parenting) demagogue out there? And that parents who actually have to go to work for a living - and therefore can’t have their babies pinned to their chests all day long for three years straight - will read these words and start rolling the eyes back in disbelief.

Though Junger cautions against romanticising tribal cultures, he sometimes does exactly that, and in ways that can be annoying.  Tribe aptly opens with Benjamin Franklin’s observation, decades before the American Revolution, that more than a few English settlers were “escaping into the woods” to join Indian society. Franklin noticed that emigration seemed to go from the civilised to the tribal, but rarely the other way around. White captives of the American Indians, for instance, often did not wish to be repatriated to colonial society. At this distance, it is simply astonishing that so many frontiersmen would have cast off the relative comforts of civilisation in favour an “empire wilderness” rife with Stone Age tribes that, as Junger notes, “had barely changed in 15,000 years.”

The small but significant flow of white men — they were mostly men — into the tree-line sat uncomfortably with those who stayed behind. Without indulging the modern temptation to romanticise what was a blood-soaked way of life, Junger hazards an explanation for the appeal of tribal culture. Western society was a diverse and dynamic but deeply alienating place. (Plus ça change…) This stood in stark contrast to native life, which was essentially classless and egalitarian. The “intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe” provided a high degree of autonomy — as long as it didn’t threaten the defence of the tribe, which was punishable by death — as well as a sense of belonging. Tribe is then essentially a critique of modern civilisation, beginning with Junger’s observation of the inexorable appeal of Native American way of life to early settlers (“The intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe held an appeal that the material benefits of Western civilisation couldn’t necessary compete with”).

“The question for Western society isn’t so much why tribal life might be so appealing - it seems obvious on the face of it - but why Western society is so unappealing.” Junger is making a provocative point, but he is no provocateur. He swiftly justifies this jarring idea:

On a material level it is clearly more comfortable and protected from the hardships of the natural world. But as societies become more affluent they tend to require more, rather than less, time and commitment by the individual, and it’s possible that many people feel that affluence and safety simply aren’t a good trade for freedom.

All of these points have been covered in other, heavier books. Jared Diamond’s The World Until Yesterday examines traditional tribal lifestyles’ usefulness in the present day. The entanglement of war with human closeness and purpose is the focus of Chris Hedges’s War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning. (Both Hedges and Junger include the same anecdote, in fact, about a teenage couple in besieged Sarajevo, that dies, sniper-shot, on the banks of the Miljacka River.) Junger also briefly mentions the work of seminal disaster researcher Charles Fritz, noting that Fritz could find almost no examples of mass panic during large-scale disasters. This plays into his overarching point that difficult experiences can be unifying rather than shattering. The exact same studies by Fritz and fellow researchers — and that exact same, crucial point — are detailed in Rebecca Solnit’s brilliant A Paradise Built in Hell.

Junger uses these insights towards another point. “Because modern society has almost completely eliminated trauma and violence from everyday life, anyone who does suffer these things is deemed to be extraordinarily unfortunate,” he writes. “This gives people access to sympathy and resources but also creates an identity of victimhood that can delay recovery.” This is an important observation. It, too, resonates quite closely with previous work - in this case Harvard psychiatrist Judith Lewis Herman’s seminal book Trauma and Recovery, which remarks that “to hold traumatic reality in consciousness requires a social context that affirms and protects the victim and that joins victim and witness in a common alliance.”

At best what Junger tries to achieve, then, is to assemble parts of all those books into one slim volume. So much the better for the busy reader. Unfortunately, Junger’s quick look at violence, trauma, and modern anomie also omits important information from other books, and as a result ends up on shaky ground, failing to consider counterpoints or bring its own arguments to a close.

Junger in the second half of the book proceeds through an examination of how disastrous or violent circumstances can create similar human closeness, and includes a discussion of how our society’s distancing itself from such harsh conditions has inadvertently sharpened those events’ capacity to traumatise the people who endure them.

War is hell, so this scourge of loneliness may seem the inevitable price for those who fight in them. The second half of Tribe insists that this impression is gravely mistaken. “Studies from around the world show that recovery from war is heavily influenced by the society one belongs to,” Junger observes. Iroquois warriors, for instance, did not have to contend with much alienation because the line between warfare and normal Indian society was vanishingly thin. This is not to deny that the Iroquois were traumatised by combat, but it was generally acute PTSD, limited in duration and distress. Their trauma was ameliorated by the fact that the trauma was shared by the entire tribe.

War, then, for all of its brutality and ugliness, satisfies some of our deepest evolutionary yearnings for connectedness. Platoons are like tribes. They give soldiers a chance to demonstrate their valour and loyalty, to work cooperatively, to show utter selflessness.

Is it any wonder that so many of them say they miss the action when they come home?

Part of the takeaway from this book is that regarding military service as a source of permanent psychiatric disability is incorrect for most (American) soldiers. Junger includes a lengthy discussion of how the U.S. Veterans Administration mishandles former soldiers’ mental health issues, and how America’s cultural misunderstanding of war plays into that deleterious milieu. The information isn’t wrong per se, but what it has to do with the rest of the romanticising of foregone tribal way of life, etc., or why that necessitates anything more than the 2015 Vanity Fair article from which the book sprung is never quite made clear. Worse, Junger says that the low rate of combat engagement among U.S. soldiers means their diagnoses of post-traumatic stress disorder often aren’t real - but he fails to consider that some soldiers develop PTSD from military sexual trauma, or from other adverse experiences outside of combat or before their enlistment.

Worse, he seems to misunderstand the diagnosis entirely. Here, as in the Vanity Fair article, Junger describes his own bout with what he calls “classic short-term PTSD,” departing from this insight to further dissect trauma and the ways modern society misunderstands it. The problem is, there really is no such thing as “short-term PTSD.” It sounds like what Junger had was post-traumatic stress, a weeks - or months - long psychological adaptation to adverse events (in his case, exposure to war) that typically resolves on its own.

Although psychological care can sometimes be relevant, most mental health professionals don’t regard this as an illness. (Tellingly, Junger’s approach to his diagnosis involved little more than an acquaintance’s ad hoc comment at “a family picnic.”) Post-traumatic stress disorder is only diagnosable after three to six months, does not often go away on its own, and can endure for a lifetime if untreated. The implication that Junger’s case is typical PTSD is misleading - and to some extent, calls his conclusions into question.

The problems in his argument go even deeper. “In Bosnia — as it is now — we don’t trust each other anymore; we became really bad people,” Ahmetasevic tells Junger. “We didn’t learn the lesson of the war, which is how important it is to share everything you have with human beings close to you.” Junger’s thesis is that other cultures (the “Stone-Age tribes” white settlers once joined) did learn that lesson. But he assumes that violence is innate to humans and necessary for human closeness, never parsing evidence that it is not. And he doesn’t examine what this Bosnian journalist means by “really bad,” and how becoming so after the war might have arisen directly from the painful, long-lasting effects of the severe trauma Junger doesn’t quite seem to believe in.

If there is any doubt on this point, consider the alarming rates of PTSD among our warrior class, and the desire among many of them to return to war — a subject on which Junger has been at the leading edge of the public discussion. When combat vets return home, the alienation and aimlessness of modern society aggravates their psychological traumas and prompts them to yearn for the brotherhood of combat. It’s not for nothing that a recent book on post-traumatic stress is entitled The Evil Hours.

Many soldiers actually miss war. “Adversity,” he writes, “often leads people to depend more on one another, and that closeness can produce a kind of nostalgia for the hard times.” Soldiers go from a close-knit group in which everyone has a purpose to a society in highly individualised lifestyles are “deeply brutalising to the human spirit.” Soldiers who come home to situations in which there is no social support from family and community are more likely to suffer PTSD than others.

Thanking veterans for their service aggravates the problem, in Junger’s opinion. “If anything, these token acts only deepen the chasm between the military and the civilian population by highlighting the fact that some people serve their country but the vast majority don’t.” Tickets to games and other such perquisites can incentivise veterans to see themselves as victims, making their reintegration into society much more difficult.

What they really need is the one thing that will make them feel like valuable members of society: jobs. In their tribe-like military units, they each had a specific function without which the group could not perform. The worst thing that can happen to them when they return is to feel useless, marginalised. The suicide rate in America mirrors the unemployment rate, Junger points out. The best protection against devastating depression is meaningful work.

“Ex-combatants shouldn’t be seen - or be encouraged to see themselves - as victims,” writes Junger. Lifelong disability payments for PTSD, which is treatable and usually not chronic, actually debilitate veterans, Junger claims. In war, the passivity of victimhood can be deadly, he explains. Turning veterans into victims when they return is not only confusing but also destructive because it erases their sense of self. Instead of sympathy, “veterans need to feel that they’re just as necessary and productive back in society as they were on the battlefield.”

Of course much of this book is really around the American experience of war and the experiences of American veterans returning home. So some points don’t quite stick with either British or European experiences. For example neither British or other European societies thank veterans for their service as a matter of course. Of course there are special days to commemorate major war events and even an armed forces day but on a general day to day basis one doesn’t go up to a military person to thank them for their service probably because British and European servicemen and their service don’t enjoy a privileged standing. Respected and admired yes, but not deified. How British and other European countries take care of their returning veterans is hard to detail as the experience varies in terms of disability allowances and other measures. Certainly a misunderstanding of mental trauma or PTSD of returning veterans has led sometimes to a criminal mismanaging of taking care of those most affected. Again, it varies from country to country.  

Contemporary America is a considerably less consolidated society than it used to be. Cultural diffusion and economic stratification have increased the isolation felt by those who have borne the heat and burden of battle. I won’t a forget photograph shown to me by an older brother who had served with distinction in Iraq. He made a few American friends from the US soldiers serving there alongside and one day he was shown something that captured the dark humour and cynicism of war. The photo captured a graffito scribbled on a wall in Ramadi, Iraq, that read: “America is not at war. The Marine Corps is at war. America is at the mall.”

Multiple studies demonstrate that “a person’s chance of getting chronic PTSD is in great part a function of their experiences before going to war.” The relationship between combat and trauma seems to be a murky one. For instance, “combat veterans are, statistically, no more likely to kill themselves than veterans who were never under fire.” Junger says that even a significant number of Peace Corps volunteers report suffering severe depression after their return home, especially if their host country was in a state of emergency when they did. In Junger’s telling, particular burdens endured by socially disadvantaged Americans - from a poor educational background to chaotic broken family life - can make a candidate especially susceptible to PTSD. Indeed, these risk factors “are nearly as predictive of PTSD as the severity of the trauma itself.”

The decline of social order and solidarity has contributed to a loss of what researchers call “social resilience.” This has simultaneously supplied more potential candidates for PTSD and impaired society’s ability to help them recover. The United States must place a premium on boosting its levels of social resilience. Americans should no longer be content to simply thank veterans for their service; sporting events are not places of healing. Nor should they seek to outsource the responsibility to the federal government. The solution lies closer to home, in the mediating institutions of civil society — from families to churches to community and professional associations. I think this echoes the views of quite a few veterans in my experience with them.

More sensitively and perhaps controversially, ex-combatants shouldn’t be regarded, or encouraged to regard themselves, as victims. This I also agree with. America is still a tremendously affluent country, Junger writes, that can afford to perpetually care for a victim class of veterans dependent on government largesse, “but the vets can’t.” They have generally performed exemplary service for which they should be honoured, and they must know that their service is not over.

Next, Junger says, veterans (like most social animals) depend upon a sense of purpose that begins with a job and a position in society. Here the “hire vets” initiatives and retraining programs are necessary but insufficient. The traditional means of securing social resilience has been egalitarian social provision. Individualist America may blanch at that notion, but it should at least act to build a more open economy and inclusive culture where individuals can reliably advance by merit and develop social capital.

Not being an American I don’t wish to speak out of turn but as a veteran and especially in speaking with other British and foreign veterans I think Junger is on the right path. Victimhood and a lack of purpose are the unseen enemy that the returning veteran will continue to fight when he or she comes home.

To all this I would also that - arguably perhaps in America especially - a revival of national cohesion is needed if - as a nation that pays lip service to honour the sacrifices of its servicemen - it is to arrest the full savagery of battlefield trauma. This will require what Edmund Burke called “a revolution in sentiments, manners and moral opinions.”

One clue about how to achieve this can be found in the early pages of Tribe, when Junger tells an affecting anecdote about his father. Not long after the end of the Vietnam War, the author had received a Selective Service registration form in the mail, in case the United States government ever needed to conscript him into the military. When he announced that, if drafted, he would refuse to serve on political grounds, his father’s reaction caught him off guard. Although sternly opposed to the war in Indo-China, Junger’s father insisted that American soldiers had “saved the world” from fascism during World War II and many never came home. Junger writes;

“‘You don’t owe your country nothing,’ I remember him telling me. ‘You owe it something, and depending on what happens, you might owe it your life.’” This did not oblige anyone to enlist in an unjust war - “in his opinion, protesting an immoral war was just as honorable and necessary as fighting a moral one” - but it did mean that the country had just claims on its citizens, and refusing to sign a registration form constituted a dereliction of duty.

Year after year, Americans hear arguments for taking the stink out of their sulphurous political rhetoric. It would be better for congressional productivity. It would be better for our international dignity. It would be better for their national literacy, their local advocacy, their general civility and the future etiquette of their children. But the one argument I had not heard, until reading Junger’s book is that they should clean up their act for the sake of their returning troops.

Junger never makes this point explicitly. What he writes, simply, is this: After months of combat, during which “soldiers all but ignore differences of race, religion and politics within their platoon,” they return to the United States to find “a society that is basically at war with itself. People speak with incredible contempt about - depending on their views - the rich, the poor, the educated, the foreign-born, the president or the entire U.S. government.” Soldiers go from a world in which they’re united, interconnected and indispensable to one in which they’re isolated, without purpose, and bombarded with images of politicians and civilians screaming at one another on TV and cable.

It’s a formula for deep despair. “Today’s veterans often come home to find that, although they’re willing to die for their country,” he writes, “they’re not sure how to live for it.”

With that, Mr. Junger has raised one of the most provocative ideas for bitterly divided Americans to grapple with without mentioning a single political candidate, or even a president, by name.

In this age of social and economic fragmentation, many of America’s disadvantaged fellow citizens have begun to chafe against an elite class - left and right - that often behaves as if it were exempted from the national compact. Junger only hints at the necessary leap beyond a social-psychological view to a political-economic analysis. He writes, "As great a sacrifice as soldiers make, American workers arguably make a greater one…. [w]orking in industries that have a mortality rate equivalent to most units in the US military." He suggests, "It may be worth considering whether middle-class American life - for all its material good fortune - has lost some essential sense of unity that might otherwise discourage alienated men from turning apocalyptically violent."

Nobody then should be surprised if the ranks of disaffected citizens – not least those who have borne arms in our name and in their defence - ultimately decide that the sensibility of the tribe is superior to their own.

As a proud Brit who is guilty at times of poking fun at America but borne out of sincere fondness and respect for America I do sincerely hope during these turbulent times that they are capable of coming together and recognising their tribal identity is to be Americans first and other labels (liberal or conservative or red state or blue state) whilst not inconsequential are not important enough to undermine the primary American tribal identity. They did it so marvellously after 9/11, but that feeling as we all know soon dissipated. It can’t afford to be a house divided from within when there are predatory wolves pawing at the door (I’m looking at you Russia and China). Junger correctly writes America is a strong nation, “The only one who can destroy us, is, well, us…..which means that the ultimate terrorist strategy would be to just leave us alone.”

Tribe is an important, thought-provoking book that encourages Americans to see its veterans and American society in a fresh light. Policymakers of all political stripes would do well to consider Junger’s arguments, for as long as they fail to fully integrate returning soldiers, everyone will continue to pay a high toll for their incredible service and sacrifice.

Junger’s “Tribe” even if it was written in 2016, remains relevant and serves as an important wake-up call. Let’s hope we all don’t sleep through the alarm. But this too brief and too scattershot book with an important message won’t get us all the way there. There is an old South African Zulu proverb, ‘If you want to go fast, go on your own. If you want to go further, go together’. It’s up to all of us.

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Colin Fisher

Photo by ilyse krivel

Toronto-based multi-instrumentalist Colin Fisher is on a constant quest for the ecstatic through sound. His journey has taken him in many directions, from the math-rock inspired group Sing That Yell That Spell, to the fiery free improvisation duo Not the Wind, Not the Flag. As a band leader, his free jazz quartet released the white-hot Living Midnight for Astral Spirits in 2020, about which Derek Taylor wrote, “Passages of ruminant restraint alternate with excoriating blasts and outbursts, but the means always remains intelligible and momentum driven whether full-steam or incremental.” Solo, Fisher has recently wafted in a more contemplative direction that might see him associated with the new age revival, but this work is as exploratory and engaging as his most spirited improvisational outings. Here, he lists some of the pieces within which he experiences the sublime.

Jean-Pierre Leguay — Chant d’Airain

Some of my first experiences with the sublime in music were in church. I abhorred being in church (and would even attempt to hide to avoid attendance) but at the end of service the organist played as the congregation filed out. The selections were usually secular and I can remember my rapt attention. Not because of some aesthetic taste but because I was having a physical/biological response to the sounds. Being in the resonant chamber of the cathedral provided a fully immersive experience. Rather than suggest whatever music was being played at the time I’m going to fast forward to my mid 20s… While in the same church, I heard the principal organist of Notre Dame improvise with some Messiaen-symmetrical ideas that lifted me out of my corporeal form and left me sobbing in a church pew at the very church I would have done everything in my power not to be present in as a child. The organist was Jean-Pierre Leguay.

Ravi Shankar — At Monterey Pop

An early transmission from what seemed like outer space at the time, as a young child I heard the sounds of Ravi Shankar and Alla Rakha live at Monterey Pop (my parents had this and the record with Yehudi Menuhin.) Ravi is far from my fav Hindustani musician or sitarist, of which I have innumerable favorites now. But I’m particularly enamored with Vilayat Khan after reading his biography, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan, a couple of years ago. Pandit Pran Nath is also a huge inspiration.

Polvo — Cor-Crane Secret

Without sifting through the rubble of my punk/hardcore teens (which was totally legit inspirational beauty, from Minor Threat and straight edge to grunge, etc.) I want to highlight a band that literally changed my life in my mid to late teens. When I first heard Cor-Crane Secret by Polvo, I didn’t realize that music like this existed. It gave me permission to go on long wonky improvisational explorations — endless melodies and whammied chords that would go on for hours sometimes. I also got to see them on the Today’s Active Lifestyles tour when I was 18, totally life changing.

Ornette Coleman — The Shape of Jazz to Come

The next stage I’ll focus on has a little more girth: my introduction to jazz/free jazz/improv/fusion. I think I first discovered this music by accident. I remember seeing a clip of Monk on the news the day he died. I was much younger, and I thought to myself “this music is like an alien transmission!” But I put that away in the vaults for a couple of decades. I also remember seeing a clip on TV of a soprano player at a jazz fest in Toronto, playing the craziest shit I’d ever heard (once again on a news program,) but had little-to-no context. The clip lasted probably 10 seconds but felt longer and I remember thinking something like “this is more punk rock than punk rock!” hahaha. So, there was a hunger there that I needed to satiate. But I had no access to any recordings where I lived. I remember reading books at the library about jazz history and the only CDs I could borrow were Manteca or big band music. I had to imagine what Song X sounded like for the time being. Ornette’s The Shape of Jazz to Come was one of the first albums I actually bought, and it was more magical than any description could possibly illustrate. As pedestrian as this may seem to everyone now, it was another life changer for me. I can remember late nights sitting by myself, probably super high on good weed, listening to “Lonely Woman” and weeping.

John McLaughlin — Extrapolation

In my early days of discovering jazz, I also came across the music of John Mclaughlin, initially via Mahavishnu Orchestra. His whole profile as a guitarist was incredibly inspiring for me — someone who had an equal footing in jazz, Flamenco, Indian classical music and fusion — a model for what I could become as a player (although I don’t think our styles are really even that comparable.) One of his albums that I think is maybe overlooked in his career is Extrapolation which has an incredible lineup and the compositions are incredible.

John Coltrane — Interstellar Space

In considering this list I’m realizing there’s no way I can touch on all the music that has shaped me. But there is an album that’s shaped a great deal in terms of how I play and in what seems to be my favorite type of collaborative setting — the duo. Interstellar Space is an absolute masterpiece. Everything feels raw — the intensity, the interplay, the emotion. As much as I love so much of John Coltrane’s music, there’s something about this record that was akin to hearing punk music for the first time. There’s an immediacy to expression and interaction. And it was something that felt available to me (certainly not his virtuoso chops, which felt otherworldly — an unscalable monolith.) The direct communication between two people was a revelation and the content of this music felt like something I could mine for the rest of my life.

The Ivo Perelman Trio — “Cantilena”

Fast-forward another few years or more and I had travelled with some good friends to NYC for I think it was the JVC Jazz Fest. We wanted to see MMW play (of whom I still think Friday Afternoon In the Universe is a perfect album.) While we were there though, we saw so much beautiful music that blew me away. The most significant for me though, was catching the last 10 minutes of a set by the Ivo Perelman trio in Tribeca somewhere (the trio was with Jay Rosen on drums and Dominic Duval on bass, who I played with several years later. RIP). It was electrifying. I was moved enough to go and talk to him after and he gave me an unmarked demo tape of Seeds, Vision and Counterpoint. There’s a track on the album called “Cantilena” and it really drops into this heavy space for around 10 minutes that gives me the chills every time I hear it. There is this free lyricism that is still absolutely elating to me. I love his playing and he’s still probably my favorite living saxophonist.

Marilyn Crispell — Vignettes

Masabumi Kikuchi — Out of Bounds

Using lyricism as a segue it brings me to the music of Marilyn Crispell, especially her albums Amaryllis,Nothing Ever Was Anyway, Vignettes and many others. She has a mode of free ballad playing that is absolutely transcendental. I will also mention Masabumi Kikuchi in the same breath. I find the desire more and more to play with a similar intention even though I rarely find myself in the context to do so.

Jute Gyte — Birefringence

A total shift from this narrative of discovery and development is metal music. Something I’d been listening to since my teens and getting hip to some cool thrash music through Canadian band Voivod, particularly the album Dimension Hatröss. I've continued to follow the music and all of its various subgenres and have so many favorite picks, but I’ll choose just one and it’s a total mindbender. Jute Gyte’s Birefringence actually eclipses easy category and you really just need to experience it.

Giacinto Scelsi — “Uaxuctum”

Catherine Christer Hennix — “Blues Alif Lam Mim In The Modes Of Rag Infinity/Rag Cosmosis”

My last pick is another double pick (I know I’m cheating) because it relates to the power of music and ties it into the first selection. Another current, among many, of musical obsessions is “new music.” But when I heard Giacinto Scelsi’s music for the first time it surpassed all of my previous notions about what was possible with composed music — it felt like music from an ecstatic vision. Even as I listen to the track now, it immediately accesses some occult realm of sublimity that feels similar to the music I first heard in church but with an unbridled intensity and depth.

Another more recent selection that fits into this category — but that is different in that it embraces a sort of stasis rather than dynamic movement — is the music of Catherine Christer Hennix. If you don’t know her, she’s a deep well of musical/mathematical/spiritual inspiration for me. Another music without a real equivalent in this day and age — something that echoes ancestral currents as well as the vibration of the cosmos itself. Thanks for reading/listening. Peace be with you. xoxo

[srbachchan]

DAY 4318

Jalsa, Mumbai                Jan 1,  2020                 Wed 11:42 pm

Birthday - EF - Smita Buch .. Thursday, January 2 .. birthday wishes from all of us to you and may you have a glorious year .. love from the Ef ..

The first day of the new decade .. of the first of the 10 years that shall follow .. the first of the first month .. and my Ef Sudhir gives an observation .. 

“In the morning... My elder brother, Ravi, had shown me how to read the calendar... 

This, on the top, is the number of the year... This, here, is the name of the month... This number, here, is called the date... Date is the number of the day...  This, here, is called the day... There are many months in a year, and many days in a month... but each date happens only once in a day... because date is a count... Every date is the total number of days which have happened in the month till that day...

What stuck : Every date is the total number of days in the month till that day...”

... and date has so many connotations it is impossible to enumerate .. for this though it is the evening before the DAY of the writing .. the thought the process the intent the context and the reason , why ..

.. yes many do ask for the reason of the above and the why .. 

Every why has never ever needed a response .. I write because I write .. I express here because I wish to express .. I comment here because I wish to comment .. 

Like it dislike it reprimand abuse question disagree , dis associate .. it is the ‘kala nazar ka teeka’ .. one that prevents the evil from a gaze that could be bad and irrelevant .. nothing like so here .. every gaze is relevant every expression in its import a precious gem .. it was not created , this , to create comment or demand or reason .. they all came in the course of the days .. valuable, connecting, embracing, enveloping the love and the grace of all .. 

I am in denial of gratitude here for the existence .. the family , the Ef cannot be in a reason to be here .. they are here of own will .. families do these things .. they remain within .. yes at times one reads and hears with extreme pain the parting, the going away, the desolation of separation .. 

But the moment of the hold of togetherness - even if it was for that minute second , was a holding all the same .. for that limited spell, the feel was to be together to be one to be inside the embrace .. that is it .. 

The hold though brief is not brief it is eternal .. it takes a lot to extend a hold .. to reach out and command embrace .. the touch the warmth of each other is sufficient to express that it did make effort of a feel .. for me that is enough ..

You may discard now .. throw away .. disconnect .. have a million reasons .. its water on a ducks back .. it will not stay .. once done , DONE ..

IN THE END IT SHALL BE ONLY US .. 

SO .. on the day of the first day we sit in silent understanding .. the progeny is away in their world and time .. it is normal .. so were we away on many a time in the past .. technology keeps us close and within voice reach .. even that is blessing ..

but blessings come too from quarters of them that write .. they express .. they post to me .. and I would have hesitated to talk about it .. but their writing is already in the realm of the universal , so putting it here .. well ..  is humbling and immodest .. but ..

Amitji, You  Are  One  Of  Your Kind

By Subhash K Jha

Whenever I am asked to write about Mr Bachchan I am reminded that I know  him so well. But I  wonder if  I really know him at all.

Does anyone know the real  Mr B?  Even Jayaji, the Bachchan I am closest to and the one HE is closest to, says she has to read the silences because he likes to remain quiet when at home. That is when  he can really be himself, though I am yet to understand what  it means  for him  to be himself.

What I do know is, this phenomenon  named Amitabh Bachchan is  genuinely  a force of Nature, incomparable with  anything that I’ve known in my entire life.I’ve known him for  20 years  . His energy and enthusiasm  level remain unchanged. Even today he gets as excited  about his work as he did when Mohabbatein  was offered  to him 2000 . It began his second innings in  cinema.

I remember how excited  he  was about doing the  film, and how  grateful  to Yashji  for giving him the opportunity.And I know how upset he was  when earlier this  month he couldn’t attend  the National awards  to receive  his Dada Saheb Phalke award. To Amitji, every honour is of great importance.

I don’t  know if every  friend  is  special to him. But he has always treated me as someone really special.  On one  of the earliest episodes  of Kaun Banega Crorepati,  the game show which was  a  game-changer for Indian television, Mr Bachchan when introduced  to  a contestant  from Bihar he  proudly told  the  contestant that   he has  a dear friend in Patna named Subhash K Jha.

I won’t pretend.It  was golden  moment for me.To  have his endorsement while millions watched…it meant a  lot.  Not too many of  my friends  in the film industry  would do something  like this. It is his generosity  of  spirit that I admire the most  in his personality.As an actor he  may fail some day (although that’s hard to imagine). But as  a friend he  can never fail you.

“Meet the  film journalist  from Patna who  doesn’t like travelling to Mumbai,” he’d introduce me whenever we met on his sets. But  most of my most memorable  meetings  with Amitji have  been in the Bachchan home Jalsa where Jayaji  presides  over  a household that runs  with  clockwork precision.The meals served  in silver thalis with innumerable  katoris of vegetables, are  unforgettable.

There are  numerous incidents etched in my mind illustrating his generous spirit. Two of them are more special than others. Once when I was on the airport in Mumbai to catch  my flight back  to Patna after the premiere of  Black, I was informed my  seat had been given away to  someone else. In a panic , I did the  first thing that came to my mind(this was a Sahara flight and  at that time he was  associated with the  Group).

I rang  up Amitji and  complained  hysterically like  a child. He heard me  out and calmly asked me to hand the phone  over to  the lady at the  counter.Within  five  minutes I  was  on the flight.

The  other incident  happened at my residence in Patna when Mr Bachchan came  home  for dinner. He had come to Patna  for  the promotion  of  his film Aarakshan. And director Prakash Jha tried his  utmost to dissuade  him from  breaking the schedule. When Prakash couldn’t convince Mr Bachchan, he called and urged me  to dissuade  Mr Bachchan as, Prakash claimed,  his visit to my home posed a security hazard.

I had no choice. I reluctantly told   Amitji that  it’s better to  cancel the visit to my home  .

“No,I had promised you.Whenever I  came to Patna  I’d come to your house,” he replied calmly.

And that  was  that.

By the time he arrived  with his  entourage it was late evening. The entire road and stadium in front of my home was plastered with  humanity,  not a space anywhere …How did they come  to know?! I panicked. How would his  car reach my  gate?When he arrived the sea of humanity parted  like the Red Sea and the cars sailed by.After he got out of the car he walked straight into the sea of humanity  with folded hands. Not one person  tried to  touch  him or get  close to him.

That  evening I realised why  he is who he is.

and then there is another 

Love and the greetings and the blessings of the elders to you and may the Gods grace your hearts and lives with all their might .. may that unknown force of nature build the most beautiful palaces of residences in your hearts .. may HE be there in all your guidances and give the right path the light of purity and benevolence .. give you abundance .. give you joys .. take away grief and want .. fill you with plentifulness .. as never before ..

Amitabh Bachchan .. my Ef my pride , my existence ..

[thebookofbri]

Things I Wish I Told My West Indian Parents - The Collective

Dear Kings and Queens , I come to you all with a warm heart of gratitude. I applaud your courage, your strength, and your voice! Thank you for trusting me enough to share these very sensitive thoughts and experiences that you have all held close to your heart. May these pieces serve as a R E L E A S E . May they BIND UP the negative impacts that they’ve caused and may they LOOSEN the beautiful souls that you all are evolving into.

Whether you are a viewer outside of the west Indian community, a west Indian parent, child(ren) of west indian parents, or a supportive friend, I ask you to open up your hearts and minds to these shared stories and experiences below:

“I wish I told my west Indian parents that disciplining your children doesn’t always have to mean putting your hands on us – A conversation here and there would’ve been enough. ”

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“ I wish I told my west Indian parents that  I was a bisexual”

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“I Wish I told my west Indian parents that I think I would’ve been into church wayyyyyyyyyyyyy more if not so forceful. Like I wish they would just talk to us as humans. Not as a thing. Don’t get me wrong I’m into church and love God. I’d give my life to stand up for him. But growing up I would’ve been this way if not so forceful”.

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“Communication especially about the uncomfortable topics like sex! Life isn’t just about education and working!

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“Growing up I was never truly allowed to express myself emotionally if physically. Like if I ever thought my parents were wrong and I dared to speak up about it no matter how respectful I was about it, I would get shut down disrespectfully as if I was in the wrong the whole time. It hurt me because I didn’t really know how to and it affected my school, work, and even personal/romantic relationships. I was also put under extremely high standards, this put a lot of pressure on me from and every young age. It was hard for me to learn how to let go, it was hard for me to learn it’s okay to not be perfect, it was hard for me to accept failure and truly I still struggle with it which also makes it hard for me to open up about things I’ve failed in or not being able to make those around me happy as I feel they should be”.

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Things I Wish I Told My West Indian Mom - When you tell your daughter “little girls should be seen and not heard” You’re teaching her to be submissive and passive. You’re teaching her that she has no voice and it’s not her place to speak on things she’s passionate of. You’re teaching her to sit by and watch men screw up everything consistently. Unfortunately, you’re teaching her that her voice doesn’t matter which is ruinous to her development because her voice is one of the most powerful tools in her belt.

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1. I wish I didn’t have to figure out that you loved me or that you were proud of me, I wish you would have just told me. For years, I worked to earn what should have been given to me as a birthright and in your inability to express this to me, I struggled to find it in myself and so sought it in the world. I didn’t find it there either.

2. The provisions you provided me, the house, the lights, the food, and the clothes; they were always appreciated but there was nothing I valued more and rarely received like your physical presence. You worked ceaselessly to provide and I will never forsake or undermine that sacrifice but you missed what mattered that most; the person I grew into. That person was more than a profession. That person was more than the education. That person was more than the expectations and I wish you had gotten to know her, because I struggled to find her, heal her, and forge her, to become her, and more likely than not; you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her.

3. I wish your love language wasn’t physical discipline. In place of constructive affirmations or words of affections, your preferred course of action created more gaps in the love story you poorly narrated over the course of my life. It made resenting you second nature and resenting the world; first.

4. I wish I could carry the weight of dashed dreams, the ones you called expectations, as easily as I could shoulder the weight of the hurtful rhetoric that had become commonplace between us. Know that in spite of that, I tried and still try to live up to them, if only to give you the joy that seemed to escape you so often. If only to shrink the cost of your sacrifice.

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I Wish They Told Me That Silence is Not A Strength ! Since I was a little girl I’ve watched my mom bend over backwards for people whose sole intentions were to take advantage of her. Through and through, I always hear her say when people wrong you, just turn the other cheek. Now, don’t get me wrong it also says that in the Bible, but in the Haitian culture we tend to use The WORD out of context quite a lot. She was never truly happy, but never dared to speak up. Of course, I learned from her, after all, she was my mother ! THIS silence has broken me times and times again. Even when I was wronged in many ways imaginable, by family who was supposed to love me and care for me. Eventually, I came to the realization that if everything bad that happens to me I stay silent, then how can I help the next person who went through that situation or something? One of the main events in my life that lead to this realization was when a family member tried to abuse me sexually.

In that moment I told myself “ I can do two things scream so everyone in the house will come running, and he will stop or stay silent like I was taught” I went with option two.... I SCREAMED like my life depended on it. When asked why I was screaming, I explained that he ( my cousin) tried to touch me inappropriately. I was met with so much disappointment. My uncle asked me “ how could you even say that ? Are you trying to bring shame to my family ?”They told me to never repeat the occurrence of that event. It was killing me, so I decided to tell my dad . I was living with this family after my mom passed away, because it was too painful to stay in the house that mom and I shared almost all of my life. I told my dad all that happened, he was furious, and decided that I had to come back home.

My dad was the only person who believed me before I even uttered a word. I then moved to the United States, and told myself that this so called family was practically dead to me. The trauma was slowly killing me. At the age of 17, I decided to begin my own healing process, and started telling everyone who will listen, and I started to feel better because I could finally speak! I was free from the bondage of silence, It felt like I was almost completely in control of my voice again.

Finally, I decided to make the final process of my healing forgiveness. I forgave them, but I promised myself that I will never let anyone hurt by keeping my truth hidden, no matter how ugly it may be. I am now the mother of a beautiful littler girl, and I can never imagine her being in my position, but scared to speak up against injustices, unfair treatment, and things that make her uncomfortable.

Silence in our culture allow evil to repeat itself. Our culture is so good at sweeping things under the rug that it will eventually destroy our nation. However, I will continue to teach my daughter to always use her voice!!. I will teach her to be the voice of reason for her generation. I want her to know that I have her back no matter what, and I will choose to believe her story every single time. SILENCE is not a strength!

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I Wish my West Indian Parents Told Me that vulnerability does not equate weakness.

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I wish my west Indian parents told me that they loved me.

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“As an adult I struggle to have real genuine romantic relationships and friendships because I struggle with being emotionally intelligent and available to the ones I care about. I wish my parents taught me how to love – their example as a married couple seemed dull and lifeless. Their relationships with me and my siblings reflected that very same thing.”

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“As a young woman I wish my west Indian mother told me that being single after college and wanting to do my own thing is okay. I wish she told me that It didn’t and still doesn’t take a male figure to complete me”.

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“I wish my parents didn’t compare me to other people’s kids – all it did was embarrass me and make me feel like I wasn’t good enough”.

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“I wish my west Indian father would actually spend time with me – I know he has to work but his absence has impacted my life so much”.

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“I wish my west Indian parents knew that I am trying my best and that mental health is real. I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression and it’s not an excuse to do nothing - I just need help”.

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Thank you for your support and thank you for taking the time to read the experiences of others. .

I ask that you reflect on what you’ve read.

Has this raised any awareness for you?

Are there similarities or parallels that you can make from these stories in your own life?

If you are West Indian – what will you do differently as a parent? As a friend? As a daughter or son?

Any conversations you think you’d start?

Peace & Love Tribe 🌻❤️

[thecoleopterawithana]

Omfg thank you for your precious answer you're my favorite tumblr !! I have so many things I'd like to ask you bc you explain so well lol, first of all what do you think of the story of Tony Manero ? Do you think he tells the truth with his story ? Again thank you for your answer love youuuu

Hey again, dear anon! (I’m assuming you’re the one from before) Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m truly happy you're enjoying the blog, and that it is engaging enough to make you want to ask questions. I’m more than happy to try my best at answering them because I learn a lot in the research for these posts too!

For context, Tony Manero was a Brooklyn singer/dancer (who claims to be the inspiration for the main character in 1977′s Saturday Night Fever, though no movie-related source mentions it).

He comes up frequently in Beatles’ fandom circles as a “key witness” in the ongoing case of John Lennon’s sexuality. His testimony appears in Geoffrey Giuliano’s Glass Onion (1999), where he is interviewed on his encounter with John Lennon on the streets of New York City, on May 1974:

TONY MANERO*

Interview

New York, Summer 1992

Question: Tell me your story about meeting John Lennon.

Tony Manero: It was back in May of 1974. I saw three guys walking down the block. John was always my idol. I went up to him and said, "I know a lot of people hassle you, but I just want to thank you for your music. I've enjoyed you and you've helped me through a lot of emotional times." Outside Jimmy's Bar in Greenwich Village he said, "Why don't you come inside for a drink?"

Question: Who else was with him?

Tony: Harry Nilsson was also there. After we ordered drinks, John switched seats to be next to me. He said to me, "Are you gay?" When I told him I wasn't, he looked really disappointed. He could have been joking, but he wasn't. My initial reaction was fear. And yet I wouldn't leave because it was John Lennon. I said to him, "No, man. I don't go that way." "Are you sure?" he said, "Look, I'll take you to Hollywood." John was calling me "the pretty one." He told me, "You're the prettiest chick I've seen all day." He said, "You look like a pretty little Indian or Arab chick," because of my color skin. I remember Harry was borrowing one hundred bills from him.

Question: Then what happened?

Tony: At one stage I went out, and when I came back he was talking to this woman and he said "She said, 'I thought he was Paul, meaning McCartney.'" So John turns around and says, "No, he's prettier than Pauly. He's got a nicer mouth than Pauly. Pauly's got a small mouth." Then he turned to me and said, "Let's go get some chicks." This man was giving me a dream to pay millions for. I hung out with him. John almost admitted his gay tendencies. He put his arm around me. He said, "It feels good to hold someone. You know what I mean?" Prior to that he said, "There's nothing wrong with being gay. Two people exchanging feelings is not wrong. Did you ever try it?" People were following us. We were wasted and he put his arm around one girl and said "Suck my cock." He stuck his tongue down her throat. We were loaded. Somebody stole the hat right off his head! He was so nice. I remember we had a hamburger. Later we went to his hotel rooms, 1608, -9, and -10. There was Harry's bedroom, John's, and a living room with a keyboard. He gave me a guitar, but it was later stolen. He propositioned me in the street. Hassled me if I'd ever made love to a male. "Will you give me head, man?" he asked. But I wouldn't do it. "Come on, Tony, why won't you give me head?" We went back to his hotel and he propositioned me again. After John died I wished I'd done it. He tried to kiss me. He put his arm around me. He was making moves on me like a guy would make on a woman. We were on the couch and we lay down. I said, "Wow, maybe I should have." I never asked him if he'd had sex with a man, but it was obvious to me he had. I was at the hotel for a few days. But he never bothered me in the middle of the night. He never attempted it again. There were feelings and looks. He was very loving, like when a guy is very lonely. The man was bisexual - there is no two ways about it. He was feeling me out.

Question: What do you say to people who might not believe your story?

Tony: John did come on to me. He did try to make love to me. He asked me to perform a lewd act - that's the truth. The man was bisexual - there's no two ways about it. Any of his fans who can't dig that, I'm sorry, because if you listen to his music, sensitivity and experiencing is what it's all about.*Tony Manero was the inspiration behind the seventies film Saturday Night Fever and a successful New York businessman.

— in Geoffrey Giuliano’s Glass Onion: The Beatles In Their Own Words (1999), part Seven: Friends (pages 315-317).

Concerning Manero’s recollections, some familiar elements pop up.

There is "It feels good to hold someone. You know what I mean?" which seems to echo Paul’s recollections of his last hug with John, where the latter commented, “It’s good to touch.” It is a classical example of John craving physical affection.

"There's nothing wrong with being gay. Two people exchanging feelings is not wrong. Did you ever try it?" reminded me immediately of the poem John submitted for Len Richmond and Gary Noguera's Gay Liberation Handbook, on 30 May 1972.

Why make it sad to be gay?

Doing your thing is O.K.

Our bodies our own

So leave us alone

Go play with yourself - today.

Also, there are his comparisons to Paul, "No, he's prettier than Pauly. He's got a nicer mouth than Pauly. Pauly's got a small mouth." 

First, there’s the use of the adjective pretty, which he’s used for Paul before:

I remember we were going down to the studio [...] and there was a great crowd pressing against the car. John was sitting in the back and he said, “Push Paul out first. He’s the prettiest.”

—Victor Spinetti, in the documentary You Can’t Do That! The Making of ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ (1995).

Also, there’s “that Paulie business” (note that’s it’s Paulie, not Pauly; and John will object if you use it, especially in a condescending way!).

Moreover, to me, the whole exchange strikes the same tongue-in-cheek tone as this late 1975 interview:

John: Yes, all your best friends let you know what's going on. I was trying to put it 'round that I was gay, you know-- I thought that would throw them off... dancing at all the gay clubs in Los Angeles, flirting with the boys... but it never got off the ground.

Q: I think I've only heard that lately about Paul.

John: Oh, I've had him, he's no good. [Laughter]

— John Lennon, interviewed by Lisa Robinson for Hit Parader: A conversation with John Lennon (December 1975).

John had already insinuated his relationship with Paul in a similar way in this humorous self-interview:

Q. Have you ever fucked a guy?

A. Not yet, I thought I’d save it til I was 40, life begins at 40 you know, tho I never noticed it.

Q. It is trendy to be bisexual and you’re usually ‘keeping up with the Jones’, haven’t you ever… there was talk about you and PAUL…

A. Oh, I thought it was about me and Brian Epstein… anyway, I’m saving all the juice for my own version of THE REAL FAB FOUR BEATLES STORY etc.. etc..

Q. It seems like you’re saving quite a lot for when you’re 40...

A. Yes, there might be nothing better to do, tho I don’t believe it.

— John Lennon, interview conducted by/on John Lennon, and/or Dr Winston O’boogie, for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine (November 1974).

I introduce all of this because if there’s one thing I at first found odd in Manero’s account, it was John’s forwardness. John doesn’t strike me as a guy to openly proposition another man. Was he really just super keen on it? Was he getting liquid courage from all the substances? Was he trying to get those rumours off the ground? A mix of all three? 

But perhaps it’s wrong to look at 1974 as just a normal year. 

Lennon’s Lost Weekend was the time of his life where we can see him be the most publicly vocal about his curiosity. He was open about being open. 

And striking friendships with gay musicians like Elton John probably gave him someone who he could talk to, or at least explore the world of gay bars with. Whatever gets you through the night, it’s alright, after all. 

One of those “dancing at all the gay clubs” episodes has been recounted by musician and music producer Mark Hudson. In a “weird but beautiful” moment, John urged the group to join him on the dancefloor, when The Three Degrees’ ‘When Will I See You Again’ came playing through the speakers and he exclaimed, “I love this song!” 

Because it’s always informative to pay close attention to the songs that were resonating with them at any particular time, I’ll provide the lyrics to ‘When Will I See You Again’ (released in the US on September 1974):

Precious moments

When will I see you again

When will we share precious moments

Will I have to wait forever

Will I have to suffer

And cry the whole night through?

When will I see you again

When will our hearts beat together?

Are we in love or just friends?

Is this my beginning

Or is this the end?

When will I see you again?

May Pang reports in her book, Loving John (1983), that after she and John left LA to go back to NY — where, after some time at The Pierre hotel, they moved to small penthouse apartment on East Fifty-second Street, around July 1974 —  the McCartney’s had paid them a visit.

John would spend the next two months recording Walls And Bridges, before releasing it on 26 September 1974. It included tracks such as the aforementioned ‘Whatever Gets You Through The Night’, ‘#9 Dream’ and also the beautiful ‘Bless You’:

Bless you wherever you are

Windswept child on a shootin' star

Restless spirits depart

Still we're deep in each other's hearts

Some people say it's over

Now that we spread our wings

But we know better, darlin'

The hollow ringIs only last year's echo, oh-oh

Bless you whoever you are

Holding her now, be warm and kind-hearted

And remember though love is strange

Now and forever our love will remain

As a song, I think it's the best piece of work on the album, although I worked harder on some of the other tracks. In retrospect, that seems to be the best track, to me.

— John Lennon, interviewed after the release of the album, cited in John Blaney’s John Lennon: Listen to This Book (2005).

(I’m sorry, I got sidetracked by their love for one another...)

But getting back to Manero’s story, you asked me if I think it is the truth or not. And honestly, there’s really no way to be completely certain of the veracity of these accounts. Having said that, I don’t really see this story as the scandalous, explosive news it is often made out to be. Not because I think it might be untrue, necessarily, but because I personally feel like John’s interests in homosexuality come through in his own words, as we’ve seen in the previous post.

For me, it seems clear that there was an attraction there. Now, an even more interesting question, I feel, is how much of that attraction was about the physicality of the male body; how much was about the contact with one’s softer, more sensitive side, not allowed in the classic moulds of toxic masculinity; and how much of it was seeking sexual contact as a way to epitomize emotional intimacy? 

And with the complexity of human beings, it is fair and likely that there were little bits of all three elements involved. But perhaps, it’s best to continue that line of thought in another post...

But what do you guys think? I'd really like to hear your thoughts on the subject!

[warofnationsapology]

Our Apology

Hello everyone,

With everything that has happened as of late in regards to the warofnationsrp, the admin team wanted to address the situation.

First of all, we want to start this off by apologizing for how much anger, hurt, and offense we have caused. We created this group to be a fun community in a historical setting, and we fully take responsibility for any mistakes we have made in the building of that setting and its plots. From the beginning, we have only wanted this to be a fun, welcoming, and inclusive group. We’ve always asked all of our players to come to us immediately if they had questions or concerns. Whenever issues arose, our admin team tried to find solutions with the priority being to respect our players and the RPC as a whole. We realize now that our attempts to do that thus far have done more harm than good. We take full responsibility for our mistakes and deeply apologize for their effects. We understand now that the best thing for us to do is disband completely, admit our mistakes, and apologize from the bottom of our hearts.

We also wanted to explain our side of what occurred and why we’ve made the decisions we have as an admin team. This is not to justify or excuse our actions or to shame anyone who was hurt by them. We know now that we have made some horrible miscalculations in our management of these issues. This is purely for us to provide context for those miscalculations and context for all sides of this story.

When this group began, there were 4 admins. Out of the 4 of us, the poster of the original callout was the most experienced admin, and the most involved in the RPC as a whole outside of our group. Due to this, we tended to rely on her guidance more often as we learned and grew ourselves as admins. When it came to going through applications and checking faceclaims for diversity, This admin (Admin A hereforth for the sake of clarity) provided us with some wonderful tools to help us check for ethnic miscasting and determining ethnicities correctly. Those tools, and others she introduced us to continued to be used by our admin team even after she left. Near the inception of the group, War of Nations also received two questions concerning colonialism and racism issues of the time period depicted in the group. The first was addressed publicly by Admin A on the original War of Nations main blog, which has since been deleted by Admin A. However, what was roughly addressed in the answer was that we were an AU historical group and because we were an AU would not include themes of slavery, racism, or ethnic oppression in order to create a more inclusive environment. When the second message was received, it was presented to the Admin team by Admin A with the following comment:

Since she was the most knowledgeable about these sorts of issues, we followed her lead when it came to it.

The other concern that was presented by the poster of the callout was that Admins A and B made the decision to step down from the group, there was a disagreement about how their characters leaving would affect the major plots of other players with whom they were involved. For the admins who remained, our primary concern was the enjoyment of our players and assisting them be able to maintain the rich plots and characters they had already invested so much into. However, we wanted to respect them by asking their permission before writing any such things into a plot drop. We agree that our persistence in pursuing these plot changes was disrespectful, and we apologize for not agreeing to the terms sooner. In the end, we did realize that we needed to respect their characters, so we agreed to not use the plot suggestions concerning their characters. We worked with each of our players individually to adjust their stories so that we could restructure their plots to remove those characters fully.

The conversation following ended with one of the current admins (henceforth known as Admin C) apologizing if she came off as rude or defensive. Within the same hour of Admin A and Admin B saying they were leaving, Admin C had received some terrible news from her family, so she admitted that her responses might have been more emotional and rude because she was processing the news while trying to work on switching everything over. This is how it ended:

With Admins A and B complimenting Admin C as an admin and sending well wishes, we were under the assumption that they were stepping away on amicable terms and were okay with the RP continuing.

When the initial callout post was made, the remaining admin team discussed that our plot did need some clarification as we absolutely did not want to promote colonialism or ethnic and racial oppression. Because of this, we decided to write a disclaimer explaining further the intent of this roleplay and its policies to clarify and reassure the RPC of our mission for this to be a fun and inclusive historical AU roleplay. We once again encouraged any questions and concerns to be brought to our attention, and we did respectfully conduct conversations with several historical RPers outside of our group who approached us about our disclaimer and agreed that we handled it in the best way we could. With these policies in place, we continued on, making it a purpose to be aware daily of concerns not only within our group but in the RPC and media as a whole.

As more callouts have surfaced, War of Nations received multiple anons requesting that we delete the roleplay completely. At this time, we also assessed the plots and storylines that our players were currently pursuing or carrying out, and found that none of them contained any parts of the overarching plot, any of the topics presented as a concern in the callouts, or other areas that had been brought to our attention at the time. Instead our players were focused primarily on major political disputes between major countries in our Old World sphere of roleplay as well as personal relationships and character development. Our players seemed to be enjoying their interactions. We knew the best course of action was likely to delete the RP,  we wanted to let our players still be able to continue their interactions and enjoy the work they had put into their characters in a safe environment, and under a new structure which would be not include any topics of colonialism or racism. There would be no overarching plot to this roleplay. Only a generalized time period in the 1700s in which the characters they’d created could continue their personal plots such as family feuds or new romances. We were also concerned that if we tried to continue on Tumblr, our players might be attacked because of their association with the original group’s plot. We also realized that many of our players were eager to roleplay more often but were limited when it came to computer access. The Admin Team thought that by shifting to Discord we could start this roleplay on a clean slate with the old plot completely removed from it all as well as give our players with limited computer access more opportunities to interact on mobile.

As we started to set things in motion, we realized that moving to Discord would be equally as detrimental, and so we realized that the best decision was to disband completely. Due to the admin team having personal obligations (i.e. family, work, and caretaking responsibilities), we were not able to address this properly before others called us out on the mistake we had already realized and planned to address. That is when we recognized fully that we were continuing to make mistakes that were hurting our players and the RPC as a whole and needed to completely disband.

In regards to players that have expressed having experiences discrimination or oppression in the group, we were shocked and heartbroken to learn that they felt this way. These concerns were voiced by some of our original RPers who have stayed with us, and we never had any conversations surrounding these concerns between players involved and our remaining admin team. Additionally, the remaining admins had no knowledge that former admins had been asking for her insight as a POC or that she was doing so in a way that made one of the player uncomfortable. We respect this player deeply both as a mun and as a person, and have a great appreciation for their in-depth knowledge of history as a whole, and the rich breadth of resources and fun facts she shared with the group. She often helped us give clarification on things like proper titling and historical accuracy. These are all things she presented to us. However, the remaining admins never reached out to her for specific insight due to her being a POC.

From Admin C in regards to Esmeralda: Initially, the character of Esmeralda was an interpretation of the book/movie/musical character from The Hunchback of Notre Dame as if she had appeared on the television show Once Upon a Time. I have roleplayed Esmeralda for years, and early on in her creation, a friend of mine who is a POC reminded me to research the Romani people before beginning to roleplay her. I did so, and in my research, I found that the g-word was a derogatory term and that Romani people had early origins in India (as listed here on the Wikipedia page sourcing this book and two other sources). Therefore, both actresses I have used for her were Indian actresses (here and here). I also made sure that any judgement that is based on her performing troupe was based solely on them being travelling performers and illusionists instead of their ethnicity. In that one reply I did that was mentioned, I remember when I re-read it before posting, I realized that I had used that word and it needed to be removed. I remember that I thought to myself "why did I write that?", and I took a mental note to take it out before I posted it as I read over the rest of the reply. Until seeing that player’s post about it, I thought I had removed it, and it has now been removed. However, I must have gotten distracted when reading over it and forgot that I didn't take it out when I returned from the distraction to posting it. This is a mistake I have made in the past that has led to posting replies with grammatical or spelling errors, but never something this horrible. That was my mistake and my own fault for not being more diligent for which I take full responsibility and apologize whole-heartedly.

As an admin team, we have tried to read every thread so we knew that we were aware of what was going on as well as consciously look for possible issues. We will admit that while we did catch some issues and addressed them immediately, we did not pay close enough attention and some things were missed.  We did not always read as carefully as we should have. These issues should have been seen and addressed right away. The admin team fully admits to making this mistake as well, and we do apologize for letting such horrible things get missed.

For any other examples of discrimination felt in this group, we deeply apologize for those as well. We also apologize that we did not present ourselves in a manner to make us more approachable when it came to telling us about these mistakes directly when they occurred. We both want to be better community members and allies, and will continue to educate ourselves, learn, and grow to improve in these areas.

In conclusion, we would like to thank you for taking the time to read this fully. War of Nations has been disbanded completely as a group. Our admins offer our apologies to our players, both current and former, the former admins, and all RPC community members who were hurt by the mistakes we’ve made. We have made some terrible mistakes, and we completely apologize for those with every fiber of our beings. We take full responsibility for those mistakes, and by recognizing them, will strive to be better in the future.

With our deepest apologies,

Former Admins C and D

@warofnationsrp​

@warofnationshq​

[nexstage]

LIMBO SILVAM - EPILOGUE (2/2)

The events must have been too intense for the other Crystal Gems to have to struggle emotionally; however, Peridot had already fought enemies worth of being feared like the Cluster, Jasper, heck even the Diamonds. So, bring it on!

"Whatever it is, we can get through it. Spinel was defeated, which means the next step will be easy peasy. Now let's go. If it's something serious then there is no time to waste"

In contrast to her enthusiasm and confidence, the others were engulfed by dread. Connie was the palest and sick-looking, though she was grateful her friend didn't glance at her. The girl had no idea of how to comfort Peridot once she was told what happened with Lapis. In fact, Connie was terrified at the idea of the little gem asking about her other friends. It was too much if they didn't get over this, she was going to throw up!

The 5 members teleported to the island. Or, much to Peridot's horror and shock, what was left of it.

Mask Island, a place full of life, both natural and magic, was the perfect depiction of a wasteland. The once splendid palmer trees forest had become into a gray, depressive moor covered in deep cracks as if a giant in flames had stepped on it. Many kilometers ahead of them, there were bits of green, but it wasn't that much.

The worst part was the hole, no no, the colossal crater on the left side of the island. Peridot's imagination conjured a lot of crazy theories of what must have happened, and with the news of Spinel's attack, her conclusions got darker and more horrible than she feared.

"SPINEL DID THIS?!"

The others looked at each other aghast at her intelligence. At this rate, Peridot would remember everything and things would be harder for them when the time to comfort their friend came.

"You got it right. But there are more things that can explain to you what exactly happened"

"What's the point in an explanation after this mess and Spinel being bubbled, Pearl? And-And this place... This place was the home of the Steven-watermelon clan! Maybe that crazy Spinel used them as hostages and even destroyed their home to hurt Steven, to provoke him. But wait, I remember Connie, Bismuth, Lapis and I were in, well I still can't remember, but anyway, we were kind of confronting her, right? We-we were in this place fighting Spinel, weren't we? Is this the bad news you wanted me to be informed about?"

Amethyst was at the brink of poofing. She couldn't do this, just...just giving more clues to Peridot and hope for her memories to come back instantly and then boom! She would figure out that Lapis was shattered and implode in the most painful way. Constructing this scenario was worse than watching her friend struggling after Lapis left her with the barn.

"Amethyst!" the purple quartz jumped at the shout. Now what?! Couldn't she be given a break to, you know, mope around and figure out what to do next?!

"What, Garnet?"

"Transform into a helicopter and carry us where the proofs are. Quickly"

She groaned but fulfilled the order. This day couldn't get more stressful, and it was just midday!

The fight was anything but pleasant. Small talk or asking question was attempted by Peridot, but Garnet looming over her like a giant statue served as a good warning that it wasn't the time yet to say anything.

The poor green gem was this close to jank her own hair out of her head. What the hell was wrong with her friends? Since when there was so much secrecy?

Now she could understand how frustrating it was for Steven having to deal with everyone lying to him, keeping secrets and pretending some things never happened. Just like his maternal unit, Pink Diamond, did time ago.

Peridot was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn't take into account the pained eyes directed at her. Connie held back as better as she could the wheezes from a panic attack, the poor girl felt like garbage for not blurting the whole truth and make this more difficult than it should be, but Peridot needed her memories to be restored for her to understand the whole context. And after that, they would tell her what happened to Lapis.

The Indian girl grabbed Pearl's right arm for support, for a plan, for another outcome so the worst could be avoided. The veteran gem squeezed Connie's left hand, as a mother would so her apprentice wouldn't feel so lonely and scared.

Garnet, meanwhile, was driving herself mad with future vision, searching for a happier conclusion to Peridot's ordeal, but nothing. No matter the number of possibilities, it always ended up with her friend in tears after knowing what happened to Lapis.

"We arrived" Amethyst declared and landed.

The zone in which the purple quartz had alighted didn't have any signs of life. Nor plants, nor animals, not even a single Steven-watermelon wandering in the area. Just huge fissures, dead vegetation kilometers around them. But then, Peridot noticed something pretty peculiar, "Wait, is that a robot?"

The little Crystal Gem ran to have a better view of it, the others walked grievously, preparing themselves for the long explanation.

The machine was as huge as the one the former technician had built to defeat Pearl years ago. It had three tones of green, and a star-shaped visor, similar to the one she had before being poofed, its left arm ended in a steel sphere with multiple spikes, the right arm in a circular saw. There were no legs, it seemed they had been ripped out from the robot mercilessly.

"This robot... Did I built it?"

"Yeah, dude" Amethyst's voice was dull and lifeless, a big contrast compared to the energy she always carried talking and doing her own thing.

The group observed Peridot attentively, who knew how she would react once she pieced everything together. Meanwhile, the green engineer kept touching and analyzing the once threatening robot in front of her. The sensation of familiarity grew stronger with every second passing; however, the answers were still stuck as if a force prevented them to spill themselves out of Peridot's memory repertoire.

Something didn't make sense.

"If Bismuth, Connie, Lapis and I were fighting Spinel here, how was it possible for me to bring a robot? Did I bring it here or someone else did for me?"

"Lapis helped you" Pearl intervened as delicately as she could "She...bought you time to build it so you could fight Spinel easier"

Breaths were held in anticipation of the worst. Just a bit more, just another detail revealed and Peridot would aks if Lapis was ok and then the tragedy would be told.

"Lapis..." the little gem pronounced too raptured in her musings to hear the nervous gasps behind her.

So she helped her, she wondered if the blue gem was alright. She obviously wouldn't be with the knowledge that Steven was in the hospital, heavily injured and that Mask Island was a wasteland all because of a lunatic Spinel.

Suddenly, a stinging headache assaulted the core of her gemstone. Both hands went to it, massaging it so the pain could stop but it just only got worse. She didn't notice her friends' worried cries or how tight Garnet held her shoulders due to the violent trembling of her petit body.

What she only put her attention on were the desperate voices overlapping each other in her head, the set of images that first were too pixelated to make a sense of now becoming more clear-cut. Then the barrier broke in half and saw everything. Lapis using her hydrokinesis to lift the giant injector, her and the blue gem fighting Spinel in Mask Island, the psychotic gem giving them a hard time until a giant, no no, Alexandrite came to their rescue but even the fusion wasn't enough, her building a robot after Lapis told her to run and hurry, how strong the blows of Spinel were against her little body. The last image on her head was Lapis' anguished face, the svelte gem saying 'I've got you, Peri' before obscuring her vision while pulling her close to her chest; however, there was another thing and that was the huge injector still full of bio-poison being launched at them from many meters high.

"I remember..." Peridot mumbled in shock much to the other's nervousness "I remember everything!"

"A-Are you sure, Peridot?" Pearl approached her cautiously and stopped when the green engineer looked at her in horror.

"We were here, Pearl! Lapis and I were here fighting her, and-and she was so strong, my robot couldn't poof her. I saw it, Pearl! Spinel tore my robot's legs apart! I can still feel it, the punches, the kicks, she beat me down!"

"Peridot, please calm down" Connie held the gem from the shoulders despite wanting to be held in the same way. The worst was getting closer. "Spinel can't hurt you anymore"

'No more physically, but emotionally and psychologically, yes' the girl swallowed, the urges of throwing up were too overwhelming for her to keep doing this.

"How though...?" Peridot's question didn't make sense "How could we defeat her? I mean, look at this place! It looks like hell had been unleashed! Like an asteroid had fallen on the whole island! I bet no one survived!"

'You couldn't be more right about this' Amethyst lamented, feeling helpless, lost. With a glance, she asked Pearl and Garnet for help to prevent a panic attack from Peridot that seemed imminent; the permafusion kneeled in front of the green gem and took off her glasses.

"Half of Mask Island was destroyed and almost all the Steven-watermelon clan was decimated. But there are survivors too. You're one of them"

"I see... I see... That's good." the engineer breathed in and out for some minutes  "They can rebuild this place or find another island to inhabit. Lapis and I can help them with that" Pearl, Connie and Amethyst grimaced "Wait. Is Lapis ok too?"

Garnet stood up slowly without saying anything while the others glanced at her stoic face, waiting for a response with as much dread as Peridot "To the Beach House, now. There is something you need to see there"

The little Crystal Gem opened her mouth to protest for the cryptic answer but the permafusion's kind of menacing posture shut her up. Amethyst transformed into a helicopter and carried them to the island's warp pad. Peridot was surprised that with the level of destruction Spinel inflicted on the place, the warp pad has survived.

They returned to the Beach House in a pillar of light, the collective mood was like a stinky pot where anger, confusion, grief, uncertainty, fear, nervousness, and guilt boiled, mixing in a horrible mess.

Garnet opened the Temple's doors to the Burning Room, entering quickly. The permafusion relaxed a bit before placing herself in front of a red bubble; footsteps were heard from behind her, Peridot and the others watched her stiffened back, the little gem with confusion, the rest of the group mourning.

Garnet exhaled heavily before speaking "I'm sorry, Peridot. Just so you know, you have all of us to get through this. You're not alone"

The former technician raised an eyebrow. Something told her that whatever that was being hidden by Garnet wasn't good and she wouldn't like it.

Her comrade then turned around, Pearl, Amethyst, and Connie braced themselves, Peridot's eyes seemed plates for how big they became due to the heart-wrenching surprise in the permafusion's hands. No, it wasn't the bubble but the set of shards inside of it. Despite the change of color because of the red bubble, Peridot could identify them. There was only one person whose gemstone, beautiful as the ocean, could be formed by those shards.

"L-L-Lapis..." unconsciously, the green gem approached the bubble which Garnet gave to her in silence. Then, without anyone expecting it, the mechanic burst the bubble, freeing the shards. The others were going to do something, but the permafusion stopped them.

Never in her life, the color blue had been so tragic, haunting and devastating. Little hands encircled around the shards, putting them back together and forming a tear-shaped gemstone, or what was left of it.

Again and again, Peridot tried to repair the shattered gemstone of her companion in vain hopes of bringing her back, though nothing happened. Her vision started getting blurry, one, two, ten, so many tears escaped from her eyes and made contact with the shards. Her mind shut everything else out just to concentrate and revive her loved one, but the more she fell to denial, the more desperate she got.

Soon, her body begun trembling while tiny, pitiful sobs came out from her mouth. She wanted to feel her again. To be wrapped up by Lapis' arms whenever she was sad, to see her lovely eyes rolling in fake annoyance and genuine fondness whenever she rambled about a new invention, to listen to every barf joke and laugh of hers, to see the blue gem smile and relax while they watched Camp Pining Hearts.

Peridot wanted Lapis to come back like she did when she appeared and fought Blue Diamond. Being at her side and grinning forever, enjoying the marvelous life they had. The life they would have but would never return to them.

Because Lapis was gone.

The Burning Room was filled by a soul-destroying shriek like no one had ever heard before.

[unicorns-bookshelf]

Title: The Gilded Wolves

Author: Roshani Chokshi

Genre: fantasy, young adult

Rating: 4/5

~Beware of spoilers~

I feel like lots of people picked up The Gilded Wolves expecting it to be Six of Crows 2.0. Because of that the review section is full of people who were either disappointed that it’s not similar enough or enraged that there are some parallels between the two but they aren’t “good enough” to be an actual copy. It’s disappointing because there’s so much more to say about this book than comparing it to another.

The story takes place in Paris in the year 1889 during Exposition Universelle. Séverin, a hotelier at day and a treasure hunter at night, is trying to restore the inheritance that was unjustly taken from him by the Order of Babel - an organization focused around a fragment of the Tower of Babel that supposedly brings magic and fortune to the place where it’s located. Séverin was supposed to become one of the Patriarchs - heads of the four houses of the Order in France, but, as he believes, his test had been falsified and he was stripped of privileges. However, during his search, he comes across a compass with a map to an artifact that could turn the world and the Order upside down. and along with a group of friends decides to find it.

The Gilded Wolves is a treasure hunt book. Reading it I couldn’t help but think about Indiana Jones, The National Treasure or The Mummy movies. There was even a scene where the characters are chased by a flaming rock rolling down the tunnel. The book was action-packed but between the action, there was always time for some banter or sweet, familial moments. Not to mention the writing that was absolutely beautiful, full of lush descriptions absolutely raw one-liners. The plot had some great twists. One at the end left me hungry for more and I can’t wait for the second part of this book.

A common complaint I heard is that people found the magic system confusing. I personally can’t understand that since to me the magic system basically boils down to “people born with magic can modify things to give them special functions”.  Some do it with flowers, some with stone and some with human brains. “Forging” in this context means “shaping”, shaping the object to do your bidding or shaping the human mind to see what you want it to see. Sure, we don’t exactly know the limits or laws regulating it but I don’t feel like it’s necessary for the story. In this book, magic is closely connected with building the aesthetics of the world - guards with Sphinx masks, animals made of precious stones guarding magical artifacts, dresses that have burnable layers - all of it is supposed to show that magic is deeply ingrained in the world and make it feel extraordinary and unique. Even the history of the world presented in The Gilded Wolves is connected to the magic - where the Babel Fragments were located after God destroyed the Tower civilizations grew and people were able to Forge. Europeans stole one of the Babel Fragments during their crusades and brought it to France. Along with it, they took plenty of Forged objects that the Houses collect and keep in their treasuries away from thieves’ reach.

The only thing I had a problem with was the number of Forged objects the author introduced. After a while, it was difficult to keep track of them and remember which one was supposed to do what. Not to mention there were some that even the characters weren’t sure how to use.

The Gilded Wolves had six main characters, all wonderfully diverse with their own goals. Séverin and Hypnos are French and Algerian and Haitian, respectively. Enrique is half-Spanish, half-Filipino. Laila is Indian and Zofia is Jewish and autistic. Enrique is also bisexual and Hypnos is gay. Through them, the author tells a story of racism and the effects of colonization in that period of time. Laila often gets mistaken for a maid, Enrique is considered “not Philipino enough” to be taken seriously by the group of Filipino writers he wants to join, Hypnos is looked down upon by the other house Patriarch because he’s mixed. 

I loved the characters separately and I loved the friendship between them, especially between them and Hypnos. I was pretty sure he was going to betray them at first but he turned out to be an absolute sweetheart and one of my favorite characters together with Zofia. One thing I didn’t appreciate, however, was the amount of absolutely overbearing and unnecessary romance. 

Each part of Séverin’s POV was full of Laila. No matter what was going on, if he remembered Laila (and he always did) his train of thought would stray thinking about that one single time they’d slept together and how he should forget about it but he can’t. It was sometime really overtaking the plot and simply tired me out. At the end of the book, I realized that Séverin was a horribly selfish character - longing for things he had but they were taken from him instead appreciating what he still had and then taking his frustration out on other people for his failure when he lost that too. The finale would go completely differently if Séverin stopped being so horny just for a moment. 

Laila’s POVs were more bearable because she wouldn’t forget that she cares about other people on the team when it was convenient. Her relationships with Zofia and Tristan were sweet and caring and I also loved her banter with Hypnos and how she always wanted to believe he’s on their side. She was really fierce and honestly could do much better than Séverin.

But with just those two the romance subplot wouldn’t be so bad. Sadly it had to extend to Enrique, Zofia, and Hypnos. Zofia and Hypnos were my favorites and they deserved something better than a love triangle with a guy who can’t pick between them. Not to mention that Zofia getting upset that Enrique and Hypnos kissed came out of the blue because before them she showed absolutely no interest in him romantically. It was just so forced compared to Enrique’s relationship with Hypnos where the attraction at least went both ways from the very beginning.

Another thing that bothered me was the ages of the characters. They absolutely didn’t fit the way they acted. I would say that Séverin and the rest were around 20-25 and based on how he acted and how others treated him, Tristan was like 13. It feels so weird to see Laila mothering a boy who’s just two years younger than her. At one point Laila says that she was told she won’t live until her 19th birthday and my reaction was “Oh well, looks like they were wrong” and then she said that she still has a year and I was picking up my jaw from the floor so... yeah. 

I’m also a little sad that I can’t say more about Tristan, Séverin’s adopted brother with love for big spiders and ability to Forge plants but there was just so little of him. He seemed like a character I’d grow to really love.

To sum up, The Gilded Wolves is a novel with spectacular writing, a beautifully crafted world that comes alive when you’re reading, a treasure hunt plot that felt really nostalgic to me and a cast of diverse characters. It does have its faults but saying that it’s just milder Six of Crows is doing it a great injustice. The book is also a beautiful commentary on racism and colonialism and what consequences does it has for people. I will gladly add the already announced sequel to my To Be Read list. 

Amazon / Goodreads

[niora]

She was not expecting anyone to be here. She wiped at her face, trying desperately to hide that she’d been crying. Northwests didn’t cry. They had an image to uphold. But it was hard for a 12 year old to not be tearful over being told she’d be staying with relatives that didn’t care for her, while her father went to Portland for some business. She hated her aunt and uncle. She hated how she couldn’t be herself around them.

“ Are you crying?”

“ No. I have...dust in my eyes.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a time. Taking in their appearances. To her, this creature seemed to be a fawn, but it was pitch black save for the bright, almost electrical dotted markings on it’s back. It had golden hooves, tiny horn buds and bright gold eyes. She’d never seen a deer like this before, but she thought it looked very beautiful.

To the deer, this seemed to be a very young human girl, though it was unsure what age. Dark mid-length hair, icy blue eyes and pale skin. Like the settlers, the deer noted. She was dressed in a white skirt with black stockings, a large white and navy collar, navy sash at the thigh and a large navy bow in her hair. 

“ You’re not scared of me?” it said in a voice that she thought sounded young. 

“ Should I be?” she asked cautiously, she wasn’t even sure what the deer was, or if this was even a ‘deer’. “ What are you?”

“ I’m a guardian.”

“ Oh.” she blinked, not really sure what that meant. 

“ The forest is my home. I keep it safe.” it explained “ Are you lost?”

“ I...” she looked around, she had been running headlong into the forest, not even bothering to stay on the trails. She really wasn’t sure where she was now. She hadn’t been thinking of any kind of destination and she hadn’t thought of what to do or where to stay once she ran away. She felt even more foolish, her emotions had blindly led her to unknown territory.

“ I think so.” she said sadly

“ I know the way back to town. I can take you there.”

“ NO!” she cried “ No, I don’t want to go back home, I’m not wanted there.”

“ It will be dark soon, it’s not good to be out here alone.” it paused and thought where else this human could stay if she didn’t want to go home, it thought of a cave, but that would be too cold and there could be bats...

“ There’s a church not too far away, you could stay there.”

She flinched. A church? Someone like her. Something like her...being welcomed in a church? She shook her head. “ I don’t think that’s a good idea, I don’t want to burden anyone. Isn’t there somewhere else I could go?”

“ The church is abandoned, there’s no one there, but there is shelter and it’s warm. Come on.” 

The creature tilted it’s head, motioning her to follow and she did so. As they walked on, she noticed the forest getting denser, darker. She wasn’t sure if the sun was setting quicker or this creature was leading her further away from civilization. The latter thought scared her. As much as wanted to get away from home, she didn’t want to get away from town.

“ Is there any food in that church?”

“ No, but I could get you some. I know where there are a lot of berries and roots you could eat. Unless you’re a meat eater?”

She smiled at the mention of her being a ‘meat eater’, meaning this creature was probably vegetarian, like most deer were. This eased her fears of it wanting to possibly lure her away to eat her. “ I do eat meat, but berries sound good.”

There was no trail as they headed up. Branches and weeds caught her skirt and seeds stuck to her black stockings, but she paid little mind. They were already ruined by the time she met this creature, when she fell a few times trying to run off. The undergrowth and dense trees gave away to a clearing, and before them was a run down looking church. This creature wasn’t kidding when it said it was abandoned, it looked like it hadn’t seen a living soul in decades. It’s wood sides covered in ferns, vines and brambles, it’s wide doors fallen off the hinges, the roof thankfully looked intact. 

“ I haven’t been in here in a long time, but I remember there being fabric in the back rooms, I think they’re called blankets?”

She barely registered what it just said, she’d never been in a church before. Her father would’ve never allowed it. She looked around at the little figures sitting on alcoves above, colored in the dancing prisms of the light from broken stained glass, tattered red carpet harboring green moss underfoot and a lopsided cross in the very front. It wasn’t nearly as frightening as she was told it would be. It was very somber in a rustic sort of way.

She hadn’t noticed she was still walking, following the deer creature to the very front and through a room beyond it. It got noticeably dimmer but still lit from a single window. She witnessed the creature use it’s mouth to pull open a wardrobe. Inside were blankets, clothing on hangers and various other fabric that she figured were things for a ritual of sorts. She picked up a blanket, surprised by how dustless they were, the heavy pine doors must have protected them from the elements and moths.

“ I’ll get some food, I’ll be right back.” said the creature, and with a jump, it gracefully and effortlessly ran into the air, sparks of electricity on it’s golden heels. She was in awe. She only knew others like her could fly with brooms, but never just lift into the sky like that. What was this creature?

She would have to ponder about that later, the noon sun was setting, making the room even dimmer. She looked around at the other rooms, one seemed to be in a state of total decay, the floorboards had rotted to the dirt foundation they were laid on, the other room’s window had been busted, allowing nature to take hold of it. She decided to call the ‘office’ she was in, her temporary home. It had a desk, books, a bench, chairs and the single window was intact. She spotted an oil lantern on top of a shelf, shook it, there was still fuel.

By the time the creature came back with food, cleverly using a discarded offering basket on a pew, she’d made a little bed out of the bench and chairs, pulling them together against a wall.The creature set down the basket of food and looked at the makeshift bed area.

“ I found a lantern in a cabinet. I couldn’t find any matches though, so I had to use magic to get it started.” 

The creature tilted it’s head curiously “ Magic?”

“ Yes, I’m a witch. But I’m still in school, so I don’t know a whole lot of spells yet.”

Golden eyes blinked for a second. This girl was a witch? “ You are a very young witch. I’ve only met old ones before.”

“ I’m not so young!” she pouted “ I’m 12 years old this year! Nearly a young lady.”

“ Only 12 years? I am over 2 billion.”

“ That’s impossible, an animal can’t be that old.”

“ But I am. And I’m not an animal, I’m a guardian.” he explained again “ I suppose, a kind of deity of the forest.”

Her eyes went wide. A deity! Well that certainly explained how it could fly, and make electrical sparks as it did so. But she thought deities were much...bigger and more grander looking. This ‘deity’ was but a small deer. A baby. She’d never heard not read of one like that. 

“ What do they call you?”

“ I have many names. The tribes that were here before settlers came had as many as 100 names for me. Storm Bringer, Singing Rain...”

Ah, so it was an ‘Indian’ idol. She’d seen their likenesses on the trip up to Oregon carved on masks from the mysterious tribes of the cold north at trading posts, and painted on the capes and hats of the ‘Indians squaws’ who sold rabbit and otter furs along the trails. 

“ Oh but what do you call yourself? Surely you must have a personal name of your own. Like mine. My name is America Northwest, but I don’t care for it much, so I chose to go by Ami or Ricky instead.”

“ I don’t have a name like that.”

“ How sad.” she said, not have a personal name to identify with. Not even a nickname. “ What would you like to be called? I’ve always fancied William or Catherine. They’re such lovely names.”

“ I don’t know what those mean. If I am to name myself, I would like it to mean something personal to me.”

“ That’s fair.” She supposed if a name were to be chosen, it should be special. But there was time for that, maybe after she ate she’d recommend more names. She wasn’t sure what gender the little deity was, so she’d have to come up with girl and boy names, or even neutral ones like Lark or Joe.

She spied the food in the basket and her stomach growled, those berries looked delicious and she immediately recognized some to be gooseberries and wild strawberries.

“ You’re not eating?” she asked

“ I have eaten while I was out. You’re welcome to the basket.”

The whole basket? Well that was swell! She picked up a wild strawberry and popped it into her mouth. So sweet, so fragrant. Nothing like the larger ones she’d eaten back home. Very soon, the contents of the basket disappeared as did the sunlight. She lay on her side, stroking the soft and cloud-like fur of her new nameless friend. It seemed to enjoy it greatly.

“ Tell me more of your home in Ca-For-Nah.”

“ California.” she softly corrected “ San Francisco is a very big city with lots of people. It’s also very foggy and windy. The coastline is very rocky with lots of flat beaches where my mama and I used to go into the bathing machine. My papa took me to the World’s Fair last year...” 

She trailed off as her head dipped down. She normally didn’t sleep so early, but all the running and crying exhausted her. Eventually she went quiet, and lay on her side in her little makeshift bed without a blanket, the body of the creature against her radiated warmth.

“ World’s Fair. San Francisco.” repeated the creature. There was no context nor mental image of such a place, yet the names ignited curiosity. Never had the deer god left the land before, it knew nothing of the world beyond Gravity Falls or that such amazing sounding places existed. The little deer god tucked in it’s legs and curled closer to the young witch. Though it did not need sleep, it stayed quiet, listening to her soft breathing and watching the flickering of the lamp.

--------------------------

Author’s Notes:

If you couldn’t guess, this takes place probably around the early 1900s, what with the bathing machines and mention of the World’s Fair aka Panama–Pacific International Exposition. Ricky here also uses terms that described the Native peoples of the Pacific Northwest back then, which of course are really offensive now, but for the sake of her rich white background and historical accuracy, are used. Doesn’t mean she can’t unlearn it, especially with Sam, who remains nameless for now. 

A second part is pending. I like this AU, I’ve been trying to bust this writer’s block for a few days. If this is what does it, I’m continuing it. For how long? Idk. Maybe skip a few years into their friendship to see how time changes things. We’ll see.

[hyperfixationtimego]

Ah saw the terf thing tweet finally. Yeah as a trans Jewish person I can totally see that tweet supporting transphobia on Mindy's case. If not the transphobia then it looks like she is supporting the racism and antisemitism, which she does have a history for. In context of JK's post, I don't know how else to interpret it other than she's being snarky about losing the "sensitive sjws", and why would you like something like that? I doubt at this time Mindy was simply unaware and if she was. And if she was that tells me she isn't that connected with us. Also not all of us are the same. You choosing one Jewish person to represent all of us is not a look. You deciding that you speak for trans people here, also is not a look. Context matters and I don't know why you say this by not including other voices and context. Like what other context can you get by a show that has their character make a "joke" of nazis killing their Jewish friend?

yeah see this is why I hate discussing serious shit on here. this is an absolute wild misinterpretation of what I presented, my dude.

You not having a critical understanding of what it means to consider another person’s perspective, regardless of whether or not you agree with it, is not my problem, my guy. You “not knowing” how to interpret the tweet incident as anything other than a premeditated statement of transphobia is kinda just……telling me you’ve never seen a well-meaning cis person accidentally use incorrect terminology, or a cishet ally not understanding why a certain term, trope, or stereotype might be offensive or harmful to queer people. Like my dude, have you ever loved or cared about a cis person irl. They don’t share our experiences. They don’t share our history or our knowledge, because a lot of them have never had to consider it - that still doesn’t make them bad.

and lol you obviously didn’t even bother to read what I posted, either, cause u didn’t acknowledge her support of Josie Totah but like……whatever lmao

and. sighs. I genuinely do not think Kaling’s thought process with liking that tweet had to do with complaining about the “sensitive sjws” because that. literally does not make any sense whatsoever. if anything, I propose that she was more likely comparing the “lost audience” in that tweet to all the racist assholes who immediately shit on everything about the show from the concept, to the animation, to the character designs from the exact MOMENT it was confirmed the show would be reimagining the characters as POC.

perhaps I am insane, but I do not think it’s a bad thing for her, as an Indian woman, to indulge herself by projecting her own experiences onto a character she loves & to give that same opportunity to other people working on the show. like it is very strange to me that y’all are calling this “pandering” and “forced diversity,”…. they’re literally just having fun I think lol

And lmaooooo ur second point of “choosing one Jewish person to represent all [Jewish people]” LIKE MY GUY THAT IS NOT WHAT I DID AKSHDJDBFB I provided a LITERAL SCHOLAR’S OPINION on the controversy & supposed antisemitism in Never Have I Ever SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT DR. SKINAZI DOES FOR A LIVING. SHE IS AN ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF LITERATURE AND CULTURE, AND SHE FOCUSES A LOT ON JEWISH REPRESENTATION IN MEDIA BECAUSE SHE HERSELF IS JEWISH 😭

I would love to see another scholar’s argument on the issue! If happen to find any other media analysis-focused Jewish professors who’ve discussed the topic, I’d love to check it out and compare the two! /gen

But until then, I am going to (tentatively, as I still have not had a chance to watch the show for myself) trust Dr. Skinazi on this topic because it is quite literally her field of work!!!! You may be Jewish, anon, but you are still just some rando in my inbox demanding me to listen to you without proper cause - I’m not going to simply ignore the literal scholar’s opinion on this one for you, my guy, that’s not how this works 😭

[hereidinathoreauwrites]

A Balanced Review of the Magic School Bus Reboot

The good, the bad, and the genuinely surprising about the Magic School Bus Rides Again.

Here we go.

First off, in the interest of full disclosure, I am a huge fan of the original. Like genuinely huge. I have all the episodes, can quote most of them, and openly promote theories that Ms. Frizzle is a Time Lord (because honestly, it’s obvious).

Second off, I have a huge gay crush on the fabulous Kate McKinnon.

But who doesn’t?

So expect these to weigh into my analysis.

Let’s start off with the good.

The Good

Fiona

From the moment I heard Kate was onboard, I knew I was going to love this character. And she did not disappoint. Fiona is exactly what she needs to be. She is Ms. Frizzle without being...well, Lily Tomlin. She still has that zest for adventure and thrills at new discoveries.

And while there is a multitude of similarities between her and Valerie (old sayings, clever wordplay, impeccably questionable fashion sense, a flair for danger) she’s decidedly different. She’s more excitable than her sister and treats her students more like peers than children she is supervising. And while she’s never quite as all-knowing as her big sister seemed to be, she knows when to talk and when to let her students suss something out on their own.

And while her past is a bit of a mystery, just like her older sister, she seems just as accomplished and well-rounded. And just as eccentric.

I mean, she literally enters the classroom through a glass ceiling on a rope attached to nothing.

She is Kate McKinnon, who is genuinely thrilled to be here and loving every minute of it. 

Sometimes she does get to be a bit much, usually when she’s too excited about a clever pun or a new discovery. But she’s not Valerie Frizzle. She’s Fiona Frizzle. And Kate does a good job of keeping just enough of the original enigma while bringing a new character who is more approachable, vulnerable, and emotional than Valerie was. Honestly, the only emotions I remember Ms. Frizzle overtly displaying on PBS were excitement and happiness.

In PBS, the kids relied on Ms. Frizzle a lot and she seemed to improvise a lot of the destinations and lessons for the day. Here, Fiona seems to already know what they need for a given day or be flexible enough to figure out a solution as they go. And unlike Valerie, who always kept a strong cloud of mystery about her and what she knew and didn’t know, Fiona makes it very clear just what she is aware of and not aware of. During the final episode, when the bus is unable to take the pressure of the ocean and things look dire, she is clearly panicking because her kids are now in danger. But she keeps resolutely chipper, trying to reassure and excite them even as her voice breaks.

And this makes sense. The kids are older in this version. At some point, there’s no reason for her to hide her knowledge and planning from them or the true scope of the danger they’re in. It isn’t going to teach them anything new, just reinforce how much more she knows. They aren’t going to freak out like they used to, instead, they will search for a solution because they’ve been in danger before and engineered their way out. She’s no longer their guide (like Valerie was), now she’s their colleague.

There is one thing I find a little off about her and that is her tendency to make sassy comments or judgments that are funny in the moment but really distinguish her from what one typically expects from a teacher. In the very first episode, she makes a comment about how dirty the boots they are examining for invasive species are and gets very high-and-mighty about it. I wouldn’t mind so much (the boots were pretty nasty) but she does this with the kids occasionally as well (she makes it obvious that she knows Arnold stole her plant in the first episode but still puts him through a lot of guilt-tripping and even some legit trauma before he finally fesses up). And while it’s good for a laugh, it seems a little harsh for an elementary school teacher. The kids dont seem to mind though so I’ll let it go.

The Class

The same class is back, which I found surprising. But smart. It would be too much work to establish an entirely new class and then introducing a new Ms. Frizzle would feel off. It would just be a remake, not a reboot.

We have 7 of the original kids here: Arnold, Ralphie, Carlos, Tim, Wanda, Dorothy Ann, and Keesha. In this reboot, Phoebe has been replaced with Jyoti, an Indian girl who is very into engineering and technology. I was originally very upset when Phoebe was replaced (she was the one I related to most in the original series) but Jyoti has earned a special place in my heart. She has her own section below.

In this version, the class is in 5th grade, which is supposed to be one year after the events of the PBS cartoon. I’ll have more thoughts on this later but for know, just know that all the kids are now 10 instead of 9 and it actually sort of works.

The kids are all really charming. Especially Ralphie (who may have eclipsed Carlos for the most laughs). Even Arnold, who I found incredibly annoying in the PBS version, was exceedingly likable here. And this was the series where he actively disrupts his new teacher’s first lesson! In the first episode, there is a great effort to make Arnold both reprehensible but also sympathetic as he resists the change Fiona brings to his life.

While their personalities seem less distinguishable at times, they still retain their characterizations. Ralphie is the lovable jock, DA the nerd (although she has swapped out her beloved pink bookbag for a Frizz-tab), Tim is the artist, Carlos the jokester, etc. Even though they retain these personalities from PBS, all of them have changed slightly, the same way you’d expect a child to change over the course of one year. Some of their traits have been updated as well for the new era this class is getting educated in (for example, DA’s tablet and their outfit changes).

The only one I have a problem with is Wanda.

We’ll get to her in the bad.

The kids are still the focus of the show: having conflicts, solving problems, making mistakes, and getting excited about science. Fiona remains as simply their guardian and enabler of their adventures. And while Kate’s performance is attention-grabbing, she doesn’t steal the spotlight from the kids. Their VAs are all pretty good and seem to have taken their own stylistic choices when bringing back these beloved characters. They keep some core similarities but give unique performances.

Jyoti Kaur

I was so excited to learn another POC had joined the kids. I was even more excited to learn that she was a southern Indian POC [for context: I myself am not of Indian heritage but I spent a semester in southern India and I admire the culture very much and made some good friends there]. She seems to have taken on both the mantle of wide-eyed newcomer (that Phoebe used to carry) and fearless adventurer in the class (that used to be Wanda’s thing...). And she fills the important role of being the gear-head for the class in this new era of technology.

She even gets one of my favorite moments in the reboot: when she’s alone with Ms. Frizzle discussing an engineering competition and we learn that the Frizzle sisters built the bus.

It’s such a powerful moment for me because Jyoti is the new kid and Fiona is the new teacher and they use this moment to bond and expand the canon of the series.

Watching her watch the bus in action is genuinely endearing. She always seems like she’s both in awe of the magic and trying to figure out how everything works. There’s a moment in the first episode where she watches Ms. Frizzle turn Carlos and Wanda into animals and gets very disappointed when she doesn’t get a turn.

This may make it seem like I have no problems with Jyoti, but unfortunately, that’s not entirely true. She has a section in “the bad” as well.

The Adventure

The series certainly didn’t pull punches when throwing people into peril.

In this reboot, we see the kids fall down two different rivers, raft a volcano, get attacked by T-cells, jump out of a plane onto a glacier, get attacked by a plant, get stalked by sharks (twice!), lose the bus (also twice!), get lost while they’re the size of atoms, almost get torn apart by a barracuda, go flying around the Earth at maximum zoom, and get stuck at the bottom of the Mariana Trench.

One thing that is different is that they don't dwell on the suspense as much as PBS did. PBS milked its commercial breaks for all they were worth, drawing out intense situations to make them feel more perilous. The reboot...doesn’t. When there is a threat, the resolution is less than 30 seconds away. There are a couple of awkward fade-outs in the middle of some episodes at tense moments but it’s not consistent and there’s not much point when there’s no ad break in the middle of a Netflix video.

This could turn into a whole critique of streaming services ruining suspense in tv writing but I’ll just make a note of it here.

The bus has also picked up some new abilities, which are utilized for these adventures. Shrinking down to the size of an atom genuinely thrilled me. I got so excited during “The Magnetic Mambo” when they just kept shrinking...and shrinking...and shrinking...!

A lot of the “new abilities” seem to include the bus’ infinite creative potential. It spits out new technology every other second, from personal vehicles to backpacks that are actually time machines, to a remote that is like a mini-bus that they only use once. I’ll discuss the bus more in the bad but it’s abilities fall solidly into the good category for me. It means new adventures and deeper dives into older adventures.

The Writing

I don’t know if the series writers are affiliated with the PBS cartoon in any way but they definitely know their stuff. The problem I have with most reboots is that they end up feeling and sounding like fanfics instead of continuations. This reboot does not. It carries just enough of the tone of the original through clever wordplay, puns, and wacky adventures while having a distinctly different look and feel.

They know where they came from but they’re not trying to return to that place.

Some of the episodes are very creative and well composed. These include Ep 1: “Frizzle of the Future” (which ingeniously uses the concept of invasive species to integrate Fiona into the MSB canon), Ep 4: “The Battle for Rock Mountain” (which uses superhero culture to teach kids about the rock cycle), and Ep 10: “The Tales Glaciers Tell” (which finally teaches kids about climate change in a way that is straightforward and as “uncontroversial” as it can be).

There are some “less good” episodes but overall, none of them were terrible. They were all funny and clever and presented their lessons well.

Nods to the original

It’s never overtly obvious or direct but the references to PBS are there. But in some ways, I think that’s better than flat-out insisting that the two are back-to-back canon.

They don't slap you in the face with call-backs but if you are a fan of the original, you catch them.

Here’s a few I noticed:

The perfect joke to explain Phoebe’s absence

Mr. Rhule (the principle from the original) is referenced by name

Wanda’s mom and little brother (William) have a cameo (with Wanda’s original VA as Mrs. Li, I’m pretty sure)

Ralphie’s face when the class travels inside Carlos’ nose (because in PBS, the whole class ended up in his nose)

Arnold freaking out when they end up in Ralphie’s stomach (because that episode from PBS was legitimately traumatizing for him)

The bus being attacked by white blood cells while in the bloodstream

Weatherman! (”sheika, sheika kaboom!” was sorely missed though...)

Keesha directing (with a megaphone of course)

Ralphie building a robot (again, for seemingly no valid reason and with a questionable amount of resources)

Arnold loving rocks and geology

Ms. Frizzle asks them if they’ve ever been eaten (there were several times in PBS but not in the reboot)

JANET! (dammit)

several VAs from the original make cameos

It’s refreshing in a way, to know that these things were done with fans like me in mind.

The Bad

I may love a lot about this reboot but it is not without a few glaring problems in my mind.

Here goes:

The BUS

I’m just going to say it: the original bus was better. It had more of a personality and felt more real than this cube.

In my opinion, where this went wrong was that technology played too much of a role. Maybe this was unavoidable due to the major changes in technology in the past 20 years. But it doesn’t even look like a bus anymore. It has a freakin’ tablet screen right on the control panel...do buses have those now? What was magical about PBS’s bus was that it looked like a bus but could change and mold itself into whatever was necessary with the push of a button. Now Fiona has to scroll through a screen of apps to find the “mode” she needs.

There is less magical about the bus this time; it more just seems like an incredible feat of engineering. There is even a joke about how the Frizzle sisters built the bus. Instead of turning kids into things, most of the time now, they just have their own personal vehicles to drive around the ocean or fly through space. That’s not magical, it’s just really well-funded.

Also, apparently now the bus can sustain damage? And then magically repair that damage? I guess the T-Rex did bite through the roof on PBS...

Also, the bus doesn't actually have to drive places anymore. Instead it just kind of...teleports. There’s an episode where the kids go inside the nervous systems of two of their classmates and both times, they just kind of vanish and reappear where they need to be.

(Also, the kids are oddly comfortable with the idea of the bus entering their bodies? Like I get it, if they’ve been through an entire previous year of a Frizzle using their body for science, maybe they’re okay with a bus shooting up their nose and their class spending half the day in their bloodstream. But a lot of the human biology episodes of the original were not consensual? Is this change really a bad thing? Is this tangent getting too long?)

On the plus side, the bus is solar-powered now.

So :D

The Timeline?

They kept a lot from the original, so much so that I think the intention was to make it seem like only one summer had passed between the two series. It makes sense on paper: this way fans of the original aren’t too put off and kids watching both series back to back for the first time won't be too confused by the switch.

But the problem with this is that it’s too unbelievable.

Technology really advanced this much in a few months? Wanda changed that much over the summer (see below)? Ms. Frizzle got her PhD in two months? Well, actually if anybody could do that, it would be Valerie Frizzle...

So the intention is good and logical but all the details don't really work out. I’ve coped with it by considering this an “alternate universe”, where the kids stayed together for another year (with some changes) after a year of similar adventures to PBS but with all the advanced tech present. So instead of being from the 90′s, this class was born in the late 2000′s.

If you’re not insane (like me), it probably won’t bother you. And it does make for a pretty funny opening scene.

Race Depictions

Not really sure if I should be bringing this up but I did want to address it. Whatever animation they used for the show does make certain characters appear...whiter...than they did on PBS.

But the whole color palette is different so I’m not sure if this was an intentional artistic choice or just unlucky circumstance. I really don’t know enough about animation to comment. But white-washing of any kind falls into the bad category for me (even if unintentional).

Wanda

*sighs dramatically* And here we are at last...

Wanda was such a titan of a character in PBS. She probably had the most character development apart from Arnold throughout all 52 episodes.

So I really don't know what happened here.  

With most of the others, where they are at now makes sense given that it’s supposed to be “one year later” in their lives. But Wanda seems like she had a total personality change in just a few short months. She’s no longer adventurous and instead, she’s...really compassionate? I mean, she wasn’t outright mean in PBS but she was callous and occasionally unintentionally hurtful. Now she’s suddenly a bleeding-heart animal activist? I mean, in PBS she was definitely changing towards being more considerate and open but she still kept that adventurous edge and wild streak. Now she has mellowed out considerably. So much so in fact that she resembles Phoebe more than she does Wanda.

Who looked at the original cartoon and logically thought that she was the character who needed to be changed the most? If they were that desperate to include a character who cared for animals that much, why not make it Carlos?

They already have an episode where he adopts a pet rat. And on PBS, he was skeptical of Phoebe’s concern for the animals she tried to save but never dismissive. He even comes to care for natural ecosystems like swamps in the PBS episode “Get’s Swamped”. With this characterization, it would give this show something new and interesting: a compassionate male character. One who is defined by his gentleness and concern. Isn’t it good for boys to have a role model like that?

Also, no offense to Carlos but apart from being the jokester, he really doesn’t have that much of a character. Someone like Arnold has several defining traits: worrier, rock expert, cynical. For Carlos, I have trouble coming up with anything other than funny. This change to a passionate animal activist would have added a whole new layer to him.

So that was a real missed opportunity in my eyes.

The only change in Wanda I genuinely liked was her seemingly much closer friendship with DA compared to PBS.

I always liked how they became better friends in the final PBS episode (”Takes a Dive”) and wanted to see that expanded. Seeing that the writers kept it, it feels like a small nod to that adventure and an indication of how well they wanted to keep the series continuity intact.

Jyoti

So here she is again. And while I do love Jyoti as a character, as a writer I have some problems with her. First and foremost, she’s too good at what she does. The Mary Sue trope is strong with this one.

This kid has a literal invisibility cloak. And creates an AI. And she’s only supposed to be ten years old. While her high-tech gear certainly adds an element of intrigue to the show, I find I cant always suspend my disbelief when she does something too outlandish. Like make a functional 3-D printed model of a T-cell in under half an hour.

She doesn’t really have character flaws either. Granted, she’s only really the “main kid” in one episode (”Three-in-One”) but the most development she has is when she snaps at Ralphie and feels bad about it. She also gets mad when DA loses her locket in “DA and the Deep Blue Sea” (so much so that everyone reacts with fear, even Ms. Frizzle) but she gets over it very quickly. The only “mistake” she makes is not specifying to her AI which pot of water she wants to be boiled (resulting in the water her class is exploring turning to steam). So really the only flaw is possibly that she’s impatient?

She’s not too ambitious or too proud or too inconsiderate, all of which could fit with her character that we’ve seen so far. Instead, she’s just useful. Whenever she needs to be. My hope is that next season she has an episode where she genuinely grows and we see some character flaws.

Another thing about her that is confusing (but this may just be my lack of knowledge showing) is exactly what her Indian roots are. In the episode “The Magnetic Mambo” she insists upon dancing a “kathakali” which is a type of Hindu dance art unique to the Kerala region of India.

But in a later episode, “Three-in-one” we meet a robot she has invented that she calls “Naniben” which (she explains) means “little sister” in Gujarati, a language spoken by only one community in Kerala (to my knowledge). So I either take this to mean that the writers got very specific with her place of origin, or that her parents come from two different states of India (one from Kerala and one from Gujarat?). But I’m sure no one else is giving it this much thought...

The Plugs for Future Episodes

While Lily Tomlin is always a blessing, I have to admit her segments weren’t always handled as well as they could have been.

This is obviously the reboot’s way of doing the producer segments from PBS. It’s a clever way to address scientific shortcomings or tell kids “dont try this at home!”. This really shouldn’t bug me. But it did. While it was nice to see Professor Frizzle having her own adventures and seeing a glimpse of what was coming, having her explicitly say things like: “stick around” or “wait and find out” felt like overkill.

And I know this is for kids but they’re going to watch anyway! You don't have to have a hook for bingeing. Bingeing these episodes is worse because then the lessons don’t stick as well! If the kids are excited by it, they are going to come back the next day or week and watch more. Don’t encourage them to rush through their education.

Episodes I question

Not sure if these count as “bad” but there were some episodes that had me scratching my head. These fall under the “less good” episodes I mentioned before.

E5: The Magnetic Mambo - When I think atoms, I definitely think dancing! There seemed to be a bit of a leap here between the conflict and the lesson (being about magnetism and how atoms align in a magnetic field). Also, I had to watch the “lesson” part of this episode twice before I understood it. Not sure if that reflects more on my education quality than the writing but...

E9: Space Mission: Selfie - I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to have learned from this one. That satellites are a thing? That objects orbiting the Earth orbit at different heights? The lesson wasn’t really clear. Maybe if I watch it again, I’ll get a better idea...also, the Frizzle family has some kind of internet empire?

E11: Ralphie Strikes a Nerve - When your team sucks at volleyball, what’s the logical thing to do? Certainly not spend an immoral amount of time and resources building a giant Pacific Rim - inspired robot! But somehow that’s the logical conclusion here? Don’t get me wrong, it works for the lesson (learning about the nervous system) but not so much for the plot?

The Surprising

The Animation

I know this is an unpopular opinion but..the animation really isn’t that bad.

Sure it’s jarring at first but the more I watched it, the less it bothered me. The movements were still fluid, the characters were still expressive. And this is 2017. Hand-drawn animation is not as popular as it once was.

And this is honestly not that bad. There were even all the little details that were accounted for. Like how Fiona’s and DA’s hair float when they’re in orbit. And when they descend into Carlos’ bloodstream, they have to illuminate the scene. As you watch it, you get bothered by the style less. And the PBS cartoon had its animation errors that were laughably bad. My favorite was in “For Lunch” when Arnold is somehow inside the bus currently going down his esophagus. Watch it again and you’ll see what I mean.

The New Theme Song

I had somehow forgotten that the fabulous Lin-Manuel Miranda had signed on to do the theme. And he did not disappoint. I rock out to this version just as hard as I did to Little Richard’s version.

The Framing

In the PBS episodes, each episode usually only focused on 1 kid, the “main kid” who had a lesson to learn that episode. Occasionally, they had episodes focused on two kids but it was usually just Wanda and Arnold or whoever was fighting.

This time around, they really make an effort to include more kids in the lessons. A lot of episodes still have a “main kid” but they are less the center of attention. It makes the show feel less formulaic, which was refreshing to see.

The Original Ms. Frizzle Leaving

As well as it worked for a send-off, Valerie Frizzle leaving doesn’t make a lot of sense when you look at the two series together. During her tenure as the teacher on PBS, we saw Ms. Frizzle grow to love her kids and start to treat them more like colleagues than a class she was supervising. She genuinely loved her job and looked like she was going to be doing it forever.

So the fact that she switched gears to become a research professor is odd to me. Don’t get me wrong, the more women with Ph.Ds on tv the better but she had always seemed so content to be just a teacher. So maybe she’s just stepping down for Fiona’s sake? Maybe I’m just reading into this far too much for a cartoon?

Still, it seemed a little on the nose to have the original Ms. Frizzle essentially “graduate” from this series now that she’s too busy pursuing her own projects to be a voice actor on a kids show. But if they had to give a reason for her to leave that wasn’t her dying, this was a great one.

Still don't get why Liz didn’t go with her through...Goldie is fine but wouldn’t it make more sense for the new teacher to have a new sidekick?

Keesha’s moms!

Okay, this is unconfirmed but I’m pretty sure these two:

Are intended to be Keesha’s parents.

If so then :D

I’m always for more LGBTQ representation in cartoons and Keesha did seem to be the logical choice. Her parents were never introduced in the original, just her grandmother. So I’d love for these two to come back and actually have a line or two next season that confirms their relationship.

The Battle for Rock Mountain Episode

I have a whole post on this here. Just go read that for why I was genuinely surprised by this concept and its execution.

The permission slips?

I’m sorry but no. This is too much, even for a joke. How does Ms. Frizzle even go about writing these things with a straight face? Maybe it was more just a ploy to get one or two funny lines out of the cast. I think that was a common critique of the original as well; that Ms. Frizzle couldn’t possibly be sending her kids home with permission slips that said things like: we’re going inside an active volcano to study island formation.

Well, apparently she did...and still does...

Well played reboot...well played...

In Conclusion

If you’re still undecided about the reboot, I hope this review helped put it in perspective a little. It has its ups and downs and, like any reboot, necessary changes and unnecessary changes.

Based on what I’ve consolidated here though, I think I would put this in the “good” reboot category. It’s certainly no “Death Note” movie but there are some things that people hate on. But the showrunners clearly know that they’ve got 20 years worth of fans watching them and they make efforts to let those people know that they know the source material (see my list of references to PBS above). I enjoyed watching it. I am probably going to watch several episodes again, even a few years from now. I am genuinely interested in what concepts they decide to show next and if they are going to develop their characters as well as PBS did.

In my opinion, you cant really hate a show like this for being a reboot. Because it’s meant only to do good for kids by teaching them about science and nature. I would show this to my kids or students alongside the original and not feel like it was jeopardizing their education at all. The original cartoon was instrumental in sparking my love of science and I can totally see this version inspiring some young student to delve deeper into topics they learn in school.